#its not a gun its a crest its magic its fine

[moeblob]

Anyway, reminder I love Hanneman.

[humble-wayside-flower]

“Is this the freedom you seek?”

Like the waters you live upon, and traverse, that shift and bend and exist to move around whatever blocks their path, or hold stalwart against those that would wish to defeat it. Do you wish to be like this ocean?

“Do you trust the skies above? The portents of nature? That I may try best to warn and keep you safe on these journeys?”

“I can’t think of a greater way to spend the rest of my days.”

                                                                                              ~Ep 112

“As you bring the sword back around, you see yellow energy shimmer from the water around Fjord and it collects and runs up through him…You all watch as the runes pulse upon the Star Razor, the blade itself seems to almost extend an additional inch and a half. You watch as additional runes that previously were not visible on the blade begin to appear on the outer edge of the base of the blade…They pulse. Fjord’s yellow eyes flash…As the blade impacts and cuts through the body, you just see the swing. All the energy streaks through, and there’s a moment where it’s just calm and still in the darkness below. 

Avantika doesn’t react. 

The blade itself now goes dark.”

                                                                                               ~Ep 113

Episodes 100 - 134 Spotify (X)- Liner Notes Under Cut Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 ____________________________________________________

End Credits- Pirates of the Caribbean on Stranger Tides by Hans Zimmer (Every sailor needs a great sea monster battle, and Darktow’s Dragon Turtle doesn’t disappoint.)

Instrumental

Nassau Shores by Bear McCreary (The Mighty Nein arrive on the island of Rumblecusp to find a whole village of people they weren’t expecting. The denizens of this island are strange, dreamy folks, and it doesn’t take long to figure out magic is at play. Still, the island holds a strange charm to it, an irresistible mystery.)

Instrumental

The Water’s Fine by The Family Crest (It is a being of pure consumption. It takes and takes and takes, tangible items, and worse so, the intangible memories of who you are, where you came from, and your very name. You offer up your sword, knowing full well it something that it cannot take. You’ll have to deal with that later, but in the meantime, you plan, and try to hold on to what you cannot take back so easily.)

You say your heart is found, and motion to the sound You hold yourself against the wake, you say the water’s fine Save me from this life I have made

Photograph by Radical Face (“The entire dome becomes filled with pale, mostly translucent, pale, amber-colored scenes of The Mighty Nein in all of their time together, just floating like little spectors through the dome…and then sprinkled amongst that…Fjord with a crew of people, not a captain, but amongst a crew at sea…”)

Instrumental

Fits and Jumpstarts by Michael Giacchino (For a bit they come to a near standstill. They’re gun shy, and who could blame them? Nearly losing Caduceus does nothing to assuage that, or to prove their hesitance unwarranted. Still they prepare. Eating a heroes feast on the bow of a ship in a grotto that shouldn’t exist, and all the while Traveler Con looms in the near future.)

Instrumental

Blood // Water by grandson (Still, for all their fits and starts leading up to this moment, they make short work of Vokodo, though not before it imparts a terrifying vision. A ravenous city, screaming, nine eyes, and all the while your blood mixing in the water with that of the creature just slain.)

Look me in my eyes Tell me everything’s not fine Oh, the people ain’t happy And the river has run dry You thought you could go free But the system is done for If you listen real closely There’s a knock at your front door

Take Care of Yourself by Maisie Peters (Jester and Fjord discuss the moral quandary of the Village of Vo and its intersection with Traveler Con. “…I don’t really care about 200 other people. I do care about you. So as long as you’re getting what you want out of this, you’re not being forced into being something that you think you need to be for him, then you can do whatever you want to. And I, and we, will all back you up…One last thing. You can tell us if something happens when you speak with him. Last time it seemed like you carried it for a long time. You can tell me. I’ll listen.”)

All these things we hide behind Let’s not do that, you and I Take a breath and take your time Hold my gaze and we’ll be fine

On the Beach by Bear McCreary (For the first time in ages, a lead on Sabian presents itself, and with a great deal of consideration he takes it. Kotho is a little strange—cagey even—but her devotion to seeing through a decade old bounty is enough to make him hand over 200 gold. If anything comes of it, he’ll have to wait and see. Perhaps this is just another manifestation of the faith he is learning to cultivate.)

Instrumental

Raise Hell by Dorothy (Sometimes it isn’t that deep. Sometimes you just fight a T-Rex in the middle of island jungle because its cool and you need to feed an island of people, and that’s enough.)

Young blood, stand and deliver No need for a queen affair Young blood, gotta pull the trigger When the whole world running scared Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell

Fair by The Amazing Devil (“You know when someone makes you feel a way that you don’t think you have any right to feel or you never thought that you might?...I want Jester to be happy. I do feel very strongly for her, but I also know that when this all began, her affections might’ve been based entirely on whimsy. I don’t know…I almost don’t want to know, just like it….I want to do the things that people are scared of and solve them or do whatever anyone else needs to do. But I hope she’s a part of that.”)

“I’ve seen enough,” he says, “I know exactly what I want And it’s this life that we’ve created Inundated with the fated thought of you And if you asked me to, if you asked me I would lose it all Like petals in a storm”

Shooting Star by Ilan Eshkeri (At first it seems to go well. That against all odds she has pulled off this wild plan. And then suddenly everything is wrong. He They almost lose her. He They almost don’t can’t get to her in time. Down they come, floating gently over a raging volcano, and against all odds they have pulled this off. It’s too close. He holds her close. “You need to let go. We will catch you.”)

Instrumental

Prelude by The Oh Hellos (The Nascent Nine Sided Tower. Fjord has never had a permanent home, and while the tower doesn’t always exist in the tangible sense, the love behind it feels as solid and permanent as the ocean he sails upon.)

Instrumental

All About Us by He is We, Owl City (The little porcelain unicorn isn’t planned, but it makes her so happy. Dancing around a dance hall in the heart of Rexxentrum, Fjord and Jester dance around their own feelings for each other. And if the unicorn is a bit silly, so what. He’d make himself look silly a million times if it makes her happy. That has always been enough for him.)

Suddenly I’m feeling brave Don’t know what’s got into me Why I feel this way Can we dance real slow? Can I hold you? Can I hold you close?

This Isn’t Right by Hans Zimmer (The grave is empty. He was useless to do anything when Molly was killed. He wasn’t even present when he was laid to rest. And now he is standing here once again, feeling as if the earth has shifted under his feet with no warning.)

Instrumental

Oceans (Where Feet May Fail) by Elenyi (“You remember the feeling of that ocean breeze on your skin and remembering all the times when you were younger, that moment when you emerge onto the open sea and the unbridled possibility that lies before you. And that feeling comes to you in this moment as well.” Fjord takes his Oath of the Open Sea, a promise to the Wildmother to be like the ocean, stalwart and ever changing, and to trust that nature will protect him as he protects those around him.)

And I will call upon your name And keep my eyes above the waves When oceans rise My soul will rest in your embrace For I am yours And you are mine

Stampede by Bitter Ruin (Avantika returned. He is not prepared, and though she very nearly gets away with the Cloven Crystal she sought for, he is able to end her once and for all. A flash of light in the middle of the cold dark ocean, and she is finished. The Star Razor Exalted.)

Not gone back, back, back Not gone back with that knife I see To invade my chest Break me at best tear up at me But I will not function I don’t live life for loving you

In the Hall of the Mountain King by Edvard Grieg (A building sense of dread in the remote outpost of Balenpost, culminating in the sudden and unexpected death of Lady Vess Derogna. He does his best to improvise a sense of ease in the moment, something to keep the group moving forward with no suspicion from their guide, but the sickening unease lingers as they head out in the frozen landscape.)

Instrumental

Tend Your Flock by The Dear Hunter (The Mighty Nein finally find Lucien and the Tombtakers. An inverted bastardization of the pack of weirdos from the circus so long ago. It is eerie and uncanny to see a friend back from the dead, but no longer a friend at all. Simply the vessel that looks like him, filled with something altogether familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. A tense truce is reached as both parties decide, if not to work together, to at least not work against each other for the time being.)

Instrumental

7 Hours Ago by Honeywater (Fjord and Jester check in with each other in the wake of everything that has happened since arriving in Eiselcross, and in doing so continue to dance around these feelings they both share. The people they were when they first met, are not the people they are now, but some things must be dealt with before new things can bloom. Soon my love, soon.)

I’ve sailed across the ocean blue Fire and brimstone just for you To speak those three words loud and clear Speak away this cloud of fear Shadows fall and sun shines Through all the way to me and you

I’m over Here Are You There Too? By PigPen Theatre Co. (He almost loses her again, and this time he does nothing to stop it. By the time he realizes something is wrong, it is over, leaving behind an irreversible mark of time passed in an instant. The time for waiting is over. “Can I kiss you?” He asks. Yes, she answers. It is small in the face of everything they find themselves in the middle of, but it is /theirs/.)

Come, take me by surprise Push me in the eyes See if I survive Hey its me love I’m over here are you there too?

Exorcism For Cello and Malaria by Worrytrain (The first descent into the labs of Aeor, and the terrors that lurk within it. Monsters and forests of flesh. The ever present feeling of being watched.)

Instrumental

Novels by Rusty Clanton (In the wake their first kiss, Fjord and Jester share an intimate moment on night watch. Eiselcross is cold and unforgiving, and Lucien even more so, but the two of them continue to carve out moments of tenderness for themselves. These public displays of affection are new to them both, but in the moment something clicks, as if it were always meant to be. Someday they won’t have to wait for each other. Someday this will all be simple. But for now, in this moment, they are warm and her head fits perfect on his shoulder.)

In a world of places, let’s go somewhere we haven’t gone We’ve got younger faces than our hearts are letting on And we won’t place any stock in old days Let’s save up for something new Someday I won’t have to wait for you

Howling Fjord from World of Warcraft (It is unsettlingly in its familiarity, as Fjord watches Beau and Caleb shoot up from their nightmares in the same way he once did when dreaming of being crushed and drowned. And like those dreams, a mark is left behind in the form of a red eye on both of them. The Mighty Nein have dealt with much in short span of time, but this—this is something new and altogether terrifying in its unpredictability. The only way out is through though, and understanding won’t be found sitting around in the tower waiting for it. So they set off again.)

Instrumental

Rise of the Vrykul from World of Warcraft (Another old enemy returns, this time in the form of a white dragon hell bent on revenge. Gelidon returns, almost takes Beau with him, and highlights again just how little they can trust Lucien and the Tombtakers.)

Instrumental

The Wolves by Cyrus Reynolds, Keeley Bumford (The Mighty Nein are cornered as they attempt to confront Lucien and the Tombtakers for stealing their Bag of Holding, and everything precious within it. With magic not an option, and their strength rapidly decreasing, there is nothing else to do but run. In this moment, one thing is clear. If he must stay behind to make sure the others can get out, he will. The chase is on.)

This world is slowing down How can I fight it? How can I? Listen when there’s no sound The wolves are out Yes, the wolves are out

[caretaker-au]

Kindness & Justice: Backstory

The two adolescent girls huddled around a small campfire in the twilight, trying to finish their dinner before nightfall. The tall cook poured the remains of pancake batter into the cast iron pan, mentally crossing her fingers that this one wouldn’t stick as bad as the previous one did. 

“This is the last one,” the cook said, “You want it?”

“No, that one is all yours,” her friend answered between mouthfuls. She didn’t have a fork, so she had rolled up the pancake like a burrito. At some point, her black cowboy hat had fallen off her head and hung against her back by the drawstring. It was her latest attempt at bringing Western wear back into vogue. “I shouldn’t have teased you for packing all that kitchen stuff. This turned out way better than I expected.”

“Worth it?” the cook asked with a grin.

“Worth it,” the shorter girl smiled. She finished off her food and stretched, moving her hat so she could lay down by the fire. The pink-streaked clouds floated overhead. It was warm enough that the fire was a little bit uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem right to lay anywhere else.

“So…” the cowgirl ventured, “You ready to talk about what happened with your folks?”

“Ugh, not really,” she answered, prodding at the batter with the spatula, “But, after working so hard to cheer me up, I suppose you’ve earned the right to know... Mom and Dad cornered me about their suspicions, and I told them the truth about us. Well, not about us, exactly, I left you out of it. I told them about me.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t take it too well.”

“I mean, they took it about as well as expected. Shouting, some crying, the whole works. Kept saying it was their fault, but that didn’t stop them from blaming me anyway.” The cook glanced at her friend, and saw her scowling. “It really wasn’t that bad though,” she added, “I mean, it could have been a lot worse, I’m pretty lucky, when you think about it.”

“Are you kidding me?” she sat up, her face incredulous, “Your parents are the lucky ones for having a daughter like you! They don’t deserve you, and you don’t deserve to be treated like a mistake. The unfairness of it all, it just--” she clenched the fabric of her skirt, stumbling over her words, “Once we get back to the city, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t…” the tall girl said, her voice falling low, “I know it’s not your style, but I want you to try to be nice to them.” The cowgirl rolled her eyes, so she continued with a bit of forced smile, “Not for them but for me, okay?”

The short friend sighed, “Okay, for you. Is that thing done cooking yet?”

In response, the cook jerked the pan, masterfully flipping the pancake over. One side was a perfect golden brown. “Just a little bit longer now.”

The cowgirl sat up, surveying the campsite. The two of them had never been camping before, and the hike had been much harder than either of them had anticipated. It didn’t help that they had over-packed and had to cut their climb a bit short as a result. Nonetheless, the clear warm night and birds chirping in the trees made the escape feel almost as magical as the girls had hoped for. A quiet sanctuary where no people would be around: well, most likely no people, that is. 

“Hey, speaking of miserable family members,” the short girl ventured, “Did I ever tell you about the skeleton in my family’s closet?”

“This better not be one of your weird scary horror stories.”

“It sure is!” she answered. The cowgirl jumped to her feet, clearing her voice in preparation for the tale, “Listen to this: when my grandpa was a little kid, his brother tried to murder him.”

“How very ‘Cain and Abel’,” the cook smirked, “You can’t just start there. Start at the beginning of the story. What lead up to it?”

“That’s just it, no one really knows. Everyone says he just snapped and went crazy when the two of them were home alone. Grandpa was just happily playing video games at the time, so maybe his brother wanted a turn.”

“That… doesn’t seem like a very compelling motive,” the cook said, checking the underside of her pancake, “Are you sure your grandpa’s not exaggerating?”

“It’s the truth!” the cowgirl insisted, “His brother attacked him and cracked his head against the coffee table. They found gramps in a puddle of blood in the living room, and he had to be rushed to the hospital and got six stitches! But I still haven’t gotten to the best part.” The girl paused for dramatic effect.

“Best or worst?” the cook lifted the whole pancake with her spatula and tested a small bite on the edge. It was still too hot to eat.

“The best part is…” the cowgirl swept her arm towards the dimly lit forest around them, “His brother fled to this very mountain. And he was never found again.”

“What?” the girl dropped her pancake on the ground. She quickly snapped it up and set it back in the pan. Dirt and ash was stuck to it.

“Five second rule,” the cowgirl murmured. 

“Did you just say your grandpa--”

“Great uncle.”

“--your great uncle ran away to this mountain and died?”

“Disappeared. Maybe he still roams this mountain, searching for more innocent children to send to their graves…” The short girl’s voice was dramatic, but her eyes were dancing with mischief.

“Are you kidding me, that’s so creepy! And to think coming here was your idea! Was this all a set up to scare me?” The cook crossed her arms, but her friend just laughed.

“No, no! To be honest, I didn’t realize this particular trail was a part of The Mount Ebott until we were on our way.”

“A likely story,” the cook murmured as she nibbled the edge of her pancake.

“It’ll be fine, really. Oh, I know--I have something to protect you from any undead uncles. Check this out!” the cowgirl skipped towards their yellow tent and unzipped her backpack that was laying in front of it. She withdrew a long leather holster, with a revolver already tucked inside it.

The tall girl’s jaw dropped open, “You brought your dad’s gun?!”

“Maybe,” she giggled, strapping the holster around her waist, “It will be my gun in a few years, I’m just borrowing it a little early.”

“Do you even know how to use one of those things?”

“Yeah, yeah, I shoot it every year on my birthday. Family tradition.” the gunslinger drew her weapon, pointing it out towards the woods.

“Don’t--”

“It’s okay, it’s not loaded,” she said, popping open the cylinder, “The ammo’s in my bag.”

The cook shook her head, “And I thought my family was crazy.”

The cowgirl spun the gun around her finger and holstered the weapon with practiced flourish. She spoke with an exaggerated drawl, “Don’t worry, darlin’, this lone ranger will defend you from any murderin’ spectral horrors.”

“Stop it! You’re awful!” the cook laughed, before taking another bite of her food. It wasn’t as dirty as she thought, and she swallowed a few more bites before stuffing the rest in her mouth.

“You hear that?” the lone ranger put a hand to her ear, “It won’t be safe for long, we best be getting to bed before the devil finds us.”

“Oh please, that’s enough, Calamity Jane.”

“I prefer the name--”

She was cut off by the sharp crack of a snapped branch. The gunslinger stilled, turning in the direction of the noise, “What was that?”

The tall girl huffed in response, “I said cut it out--" but the cowgirl shushed her, scanning the dense foliage around them. Her heart caught in her throat as she saw a pair of eyes glinting from their firelight. A huge creature, larger than a man, was standing on two legs and peering into the camp from about two hundred feet away.

"There's--" the gunslinger's voice strained to form the words, "There's a bear."

The cook froze. She reached for her cast iron pan and held it with both hands. "What do we do?" she whispered.

The cowgirl shook her head. There weren't supposed to be bears in this area. According to her research, none had been seen for over a decade, which is why she hadn't bothered to look up how to defend against one. The bear dropped down to all fours, and they could hear it begin to huff and snarl.

"Get ready to run," she hissed. The cook stood, and the shorter girl eyed her backpack that held her ammunition. It was sitting at the foot of the tent, but she would have to go toward the monster to retrieve it. The bag was only fifteen feet away but it might as well have been fifteen miles. 

The two didn’t have a chance to decide when to act. With a roar, the bear lunged forward, crashing through the foliage as it charged. The cook shrieked, fleeing the camp, but the cowgirl did the opposite, sprinting towards her bag. She had almost reached it when the tent surged forward, collapsing on top of her in a wave of nylon and snapped metal supports. The gunslinger fell to her back and she pushed the tangle of tent away from her face, only to see the bear looming over her, separated only by the crushed tent. The girl shielded her face with her arms and braced herself for what was to come.

“Get away from her!” her friend screamed. She had returned, and had taken to bludgeoning the bear’s hindquarters with her pan. The bear twisted around and swiped a clawed paw towards her, but the cook jumped back, turning heel to run again. With a snarl, the bear released the cowgirl and chased its assailant. The gunslinger kicked the tangled tent off her legs and before she realized it she was chasing the bear, screaming obscenities and death threats. The cook was fast, but the bear was faster, and she lost sight of them both as they crested a small hill outside the camp. 

A blood curdling shriek filled the tree tops, followed by silence.

The gunslinger tore up the slope and hesitated when she reached the apex. Her friend was nowhere in sight, but the bear had already changed directions, loping back towards her. Her fingers reached for her gun, but she reminded herself it was still empty, and willed herself to retreat. The rapid thumping of the bear’s steps told her she wouldn’t make it to the camp before it caught up with her.

Overhead, the large branch of a cedar bowed over her. Leaping, the girl grabbed it and hoisted herself onto the branch before scrambling up the next. The bear was under the tree in an instant, stretching to full height to swipe at her. Its claw caught her foot, nearly yanking her out of the tree, but only managed to knock off her boot. The girl continued to climb, and the bear snapped off the lower branches, pushing against the trunk. The tree shuddered and flexed under the weight.

With one arm wrapped tight around a branch, the cowgirl pulled off her remaining boot and tossed it down. It bounced off the bear’s shoulder, who gave it a glance before turning its attention back to the girl. She whispered a prayer before unholstering her weapon, and threw the revolver at the monster. The gun crashed against the bear’s muzzle with an audible whack, and the bear pulled back from the tree, shaking its head. She held her breath as the bear paced around the tree before leaving in the direction of the camp. The dense canopy obstructed her view of it, but the tell tale sounds of the creature ripping through bags and crunching through supplies told her all she needed to know.

The girl settled onto the upper branches of the tree and wrapped her arms around the trunk. Against the odds, she was safe but trapped. Without a loaded gun, leaving the tree wasn’t a risk she could afford to take. To make matters worse, the last rays of twilight were fading away, cloaking the woods in frigid darkness. Her flashlight, phone, and ammunition were all at the camp, hidden under the destroyed tent. There was nothing she could do but wait it out.

***

Two hours elapsed before the bear left the camp. Another 30 minutes went by before the gunslinger felt safe enough to crawl down from the tree. Her fingers and toes were frozen and her legs ached as she collected her gun and put her boots back on. However, she didn’t have the luxury to pity herself. Through the dark, she crept back to where the campfire once was and strained her eyes in the dim moonlight for the remains of the tent. It had been dragged a good distance away, destroyed beyond use. She was relieved to find her backpack still twisted up inside, and rifled through the contents. She flicked on her flashlight and put it in the crook of her neck as she loaded her gun. Only six bullets, just enough to show it off to her friend.

If only she had loaded it earlier, then that monster would have got what it deserved.

The lone ranger returned to the camp and cast her flashlight across the ransacked carnage. Clothes and supplies were strewn throughout the foliage, and all that remained of the food were shredded cans and crushed boxes. Even the cooking utensils had been mutilated with gnaw marks. Rage boiled inside her.

The forest looked very dizzyingly similar at night, and she found herself walking in circles, ending up back at the camp again and again. Finally, she accurately identified the hill she had last seen her friend and was surprised to discover a steep drop of about twenty feet not far from it, jagged granite boulders resting at the base. There she found her first lead. A conspicuous dark splatter against the white rocks: blood.

The small girl shouted her friend’s name, but there was no response. She climbed down the steep surface of the cliff side at a much slower pace than her friend would have been afforded. The blood was no longer fresh, but she could see the direction it led before the ground cover became more soil than stone. She followed the trail.

The ferns and ivy lashed across her torn stockings, but she continued forward, right hand hovering over her weapon. She stopped at the entrance of a cave yawning out of the mountainside. It looked both parts refuge and trap. Didn’t bears live in caves?

She called out her friend’s name again, but was answered only with a faint echo. At least it was better than the growl of bears. She shined her light across the back of the cave and could see the tunnel curved, making it impossible to see how deep it was. As she traced the floor with the light, something sparkled. The gunslinger ventured forward and pinched it between her fingers: a hair pin, with a small crystal embedded at the end. The last time she had seen it was in her friend’s hair. She had been here.

The cowgirl huffed out a shuddering sigh, and she couldn’t tell if it was from relief or a renewed sense of dread. If her friend had been here, where was she now?

The child took a deep breath and stepped deeper into the cave.

kindness and justice: backstory // end

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[fizzingwizard]

Alright alright alright digimon adventure: episode 21, go!!! Last week I was interested to see if the pretty vague ep 21 preview was gonna be a mostly dull fight type filler ep or if the reason for the vagueness was there was too much plotty stuff going on for them to reveal. It’s the latter, I’m happy to say!

It was really cool!! There was a lot of good stuff so YAY! Anything I write here will be a spoiler but let’s just say that T is a very important letter in the alphabet! multiple Ts, in fact!!

Cap of the day: my boy being AWESOME

Let’s get to it! under the cut as usual

Now last week’s episode was A LOT. We rescued Takeru who no one even knew needed rescuing, gained and then immediately lost the Holy Digimon, got him back in the form of a digi-egg, and then immediately lost THAT too. Honestly I get why it’s Chosen Children and not Chosen Adults - adults would be like “are you KIDDING me all this work with NO PAYOFF I am gonna SUE”

Patamon’s digi-egg has been abducted by this guy... Skullnightmon? It seems he was a Xros Wars character. I had to look him up because at first I tried “Scarlnightmon” because Idk I was thinking Scarlet Night??? like night of blood and death??? idk. and Google tried to autocorrect it to “Scranton.” Uh... yeah. Skullnightmon makes more sense because of the BIG ASS SKULL on his breasplate. -.-;

It occurs to me how little I know about any Digimon series other than Adventure X’D I mean, I’m not gonna do anything to change that, but.... yeah I’m gonna continue to mix up stuff like this. His loyal steed is Darkmaildramon.

Yamato, of course, is immediately like Protective Mode On.

So at first I was a bit worried that this ep was gonna just Move Things Along as usual and Yamato wasn’t going to react to his little bro randomly being in the digital world. Let alone in the clutches of pure evil up until just recently. When you’re caught up in battle it’s admittedly hard to find time to Talk about stuff but COME ON

Fortunately, thought we don’t get a lot of Talking, we do get a bit. Like this cute moment where Takeru tries to explain what happened and Yamato’s just like “We can talk later” and gives him this adorable head pat. Ok, fine. I can live with that. It’s better than nothing xP

They arrive at the creepy castle which Taichi recognizes as the place Ogremon directed them to. It looks very evil and in front of it is a giant equally evil moat.

They also find this sinkhole sort of thing which Takeru promptly rushes over to stand at the very edge.

Yamato: OMG kid I look away for ONE SECOND

le gasp! Takeru finds a shiny feather at the edge of the hole! It’s a sign of the holy digimon! We should go investigate!

Oops first we have to find this gross Garurumon knock off... Its name is Splashmon but I think it should be “MeltedCrayonGarurumon”

Splashmon is apparently also from Xros wars and can turn into liquid and take on the form of other Digimon... I don’t know if he’s always this shit at it though. Maybe being controlled by evil is the reason for all the meltyness because he looks pretty cool in his wikia:

rofl...

Splashmon showers them all with acid rain and Yamato protec baby bro :< *wibble*

He then carries him to safety like this. xP

Yamato: Takeru, hide!

Takeru: This bottomless pit that reeks of evil seems like an ideal hiding spot. Niichan will be so proud

No but seriously... looks like we don’t get cowardly, crybaby Takeru this season. The kids getting to y’know Be Human about stuff is a thing it looks like I’m going to continue to miss in this reboot. But on the other hand, I genuinely DO enjoy Takeru throwing his all into saving Angemon.

Skullnightmon sticks Angemon’s digi-egg here where it gets chained down by evil vines. Very evil. Also seems like overkill, I mean, it’s an egg, what’s it going to do, roll off the platform?

We then switch gears and rejoin the kids in the real world, where Koushirou has, apparently overnight, if not in the last five minutes, created an update for their digivices which enables them to always be in contact with their partner. I don’t really get the details but that appears to be the size of it. We also catch up with Mimi and Jou.

At first I thought this was a school, but no, IT’S MIMI’S HOUSE. She has a PERSONAL CHAUFFEUR. Like, 99 Adventure Mimi was well-off, that was especially clear in 02... but... WOWZA.

Mimi’s parents look as stupid as ever xD I love them. They’re joined by her grandpa. After having been gone for three days with no explanation, Mimi’s parents are just like “Don’t you want to take it easy at home today?” when she says she needs to go out. Mimi’s just like “I gotta do what I gotta do!” (ok she actually quotes her grandpa from back in her intro ep but) and leaves like nothing happened.

.... I think grandpa might be dead. He doesn’t move the whole scene. Doesn’t even change his expression. I guess his mouth is a bit more open but that could just be because rigor mortis hasn’t quite set in

Meanwhile in Jou’s (normal, average) apartment, we meet SHIN-NIISAN!!! He’s as much of a dick as ever. I love him. Jou’s parents were mad because 1) he was gone for three days, 2) he skipped cram school, 3) he lost his textbook. I think Shin’s basically like HECK yeah finally my little bro shows his cool side! So he decides to be an enabler. GOOD, seems like Jou needs someone to be on his side at home ;_;

Their Digimon partners are traveling in the interwebz like... this... -____-;

They end up tracking Calmaramon, who is indeed Calmaramon.

I remember from Frontier when Renamon evolved to Calmaramon everyone gave her SO MUCH GRIEF for not being sexy. Wasn’t there like this whole episode devoted to how beautiful Izumi’s evolutions were and then Calmara the Squid Woman shows up and everyone’s like “ewww gross yuck!!” And ok I know she’s evil here too. But guys I JUST THINK SQUID WOMAN IS WICKED AWESOME OKAY. Like that is a LOOK. Versace take notes.

Like can we get some body positivity??? There is NOTHING wrong with being half-squid. Zephyrmon is not better just because she wears lingerie! Bet she can beat everyone at the swim meet. Also tastes yummy fried or raw with soy sauce.

ok I’m done. I’m serious about loving Calmaramon though. I have so many Frontier issues I totally forgot about >_>;

*cough* so yeah Calmaramon and those little green Digimon virus things take control of some boat and Koushirou’s like Uh-Oh Danger Will Robinson. Piyomon tries to attack with Magical Fire and is surprised, for some reason, when it does not do much. They are very much outnumbered and Calmaramon is clearly a much higher level than them so WHY do they think child-level is gonna be enough??

So this is cool!! Koushirou appears to be learning to read digi-code! He sounds out Calmaramon’s name by himself. We still pretty much have the question of why Taichi could just read digi-code fluently (well, almost? he randomly couldn’t read everything at the fortress if memory serves) and Koushirou has to sound it out... will we get an answer to this or?? Like if it were Takeru or Hikari I’d just assume it’s their Magic Baby powers at work but it was never made clear if just Taichi can read like this or they all can, and now it seems like maybe they all can’t since Koushirou’s trying so hard here...

Meanwhile Takeru...

99 Yamato would never have taken his eyes off Takeru for so long lmao

though it makes more sense if this season’s Takeru is more independent which he seems to be

Splashmon turns out to be really tough to beat, because he’s lost his mind and therefore holds nothing back xP He crushes MetalGreymon and WereGarurumon to the ground, infecting them with miasma.

At this point I was disappointed that Taichi and Yamato were still so clear-headed... like when are you gonna worry about your partner dude?? He gets the Crest of Courage because he’s never felt fear in his life??????

But then, their next move fails and WereGarurumon de-evolves back to Gabumon, while MetalGreymon is still in Splashmon’s clutches. He proceeds to pretty much make MetalGreymon’s arm wither away...

And Taichi FINALLY looks worried. ABOUT TIME.

Takeru has made it to the bottom of the hole, where he is startled to find this giant eye. I would also fall right on my bottom if I suddenly came across a giant eye.

Giant eye seems interested in Takeru’s digivice, so Takeru politely lets him have a look. BLINGGGGGGG.

Giant Eye: Ow ow ow turn it down!!!

Takeru: Sorry it’s LED!!

Taichi runs to rescue MetalGreymon in the... most ineffectual way possible... I love him...

The miasma can even hurt humans, it appears. Even though he’s in pain, Taichi doesn’t give up, and we get to hear Yamato shriek “Taichi!” all scared and adorable-like.

Taichi passionately reminds MetalGreymon about what they’re fighting for and succeeds in motivating him to be less dead.

Taichi: GIMME A V DOT THE I CURLY C T O R Y VICTORY!! *CLAP CLAP* VICTORY!! *CLAP CLAP*

Yamato: Incredible... so this is the power of a Pep Talk...

Taichi’s Pep causes MetalGreymon’s arm to... fall off... but it’s ok because it sprouts a long wiggly band of light uhhhhhh which then turns into a Giant Gun. So all is well. because MetalGreymon didn’t already have enough guns

MetalGreymon succeeds in defeating Splashmon and we seem some purple crystal sort of thing disappear, my guess is that’s what was controlling him. Agumon falls from midair and Taichi catches him like this.

They cute. They also need a break. Well, Agumon needs a break, I honestly think Taichi doesn’t even have an Off button...

Just when you think things can’t get weirder... Giant Eye appears.

Takeru’s on top of him looking all cool! Till he immediately falls!

Yamato catches him somewhat more adroitly than Taichi caught Agumon xP

The eye belongs to ElDradimon!! I love “animals with worlds on their backs” so this is totally up my ally. My first guess about the eye was that it was gonna be one of the digital sovereigns but this is still pretty cool.

Sooooooo cooooooooool

Yamato doesn’t even lecture Takeru about going off on his own and not hiding like he was told. SO DIFFERENT CANNOT COMPUTE. But looks how happy Takeru is to be praised by his bro for helping ElDradimon. Awww.

I’ve got to now reevaluate how I think things will go down because I really expected Takeru to be something that drives a wedge between Yamato and Taichi. In the old days, Yamato was super protective but Taichi would let Takeru do whatever and Takeru got a little boy crush on him which fed into Yamato’s inferiority complex. But if Yamato’s not overprotective and Takeru is already capable on his own... New directions are good though. I won’t be sorry if they don’t rehash all that BUT I need it to be replaced with something else. Taichi can’t just always be serious, Yamato can’t just always be cool... I like the reboot but I am still on edge about the character stuff.

... Yeah so ElDradimon was mega cool and then... he opened up his VACANT head... bahahaha.... bahahahahahahahahahahaha

So what I really liked about this ep was what I saw as parallels drawn between Taichi and Takeru on the theme of “Do anything to help your partner.” Takeru can’t stop looking for Angemon’s egg, that’s why he goes into the hole after finding the feather. He might not know what’s doing but he’s still gonna do it. Taichi knows a bit more and he’s usually so calculating and strategic, but when MetalGreymon looked on the verge of defeat he threw caution to the wind and tried to save him himself. Okay, not the first time we’ve seen this, true, but it did seem to be the running theme of the episode.

I know I didn’t really talk about how apparently the kids can now update their partners with new powers/gadgets?? by believing in them enough... but y’know that just sounds like the sort of thing a kid’s show would do. I almost miss the card game from Tamers... it would be cool to see the kids have to think and strategically choose what they want to equip their partners with. That was part of the enticement of Tamers, where Adventure was more inexplicable magic, Tamers relied more on intent. Taichi is such a strategist (and of course there’s also freaking Koushirou) that it seems a waste to not involve the kids in the decision making more.

Next week’s ep preivew was a bit hard to follow but 1) the animation looks better than this week thank heaven and 2) it looks like fun. And we get more bamf Takeru! Woot. Can I still say woot in 2020? I can because of senior citizen privilege right?

[scribbling-stiks]

AAR - XLV - Overloaded

After a time leaning on each other, America begins fidgeting and bounces his leg. The bouncing gets more and more erratic, filling Russia with worry. Then, America pulls away violently. Russia jerks a little, startled.

Russia reaches over and brushes America's shoulder with his fingers, and America jerks away. Russia retracts his hands and sits back, filled with confusion and anxiety.

"Are you okay?" Russia asks quietly under the noise of upstairs.

America whines and curls upon himself. Russia holds back from touching him.

"What's wrong?" Russia asks, feeling desperate.

America doesn't answer. Instead, he buries his head into his knees and covers his ears with his hands. Russia bites his lip and could practically hear the pleas of 'be quiet' in the air. Russia freezes a little.

'What's wrong?'

'What do I do?'

A few creaking footsteps echo above them.

Russia began to get up.

"No. Wait. Don't. Please."

Russia falls back, perturbed and frightened. Then, America whimpers and pulls at his hair. Russia hovers over him and feels stuck and powerless.

"Stars?" Russia asks, fear leaking into his tone.

America takes a heavy gasp and tears trace his cheeks.

"Please, just don't leave. Please. I don't wanna be alone," America begs quietly.

Russia sinks back into the bed and fidgets with his hat, feeling nervous and wanting desperately to help, but not knowing how. He waits and starts looking around the room, doing his best to deter himself from touching America, as much as he wanted to hug and comfort him.

The footsteps above them quiet and America curls up a little more. Russia's heart pounds in his chest.

'What do I do?!'

America forcefully tears his socks and his shirt off and he hurls the cloth to the floor as if it burned.

"It's too much. It's all too much," America mutters.

America's fingers light up faintly but the magic sparks furiously before sputtering out with a pained gasp. Russia watches with wide eyes and bated breath.

"Russ?"

His voice is so quiet and vulnerable and Russia feels his heart lodge itself in his throat. Russia's head whips up to look into America's eyes. America doesn't look at him.

"Can you get the grey blanket? ...please?" America asks quietly, his voice shaking.

Russia nods and hurries to his feet, nearly tripping in his haste to search for anything to make this better. There aren't any blankets matching the color on the bedroom floor and Russia wretches open the closet doors.

He spots a crumpled grey pile of fabric in the back corner. Russia grabs it and heaves it up, the blanket much heavier than he had been expecting.

Russia gathers the cloth in his arms and brings it to the bed. He drops it beside America, who shakily takes it and wraps it around his shoulders, no issue with the weight. America shakes under it for a few minutes before he takes a few deep breaths.

The shaking recedes and America's breathing quiets.

"Are you..." Russia starts weakly, "Are you okay?"

America jerks his head from side to side, hunched over under the blanket.

"What's wrong?" Russia asks carefully.

"...overstimulation," America mumbles, the syllables mixing together and making it almost unintelligible.

Russia nods, not understanding what it meant, but respectful.

"Be with me, but don't touch me right now," America pleads, his voice a little clearer, but still shaky.

"Okay," Russia replies quietly.

America and Russia sit quietly side by side until America changes his position, taking to lying chest-down on the bedding parallel to the headboard, the blanket draped on his back.

Russia tries his best to quell his apprehension, glancing at America every few minutes to check on him.

"'m sorry," America says, sounding exhausted.

"Are you okay?" Russia asks tentatively.

"I will be," America says with a sigh, "I just got overwhelmed. I'm sorry, I think I freaked you out."

"It's alright."

America hums. They fall quiet and listen to the house settle.

"Is this going to happen again?" Russia asks carefully, worry in his voice.

"Yeah. It just kinda... happens every once in a while," America mumbles, looking away, "I'm sorry you had to see me like this."

"It's okay," Russia says hurriedly, "I'm worried, not angry."

"...really?"

"Yes. I want to help you," Russia emphasizes.

America shifts slightly and stares up at Russia for a second before looking away. America fidgets with the corner of the blanket and sighs quietly.

"I'm just stressed. And when I'm stressed, my head goes into overdrive," America explains, waving a hand as if to add to his explanation, "and my brain just gets overloaded."

Russia hums in contemplation, wishing he had his phone to find more information, and maybe even find some way to help.

"Thank you for staying," America says quietly, looking away.

Russia pauses. The statement just strikes him as strange. A pang of sadness hits him in the chest.

'What else was I supposed to do?'

"Meri?"

"Yeah?"

"How many people have left you like that?"

"Well... the kids don't see me like this. And no one else would care enough to help except maybe Dixie and Nada. Everyone else just tells me to 'cut it out, you bloody brat,' or something else along those lines, like I have much of a choice over any of it. Like, do you think I would choose this?!"

America sighs.

Russia cringes in sympathy. There is another pause and America slowly inches his way closer to Russia until they two are side by side. America crosses his arms in front of him and leans his head on them. Russia very cautiously lays his hand on America's hair.

"Is this good?" Russia asks softly, trying his best to be mindful.

America gives a small nod. Russia smiles and begins gently playing with America's hair, trying to calm himself down, staring out at the cresting sun over the horizon.

They sit in silence as they hear the house come to life with motion. Footsteps and giggling and shouting about the coffee machine ring out from the main floor. America sighs, but had an affectionate smile growing on his face.

"Are you going to be alright?" Russia asks quietly.

"Yup," America chirps with a yawn, "I just need some caffeine and something to eat and I'll be fine."

A shrill scream cuts through the noise of the house.

Russia and America make momentary eye contact before simultaneously jumping up and rushing downstairs.

"What's going on?!" America shouts, jumping down the last few stairs to the first floor.

Russia stumbles on the last few stairs and pointedly ignores the stinging of his skin and the pulling in his hip. He tries his best to catch up to America but ends up trailing just behind him.

"That thing!" Iowa screams, pointing out one of the side windows.

'Why isn't there any light coming through?' Russia wonders briefly.

He's about to get his answer.

Russia nears the window and catches a glimpse of America's horrified look. He looks out for himself, and most of the color drains from his face.

Another black mass, just like the one in the bedroom.

Except, this one almost as large as the house. Russia freezes in place and the thing lurks outside, traversing the outer edges of the lawn. It seems to stalks the house in the few shadows that remain in the early morning sun.

"S***. That thing is huge," America mutters.

Then America growls and glares down at his hands.

"And my magic isn't back up to speed yet either. F***!" America hisses under his breath, clenching his hands into fists.

Russia puts a hand on America's shoulder. He hears shuffling behind him and raises his other hand, signaling them to stop.

"Wait," Russia orders.

"What?! WHY?" Dixie demands.

Russia turns around to address him and sees Dixie standing, shotgun in hand, with a group of about a dozen states behind him, all of them armed and snarling.

"If it has not attacked us, it might not," Russia explains, his mind racing but his tone sure, "We should not risk anything if it can't or won't hurt us right now."

America hums with uncertainty but doesn't object.

"Amy?" Dixie asks.

"I think we should wait," America says, "like Rue said. And maybe the salt lines worked."

Dixie grumbles angrily but calls off the states none the less. The states groan and move to sit around the living room, guns and knives still in hand.

Russia stares at the blob. Its movement is almost as mesmerizing as it is terrifying.

It rolls over itself, its mass moving almost like a condensed school of fish would, as if it was made of separate, slimy, black pieces, moving in unison.

The slimy mass folds over itself, rolling over the frosty domain outside, coating whatever it touches with a dull grey slime. Its motion and the speed with which it crosses the front yard leaves Russia's head spinning. America grabs his shoulder and slowly pulls him away.

"Russia?"

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

Russia tears his eyes away and meets America's worried gaze.

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Okay. That's all fine and dandy, but why in the LORD'S NAME are we waiting here like sitting ducks?!" Dixie exclaims, throwing an arm in the air.

"We may not even be targets," Russia says firmly, "and going out there could end with someone getting hurt."

'...or worse.'

"Well, I want to fight it," Finland chimes in, machine gun under her arm.

"We shouldn't provoke it if we don't have to," Canada argues.

"IT'S AS BIG AS THE HOUSE!" Texas shouts, gesturing wildly to the window.

"We cannot be stuck here!" Brazil exclaims, her hands in her hair, "my states are still out there, and some of them are still missing!"

"LISTEN!" America snaps.

Everyone falls quiet.

"I can't fight right now," America says, pointing to himself, "and I am not allowing any of my kids out there if I can't be with them. And no one else should be going without back up, okay?! Right now, we're going to hang tight. We will fight as a last resort."

America stares around for any objections, but no one speaks up. America lets out a shaky sigh and rubs his face. Then, America begins walking around the house, checking the locks on windows. Oregon and a reluctant Wyoming run around to help make sure all of them are secure. Russia turns his gaze back outside and sees the thing closer now.

"Well, at least the windows are hurricane-proof," Dixie grumbles, his arms crossed.

~

Next

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Table of Contents

[opalescent-cheetah]

I Don’t Know What To Do (About This Dream And You), 4/5 - Methydoll

Summary: Baseball players and mythical beings are a potent combination. After Crystal catches her eye on the baseball field, Nicky makes a decision that turns her entire world upside down. Meanwhile, Crystal is caught in a mysterious dreamscape, chasing a creature with eyes like liquid gold.

Inspired by these songs: “She’s So High” - Tal Bachman; “Digital Love” - Daft Punk; “Baby” - Francesca Blanchard

Chapter Summary: Crystal is an ordinary girl with messy hair and a baseball cap, and she’s not sure how to feel about that. Jan is the ultimate wingwoman.

A/N: Here is the penultimate chapter of my fic for @cobblestaubrey​ ! In which Aiden and Brita make a very random (but - at least in my mind - a very necessary) cameo.

Ao3 // Previous Chapter

Chapter 4 - Crystal

She’s back in that moonlit field, standing beneath the same tree, its leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Glancing up, she looks for the feathered shape she’d seen last time, but the branches whisper with nothing but emptiness.

Crystal takes the opportunity to gather her surroundings. Nothing has changed since her first visit, several nights ago. There is nothing to see save for an expanse of rolling hills, dotted with huddled thickets of trees. It’s nothing special, and she can’t help but wonder why she’s here again.

She turns, slowly, and that’s when she sees them: the bird person who healed her. They’re sitting on the crest of a nearby hill, feathers twitching in the wind, silently looking out into the distance. 

So it was them, last time I was here, Crystal realises. She can’t help but think that they have something to do with this recurring dream. Ever since the night they healed her, they’ve been an ever-present force in her mind, and now she’s seeing them in her sleep, too?

Almost impulsively, she begins running towards them, desperate for answers. She knows they’ll probably fly away again, but her undying confusion moves her forward.

Crystal slows when she reaches the foot of the hill, taking the trek upwards one silent step at a time. It feels as though she’s closing in on a wild animal; something unpredictable, something delicate and defensive. She can still see the silhouetted shape at the top, the edges of their feathers shining silver in the watery moonlight. They’re ethereally beautiful, yet tragically untouchable. 

When she finally reaches the crest of the hill, she finds herself only a few paces away from them. They haven’t moved - it is as though they are frozen, statuesque beneath the stars. Crystal takes a tentative step closer, but when her shadow falls over them, they stiffen, feathers spiking in alarm. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Crystal tries to assure them, but they have already leaped to their feet, every muscle in their body pulled taut. In the fleeting moment before they spread their wings, Crystal catches a glimpse of their face, their golden eyes ablaze with terror, and it stops her short.

They take off in a blur of feathers, their dark silhouette vanishing into the night, swallowed by the endless expanse of starlight. Crystal stands in their wake, dazed, her throat too tight to even call out for them.

All she can see is the fear in their fiery eyes, their hard stare burrowing deep into her soul. It haunts her; why are they so scared? Why would they heal her, and then run away from her as though she’s some kind of monster? She rubs at a hollow ache in her chest, biting back exasperated tears.

What’s more, they share a striking likeness with Nicky, from the gentle slope of their jaw to the perfect arch of their lips. The downy feathers around their eyes weren’t enough to mask the soft curve of their eyelids, or to hide the shining gold of their pupils, as bright and beautiful as Nicky’s eyes. 

Nicky.

Crystal slumps to the ground, the grass prickling at her bare knees, but she hardly notices. The thought of Nicky makes her chest tighten, her throat closing with unspoken feelings. 

She’s never met anyone like Nicky before. There’s something about her - something special, something different, and it’s not just the iridescent gold of her eyes. Crystal can’t even bring herself to hate the fluttering flames in her chest whenever Nicky smiles at her. No, what hurts the most is that she’s Nicky: she’s perfect, so put-together, and completely out of Crystal’s league. She doesn’t even know why Nicky gives her the time of day; to her, Crystal must be nothing more than an ordinary girl, with messy hair and a baseball cap. She isn’t like Nicky. She’s not special, or interesting, or funny, or cool, she’s just…

She’s just Crystal. And that never feels like enough.

~

You’ve got it, you’ve got it…

It’s a high ball, carving an elegant arc through the air, and it’s coming down, down, towards Crystal’s waiting mitt. She hops a few steps backwards, eyes never leaving the incoming missile.

This is it - if she catches this, the game is hers.

THWACK.

The ball lands heavily in her mitt, and she swings her hand downward, securing it in her grip. 

“OUT!” the referee shouts. The bleachers - and Crystal’s teammates - erupt into cheers. It’s the third out of the last innings, and they’ve just won the game. 

“Crys! That was so good!” Jan shrieks, running up and tackling her in a hug. Jaida follows close behind her, lips quirked in a smile. 

“She must’ve been visited by the magical bird person again,” she jokes good-humouredly. “Hey, Crystal, you should ask them to visit the rest of the team, too.” 

Crystal falters, her mind drifting back to her last dream. 

“I mean, I would,” she finally says, “but I don’t think they want to talk to me right now.”

Jan giggles. “Alright, alright, keep them all to yourself then,” she says, swatting Crystal lightly. 

“You’d better get yourself some extra luck for our next game, though,” Jaida adds, clearly stifling a laugh.

“No, like, I actually think they’re mad at me right now,” Crystal insists, unable to erase their terrified eyes from her mind. “I keep seeing them in my dreams, but they always run away. They seem… they seem really scared of something.” She trails off, biting her lip. 

“I--” Jaida hesitates. “You’re not serious?”

Even Jan has taken a step back and is looking at Crystal quizzically. Crystal tries not to shrink under her gaze - if Jan thinks she’s going insane, then she might just have a problem. She decides not to mention that the bird person wears Nicky’s face beneath her feather-lined eyes.

Forcing a laugh, Crystal waves them off.

“I’m just kidding, you guys! You should see the looks on your faces. I got you good.” She shoots finger-guns at Jaida and Jan, trying not to sigh in relief when they both visibly relax.

“Whew, for a second there, I thought we were going to have to get your head checked,” Jan jokes, elbowing Crystal playfully. 

“Excuse me! I am perfectly sane,” Crystal sniffs, but she isn’t even sure whether she believes that anymore. 

“Yes, and pigs fly,” Jaida comments wryly. Beside her, Jan dissolves into giggles, while Crystal sticks her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. As they begin walking back to the locker rooms together, Jaida adds, “by the way, I’ll see y’all tonight at the team sleepover, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jan says, and Crystal nods in affirmation, hoping that this will give her a much-needed break from her worries. 

~

“Truth or dare.”

“Truth.” 

Crystal watches nervously as Jan’s expression turns sly. 

“Crystal Methyd, have you been… seeing anyone lately?”

“Apart from your mystical bird person,” Jaida adds, lips quirked in a wry smile, and the team giggles.

“I - uh--” Crystal stammers, caught off-guard. Her mind drifts, first, to the bird person of her dreams, but it’s quickly replaced by an image of Nicky’s perfect smile and her iridescent eyes, glowing softly in the cozy cafe. Did that count as a date? She feels her face flush at the thought.

“Someone’s blushing,” Jan teases her gleefully. “Come on, Crys! Tell us who it is!” 

“No-one,” she mumbles. “I’m not seeing anyone.” 

It was probably a one-off thing, anyways. Just something casual. Nothing worth overthinking.

Besides, if she let slip that she’s falling for one of Jan’s best friends, she’d never hear the end of it - Jan would want to play every role from wingwoman to bridesmaid.

“C’mon, sis, we can all tell you’re lying,” Brita laughs, elbowing her playfully. “You look like a tomato.”

“You’re one to talk,” Jaida cuts in, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “You and Aiden ain’t ever set anything straight.” 

“Because they’re not!” Jan adds, shrieking with laughter. Crystal giggles, finally relaxing slightly. Across the circle, Aiden’s pale face turns crimson, and Crystal is hit with an idea. Stifling an impish smile, she turns to Brita.

“Okay, Brita, truth or dare?”

She almost feels bad when she sees the way Brita’s eyes widen with knowing, but the feeling is outweighed by her own relief - at least the attention is off her shoulders, for now.

“Dare,” Brita finally decides, her voice hesitant, careful.

“I dare you to kiss Aiden,” Crystal says, and the entire circle breaks into whoops and cheers. 

“Fuck,” Aiden mutters, covering her scarlet face with both of her hands. “Brita, you could’ve just chosen truth--”

“Oh yeah? And be bombarded with questions neither of us wants to answer?” Brita rolls her eyes exasperatedly. “Come on, you can’t tell me that’s any better. At least we can get this--”

“--Over and done with,” Aiden says at the same time. She sighs, finally relenting. “Fine. Get over here, then.” 

Crystal watches, deeply amused, as Brita stalks across the circle and crouches down in front of Aiden. There’s a strange fire in both of their eyes - Crystal knows as well as anyone that their argumentative nature masks something deeper, but Brita and Aiden themselves are the only ones who refuse to acknowledge it aloud. 

Oh well. If anything, it makes them more fun to tease - so much so that it’s almost become a team tradition. Crystal rakes her gaze across the circle, taking in every gleeful grin and sly smirk, as Brita leans in to give Aiden a quick peck. The room erupts in shrieking laughter and cheers, and Crystal can’t help but join in, her own issues momentarily forgotten.

They don’t resurface until after the game, when Jan joins her in the bathroom as she’s brushing her teeth. 

“Hey,” she says, meeting Crystal’s eyes in the mirror. She’s pursing her lips, like there are more words still lingering on her tongue, but she doesn’t quite know how to say them. 

“Hey,” Crystal mumbles back around her toothbrush.

“I know we’re not playing Truth or Dare anymore, but I have a question.”

Though already suspicious, Crystal hums her acknowledgement, nodding for her to continue. Jan drums her fingertips on the countertop, hovering in a brief silence, before she finally speaks. 

“Is it Nicky?”

Crystal almost spits toothpaste into Jan’s face. Reeling, she splutters into the sink instead, hoping Jan can’t see the blush that’s permeated her cheeks. How could Jan possibly know? Am I really that obvious?

She straightens again, her mouth still foamy at the edges, every indignant word she wants to say lodged in the back of her throat. The silence weighs heavily on her skin as Jan watches her, her eyes round with curiosity. 

Finally, Jan breaks the silence with a giggle. 

“It doesn’t take a genius to see that you two have something going on, you know,” she comments, arching an amused brow. 

“Really.” Crystal washes the residual toothpaste from her mouth, refusing to meet Jan’s eyes. “I’ve barely known her for three weeks, so I’d love to see where you’re getting your evidence from.” 

“Are you kidding?” Jan gawks at her in disbelief. “She’s been going to every one of our games since she met you. She hated baseball to begin with - you should’ve seen how much convincing it took just to go that first week, and Jackie said she loathed it. Until she saw you, at least.” 

“She could’ve been admiring anyone on our team,” Crystal mutters, refusing to let herself be convinced. “Yeah, yeah, I bet she was looking at Jaida. I mean, who wouldn’t?” Jaida is not only beautiful, but she’s a sensational player. It would make so much more sense for Nicky to be admiring her, Crystal thinks.

“Well, Jaida’s not the one she went on a date with,” Jan counters. 

“It wasn’t a date.” What if it was? “Also, how do you know about that?”

Jan snickers. “In case you forgot, Nicky is, like, one of my best friends,” she explains. “She was fretting to me and Jackie over the phone the entire morning before your date.”

“And she called it a date?”

“Well, yeah. She said it was a coffee date. I think she really likes you, girl.” 

Crystal’s heart skips a beat. 

She’s still just an ordinary girl with messy hair and a baseball cap, but maybe that’s all she needs to be.

~

Next Chapter

[jabbajambler]

5

Powerless

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 2,115

*GIF by @pixelahsoka​*

         It felt like I sat there for ages. Din was an excellent hunter, there was no way it took him so long to find this lady. I doubt she purposely ran away, so she wasn't evading him. In fact, she was his easiest target thus far and yet, I still sat waiting for him. I had half a mind to get up and find him if I knew he wouldn't throw a fit over it.

         The snow continued to fall in light flurries, decorating the ship in a blanket of white frost. It had been a long time since I'd seen snow, I forgot how magical it could be. Just watching it felt like a dream.

         If only it weren't so damn cold.

         After spending most of my life in unbearable heat, it was difficult to adjust to the freezing temperatures of wherever we were. I pulled the blanket tighter around me, trying to lock in all the leftover warmth my body was producing. I think the temperature inside the ship was colder than outside.

          It would've been warmer with Din here. When he pulled me into his side, it was like sitting next to a fire. Not only was he warm, but he was comforting to be around. Being around him felt natural, like being at home. I didn't want to admit it, especially with him only realistically being gone about an hour, but I missed him. It was lonely sitting in the ship all alone.

         Would I ever admit this to him? No. But it was nice to think about, I suppose.

        A low rumble shook the ground, quickly followed by the zing of blaster shots from the tunnel. I sighed quietly and slipped my gun from its holster. What kind of beast could they have found on this iced over wasteland? I didn't think anything could survive out here.

         More shots were fired, their blasts echoing through the icy halls and then a quiet explosion, if there is such a thing. I stepped out from the ship's hull, patiently awaiting whatever disaster Din was bringing with him.

        The frog lady came first, croaking and lunging towards the ship. Then Din emerged, holding the child tightly in his arms while an army of white spiders ranging in all sorts of sizes followed him. He shot at them with little success in depleting their forces, only angering them more.

          I sighed and raised my blaster, firing a few shots at the kryknas. "What were you thinking?" I hissed as he came closer to the entrance.

         "You think I meant to do this?" He growled and pushed me back into the ship.

           "Well, you certainly never seem to avoid these conflicts," I huffed. Din passed along the child and the container of eggs to the lady while we shot at the spiders from the opening. "In fact, you seem to chase right after them! So yeah, I think you meant to do this."

         He grabbed a spider as it sprung towards my face, crushing it in his hand and tossing it back to the ground with a grunt. "Get to the cockpit, now."

         I rolled my eyes and climbed the ladder as fast as I could while trying to help Din, but our efforts were hopeless.  He climbed up after me, pushing his way into the cockpit and blasting the kryknas while we struggled to force the doors shut.

         "Well, we haven't done this before," I smiled up at him, receiving a subtle shake of his head and a very quiet chuckle.

        Several of the little spiders squeezed past despite our efforts, the frog lady even snagged a blaster and started to fire at them. What a trio, us three against hundreds - if not thousands - of little creepy spiders.

        "Watch out," I stepped back and held my hand out to the door. Din must've been looking at me like I was insane. Sometimes I thought I was. Nonetheless, I focused on the door, hearing the hiss of fire before it slammed shut.

          "Myrah," Din panted. His hands gripped my shoulders, giving me a slight shake before my eyes shot open. He let out a breath of relief and dropped his hands, breathing out a quiet, "good job."

        "Teamwork," I shrugged with a smile. "We're good at that sometimes, you know."

         He huffed out a slight laugh and nodded, "yeah, sometimes. Is that part of your - uh - Jedi powers-"Din was cut off by a growing tapping. It sounded like a stampede of very tiny beasts.

            We turned towards the windows as the kryknas started to climb up and swarm the ship. I guess I wasn't too far off from my original assumption.

         "Strap yourselves in," Din quickly sat down and tapped at the control panel. "This better work," he mumbled to himself.

         I would've been more concerned about his doubts if it weren't for the threat of thousands of pests taking over the ship. I pulled my belt over my chest faster than I ever thought possible and held the child tight in my lap.

          "I've got limited visibility," he sighed. "It's gonna be a bumpy ride."

         He pulled back the engine, which seemed to power up just fine. We were breaking free from the ice and slowly rising into the air. We were going to get away just fine, a little rough, but fine, until a giant krykna landed on top of the Razor Crest.

          It stabbed it's daggers through the windows, barely missing the frog lady and I, and sending glass flying through the cockpit. It peered through the window and as much as I wanted to comment on how ugly it was, I couldn't think of anything else but our impending doom.

         It's mouth smacked against the glass, displaying it's rows upon rows of teeth as it dragged them across the window. Din's hand flew back and rested on my knee as he leaned back in his seat. My fingers brushed against his hand while I squeezed my eyes shut. If I could focus hard enough, I could destroy it.

         I didn't get that chance.

         The sound of blasters interrupted my concentration and knocked the beast off the ship. Red flashes shot through the air, firing relentlessly at it. Din stood quickly with his gun drawn and despite his light touches, telling me to stay where I was, I followed him down into the hull.

        Webs and spider corpses filled the area. We snuck through, taking care of any leftover kryknas as we left the ship.

         A pair of X-Wings sat in the snow, their lights blinding as they finished off the spiders from their ship. They seemed to stop as they noticed us, lowering their guns to their hips. I let out a deep breath of relief and placed my gun back in its holster. Din was still guarded, holding onto his but with a little more ease than before.

       "We ran the tabs on the Razor Crest," one of them spoke. His voice was familiar, along with the orange paint that surrounded the X-Wing. Great. The cops again. "You have an arrest warrant," he continued, "for the abduction of prisoner X-Six-Nine-Eleven. However, onboard security records show that you two apprehended three priority culprits from the Wanted Register."

         I cringed as he revealed that there was footage of what we'd done. It wasn't the Empire so I wasn't a priority target anymore, but I certainly hoped they skipped over whatever mess I may have caused. I can't even imagine what would happen if someone knew there were more than a few Jedi out in the galaxy.

        "Security records also show that you both put your own lives in harm's way to try to protect that of Lieutenant Davan from the New Republic Correctional Corps," the man continued while Din holstered his gun. "Is this true?"

          He sighed, "are we under arrest?"

         "Technically, you should be," he paused, letting his words dissolve in the air. "But these are trying times.

         "What say we forgo the bounties on these three criminals, and you two help me fuse my hull so I can get off this frozen rock?" Din suggested. It didn't sound like too bad of an idea, but I doubt they would willingly help us. Not after our little stunt earlier.

         The cop scoffed, "what say you fix that transponder, and we don't vaporize that antique the next time we patrol the Rim?" They both shook their heads and settled back into their seats, firing up their engines and shooting off into the sky.

         "New Republic Forces have never been much help," I rolled my eyes and looked back at the mess that was left. "Now what?"

        Din sighed, "fix up whatever we can. We can get it done sooner if you care to help," he nudged me slightly with his arm before leaving for the hull again.

       I smiled as he left, remembering a similar situation on Arvala-7. It wasn't as bad, I suppose, but we only had two people this time. As long as we got a little bit of work down, we could make it to Trask.

        Hopefully.

        "Alright," Din started as I stepped into the ship, "We're gonna repair the cockpit enough for us to limp to Trask. There's nothing I can do about the main hull's integrity, so we're gonna have to get cozy in the cockpit. It's the only thing I can pressurize," he sighed, "if you need to use the privy, do it now. It's gonna be a long ride."

         We climbed up into the cockpit, both Din and I fixing up whatever we could to get the ship running again. At least enough to get us where we needed to go. Sparks reflected off his armor in brilliant shots of yellow and white. I caught my staring this time, but I didn't make any move to stop it.

         "Hand me that," Din pointed to the toolbox he brought up, but continued to look at whatever he was doing.

         I hummed, "you gotta say please first."

         "Myrah, stop messing around," he grumbled as he patched up the broken windows. He held his hand out, waiting for me to place the tool in his hand. A few seconds passed before his head fell forward with a sigh, "please."

        I beamed and placed it in his hand while I leaned against the wall. "You're oh so very welcome, Din dearest."

        "I should let you just fly out this window," he finished off the sealing and tossed the tools back in the box, closing it up after several hours of work.

        "But you would never let that happen," I watched him pack the box away silently until he sat in his chair. I expected us to lift off, to test our work and see if we could truly get off this icy wasteland, but instead he turned to face me.

         "No," he held my chin between his fingers and cocked his head to the side, "I couldn't. I should, but I couldn't." He pulled his hand back and spun around towards the controls again while the frog lady crept into the cockpit, "let's see if we can get this thing going once and for all."

         The engine resisted at first, struggling to lift with the dead weight of the krykna on it, but we were eventually up in the air once again and far away from that monstrous planet. The ship sputtered and bumped in the sky, but it was enough to get us where we needed to be. Trask wasn't too far and while it wouldn't be the comfiest journey, it would be a decently quick one.

        Din set up the auto pilot and leaned back in his chair, "wake me up if someone shoots at us. Or if that door gets sucked off its rails."

          The frog lady croaked in concern while I breathed out a quiet, "Mando."

       "I'm kidding," he turned towards the lady enough to address her before resting in his seat. "If that happened, we'd all be dead. Sweet dreams."

         I rolled my eyes and lifted the child into my lap, holding him close. His eyes drifted shut, but remained focused on the eggs in the lady's arms.

        "No," I whispered and shifted him away from them in my arms, "we can get you something on Trask, okay? Why don't you get some sleep, you little beast." I smiled and gently poked his nose as his eyes finally closed.

       We were going to make it to Trask just fine.

tag-list:

@emiijemii​

[thebickedwitchoftherest]

Unraveled || Cece & Otto

Location: The Magic Circle 

Featuring: @gravityfissure

Summary: Otto calls in Cece to talk about magic, but they mostly just flirt.

The Magic Circle was quiet for a Thursday. Although it was still early, Otto knew that a fair few of their regulars would be stopping in soon enough and was in the process of organising a few of the bottles. He knew precisely where each was located, it was a skill you needed when things got busier as the night drew on. Patrons didn’t care to be kept waiting and the smooth efficiency with which the bar staff worked and communicated kept everything moving in orderly fashion. Out of most of the odd-job bar gigs he’d worked across the years Otto had to admit the Circle was a nice change of pace. Not to mention the garden theme and twinkling light charms emanated a welcoming atmosphere that put most of their guests at ease; it was a rustic oasis of calming charm in a town that seemed hell bent on providing its residents with anything but. He was just in the process of pouring out a pint for Old Joe; a grizzled werewolf with a hefty tuft of a beard who always seemed to look half-asleep even when talking to you when the door to the establishment opened and a familiar figure walked in. Glancing over his smile brightened, “evening love, with you in just a second” he winked before quickly adding the pint to Old Joe’s tab. With no other patrons in need for the moment, he slid down and out from behind the bar to meet Cece half-way opening his arms for a hug. “Cece, looking stunning as ever. How the devil are you?”

Cece liked the magic circle. It didn’t take long after discovering it for the bar to become one of her favorites in town. This was of course in part to the exclusivity of it all. Though she tried to keep a downlow on her abilities, the bar was specifically known for being a pretty secretive place. The other part was the company. Since the place was so exclusive the people that frequented the place seemed to have a Cheers familial type presence to them. Plus, the bartender was easy on the eyes. “Otto! If it isn’t my favorite bartender and hype man.” She greeted him with a hug, doing a little twirl for show, “You’re right of course, but I never get tired of hearing you say it. You’re not looking so bad yourself.” He finger gunned at Old Joe. The two saw each other often but never exchanged much more than a head nod. “I’m fantastic as always. I’m ready for the tea” Cece turned her attention back to Otto, hopping onto a bar stool and resting her elbows on the bar, “And for whatever’s on special tonight. How are you holding up tonight?”

Some things warranted exclusivity and if that branch of secrecy protected those that came here then all the more for it. Otto knew that a lot of the patrons still preferred to maintain their airs and not disclose what they were, which was fine, so long as you didn’t cause any lasting trouble for other clients or the staff. Anything that was deemed too much would be taken care of swiftly and efficiently. “Always, always” he beamed, wrapping her up for a moment before letting her go so she could take a seat. “And I will never tire of saying it.” Slipping back behind the counter once more he set about immediately setting out a cocktail glass and turning to the bottles behind him. His hands moved with practised efficiency, spinning one to pour out just the right amount while throwing another bottle to his free hand, each movement finessed and accentuated by a soft purplish trail of shadow dotted with glittering silver sparks. Magical illusions, nothing too taxing or draining to perform but entertaining regardless. The finished drink - rose petal in colour with a white base was slid forward. “I like to call this one split decisions. Gin, Marie-Framboise, Forhave Apertif with a dash of lemon. Fresh and lively.” There was no point in rushing, they could get into the topic of what he’d wanted to chat about once she’d settled. “How’s life? Not been hassled too much by those mimes wandering the streets I hope?”

Cece watched with glee as Otto put some pizazz into his drink making, another perk of her favorite bartender. He certainly liked to put on a show. Cece was sure that his pockets full of tips at the end of the night lent a hand in him continuing to show off. The end result was a pretty drink, just flashy enough to make a statement without making Cece feel like she was drinking a pina colada. “You work magic, Otto.” She joked, sliding the drink over to take a long sip, “Mmm magnifique, as per usual.” She beamed dreamily, taking another sip to savor the flavor. “You know me, I like to stay busy.” Cece shrugged. Admittedly, she had been pretty bored since Morgan had moved out. Work kept her busy during the day, but she found herself either at the bars or curled up on her couch watching TV. Neither were particularly exciting by herself. She was ecstatic for the excuse to run by the bar tonight to meet Otto. “Not even the mime version of me would have the balls to try to kill me” Cece joked, wondering why she hadn’t seen one of her own. She had heard talk around talk. Another notch on an increasingly long list of supernatural things that White Crest citizens willfully ignored. Shocker. “How about you, you surviving out here?”

Otto knew well enough his job was just as much about showmanship as it was serving the drink, it was the nature of the sort of work he was drawn to - client first. Whether in pouring a drink or stealing a priceless relic, so long as they were happy and got what they wanted at the end of the day his bank would be full and happy. “Anything to keep you coming back,” he winked, his tone light-hearted and playful as ever another fact of the job. People came here to deal with their issues, not listen to the front of house complain about theirs and Otto was rather good at keeping his issues out of sight and out of mind. “Yes, you do. But has anything interesting happened? You can tell me your life’s been all work no play?” He threw the rag that he used to wipe down the counter to one side, folding his arms and leaning forwards, occasionally his eyes would drift to the rest of the bar but no one else needed his attention right now. “Oh don’t say that too loud, next thing you know she’ll be right up in here trying just that…” he made a face at the thought, the clean up would be horrific. “Well enough besides the weird black liquid pouring out of my taps… Not to mention a cute guy bringing me flowers. Life’s on the up and up all things considered.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I think you’re stuck with me for life now.” Cece tipped her glass towards Otto and took another long drink. “My life has been shockingly uneventful over the last month. My roommate moved out. My boss practically had a nervous breakdown, so now I get to work extra hours making sure her replacement doesn’t fuck up the morgue. She claims he’s competent at his job, but I’m not so sure.” Admittedly, Cece was almost positive that he was perfectly capable of performing his job well, but she didn’t like him. That was all she needed to be unimpressed with any little thing he did differently than Regan. “I need something to do. Anything, honestly.” She hadn’t spent this much time alone in months. “Can you imagine? Two of me in here? Poor Old Joe’s heart couldn’t take it.” She flirted, glancing over at him, knowing that he must have heard her. He didn’t give any indication that he had. Boo. “Black liquid was a rocky start, but please tell me more about this cute guy of yours! Give me a love life to live through Otto. I’m begging you.” She gave her classic puppy dog eyes, staring up at him pleading as she took a long sip from her straw, finishing the drink with a loud slurping noise.”

“There are worse things in life than having you around,” Otto laughed, shaking his head fondly before looking back to his friend. “Your boss? Regan right?” Nervous breakdown? The thought made him frown. “Sheesh… Sounds like hell in the WCPD.” Was that why so many cases in this town went unsolved? Granted, some of them were more than most people informed on the realities of their would could handle let alone the many mortals that bolstered the department’s ranks. But that wasn’t really their fault. “I don’t think any of us would. Nothing could withstand that level of beauty… But if you’re looking for things to do I’ve got a couple of things I could use a hand with…” he threaded his fingers together. “Well, the black liquid is one of the jobs I need a hand with, but how about details about the cute guy in return for help on these problems?” he offered with a tilt of his head. “Now steady on there love,” he laughed holding up a hand, “I’d say love life is a stretch by a mile. We met by chance at a club, hit it off and it’s a complete and utter disservice to how attractive he is to say he’s simply handsome, but…” Otto’s grin grew a little more coy “he’s hot as hell...” He pointed at the drink, “another?”

Sure, Cece loved to gossip. Probably more than was any good for her, and drinking only made it worse. But even Cece knew better than to overshare about Regan’s personal life. “Yeah, well… Lots of people dying in town. Plus, the captain is convinced that the supernatural doesn’t exist so that doesn’t help cases get solved.” She shrugged, “Or well, they get solved incorrectly.” Cece enjoyed most of her coworkers, and they did their best considering the resources provided to them. “You drive a hard bargain, but I think we can work out a deal.” Cece clapped her hands together excitedly. “Oh I’m so sorry Hugh Hefner, didn’t know I was dealing with Playboy.” She had an image of this hot many in her head, hoping that the real thing did her picture any justice. “Ah, to meet a hot boy at a club and get flowers. Feels like a Taylor Swift song.” She pounded her hands on the counter playfully and chanted, “Another, another, another!” She was excited for her other drink, but even more to help out with whatever Otto needed.

While the staff didn’t necessarily deal in gossip that which did get said here didn’t tend to go any further. It was a respect thing between them and the patrons of this place, a safe haven to escape the world for a little bit. “Yeah, nothing can really help with that can it? But I guess you’re right, you have to work with what you get.” Cece’s excitement was easily infectious and Otto always found himself smiling a fair bit more around her. “Oh shut up,” he huffed good-naturedly, “it’s not my fault all good things typically happen when I’m buzzed.” He shook his head a little, “nah, his name’s Luke, really short hair, golden brown eyes, about my height and pretty athletic… And when he smiles he gets these really cute little dimples.” It was strange, having friends to talk to about things like this. The Tarot never really interested themselves all that much in the personal affairs of their members so long as they kept to the job. “Actually… I might have a photo,” fishing out his phone he started thumbing through until he found a photo and turned the phone around “cute right?” Once Cece had seen the photo, Otto was off down the bar once more pouring up another fix of the drink he’d given her earlier. 

Cece shrugged, “My job is to test pee, not solve crime.” Sometimes she got swept up in the excitement of it all, but when it came to the unsolved mysteries it would drive Cece up the wall knowing something about a case that she wasn’t able to talk about because there was no way that Regan would believe her or the Captain would laugh her out of his office. Not that she had ever tried, because it wasn’t really her place. Sometimes she let the excitement get away from her, like with Felix and that murdered vampire. But despite her attitude, she really hadn’t moved here to be flashy. She just wanted to have some fun and live a life. “Luke, huh? Sounds cute.” Cece flirted, perking up when he offered to find a picture of him. She grabbed onto the phone to get a better look and whistled, “Damn dude! Okay, okay. I’ll give you that win.” She handed the phone back off to him, leaning back in her chair and watching as he worked his magic again on her drink. “Do you think he has an equally cute, interested in girls, brother?” She questioned Otto, “Next time you go out drinking you gotta take me with you apparently. Maybe I’ll have better luck.”

“Alright, fair enough. But you’ll help solve a mystery in a pinch and that’s what really counts for something,” Otto grinned as he leaned back on the counter folding his arms loosely across his chest. “He is, but it’s not really serious. He’s fun and makes things interesting,” Otto wasn’t really even sure what it was they had. A fling that had turned into an enjoyable morning and then Lucas had jumped to come over and make sure there wasn’t a gloop monster about to form in his kitchen. It was sweet… But Otto didn’t know what sweet really counted for these days. “Maybe? Honestly we… haven’t really discussed that kind of stuff,” in fact, Otto realised in that moment they hadn’t really spoken about much of anything. Then again, if it wasn’t serious was that stuff still warranted? “Sure, I’ll let you know when I’m going out. We’ll hit the town.” With that settled his mind moved on to other matters “but uh, the stuff I mentioned-- There’s something I wanted to ask you...” His playful expression grew a little more serious and he worried his lip for a moment before asking, “have you ever encountered… Any kind of magic that doesn’t… uh… conform to the normal branches? Like you know how stuff is subdivided usually? Elemental, divination, alchemy… You know the works. Ever seen anything that doesn’t… fit those?” Or not been mentioned at all?

Maybe Otto was serious that his fling with this Lucas character was nothing more than a night or two together, but Cece couldn’t hold back her giggling when she caught on that Otto did seem a bit flustered thinking about him. She knew there was something deeper to that effortless flirt persona. “Doesn't matter, I’ll figure out for myself when I run the background check,” Cece joked, winking at the bartender, “Gotta keep my boy safe. Can’t have him running around with any sketchy figures. All it takes is a pretty face for you to fall hard apparently. I didn’t know Otto was such a softie.” She would have to remember to let Regan know beforehand that she would be sick the next morning when her and Otto went out somewhere. Something told her that it would be a wild night. Eventually, Otto got into the real reason that he had asked her to swing by. A different kind of magic? Cece hadn’t thought much on what Otto had wanted to talk to her about, but that certainly hadn’t been one of her theories. “I’ve seen a bit of it all back in my day, or at least it feels that way.” The coven saw a lot of people pass in and out as they moved around, so she had minimal exposure to all sorts of fresh faces with unique specialties and ideas. “Depends on what you mean. Like necromancy? Blood magic? How morally acceptable are we talking?”

“Oh god,” Otto groaned pressing a hand to his face at the thought of her running a background check on a guy he barely knew. “Wait…” his hand dropped and he looked at his friend “did you run a background check on me?” He wasn’t sure what the results might be, but then again… Cece was still friends with him so maybe she didn’t really mind so much. Though there were things about his past he’d much prefer remained hidden. Those secrets didn’t need to see the light of day. But talk moved on and Otto folded his arms as he waited for Cece to give her input. “No nothing of the sort, it’s cliche and niche” he waved his hand in a mildly dismissive motion, his arms folded once more over his chest fingers curling a little into the material of his shirt “like… What if you found out you could… change the forces on something… Like… push a bullet off course or stop someone plummeting to their death…”

“Are you kidding? Duh?” Cece shrugged, taking a long drink from her glass and setting it back down, folding her hands together and leaning against the bar, “Any you have a lot of explaining to do mister.” She stared at him for a long moment before she smirked, smacking the table and leaning back in her chair, “Nah I’m just fucking with you. I’m a toxicologist, I can’t run background checks.” Still the most interesting part of the night had apparently just begun. Otto’s question was starting to sound a lot less hypothetical. It sounded like he was a bit more serious about the topic. “Well I definitely wouldn’t have lost that axe throwing contest in Dallas. I lost like $400 bucks on that bet.” She mentioned casually, suddenly thinking further on the subject, “Wow drunk Cece was really confident about that bet considering she’d never thrown an axe before”. She stared up at the ceiling again, remembering the night. Then she remembered the situation, and literally waved the memory off, focusing back on Otto, “That’s not important. Anyways, I’d say that sounds pretty dope. Some kind of telepathy? Do you have a specific example?”

There was an extended pause and a momentary debate of wondering whether she had actually found something before Otto rolled his eyes good-naturedly despite the momentary internal panic that hadn’t conveyed into his expression. “You’re a little shit Ce, I love you but damn girl you had me wondering what dirty laundry you were gonna pull out,” he clicked his tongue lightly but his demeanor remained light-hearted as ever. “I’m sure I could get you that money back at the next local fair or whatever they do in this neck of the woods for fun, probably in the weight of goldfish and stuffed animals but either way...” But a bet was rather besides the point of why and what he was asking. “Well, telepathy is the sharing of thoughts between minds, telekinesis is moving shit… It’s a bit like that but… I’m talking more… being able to reverse, redirect the gravity and forces acting on something.” One example came to mind, always the first thing that did when he dwelled on this but the sudden flashes of blood splattering the walls and a man crumpling to the ground weren’t an ideal example to give to a police officer regardless of how lax their… protocol might be. “Someone fell off a cliff the other day, I broke their fall from a plumet to… a glide. Caveat is… it only seems to work in stressful situations.” At least right now. His issue was trying to find that control in situations that weren’t life-threatening or stressful.

Cece had a devilish smile plastered to her face, “I know I am.” But she couldn’t help herself, if the opportunity presented itself, she had to make some sort of joke about it. What was she supposed to do? Be boring? No thanks. “Wow, fighting to restore my honor? I might be the one buying you flowers next.” She finished off her second drink, and realized from Otto’s explanation that these drinks were clearly strong because she couldn’t keep her ESP skills straight, “Hm. Potato, potahto. Some kind of gravity magic, huh? Haven’t heard of that one before.” It sounded interesting enough, though. Stopping someone from plummeting to their death? That was impressive. And it sounded fun. “Sounds like you need a training buddy.” If Otto could only use the abilities under life-threatening circumstances, that just meant he needed to be put under more stressful scenarios so he got a chance to practice more. Maybe after enough of those, he could start to get a handle on the ability under normal circumstances as well. “I feel like if we put our brain power together we can figure something out, yeah? What do you say? Partners?”

“Don’t flatter me like that or else you might be the one coming home with me tonight,” Otto winked playfully, a mirthful laugh leaving him as he turned to pour himself a glass of water from the tap. Sipping this he gave a nod to her summary, “seems so… Only issue is, I don’t have a coven and well… It’s not like there’s anyone around that can do this too. I’m flying blindfolded in fog on this one...” He could tell it was related to stress, but that didn’t make it any easier to recognise how best to actually harness control over it. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” he admitted when she made her suggestion his smile faint but hopeful that perhaps with help he’d get the knack of figuring this out. So Otto nodded, offering his hand out across the bar. “Partners.”

“A girl can dream, can’t she?” Cece winked back at him. Two could play at that game. Sure, Old Joe was a bit of a buzzkill but Cece had never minded an audience much. “Coven’s are overrated anyways” Sure, those words may have been inspired by Cece’s not exactly stellar experience with a coven in the past. It hadn’t left a particularly good taste in her mouth and she just figured she was done with it all when she got to Maine. Obviously White Crest had something else in mind for her. Maybe someday she could see herself joining one again. Were there any hippy ones around town? A little less murdery than her former coven? “You’re the only one that we know of. There are some other witches in town. Maybe we can see if they know anything about this shit. On the DL of course.” Cece thought of other options, perhaps finding some telekinetic person could help? Different magic apparently but they had cross functions. Could help with the basics. Though Cece didn’t know anyone with telekinesis. “So excited to officially be in business with you! Let’s start with a timeframe. How long ago was it that you figured out you had these abilities?”

“Who says it has to be a dream?” It was easy familiarity and perhaps a dash of confidence that left him posing the subtle challenge. He gave her a slightly strange look upon hearing the statement about covens, “I dunno… My one back in NYC was pretty cool… I was definitely more powerful when I was connected and siphoning energy from the leys there.” In all honesty, Otto missed the social aspect of the coven as well. Every one worked differently, but ultimately there was power in numbers that couldn’t be denied. “Maybe, I just don’t want to draw too much attention, you know?” But there had to be some answers, maybe in the archive. Though that would come with time. “Uh…” there was an awkward look that crossed his expression “right before I arrived in town… Kind of the reason I had to leave the city… But...” He made a slightly funny face again, seeming to wrestle with himself as to whether it was worth sharing. “I think… I think I’ve always had the capacity… There might’ve been… an incident when I was a kid...” That is if you could call sending your parents car headlong into oncoming traffic because of a temper tantrum an incident.

“Ooh la la. Otto, you’ll make me blush.” Cece reached out and pushed at his shoulder playfully. She wasn’t opposed to the idea, though it seemed a bit tasteless given Otto’s recent suitor. Cece and Otto had obviously spoken of each other’s abilities, but they hadn’t talked much about coven’s before. Cece wasn’t opposed to speaking of her coven, but she wasn’t about to go in great detail. Her distaste for the memory was enough. “You’ll have to tell me about them some night. My coven ended up sucking ass. Maybe you can sweeten up the bitter taste I have for covens.” She chuckled, mostly joking. “Fair enough. I definitely get wanting to stay lowkey.” Even if the supernatural in this town seemed a bit excessive, she wasn’t exactly ready to start mixing cauldrons and performing seances at the local Dairy Queen or anything. “Ooh, the plot thickens. So let’s assume this is some kind of genetic magic instead, not just something that anyone could practice. Early childhood experience with it would suggest that. Especially without any prior knowledge. That’s certainly interesting. Color me intrigued.”

“I think it’ll take more than that to get you blushing love,” it was nice banter and Otto wasn’t entirely joking in the suggestion he put forward. Whether it led to anything, well, that was another matter entirely. “Maybe I will, but on a night I’m not working… That sort of uh… thing isn’t for public environments.” For the time being covens weren’t his biggest concern, it was mostly trying to figure out this damned ability before it landed him in actual hot water. It had already ruined his life in New York, he didn’t need a repeat of that here. The memory of the bank caused his expression to drop minutely but Cece always could pick up what he meant. She seemed to tether on rather easily and his smile returned not much later. “Yeah… Issue is I don’t have anyone to ask about this stuff. I thought my old mentor at the Tarot - our coven might have some answers, but I’m not sure contacting them is a good idea right now… I left under not the most… ideal circumstances.” Perhaps it was better to talk now than later about this, he checked his watch. “You know what? Thierry will be here soon to take over my shift… I’ll be free after that, we can go back to mine and talk more there... ”

Interesting. Cece had thought Otto had a positive experience with covens, but is now hearing that he didn’t leave under the best circumstances? That was peculiar. She would have to dig deeper into that someday. But now didn’t seem like the time. “Right. Keep to the shadows and everything. I can keep things on the DL” Cece finger-gunned at Otto and winked. It would be cool to see some new magic she had never seen before. “Wish I could help out there. Way I see it is you need to hunt down someone that knows about it too, or we try to figure it out ourselves.” The latter wouldn’t be easy, but it could be pretty fun. “Finally, a proposition for a girl like me. I’m in, but you better not be lying about knowing how to show a girl a good time.”

As with most things in White Crest, it was complicated. Otto would tell her in time, but some things had to be earned and she’d peaked into enough of his secret trove today. If she could help him with this then it was a start, foundations that could be built upon but it would take time on both their parts. “Unfortunately, as far as I can tell it’s just my family that do… I’ve had our grimoires for years but they don’t really explain the steps necessary for controlling this… power. So I think the latter might be what we’re working with.” He laughed, “wonderful, who knew it’d be so easy to get you back to mine… Can we stop for takeaway on route? I work better when there’s food involved.” As promised Thierry arrived not much later, a taller man, well-built with dirty-blond hair buzzed short on the sides, bright green eyes and a folded pair of iridescent emerald wings folded at his back. 

“Evenin’ boss,” he greeted warmly and gave a nod to Cece as well in greeting “Ce. Beautiful as ever.”

“G’evening T, all’s well i hope? Not too busy tonight…” he said with a quick look around the tables. “I’m stealing this lovely away before she gets lost in those pretty eyes of yours” he winked pushing off the bar and circling around the hatch. “Come on m’love.”

Cece cracked her fingers, accepting the challenge. “You know what? I can work with the latter. Wouldn’t be the first time.” It would actually, when it came to gravity. But Cece had worked with plenty of magics that she hadn’t personally practiced or known. She may not be able to use the stuff personally, but she figured she could help him tap into it, right? It couldn’t be that hard. Rather, it sounded pretty fun. “You’re reading my mind, dude. Tacos?” 

Thierry arrived not much later, another familiar- and pretty- face to work behind the bar. “You’re not looking too bad yourself, T.” Cece winked. She definitely didn't mind the view here. “Until next time pretty boy. Don’t go forgetting about me.” Cece waved to Thierry as she gathered her things to live with Otto, following him out of the bar. “For the record, this is a way better reason to leave a bar and head back to some dude’s place. Sex has nothing on defying gravity. Idina Menzel is quaking.”

“No? Tell me more,” Otto was admittedly intrigued, if Cece had dealt with something like this before he was curious to hear all the ins and outs of that situation. “How’d it work out in the end?” Either way he hoped it was a sign that maybe this would work out, maybe together they could figure out how to actually master this. “I thought maybe having someone to practise with would help as well? I just… Don’t know where to start.” He’d had a lot of things to use back at the Tarot, and without them he felt rather adrift. Like a limb had been severed and he was having to figure out how to use it again.

“It’d be to my shame to ever forget you,” T waved giving Otto a finger-gun salute as they departed.

“Ring me if you need anything,” Otto said as they exited through the back looping his arm through Cece’s as they walked. “Yes, Tacos,” he pulled out his phone with his other hand and opened an app putting in an order while asking what Cece wanted off the menu - that way it’d be there when they got back to his. “Well, lets go ahead and give her a run for her money huh?”

[divineluce]

An Overdue Encounter || Rio & Luce

Location: Scribe HQ

Timing: Early July 2nd

Tagging: @3starsquinn & @divineluce

Summary: Both a little battered and broken, Rio and Luce do a some digging to figure out what exactly is up with Remmy’s strange necklace.

Orion always felt weird showing the Scribrary off to people for the first time. Though, technically since Luce had been here before with Winston part of those nerves should technically be null and void, right? Well any normal human without anxiety would certainly think that made sense. Unfortunately, Rio wasn’t one of those normal humans. Instead, he was a bucket of nerves around Luce. Both because he didn’t know her and because he had never been instead of the building with her before. Plus, it didn’t help that he was still sporting the black eye, split cheek and wrist brace following his encounter with the trolls. The pain in his ribs had settled a bit at least. It was no longer the main source of his pain, a subtle pain surrounding his torso in its place. The bruising around his stomach and back from the tree and subsequent fall to the ground had done a number on him. But the ribs really only hurt if he took too deep of a breath. Or laughed too loudly. Or moved. “Hey there. So uh- Winston showed you the place already, I know. Did they take you to the main library area?” 

For about the twentieth time this week, Luce was thankful that she drove a big ass 4x4. It could handle the rough terrain outside of town easily and meant that, instead of hauling ass through the woods, she was able to drive at least a good chunk of the way. Still, the effort reminded her that her ribs were still very much broken. And no amount of human medicine could fix this particular problem. No, only time could heal her broken ribs. Time, or her mother finding out what they’d done. Nope. She could suffer through the pain. As the Scribe building came into view she saw that Rio the Pink Haired Kid, as she’d been thinking of them, was now Rio the Blue Haired Kid. The really fucking beat up blue haired kid, what the fuck? Taking in his appearance, Luce let out a low whistle. “You look about as good as I feel and I was in the hospital all last weekend. Fuck. What happened to you?” She asked. “And yeah, they did. We mostly stayed in the area about real fexted up shit.” Luce joked. 

Orion was willing to admit that he was very intimidated by Luce. She seemed confident and social and way too cool to hang out around someone like Rio. Not that the two were necessarily hanging out. This was business, of sorts. Rio and Winston were Scribes, for lack of a better word at least. Helping people like this was supposed to be what they did. So Rio was here to help Luce in spite of how awkward it may be. “Ah, uh accident.” Rio shrugged, trying to downplay the total breakdowns he had been having the entire week. “Or well, I got attacked. Which was sort of an accident. But it looks worse than it actually is.” That probably wasn’t true, considering his ribs, but it was mostly true. He healed quickly. “Great! Well then we’re off to a good start. We can head in and start figuring out which sections we need to pull.” Rio motioned Luce to follow him. He paused by the tree to that he used to open the barrier and slipped inside the building once it had revealed itself. “So what information are you looking for?”

“An accident. I call bullshit on that. What attacked you?” Luce asked as she followed Rio inside the library and immediately sneezed as she entered the dusty building. The reaction sent a wave of pain through her ribs and she let out a strangled groan of pain, clutching her ribs. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She muttered, shaking her head as she leaned against one of the nearby bookshelves. Pain ran up the entire right side of her body and she took a few deep breaths to steady herself. It took longer than she wanted, but eventually the pain subsided and she was able to stand on her own. “Uh…” She said, brain buffering in the aftermath. There was so much that she wanted to know. Needed to know. About her magic, why the flames still felt low. About Bea, and why she had come back so different. But, the first thing that came to mind was the way that Remmy had writhed on the ground of Bea’s house, clutching at the necklace. At the way she’d felt magic coursing through them. Familiar magic, that she couldn’t quite place. “Do you know if there’d be a book about… magical items that can hurt people? Like… fucked up necklaces or anything like that?”

 Clearly, Luce didn’t believe Orion. Not that he could blame her. Rio’s face looked pretty intentionally damaged. But Rio liked to stick to it that something had gone wrong during their encounter. If only he could have figured out a way to stop the trolls from attacking. “Trolls attacked me. But it was sort of an accident. Or like a misunderstanding. It shouldn’t have gone down the way it did.” Rio didn’t know how much to tell Luce. Didn’t even know if she cared to hear about Rio’s personal life. Rio certainly didn’t need to relive that moment over and over again. Not that he could help it much, when his brain refused to do anything but play it over and over again every time he closed eyes. Speaking of that, what was hurting Luce? She was cursing up a storm and gripping at her side in pain. It looked exactly like Rio had done a few days ago. “Hey uh- you okay there?” She certainly didn’t seem okay for a minute, until she rested against the bookshelf long enough to reclaim herself. “I uh-” Rio paused, considering the topic before answering again, “Maybe magical artifacts? Either that or it’s worth checking the section on hunting. Could be some kind of gross, screwed up hunter’s tool.” He groaned. He had been avoiding the section written for and by hunters since he got here. He knew enough about that twisted world. He didn’t need any other knowledge. Until maybe now it seemed. “How were they hurt? Like physically harmed? Mentally?”    Rio turned a corner, sharp and walked down the rows, cutting into an aisle and pausing near a stack of books talking about magical artifacts, “There’s a couple of Scribe stories in here specifically about tools and artifacts local to White Crest. May be a good start assuming your friend lives in town?”

Still recovering from the bout of pain, Luce did her best to focus on Rio’s weird ass words. An accident with trolls? A misunderstanding? What the fuck? “A mix up with trolls? You know? Sure. That makes about as much sense as anything else in this town.” She said with a grimace and a shake of her head. If that was what he said happened, that was what happened. Waving their concern away with a hand, Luce nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just some fucked up ribs, that’s all.” She dismissed his concern. She didn’t really want his pity-- or anyones. She just wanted to get some information and get out of here. “A hunter tool… What do you mean by that?” She asked as she followed Rio through the winding bookshelves of the library. Yeah, she knew about Hunters, knew that there were different people who specialized in different things. But she always just thought they ran around with guns or swords or stakes. Nothing fancy or anything like that. “Uh… Physically, I think. I’m not sure.” She said, flexing her hand as she trailed behind him. Even though it was just a memory now, Luce could feel the flow of magic, still tingling across her fingers. “They’re not my friend.” She said, the words coming out as a knee jerk reaction. “They’re just someone I know. And they don’t,” She paused, trying to sift through the words buzzing in her head, “They shouldn’t be hurt like that. But yeah. They live in White Crest.”

Considering Luce had just brought her sister back from the dead, Orion knew that she knew about the supernatural. At least when it came to magic stuff. So he nodded, “Yeah that’s uh- sorta my philosophy when I learn new things now too. Just try to go with the flow.” Refusing to go with the flow could get people killed in this town. What a coincidence, Luce’s ribs were injured too?” Oh really? That’s so weird I-” He trailed off, considering that maybe he shouldn’t finish that sentence. If he came clean about his ribs being broken, then Luce might rightfully wonder why Rio wasn’t in more pain. He was honestly, but the hunter healing had already started working and the pain was more of a constant, but dull stinging. Way more manageable than it had been the first few days after he had been attacked. “The troll uh, punched me. In my side. So I’m pretty sore too. But yours sounds… more serious. Did you break anything?” Rio asked Luce. Were the injuries from the spell? He couldn’t be sure, but it made him nervous. If something like that had happened, how did Winston escape with just a scar and weird magic?

“Uh- hunters that specifically go after the supernatural? There’s sort of a… code that a lot of them follow, but not everyone. Some will kill indiscriminately. And some like to… play with their victims. With magic and some other torture devices. From what I’ve read. It could be something like that.” He certainly hoped that wasn’t the case. Especially for Luce’s friend. Or her not friend. Whoever it was that Luce knew. “But I agree, nobody deserves to be treated like that.” Rio settled on the books that he pulled and made his way through more aisles until he got to the hunter section. It was the dustiest section, one that Rio very rarely pulled from and mostly ignored. He had spent so little time over here that he wasn’t even sure what he should be looking for, so he studied the books carefully as he spoke, “So… You seem to know a lot about magic.” Rio began, eyes trained on the book titles so he didn’t have to meet Luce’s eyes. “Can you do magic too? That spell… that Winston helped with. The books don’t make it sound like a one person job. Actually even with multiple people it still usually fails from the sounds of it. So they had to have help from other magic users, yeah?”

“A troll punched you. Well, how about that.” Luce said, casting a look of surprise at the kid. As beat up as he was, he definitely didn’t look like he’d been beat to shit by a troll. Must have gotten lucky? The troll must have whiffed the punch. Rio wasn’t exactly a bulky, Dwayne the Rock Johnson looking guy. He honestly looked like a stiff breeze might knock him over. But, she really didn’t care to know about his situation. If he said it was an accident, it was an accident. She had more important things to worry about and so did he. “Doesn’t matter, it’s healing.” She said with a dismissive wave as they continued to walk between shelves and rows of books. 

At his explanation, Luce resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew what hunters were, yeah. She just didn’t think that they would ever torture people. Weren’t they just meant to keep people safe? But, as he continued speaking, her eyes narrowed. “Play with their victims? Torture devices? Fuck.” She said shaking her head. Was Remmy being hunted? Had someone figured out they were a zombie and wasn’t satisfied with just killing them? Was that what was going on there? As Rio began to scrutinize the various books, Luce trailed behind him, not sure what she was meant to be looking for. None of the titles made much sense to her-- there weren’t any books called “Fucked Up Cursed Necklaces And How To Destroy Them.” At his question, Luce reached for the magic within her, but came back with nothing but barely glowing embers amidst ash. Her jaw clenched at that. It had been a week since they’d brought her back. And yet, her magic was still burning low. She had to get it back, had to make sure it came back. “Yeah. I can.” She answered, not bothering to say more than that. “What about that book?” She asked, pointing to what looked like an old hunter manual.

One thing Orion noticed about Luce was that she didn’t seem to ask a lot of questions. He appreciated it right now. The last thing he wanted to do was try to explain how he got away from them or what he did to it. She seemed to move on from the topic pretty quickly too. Flippantly disregarding any concern for her injuries and trying to focus back on the subject at hand. Rio didn’t have much choice but to oblige. Not that he’d try to dig any deeper regardless. He had already learned the repercussions of trying to dig too deeply into someone’s life. “Yeah uh- some hunters aren’t all about that sense of duty or honor or whatever. There are some sick, sick people out there.” Rio shivered at the thought, his mind jumping to the basement of his parent’s house. He wished that memory magic wasn’t as dangerous as Luce said it was. Maybe he could make himself forget the basement. 

So Luce was a spell-caster too? Did that run in families? The hunter gene was not necessarily genetic though it did some to be more prevalent in parents that were hunters. Maybe magic was similar? But it certainly helped explain how something like necromancy could be accomplished. Rio shook the thought away and grabbed the book that Luce had pointed out, “Definitely worth a try.” He added it to the ever growing stuck tucked beneath his arm. “We can set up at one of the tables around the corner here. We’ve got a lot of reading to do.”

“You can say that again,” Luce murmured, her mind going back to Montgomery’s home and how it stood as a tribute to cruelty and death. She’d seen the wings of pixies and Fae pinned up in boxes, she’d seen the jars full of the heads of Montgomery’s victims, had seen her own sister’s held in one herself. She knew just how cruel hunters could be. How vicious they could be. The idea that Remmy might be facing someone who would toy with them until they died… She swallowed. “Yeah, people do some really fucking sick things just because they can. I don’t want that to happen to anyone else.” 

“Sounds good to me.” She said and followed him towards one of the tables. Brushing off a layer of dust with her hand, Luce immediately sat down at one of the chairs and began to flick through the pages. Studying. Reading. This sort of shit had never been her forte. Not in school, not during the coven tutoring sessions, not at home when her mother had tried to drill into her brain the nuances of how their magic could be expanded beyond just the flame. But, she needed to figure shit out. She needed to find out why Remmy was wearing that fucked up necklace, how she could get it off, and make sure that they were safe. As the minutes ticked away, Luce looked over at Rio. “How did you and Winston find this place anyways?”

Orion has studying down pat now. He was becoming surprisingly good at picking out keywords by now. He can scan through multiple pages a minute, sometimes multiple books if he was hyped up enough on energy drinks. Today, he stuck with the one and flipped through page after page trying to find something that stuck out to him. He was starting with magical artifacts. He was afraid reading the hunter manual would mess with his mind too much. “Well, long story uh- There used to be these people that called themselves Scribes. Not sure if you would’ve heard of them they’ve been mostly defunct since the late 80’s.” Rio began explaining, unsure how much information someone may have on the subject. He figured most people around their age had never heard of the Scribes before. “But my uncle knew of them. He was one of them for a little bit before it shut down. He showed this building to me once when I was a kid and a few months ago I... found myself back” That was a simple explanation, but the truth of it. There wasn’t much more to it than that. “As for Winston, well I don’t know how they did it, but they sleepwalked in here one night out of nowhere. I was... sleeping here at the time and happened to run into them. We had only met once before that but well I guess the rest is history.” He couldn’t stop himself from grinning at the thought. How lucky Rio had been, to be sleeping here that night. 

Rio got back to studying, abandoning a book in favor of a new one. This one was written by a hunter, who happened to also be a scribe. So much for neutrality. He dove into the book, searching for anything that may stick out. “I don’t want to... ask too much about your acquaintance because it’s none of my business. But are they something other than a normal human? Like would they have abilities that needed suppressed? It may help narrow down the search.”

Listening to Rio speak, Luce looked at some of the diagrams drawn in the book she had selected. It was some kind of fucked up trap, some monstrous combination of jagged silver teeth and springs. No doubt it was meant to capture werewolves in the most painful way possible. The thought of a hunter going after Ulfric, or Ariana, trapping them in something like that? It put a bitter taste in her throat. But, this wasn’t what she was looking for. She needed to focus. “Scribes. Seems like they took the title seriously, this place is like a fucking warehouse of books.” She said gesturing around them. As Rio explained the circumstances of how Winston came to find the massive library,  “Hm. Sounds like the two of you were at the right place at the right time. Worked out well.” She nodded before shutting the book. This was just all about how to trap things, not how to keep them controlled.

Luce let out a quick puff of air, blowing a few strands of hair from her eyes. She didn’t really want to go spilling Remmy’s secrets to someone, but… She didn’t really have a choice. And besides, it’s not like Rio knew who they were. She hadn’t even told him their name. “They’re a zombie. They’ve been wearing this necklace for a couple weeks-- I didn’t even really pay attention to it. But, something happened the other day and it… brought them to the ground. They were screaming. In pain.” Luce grimaced at the memory, her fingers clenching into a fist against the table. “I need to know what that thing is and how to destroy it.”

Orion nodded, “They did. A little too serious sometimes, probably.” It had to be one of the reasons why they eventually fell. “They kept records of hundreds of years of supernatural history. Maybe more. They had chapters all over the world. But they were a little... stubborn.” Rio tried to think of the easiest way to sum up their collapse, “They didn’t want to modernize. So they died out.” 

A zombie? Maybe this friend was Morgan. Or maybe it was connected to Morgan or Ashley or whoever was turning others into zombies in this town. It didn’t matter at this point, all that mattered was that something was torturing zombies. “I’ve actually been trying to do some readings about zombies recently. I don’t know a ton about them, but I bet whatever it is they use to suppress their abilities.” Rio hopped off of the table where he had been resting and turned to Luce, “I’m going to go try to find some books specifically about Slayers. We may have better luck finding something specific to the undead.”

“Makes sense. Gotta change with the times, or you’ll get left in the dust.” Luce brushed her hand over the cover of one of the leather bound books, nose wrinkling. “Literally.” A part of her wondered if that was what Rio was doing here, trying to bring the Scribes into the modern day. But, a much larger part of her just didn’t care. Maybe another time, under different circumstances, she would have been interested to figure out just how he knew about this, how his uncle was aware of the Scribes to begin with. But, she shelved that thought. She had more important things to worry about.

“I know… a bit.” Luce said, the words seeming to stick in the back of her throat. She could still remember what it felt like, waking up as a zombie through Morgan’s memories. She could still remember how incapable of feeling anything at all, she had been. “Their sense of touch, it’s muted. Really, really muted. It’s like being underwater, but it’s like… it’s like there’s an ocean of distance between you and your skin.” She shuddered, forcing the memory from her mind. Was that how Remmy felt? All the time? “Yeah. Slayer shit. That might be the place to look.” Luce said, grabbing a random book from the stack. As she did, she noticed a small section in the book about ghosts… As she stared at the scribblings, note in the margin from a human exorcist, she swallowed. Ghosts. They had a way of making their way back to those they’d developed a… fondness for. A shiver went down her spine as she stared at the looping handwriting. “Slayers, they deal with, vampires, zombies, that sort of thing, right? They wouldn’t come after someone who… was brought back?” She asked as she thumbed through the pages. 

Orion chuckled at Luce’s  joke, “Exactly.” But despite all the flaws that the old scribes had, they still had the ability to help a lot of people through their text. If Rio could turn that into something modern and useful, maybe he’d be able to make something of the life his parents had tried to force on him.

“Muted” Rio repeated the phrase back to himself, latching onto the words that Luce spoke. “I was told once that they don’t feel pain like humans do. So it must be something like you described. Muted.” Rio searched through the hunter catalogue again until finding some information regarding slayers. It was the only branch of hunters that Rio wasn’t very familiar with. Growing up in a household of beast hunters and wardens, they knew about vampires and zombies but had never been appropriately taught about them. As he passed Luce to head back to the table he noticed the book she was holding and paused. “I- don’t know honestly. I think it depends on the hunter.” He wished he had a better answer for Luce. He could only assume that this had to do with her sister. “As long as everything went right... she should technically be alive, y’know? The undead don’t have heartbeats and they can only survive on blood or flesh from the living. Those are totally different.” He didn’t know if that helped or not. He couldn’t be sure because he didn’t know all of Bea’s situation. Rio crawled back onto the table and rested his feet against one of the old chairs. “I know a slayer. He’s not.... I don’t know if I can trust him fully. He seems like a good person, but I don’t know his philosophy on the undead. I could ask if he knows anything about the necklaces?”

“Yeah. It’s nothing like being human at all.” Luce replied, her fingers flexing, as though to remind herself that she was still here. She was still human. She was still alive. Swallowing, she listened to Rio intently. The last thing she wanted was for their efforts to have only put Bea in further danger. She was aware of the consequences that came with going against nature, knew that everything had a price that must be paid. But, she wasn’t going to let her sister pay it again. “Fair enough.” She murmured, scanning the pages with ever growing dismay. Just as she was about to shut the book in frustration, her finger came to rest on a picture of a… large armband? Something used to cripple creatures. To keep them malleable, easy to work with. “No-- no, Rio. Look. This. Do you think this might be what someone’s using on them?”

It’s nothing like being human at all. Orion had always been so sure that despite the differences, supernatural species were still human. Even though werewolves changed form and vampires had previously died, at their core they were still human beings. But was that fair of Rio to determine? Morgan was adamant that she was a zombie now. Not a human, but a person. Ariana seemed content identifying as a werewolf instead of a human being. Was it fair for him to thrust that upon them if they didn’t even want to be human? Could he blame them? He furrowed his brow, pondering this along with Luce’s statement. Maybe they really weren’t like humans at all. It didn’t change Rio’s point of view or his morals. They still didn’t deserve to die. Or worse, live through the torture that some humans put them through. When Luce found something, Rio perked up from his position and practically crawled across the table to take a look. “Interesting. How the heck did they build something that helps neutralize the undead like that? Some kind of magic or drug maybe? Either way, they would have to have a way to refuel the magic or resupply the drug. That means someone in town would have to know about it.” Rio guessed. This was nothing more than a hypothesis, and one without much backing either. His expertise wasn’t within magic or supernatural drugs. “Hey if you want to like... borrow a couple of these books to do your own research you can. I just need to log which ones you take. And uh- I’ll sorta need them back. Eventually at least.”

“It’s gotta be magic. If it was a drug, there’d have to be some kind of like… needle or something attached to it right?” Luce said, her brow furrowing as she tried to figure out the diagram that sat before her. “Yeah… They’d need a source or some kind of like, transmitter at the very least.” She said, pushing the book away in disgust. The fact that someone, anyone, would ever make a device like that was horrifying. Not that she had any room to talk. She’d done some terrible things herself. Swallowing, she pushed the images of August from her mind. No. That had been different. August had deserved every last ounce of his suffering. Remmy… they’d never done anything to warrant the kind of pain she’d seen them in. At Rio’s words, Luce blinked in surprise. “Are you sure? I… Yeah. I’d appreciate that.”

Knowing nothing about supernatural drugs (or real drugs for that matter), Orion was going to take Luce’s word on that. It made sense. Unless there was a drug that could slip in through pores to enter the blood system. That wasn’t completely outside of the realm of possibility, but magic certainly seemed more likely. It wouldn’t have been the first time that hunters and magic had teamed up for some mutually beneficial cause. “That would imply that whoever is doing either must either know magic or has connections with someone that can do it, right? I don’t know if that narrows things down at all.” How many spell casters were in this town? The number was probably higher than Rio thought it was. “And yeah- totally serious. Winston and I are working on trying to digitize the information here. So that it’s more easily accessible to those that need it. But uh- as you can probably see, we have our work cut out for us on that. So, I don’t think we will be pressed if you borrow some stuff for a while. I’ll just want it back eventually so I can start to move it over.” Rio pulled his laptop from his book bag and pulled up the tracker that he had created when Blanche started stealing books. If people would be coming in and out with different books, Rio wanted a way to keep track of it. “I’ll just log anything you end up taking in here. So I know which ones are gone right now? If that’s okay.”

“It does, yeah.” Luce said, her troubled expression only growing even more. If there was some kind of magic user who was out here, making these kind of torture devices, they had to be stopped. They were a danger to the community, to everyone. If they could cripple Remmy like that, they could kill anyone in an instant. She had to make sure that whoever was responsible for these things got dealt with. Ideally, in a permanent way. Luce regarded Rio in a new light. He really was just a… good kid, wasn’t he? Trying to do his best or whatever. “Yeah. Sure, okay.” She said, grabbing her phone and typing down the name of the book she was currently looking at. Luce skimmed through one of the other books and her fingers fell on a section on ghosts, poltergeists, something called kinterwibs and other kinds of hauntings. Jaw tightening, she added it to the pile. “I’m gonna be taking these two. But, uh… I think I found out about as much as I can here.” She said, awkwardly shifting as best as she could without jarring her ribs. “Thanks, Rio.”

Orion was a bit relieved that Luce seemed ready to leave. He had been trying to hide how much pain he had been in since he forced himself out of bed to head over towards the forest. Rio hadn’t even really wanted to come, but whatever Luce was looking into had seemed pretty important. “Thanks. For logging that. I know it seems stupid being a mostly abandoned library and all. But.. I just want to make sure to get as much information as I can.” Rio added the books to his list and slowly crawled down from the table and began gathering his things. “Of course. Happy to help. Winston’s super important to me. So all of their friends are too.” Rio shrugged, slowly pulling his arms through the book bag. “And I’m happy to help with anything else you may need to. Anything you tell me is strictly confidential, cool?”

Grabbing the two books from the table, Luce did her best to rise from the chair without twinging her ribs. She grimaced at Rio’s words. What the fuck was up with people in this town saying that the things they did was stupid? First Remmy, now Rio. Christ. “It’s not stupid, it’s clearly important to you. Don’t discount what you’re doing like that.” She muttered, with a shake of her head. “But yeah. Thanks. I’ll make sure to get these back to you when I’m done.” Luce said with a nod. She bristled a little at the sound of friends, but did her best to push that feeling down. Winston was… yeah. She guessed they were a friend. More family than friend at this point, but Rio didn’t need to know that. That said, he didn’t need to know any more about her than he already did. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She said before heading out of the library, shoulders squared as she pushed through the doorway. Sweet kid, naive, a little too trusting, a little too kind. She hoped nothing else happened to him. As she walked out to her 4x4, Luce looked down at the books in her hands, at the thick leather-bound volumes. She had a lot of reading ahead of her. But, if it meant stopping Remmy’s pain, she’d do it.

[ask-de-writer]

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Return to Flocking Bay

MET BY MOONLIGHT

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5740 words

© 2017 by Glen Ten-Eyck

written 2003 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.

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These had been made with fine, supple leathers taken from the destroyed village of the Marquosts. They had originally held pictographs of things that the Shamans and Totem Society leaders had thought worth recording. Their pictograms, like Egyptian hieroglyph or Chinese ideograms were a genuine written language. That was one of the ways that the Marquost society had been more than a little different from that of the Indians about them.

The men had a Society of Shamans lead by the Great Shaman. They had the charge to do the mighty magics that needed the Blackwall and its power. I was descended from that tradition.

The women had charge of the assorted Totem Societies. Most Indians drew inspiration from their totem animals. The Marquost women did more than draw inspiration from their totems. They became them. They were not lycanthropes, cursed to change with the moon. Marquost women were skin-turners. They donned the skin of the totem animal and became that creature in truth but with a guiding human intelligence and cunning. They were lead by a woman known as the Mother of Change, who could become any animal from any of the Totem Societies — and if rumor be true — any other beast as well.

The High Shaman and the Mother of Change were the ones who wrote and decided what to write.

After three hundred years, their wisdom and spells were coming to light again on my computer monitor. As the English writing was subtracted from the Darkmoon palimpsests, I began to notice something else.

My hackles rose the way that they will when you find that something is very wrong. When I examined the original photographs of the book pages more closely, I found the cause. The originals were genuinely ancient. That was almost beyond doubt. When you are a Shaman, as I am, you get a feel for such things. The problem was in the handwriting. I had a three hundred year span of books open to me. Everywhere that I sampled the Darkmoon Dairies I found the same thing.

The Darkmoon Diaries were a forgery. A unique forgery. I was willing to give long odds that there was no other such forgery in the world.

Efforts to make the handwriting different from writer to purported writer had grossly succeeded. It was the little things that betrayed the forgery. The downstroke of the f’s and s’s. The loop form of the e’s. They were common throughout. It appeared that one person had written all three hundred years worth of dairies.

The most recent volume revealed the likely author.

Just as I was pondering the diaries, Allison delivered a note from Laelia inquiring about my progress and inviting me to assist with cataloging the Hilstrom house. I put aside my problem with the dairies for the more immediate one of helping with Hilstrom house and seeing what might be of use. A Shaman may benefit from much that the ordinary person might not even find interesting. There might be things in there that could lead me to other surviving descendants of the ‘Founding Fathers’ of Flocking Bay.

Because of the age of the Hilstrom House and the contents it was known to have, it was necessary to catalog everything. We would assess what to include in the sale or even if the place should be sold at all. Some of the contents, at least, would have to be auctioned off and some kept for the library and the Historical Society museum.

The Hilstrom House was worth putting aside my petty mysteries. It would be an easy restoration to bring the house back to its original state. Most of the original hand hewn planks and timbers were still there and in place. The electricity and gas had been put in with no attempt to hide the wires and pipes inside the walls.

The fireplace still had the original hand made crane to hang cooking pots over the flames. The andirons were a recent addition. The originals we found later, cast out into a bramble thicket behind the house.

The whole place could easily become a colonial museum. When I breached the idea to Laelia she agreed that it could be done at little cost. The only problem that she foresaw was the simple one of maintenance cost. Such museums rarely paid their way and the township was simply too poor to support another one in addition to the Historical Society museum.

“Don’t give up, though,” she said, patting my hand. “You can propose it at the township meeting. If it is approved, they will find a way to do it.”

I felt that odd hackle-raising twisting that tells you where magic is. It led me to a corner of the living room. There, in a window seat made to serve as a storage chest, were many papers and books … and the source of my feeling.

The old matchlock musket appeared to be in near perfect condition. It was mounted to a plaque with an engraved brass plate just as the diary had said. It read, “This gun won us the town now called Flocking Bay. Eben Hilstrom shot and killed the Shaman with it. The gun would never fire again after.”

Laelia reached past me and took the old gun. “The Historical Society will want this testament to the shameful deed that founded this town.”

I looked at her strangely. I was beginning to fear that Laelia might be a descendant of one of the Founders. A check of ship passenger manifests from 1645 through the end of 1648 showed none who could be Laelia or her ‘ancestress.’ Something would have been in those records even if she had been a stowaway. What did she have to hide? Several things that she had said before flitted through my mind. The unique forgery of the Darkmoon diaries. The Darkmoon crest. The timing of her ancestress’ arrival in Flocking Bay. The low price of the indenture.

With a winning smile, I said, “Laelia, I think that these papers will be enough to keep us busy for the rest of the day.” “Let’s take them back to your place where we can catalog them over some of your wonderful tea.”

We strolled back to Changer’s Court in a pleasant afternoon, with the wind playing with leaves and trying to steal our booty of history.

Back at Laelia’s cottage, I breached a different topic as she puttered about her modern kitchen with its gas range, making tea for us. “Laelia, I have some of the palimpsests done. I think that you will be interested. I found your indenture contract. You can even see where Eben Hilstrom altered it.”

The puttering in the kitchen stopped for a moment. You could hear the strained smile in her voice as she see replied, “You mean the indenture of my ancestress. I’m not THAT old.” She resumed puttering purposefully about and emerged with the tea tray.

As she set it down on the coffee table, I said, “I’m afraid that you’re not telling me the whole truth, Laelia. I can prove that you wrote all of the Darkmoon dairies and I can also prove their age.

“I need to ask you some questions about your origins. I can only think of a few reasons that a person might live so long.”

She let out a long sigh and leaned back in her chair. Resignedly she said, “Have some tea and ask what you will. It was a long run from Poland for my sister and I. She was killed in France. The Crest says it all, to those perceptive enough to read it, as you seem to be.”

I raised my tea to my lips and smelled the aroma. My hackles rose again. I could smell and feel the power. It was a familiar power, like my mother’s but stronger. I had my answer.

“No,” I said, putting down the cup untasted. “You have lied long enough. You are not a werewolf and you are not Polish either. Though being one would account for your age. I know who you are.”

I spoke in Marquost, the old Indian tongue of the area when I said, “Ask me what you want to know, Mother of Change. This Shaman will tell you truthfully what you wish to know without the power of that.” I pointed at the tea.

For a second, she appeared startled. Then she let out the same laugh that I had heard and liked earlier. She replied in the same language, “Your accent is abominable! Still, I haven’t heard anyone use this language at all for years!” Her speech was the utterly relaxed, easy flow of a native speaker.

“Near enough to three hundred years, I expect,” I said softly. “You must have been lonely, living among your enemies for so long.”

“Not so lonely as you might imagine,” said Laelia with that calm that comes only from utter assurance. “I have been stalking my prey. I have got to know them and listen to their Councils and give them advice. When the time is right I take one of my skins and turn it. Then an enemy suffers. That is when proper vengeance comes. They have suffered and must suffer for a long time yet to come. That is why your killing them is not to be accepted. Do not do that. It may put them on their guard.”

Startled, and just a bit guilty, I said, “Mr. Hilstrom was the last of his line. He was old and a bachelor. The Hilstroms are gone.”

Her cheerful laugh interrupted me. “Where did you get that silly idea? That was only the end of the male line. What is the true line of descent?”

I was dumbfounded. I had forgotten, been taken in by the white man’s patrilineal lines of descent. So proud of my own matrilineal descent from the last Shaman, I had used the white man’s genealogical rules to track my enemies! I would have to start my genealogical work all over.

I hung my head in shame. Determined, I raised my head looking Laelia in the eye. “A Shaman must acknowledge his error and try to remedy it. I must begin to search for the neglected lines of descent. Our enemies must die!” I said firmly.

She rebuked me gently but with absolute certainty. “They must NOT die! Death is the END of vengeance. I swore ETERNAL revenge to the Blackwall, pouring on it the blood of my foes. When the last of them dies, so do I!”

Smiling, Laelia said, “I help them in their need and see to it that they stay within my reach.” Her eyes going lupine, she added, “I stalk them down the trail of time. In each generation, they all suffer. A few die. They go on. And so do I.”

I looked at Laelia with new eyes and a heightened respect. I said softly, “Mother of Change, I am sure that your eternal vengeance is more suitable than my slaying. This Shaman opens to you the whole power of the Blackwall.”

—THE END—

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This completes Met by Moonlight. If you enjoyed what you just read, please go to the Master Story Index for links to all of the stories that I have posted on Tumblr

[rawbiredbest]

It’s All in Your Head

Contains: Fluff, Angst, Unconventional Relationships, Telepathy, Demons Fandom: Marvel (comics) Relationships: Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom Characters: Stephen Strange, Victor von Doom, Wong, Boris Word Count: 6103

Out of the blue, Stephen Strange and Victor von Doom find themselves telepathically connected.

No squealing, remember that......

Content warning for canon typical violence, profanity, implied sexual activity, and a single usage of homophobic language by a very bad individual.

Graciously commissioned by @osheets! Wanna do the same? Check my info!

Read here or on AO3!

- - -

The breakthrough comes with rapturous spontaneity. It’s like Victor von Doom has been standing on the shore of a Latverian loch, and in the blink of an eye, the grains of sand have become an orchestra, the surf their masterful conductor, and he the sole audience. He has captured their forms in glass and steel, multiplied ten million fold in the casings of complex machinery, and the entire laboratory sings the path to a bolder, brighter future. In all of his years of experimentation, innovation, desperation, he has never heard this music before. It pours from every screw and bolt, vibrates along every copper wire, thunders out of every piston and valve. The engineers below him, controlling and monitoring the device, are Gods of melody and time. Doom himself has transcended divinity, rising high on sublime notes of praise. He is Emperor, Encapsulated Universe, and his feet do not touch the floor as he glides to the heart of his machine, his veins coursing with silver beauty. Hydrogen atoms dance into the arms of their palladium partners, and their heat is love, love for each other, love for nature, love for him, and it is a primordial force unlocked from decades of ridicule and shame, and he has set it free. Genius. Monarch. Ultimate.

And then it goes. Slowly, a receding tide. It slides from his bones, leaving them aching. He braces himself against a panel, cold sweat sticking to his brow. His heart hammers in his chest, a lone drum holding a marching beat long after the band has departed into the moonless night. The engineers gape at him, oblivious to the miracle that has deafened their ruler.

Doom touches the shielding glass of the operating CMNS reactor, and its vibrations are an idiot hum. He blinks salt from his eyes, breath condensing on the machine.

Four thousand, five hundred and six miles away, a doctor and his best friend leave Madison Square Garden, wearing concert merch, beaming like loons.

- - -

To Stephen, it’s a tsunami.

He’s watching TV. The nightly news. He could tap into the Eye and view the entire world as it turns, but he doesn’t want to. It isn’t very often he feels human, let alone vegetable, so any opportunity to vegetate he takes with gusto. Stretched across his couch, he tugs down the hem of his shirt, leans his head on his hand, and waits to absorb the country’s woes.

He gets a sharp pain on the nape of his neck instead. He swats at the spot, looks at his palm. “Ow.”

Wong looks up from the email he’s writing. “Are you okay?”

Strange frowns, settles back down. “I think there’s a mosquito in here.” They’re talking about the Amazon fires. Stephen’s heart aches for the birds who will drop from the sky, their lungs full of smoke, voices forever silenced.

And then pain rips down his back, like his spine is torn out by an iron hand from his neck to his waist.

He can’t help but yell then, clutching the cushions. A heavy ache lingers in his vertebrae. Gingerly he sits up, breathing hard, eyes clenched shut. Something a bit like petrichor, a bit medicinal, a bit hot fills his nose.

Wong runs to him, but Strange raises a hand. “I’m fine,” he says, though he already braces against the thick lump rising next to his heart. As it crests, it dissipates throughout his body. He forces his eyes open, expecting to see the black trails of tiny spiders beneath his skin. Nothing but unmarked flesh.

“Should I call Doctor Carter?” Wong asks, thumbing toward the antique phone. It’s enchanted to call anywhere, anytime, any-plane.

“No, no.” Stephen leans on his knees, rubbing his temples. The pain is moving, changing. “This isn’t exactly her--”

--forte, he wants to say, but he is cut off by trees. Huge trees. Trees that consume the sky in fractal tangles of evergreen. Primordial, pristine trees, the definition of trees. The little things that crawl beneath and flit between, some carrying light, some with rigid jaws.

It’s a psychic attack. Strange has weathered them before. This one is weird. As he waves for Wong to get the Eye, he endures the spikes of pain that impale his senses to grab a closer look. This entity is lumbering, gigantic in scope yet wet around the edges.

It’s being born, he realizes. It’s waking up.

It hurts, it hurts but he’s curious. He sees New York now, its spires and streets lined up like so much circuitry. He feels the rough brush of concrete, hears the car horn concerto, smells the burn of rubber, and all throughout are rules, parameters, reasons. The thing is learning, feasting on information, and gathering more at an exponential rate. A tidal wave of green descends on the city, picking and plucking at this imaginary world.

And as it eats, thousands and thousands of hungry mouths devouring America, it hates. It hates the excess, the cruelty, the inefficiencies. It roars, barreling down the Sanctum, thousands upon thousands of tons of incomparable loathing.

Wong presses the Eye into Stephen’s hand.

“Pardon my French, dear friend,” Strange says.

The Eye bursts open, and the Sorcerer Supreme throws every ounce of his mystic might at the slavering invader. The living room cascades with dancing whorls of light as he raises his arms, funneling a solar flare, and cries a spell that every New Yorker knows by heart.

“FUCK OFF!”

Utter obliteration. When he opens his eyes, glittering motes trickle from the ceiling. The pain is gone. The TV has gone to commercial.

The phone is ringing.

Wong answers it as Stephen sinks to the couch. He slips the Eye around his neck, and its weight comforts. He thinks he’ll sleep with it tonight.

“It’s for you.”

Strange massages his ear. Vulgarity is embarrassing, but faced with an immaterial infant in the depths of an unholy tantrum doing everything in its power to cram a fork in a magic electrical socket, seemed like a good idea at the time. He takes the phone. “Hello?”

“Doctor! The master -- Victor -- something has happened, I do not know-- I--”

“Boris?” Stephen sits up. “Boris, it’s all right. Slow down. What’s going on?”

Behind the old retainer’s words, a siren wails. “The master--” He hesitates. “His newest Doombot. He turned it on for the first time. All was well, and then it exploded! And now Victor -- he is breathing this flame, this plasma! It burned through his mask! Doctor, what do I do!?”

Strange inhales deep. Counts to three. Lets it go. “He’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I do not mean to doubt you, but--”

“It will pass. Give him an ice pack and put him somewhere dark and quiet for a few hours.”

“I trust you, doctor, but please, when you can, come and see him. The violence of it, it scares me.”

“I know. It’s fine. Just something he ate.”

Boris thanks him and hangs up.

Stephen wishes the couch would eat him as he heaves a sigh. “Wong,” he asks, “Is it too late to rescind discovering my bisexuality at the ripe age of however old I am now?”

“I don’t know,” Wong replies, “To both parts of your question. I lost count in the five hundreds.”

Strange curses again.

- - -

“So. We have a telepathic link. Any idea how it got there?”

He may as well be speaking to a wall of granite. Doom, arms folded, sneers at him across the table.

Stephen links his fingers together. “I have nothing. It’s rather disconcerting. I don’t believe it’s malevolent, which is always a plus, but it’s unremarkable, which isn’t. So I’d appreciate any insight, Victor. Whatever you’d like to...you know. Get off your chest.”

Doom’s eyes are cold.

“Anything at all. Need to vent? I know you can get heated.”

The table weighs over three hundred pounds, yet Doom flings it at him like a feather. Strange cuts it in half with a bolt of solid light as Crimson Bands constrict around his other arm. They serpentine and splinter into smaller tendrils, their tips unhinging into fanged blooms, and a thought comes to Stephen as the king charges him: he was born in a forest. It’s nature’s fury that fills his head, a cacophony of hellish noise, the wild hunt calling for his spilled blood. Doom’s rage in concentrated, psychic form, howling down their link.

The Daggers of Denak, blades spinning, do an admirable job trimming the vines, their severed heads still snapping, and Strange summons the Winds of Watoomb to push Doom away. The gale staggers him yet he presses forward, arcane runes flashing a ice blue aegis on his gauntlet. Step by step, forcing him back towards the wall.

He lunges. Strange is ready for it. Doom’s arm comes up, Stephen’s arms fan out. Before the king grasps his throat, he calls a pair of razors into his palms. Victor’s grip is suffocating. Strange holds his head between two guillotine blades. An impasse.

Doom’s voice rasps, thin and scorched. “That. Hurt.”

Stephen sips the tiny breaths he can. Something’s pressing into his belly. Sweat beads on his brow. It’s a gun. It’s the stupid gun Doom carries in the stupid pouch on his stupid belt. Why does he even have it? For shooting idiot sorcerers, he thinks. He swallows hard, knows Doom can feel it through the metal. Not so evenly matched as he thought.

And then he notices it. Hiding deep under the screams is a layer of fire. Reaching through the link, he touches it. Color rushes to his cheeks.

“Seriously?” he ekes out, “This is turning you on?”

Doom’s grip loosens. A minuscule amount, enough for Strange to squeeze a few more words. The fire leaps into his psychic palm, eager, aggressive.

“There’s no shame in it. You’re good at what you do, Victor. Very few people can put me in check. Look at you. You’ve pinned me to a wall like a butterfly. That’s impressive. I--”

The king leans closer. Stephen smells ashes on his breath.

“Hoary hosts.”

The gun is holstered. A steel thumb strokes his cheek.

“Reap what you sow,” Doom mutters.

- - -

The aches and bruises will last for days, but the coolness of Doom’s armor against the carpet burn on his back is soothing. He rests a hand in the king’s own. Anything else feels too strenuous. “Was that your first time having telepathic sex? It’s intense, isn’t it?”

Victor takes in the state of the room. Paintings smashed, furniture so much firewood, stone walls fractured and cratered. How much destruction is his? He has no idea. One or the other had to have held back. The castle is still standing, after all.

Neither man speaks. Stephen ventures a glimpse down their link and gets only an image of black curtains. Doom’s already set up defenses. Though some of his own are raised, he lets some satisfaction flow between them. An olive branch.

A quiet, amused huff. “At times, Strange,” Doom says, and already his voice sounds better, “Your physical merits outweigh the strenuous mental exertions you put me through.”

“I never much cared for the medieval aesthetic myself, yet here we are.” He grunts as he looks over his shoulder, thighs twinging. “How drunk were we that night?”

“Doom was sober.”

“Oh no, your golden goblet saw plenty of refills. You were, at the very least, tipsy.”

“You question Doom’s memory?”

Stephen cups his chin, looks deep into dark brown eyes. “I question, my lord, why you claim to remember, with crystal clarity, a night you could have easily decreed never happened at all.”

Nothing comes. No biting remark, no caustic humiliation. Doom only holds his gaze, and under the black curtains flashes something bright, something strong. It lasts for only half a second before the king gets up, using Strange’s shoulder for support. “This link shall be insufferable. Do your part to get rid of it.”

Stephen frowns, annoyed that his legs work. He wonders if Victor left any of his clothing intact. “Right. Ground rules. Stay out of my head, and I won’t make you cough up another star. Deal?”

“Stay out of Doom’s head, and you shall not know pain unending. You have a deal.”

- - -

This lasts for two months.

- - -

On Day 51, a current of malicious satisfaction slithers through Strange’s mind. Gooseflesh rises up his back. The half-chewed wad of pastrami and egg in his mouth goes sour. He spits it out, bracing himself on the dinner table, and without thinking of thinking, he thinks: what have you done now?

The smirk on Doom’s face reminds him of the crocodiles at the Bronx Zoo. The thing Victor is smiling at reminds him of shop class. He can’t begin to make heads or tails of it. Like many of the king’s devices, it could have come off the set of a sci-fi movie. Sleek and chrome, rigged with multicolored wires, pumps, and gauges, a porthole reveals the heart of the machine, a vile purple light. Stephen’s gut tells him that color would eat him alive if it could, tear into his flesh and drip his blood from its teeth. Stephen trusts his gut.

Strange, Doom replies, smile quickly fading into a scowl, We had an agreement.

You broke first. I felt you. My spidey sense tingled.

Victor’s gauntlets ball into fists, and he sends a wave of serrated anger barreling toward the magician. A chained wolf, barking and snarling. An executioner waiting for the condemned to dig his own grave deeper.

Stephen curses. He didn’t mean to think that out loud. Look. Just tell me what it is and I’ll leave you alone.

The black curtains rustle, then lift like a wing. Swimming in the purple light are mathematical equations, coiling around metal rods. It makes perfect sense to Doom, but to Strange it’s a form of gibberish undecipherable by any eldritch tome.

Then he hears it. It’s not coming from the machine. It’s from Doom. Subvocalized lyrics. A silent song. He could recognize the tune anywhere.

He bought its album at the concert.

This is cold fusion.

Stephen snaps back to attention. Cold fusion. Should I be worried?

Victor folds his arms. That I built a safe, eternal form of energy for myself and my people? Yes, Strange, cower and quake. Your country shall never have it so long as I draw breath.

There are many dangerous rebuttals to that he could say. Names he could drop. Yet Doom promised pain unending. Fifty-one days into their connection, Strange has no leads into its inner workings. Finding out if he could make good on his word is a risk Stephen is unwilling to take.

I don’t like this, the sorcerer thinks, but I have to believe you. Don’t misbehave.

His own mental defense is a never-ending subway express train, its doors and windows a veil of golden thorns. Sighing, he sits back down. What’s left of his sandwich has the appeal of wet newspaper.

Doom was right. The link is awful.

- - -

On Day 60, despite the blazing fire in the hearth, Victor’s feet send ripples through a puddle.

He regards it from his antique armchair throne with indifferent curiosity. Through the filters in his mask, he smells the green, pungent scent of foliage rot and seawater. In the puddle itself swim millions of plankton. A frenzy of eating, fucking, dying, and birthing unfolds beneath his alloy soles.

From the corner of his eye, he watches the puddle extend an arm of water across the floor. Sliding under a wall, a line of slithering damp turns the paint a moldy gray. Moisture fans across the entire side of the room in a pattern like falling stars, like skeletal hands trailing through a river. The scent grows stronger as the puddle expands. He rises before it consumes his chair. The leather sinks until it is a speck of mahogany in the brine. Gloom washes over it and it is gone.

Doom folds his arms. A breeze teases the tail of his cloak. Murmuring a quiet word, he puts out the fire with an arc of a finger, and turns around into another world.

It is eternal night. It has no sun, and what few stars can be seen are lucky glimpses through a lush canopy of branches and black, web-like leaves many hundreds of feet above. The grass under him has a sticky grip, but gentle. If grass could want for anything, it would like to give the king safe passage on his journey. He isn’t the sustenance it’s looking for. That comes on the wind, in the form of tiny shards of detritus falling from forest layers high overhead. It shimmers as it tumbles down, the only source of light in this hadal garden.

He doesn’t need to go far. Half-concealed behind a root far taller than he, Doom watches himself and Stephen Strange on the next mound over.

The magician talks with grand gestures, sweeping an arm over trees as dark as ink. Doom remembers himself speaking little, allowing Strange to tell him the highlights of the world. No recorded examples of predation. Negligible changes in evolution for millennia. A slow world. A place of peace.

Stephen steps into the water. Waist deep, he holds out his arm. His garb drips off him, revealing pale skin. He smiles, bare and inviting.

The other Victor undoes his belt.

“And you complain when I get you out of the house.”

Doom peers at the Stephen Strange sitting in lotus position beside him. “You drag me into your affairs with no concern for my well-being or sanity.”

“Please. The times you dig your heels in are cursory, at best. And then we end up doing things like this.”

Across the mound, the other king’s armor sits in a neat pile, and the two doctors stand in each other’s arms, their lips meeting and parting only to inhale.

Victor kneels on the grass. “Even you are capable of stumbling onto a good idea.”

Stephen’s lip curls upward. “I think about this often. This place is beautiful. This memory pleasant. I took effort not to broadcast this to you. My apologies if I disturbed you.”

Doom looks away. “You did not.”

“Oh? Your Royal Highness, we had an agreement.”

“Am I not allowed to reminisce myself?”

“Ssh. Meditate with me.”

He closes his eyes. Strange’s hand creeps into his own, and he lets it stay.

Perhaps he was wrong. The link isn’t so bad.

- - -

Wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up!

Stephen rolls molasses slow toward awareness. The bedroom is pitch black, swimming in unholy hour of the morning disorientation.

Your wife is in trouble!

He cracks an eye open, shifting in the sheets. “Clea?”

No! Your big green wife! Get up, right now!

Those aren’t his thoughts. It’s a voice he’s never heard before, coming from inside his head. He holds very still and feels something slither over his brain.

He snaps wide awake.

I’m sorry we have to meet like this, the voice says, but we must hurry. The whole world is at stake!

In any other circumstance, Strange would interrogate the voice within an inch of its life, but its fear is genuine. Swinging out of bed, he yanks some pants on, startles the Cloak of Levitation from of its own sleep, and pulls open a portal to Latveria.

Curse me for a novice! the voice squeaks, That can’t be good!

Enormous rends in reality drape over the castle. Shimmering in the air, some bisect the stone in clean, monomolecular cuts. One vomits a steady stream of magma, causing a massive fire in the castle courtyard. Through each of them Stephen sees other dimensions. Another hole fans out from the keep itself and drops a mass of red crystals that crush an entire rampart.

Please! Hurry!

Stephen slams the portal shut, imagines his destination, and wrenches open a new one directly to Doom’s lab. The room is bathed in sunset colors and thick, acrid smoke. At its heart lies the fusion reactor, which is now anything but cold. The purple light pounds waves of energy, reverberating off its containment and magnifying a new tear in the world.

Victor stands in front of the machine. His motions are jerky, abrupt, a marionette controlled by a mob of children. He lifts a twitching hand and the tear throws itself through the castle to join the others outside.

Sister-Brother! the voice cries, Stop!

Doom’s arms drop, strings cut. The voice that comes from his mind is higher than the other.

No, I don’t think so, it says, I think I’m going to continue. You’re more than welcome to burn.

“You’re the link,” Strange says.

Just figured that out now? Sister-Brother asks, Wow, Brother-Sister. You sure drew the short straw. My host is incredible. I’ve mapped every gyri and sulci in here and it’s gorgeous. I’d stay forever if I could. It’s almost a shame he has to die.

Stephen glares, raising his hands, fingers glowing with magic. “As Sorcerer Supreme, I command you to release Doctor Doom!”

The laugh that echoes down the link is nails on a chalkboard. You have no idea what we are.

“You’re playing with fire. You’re threatening the dimensional stability of all of Doomstadt. And when I find you, you’ll have hell to pay.”

This host has already seen hell, Sister-Brother chides, What better place to grow up than in a body demon-touched? Have you considered that I’m doing him a favor? This is how it plays out. This is fate.

Doom turns around without his mask.

A bloodcurdling shriek ricochets across Strange’s mind, his hand thrusts forward with a will not his own, and a thunderbolt connects with the king’s head. Victor flies against a control panel, smashing it with the weight of his impact. Groaning and creaking, the reactor starts to power down, sprinklers in the ceiling damping the flames.

His face, Brother-Sister whispers, Gods, oh gods, what’s wrong with his face...

Stephen contains his screams until he kneels at Doom’s side, hefting his body into his arms. The scent of burning meat fills his nose. He howls for someone, anyone, to help him, royal blood seeping onto his chest.

- - -

He awakens to the beeping of the heart monitor.

Doom feels like mountainsides have taken residence on his eyelids. Slowly sliding them open, he takes inventory. The room is bright, sterile, no windows. He’s propped up in a bed. His hands are bare yet weigh like continents. He looks to his left.

“Hello,” Stephen says.

The sorcerer looks terrible. Ashen skin, reddened eyes, a frown threatening to rip his mouth off. The clothes he wears belong to any servant of the castle. The hands clasped together between his knees shake worse than Doom has ever seen.

“You’re on a morphine drip. You’ve been unconscious for the past twelve hours. You’re in the castle. We set up a makeshift triage room. For a while...” He takes a deep breath, steeling his voice. “We didn’t know if you would make it.”

Doom thinks, and his head is wonderfully quiet.

“Thank every deity you know that your skull is almost as hard as your armor. You’re going to be in a lot of pain for the next few days, but the alternative...I don’t want to think about. And I got rid of the link.” Strange picks up a jar from a nearby stand. “Meet Brother-Sister and Sister-Brother.”

Floating in cerebrospinal fluid are two worms. One is storm cloud gray bracketed by navy blue. The other is dark yellow-green with flecks of red. Flat as ribbons and only an inch long, they give each other a wide berth.

“Pineal parasites,” Stephen continues, “Stuck to the undercarriage of our minds, learning how to be through our eyes. They talked together through us. Saw magic through us. Deciphered grand machines through us. And now they’re ready to go home. That’s what yours was trying to do. They were looking for a place where nothing changes and nothing happens because all who go there are hijacked and killed. Not such a good idea after all, was it?”

Doom blinks.

Putting the worms down, Strange digs his wrists into his eyes. “Victor, I swear to you on everything I am I had no idea. I thought you’d like it. I thought you could forget being so angry, forget the Four if only for an hour, and be happy. Now you--”

He stares at the door, fist to his mouth. Swallowing his heart, he says, “I’m bringing them back. They’re not at fault. They’re just following their life cycle. Despite what they’ve done, they deserve to live.”

Birds that will choke on ashes, he thinks, Countless trees turned to dust. No more. No more death.

“The best doctors in your kingdom are here for you. I’ll be back.”

“Doom will go with you.”

Victor’s voice is quiet but steady. Stephen shakes his head. “No. You’re in no shape to get out of bed, let alone travel dimensions.”

The monarch shuts his eyes. Heavy footsteps pass through the door. A doppelganger in emerald and steel, the Doombot bows its head to its ruler.

“Doom will go with you,” Victor repeats.

Strange blows a ragged breath. By Doom’s creased brow, that wasn’t easy. “Okay. Rest now. Don’t do anything until I return.”

Victor says nothing. Stephen waits until he drifts to sleep, presses a kiss to rough lips, and departs, robot in tow.

- - -

Q-4301 is indistinguishable from the real deal, from its ramrod straight spine to its folded arms, yet there’s no look of wonder in its lenses, no human, if royally restrained, sense of adventure in its copper and silicon heart. It doesn’t care about the bits and pieces of gold falling from the alien canopy, the grass patting its boots. It stares at Strange, emotionless, and that very lack of feeling gnaws at the pit of the sorcerer’s stomach.

They’re on the same black water island mound as before. He can pick out the tree Victor pressed him against from all the rest. Had the microscopic eggs that birthed the parasite twins been attracted to their sex, or had it been sheer luck? He doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know.

In his hand is a candle made from the blood of priests. “Do you have them?” Stephen asks.

Q-4301 lifts a corner of its cloak. Sewn into the cloth is a glass vial. Brother-Sister and Sister-Brother are inside.

Strange nods. “I don’t know if Doom programmed you to feel fear. Either way, let me do the talking. If all goes well, you won’t have to do anything.”

The Doombot says nothing. Taking a deep breath, Stephen snaps a spark between his fingers and lights the candle.

The world goes silent. The wind ceases, and so does the steady fall of golden bits and bobs. The grass curls into tight nubs. The only indication that time has not stopped entirely is the gleam of flame like an undulating eel on the surface of the water. Stephen’s breath is deafening in his own ears.

The voice that speaks is low and obsidian slick. “Well, well, well. Look what the fags dragged in.”

The demon, descending from the trees, blends perfectly into the dark. Its teeth are yellowed and pitted from a diet of rot. It moves on long, soundless talons. Its eyes are cherry red, pupils like mouths.

“Doctor Strange,” the khat murmurs, “You honor me with your presence. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re a cautionary tale among khat-kind, you know. A warning about too much power in frail, mortal meat. Like stuffing a sun into a stomach, it’s only a matter of time till it bursts.”

Stephen purses his lips. “Cut the shit. I have something for you.”

The khat’s grin splits up to its ears. “A gift? Is it your heart? Your humanity? Your soul? Please tell me it’s your soul. I would so like your soul.”

“Come closer and I’ll show you.”

The demon pads on water, leaving no ripples in its path. “Is it the thing beside you?” Nostrils flaring, it sizes up the Doombot. “Not the usual breed of lost lambs you lead to slaughter. What sort of lies did you tell it to follow you? An offer of redemption, perhaps? Anything desperate enough to flaunt about in a green skirt would listen to you.”

“Desperation is for the weak,” Q-4301 snaps.

Strange swallows the ball of curses on his tongue and hopes it doesn’t show. Doombots fall for bait. Exactly like the original.

The khat stops. “Everything has weaknesses. You were once a babe in your mother’s arms, no? Look at your companion. The Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, can barely keep a friend around, let alone alive. No, no, no, there has to be a reason he wants you here.” It lies on all fours, rests its cheek on its fist. “What sort of gift was it again?”

Stephen starts to speak. Q-4301 beats him. “The only gift a demon like you deserves.”

Red eyes narrow in amusement. “Oh, it’s too much for a single khat to bear! Let me call my brothers. We shall find out together.” Rising into a crouch, it takes a deep breath.

There’s still time to salvage the plan. Strange shouts, “Do it!”

Q-4301 lunges into the water, tears the vial from its cloak, and thrusts its arm out. As predicted, the khat opens its toothy jaws and swallows the punch up to the Doombot’s shoulder. Payload delivered, they need to flee.

The portal spell is halfway done when Stephen spots Q-4301 motionless.

For a second, the khat too is still. Then, beaming around the steel in its mouth, it bites, and tears Q-4301′s arm off.

No robot could replicate the spray of blood and scream in agonized terror.

Strange doesn’t realize he’s also screaming. The khat snatches Q-4301′s shoulder and slams it beneath the surface. The water boils in the struggle. Shadows like hellish stalagmites reach for the leaf-choked sky as the sorcerer calls his magic. Black muck splatters the trees, the grass, Stephen’s legs as he gathers flame in his shaking palms.

The blast turns the water to steam as the garden sees more light than it has in billions of years. He looks for a target, finds nothing but the bare riverbed quickly flooding to fill the void.

The khat geysers up behind him, grabs his leg, and wrenches him into the water. The Cloak of Levitation has enough time to flip him face up before a heavy paw pins it down. Eyes stinging, heart hammering, Strange fends off the khat’s snapping jaws with novas in his palms. It takes all his training to anticipate where the teeth will be, vision obscured by plumes of bubbles, and not lose a limb.

Claws curl in his suit and drag him through the brine. His head connects with a tree root and all of reality goes sideways. His breath whooshes free, and sour liquid fills his throat.

The demon hauls him out, shoves him against a tree. Three blurry khats grin in Stephen’s eyes. Dozens of fangs.

“The gift is all three,” it says, “Your heart, humanity, and soul. Why were we ever warned about you? You’re nothing.”

It opens its mouth.

LEAVE HIM ALONE!

Stephen shakes water and blood from his eyes. The khat is frozen save its eyes, which widen in shock. Two voices erupt from its gullet. One, higher-pitched, screeches an incoherent string of profanity.

By the hoary hosts of Hoggoth, the other cries, I demand you let him go!

If he squints, Strange can see two ribbons in the khat’s belly. One yellow-green and red, the other gray and blue.

“What have you done,” the demon barks, “What have you done to me!?”

The claws pry open. Stephen beats a hasty retreat, flying to the unfinished portal. As he works to complete it, something moves at his feet. The grass scuttles bits and pieces of shattered human along pathways only it knows. He reaches down, grabs a fragment, and rage flows through him hot enough to make his skin glow, heat radiating from him in convection circles.

The khat breaks free of the parasites’ control, smashing its head against the tree for good measure. Screaming, it leaps for him. Strange sidesteps into another world -- home -- closes the portal, and waits until his ears stop ringing.

His anger he keeps. He storms through castle halls, eager to strike while the iron is hot.

- - -

Doom must really try this relaxation thing more often. It isn’t bad. Balcony doors open, letting in sunshine and a floral breeze, he reclines in his seat, sips his tea, and listens to the vinyl spinning on the antique phonograph.

I’m coming down, coming down like a monkey, but it’s all right Like a load on your back that you can’t see, oooh but it’s all right

The song has been in his head for months. It’s nice to hear it in the open. Doom smiles. Stephen has good taste in music.

“Bastard!”

The chair spins around and Doom is confronted by a feral magician. Strange notes the king’s simple garb: no steel in sight, just a cotton shirt and pants. He aims for Victor’s face but his quaking hands botch the throw. It bounces off his chest and lands in his teacup. “You’re not white!”

Doom looks at his tea. The blue eye in the tea looks back. “About time someone noticed,” he deadpans, extracting the orb by its optic nerve and setting it on a napkin.

The chair bucks like a bronco and Victor spills out. Stephen catches him with magic, hangs him in the air. The cup breaks into a thousand pieces and the king’s disappointed frown makes Strange want to throttle him. “Who was in the Doombot?”

“A nuclear engineer working on the CMNS reactor.” Doom sounds bored. “He tweeted about the parasite-induced euphoria I experienced. Called it an episode. Implications of weakness are illegal. Justice -- and the parasites -- were served. Two birds with one stone.”

“You killed a man for a tweet.”

“Whatever creature you encountered in the garden slew him, not I.”

Stephen drops him, relishing Victor’s grunt as a shard of teacup cuts his foot. It’s a slimy pleasure, and his face contracts. “Bastard. There isn’t an ounce of goodness in you.”

The king pulls the porcelain out of his flesh and points the bloodied end of it. “I have my ways just as you have yours. Until you grasp this concept, we shall always be at odds.”

“Be at odds? I saved your life!”

Doom brushes back his hair. Black stitches stretch from one ear across his head to the other. “You scarred me.”

They’re on thin ice. Strange dials back his fury, fists clenched. Monstrous tyrant or not, Victor is recovering from brain surgery. “You had a worm in your head.”

Tossing the shard aside, Doom sinks back in the chair in a position Stephen calls the regal slouch. “The sentence for weakness implications is community service. The engineer served his community. The sentence for injury to the royal person is death.” A scowl darkens his face. “I have half a mind to not let you leave this room alive.”

The sorcerer shuts his eyes.

“However.” Doom thinks, picking his words. “The extraneous circumstances surrounding the crime cannot be ignored. A different punishment is called for. It shall be made at a later time.” He draws a holographic display before him. A tigress pants in her den, lozenges squirming at her belly. “Three cubs were born at the Latverian Zoo this morning.” He looks at Stephen. “I find myself preoccupied with some wildlife conservation of my own.”

The sigh comes from the bottom of his heart. One day Victor will come out and thank him. Today is not that day. It will have to do. Strange rubs his eyes. “May I make a suggestion?”

“Speak.”

“Exile. A break. Another two months, or two years, or two hundred years. I’m not picky. I just don’t want to see you for a while.”

Doom looks back at the panel. “Your suggestion carries weight. So be it. Begone.”

That’s that. Another story concluded. Feeling empty, feeling light, Stephen turns to go.

“Strange.”

Fuck, so close. The sorcerer looks over his shoulder. “What?”

“When next we sojourn, for Doom knows we shall--” Victor’s lip turns up, the smallest hint of a smirk. “--I shall pick our destination.”

[atinytokki]

𝐙𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Chapter 1: The Ghost Ship

The water sparkled turquoise, reflecting the bright noontime sun. Seagulls cawed overhead loudly, but Eden was focused on pushing a boat off the shallow beach. He turned around and beckoned with a wave. “Come on! There’s nothing to be afraid of!”

Hongjoong hesitated, digging his feet into the sand. He kept a cautious eye on the clouds in the sky, searching for any sign of bad weather. Eden followed his gaze and shook his head. “The seas are calm. Nothing to worry about.”

Chewing his lip, he remembered a day in the past that had been clear at first, and disastrous later. “Not this time,” he whispered. “I trust Eden.”

Sand shifting between his toes, he took a step forward and then a second and then a third. The water was up to his waist by the time he reached the sailboat.

“Alright,” Eden grunted softly as he hoisted the boy up and into a seat. “I’ll take the tiller, you’re going to tack.” Hongjoong said nothing but gave his hyung a pleading face. “Just let your body remember,” Eden encouraged with a soft smile.

Grasping the ropes for the sail, something reawakened inside Hongjoong. It was a sensation he hadn’t experienced since he was much younger in a time of innocence and unregulated discovery. Waves of nostalgia washed over him as he crested the ocean waves in his little boat and thought about the exploration that had been the centre of his childhood. A childhood that was snatched away too early, but it seemed was being offered to him again.

“You’ve got so much potential, Hongjoong,” Eden sighed from behind. 

Hongjoong turned to face him, resolved. “Would you teach me?”

...

“Captain? Captain!” Yeosang’s voice seemed to part the heavens and descend to him. “How is the deciphering coming along?” Hongjoong blinked until his eyes could fully open.

Asleep again, this time at the bowsprit, where he had hoped the brisk winds bearing on them would keep him awake. He sighed. “Yes, I’ll do it now, I promise.”

With Yeosang’s eyes on him, Hongjoong positioned the magnifying glass over Eden’s map splayed in front of him, and traced it over the blank areas of sea. As he gazed into it, the glass revealed markings of islands, which he traced over with pen to make them readable without the glass.

“There’s a port two points northeast, that’s the closest stop.” Yeosang looked over his captain’s shoulder, trying not to intrude but longing to witness the navigational magic for himself.

Hongjoong nodded. “In all honesty, the ATEEZ desperately needs repairs and we need some recovery time. Assuming the port is neutral, let’s dock there. Since we have this now, I won’t mind waiting a few days to get on course in earnest.”

Yeosang couldn’t argue with that logic, and with permission to take the map, retreated to his cabin to update his own charts.

Hongjoong’s eyes lingered on the sea before him. It sparkled the same way it had in his dream. The dream was really a memory, and one Hongjoong thought back to frequently.

There was such a yearning in his heart to be reunited with Eden, assured of his safety, and told that he did well. But next to that yearning had grown a new desire over time, one for protecting his own crew. He was their Eden now, and he wanted to do what he could for them, putting their well-being first and helping them reinvent themselves from their own troubled pasts.

He watched his men cheerfully go about their work, a secret smile on his face, before succumbing to his ever-present fatigue and retiring to his cabin.

...

Wooyoung had loosened up astronomically in the week or so that had passed as the ATEEZ made its way to the harbour. So much so that he was, in fact, among the troublemakers onboard. When Mingi went to fetch him, he need only follow the sound of his extremely squeaky high pitched laugh to find his location.

Wooyoung was in the rigging with Yunho when Mingi yelled his name from the quarterdeck. Both scampered down with ease and presented themselves to their quartermaster, wondering what they were in trouble for this time.

“It’s payday,” Mingi announced, unloading the money bags he had carried over into the confused officers’ arms. “Perfect timing!” Yunho exclaimed, beaming at the cash collecting in his arms. Mingi unleashed his gummy smile and nodded enthusiastically. “Enough for the tavern and the sauna this time! It’s been awhile since the last payday.”

Wooyoung’s eyeballs almost flew out of their sockets as the money kept coming. “This is all for me?” 

Mingi giggled at him shamelessly. “You’re an officer, remember?” 

Wooyoung was speechless and began to count his earnings as Mingi chatted with Yunho. “You think they’ll have a sauna at the port? We are a good ways from the last one we visited...”

“Where’s San?” Wooyoung interrupted, already taking a step towards the infirmary. 

Yunho’s arm shot out and grasped his. “Talking to Seonghwa,” he muttered, an edge to his voice that Wooyoung heard and understood. His mouth formed the shape of an “ah” but he didn’t say anything.

All three of them knew it would be best to wait until the two had finished their confrontation before bursting in with good news. Instead Wooyoung helped the conversation resume. “Saunas on the eastern islands? I don’t know, but perhaps you can find a natural hot spring.”

...

“What I did was unforgivable,” San faced Seonghwa with carefully composed strength and confessed. There was no more waiting. Leaving the truth unspoken between them could only ever strain their relationship and those around them, and San knew he had done enough harm as it was. “I’ll understand if you want to stay away from me.”

“No, San, I understand perfectly,” Seonghwa comforted quietly. “I saw a vision when I was there, too.” 

San shook his head bitterly. “But you ignored it. I didn’t.” It felt like the room was closing in. Both were silent for a long time. “There was so much blood.” Sobs began to surface, breaking through his defences and racking his body. “I’ve seen blood like that before but I’ve never seen your blood and on my hands, Seonghwa-hyung!” 

Seonghwa’s hands played with the threads of his blanket.

Everything had come back to him as San explained, haltingly, and almost too quietly to be heard. The book he had been reading before San came in to take off his bandages lay paralysed on the table next to him.

Something inside Seonghwa was twisting around uncomfortably, a feeling of being stuck midway in a battle, ducking until the crossfire let up. He had a decision to make. The San in his mind held a steaming gun and had wild eyes, but the San in front of him was vulnerable, shaking under the pressure of sobs being held back.

Seonghwa’s eyes drifted down to his wound. A scar graced his torso, a constant presence to remind him how he came by it. Part of him yearned for justice and needed to see the end of the demonic San of his imagination. But he could see how fragile this had made the younger boy and knew any turmoil he felt over this must be kept in, neatly packed away somewhere to stay untouched and unspoken so that Seonghwa could forget about it and put an end to San’s self-inflicted suffering.

“San, look at me.” San acted as if he wasn’t already peeking at him from the corner of his eye and shuffled his position to face his patient fully. “I forgive you,” Seonghwa said. “I know you meant no harm— the real you. And I know you would do anything to take back that bullet. I’m going to be fine, see? Already scarring over. Let’s put it behind us.”

San released a shaky breath. Seonghwa had truly risen above his circumstances to offer San this peace of mind. “Never talk about it again?” San whispered, wiping the tears off his face.

Seonghwa nodded and beckoned the boy in for a hug. San whimpered a thank you and curled up in his arms. Seonghwa’s cheek rested on the green hair and he kept the grimace off his face as San’s hiccups distressed his fresh scar.

If that’s what it took to ease the atmosphere, he would do it a hundred times.

...

Finally docked in the port of the nearest settled and neutral island all eight officers departed excitedly for their night on the town. Everyone was in a good mood and ready for an enjoyable time.

Wooyoung had to admit he was truly happy. His doubts at the beginning of his time on the ATEEZ had not been unfounded, and the voyage had not been without its difficult moments but what he had gained out of it was more special than anything he had ever had in his life. What he had on Si-Hyuk’s ship was never really camaraderie but a shared fear and a loose bond formed around desires to make it to the next meal if it ever came. He wondered distantly if those little boys would open up onboard the ATEEZ as well, or if they were beyond saving.

“Five silver pieces says you can’t lift me with your neck!” Jongho’s challenge to San shook Wooyoung out of his reverie. San looked appalled. “No way I’m taking that up! I need this for the rum!”

“Five pieces says you can’t lift me with your neck!” Wooyoung spoke up, turning the bet around on Jongho who simply laughed and held his hand in front of the pair, halting them.

“Watch this!” He announced confidently before leaning down behind Wooyoung, grabbing him from the backs of his legs and lifting him up with his neck onto his shoulders. “No!” Wooyoung protested, throwing his head back in despair as the hyungs all laughed at him.

Five silver pieces short was still enough for the booze Wooyoung wanted to order, and soon all eight of them were seated around a table in a tavern enjoying their drinks and conversation.

“How about a game?” Yunho suggested.

“Oh! Let’s play the animal ga—”

“Not the animal game,” Yeosang cut Mingi off with a death glare. “Your giraffe will get us kicked out of this pub.”

Yunho observed Mingi’s pout and made another suggestion. “How about the drawing guessing game?”

“But we don’t have any parchment,” Jongho pointed out before offering his own idea. “We could do an acrostic game.” The company oohed and ahhed at the suggestion before agreeing on it and beginning a wild competition. By the end of the night nearly all of them were tipsy and several sported the red foreheads that resulted from finger flicking punishment for losing.

There was still work to be done the next day so the older four members dragged themselves out of their beds in the morning and went back into town. Yeosang shook a sluggish Wooyoung awake just before noon and brought him along with them to do some bartering in the market.

Next over from the stall they were at, a group of men had caught Mingi’s attention and seemed to be having a conversation with him. “What’s that all about?” Wooyoung grabbed Yeosang’s sleeve and pulled on it until he got an answer. “Just locals looking for work. If they’re competent, we’ll probably take them. We lost those men who deserted in the doldrums, remember.”

Hongjoong joined the conversation with Mingi, briefly explaining the course of their expedition. “We understand the risks, but we’d like to be hired regardless,” the spokesman of the hopeful workers responded. He had an almost square jaw, intense eyebrows, and short hair. “I’ve got a dozen men here, all experienced on the water. My name is Seunghyun.”

Hongjoong scanned him up and down before offering his hand, which was taken. Seunghyun bowed while they shook hands, turning and relating the news to his followers gathered behind him. “You’ll be split up according to our needs, but we’ll take you on,” Hongjoong concluded before gathering his purchases and returning to the ship.

“Ready?” Yeosang had to wave his hand in front of Wooyoung’s face to capture his attention again.

“Oh? Yes. Have we got everything?” Wooyoung stopped eavesdropping to help Yeosang carry the supplies back to the ATEEZ. The walk back was quiet, but Yeosang could tell Wooyoung was deep in thought about something. “What is it?” He finally sighed.

“Those men...” Wooyoung lowered his voice almost to a whisper, leaning in to share his suspicion. “They seem quite nervous about something.”

Yeosang looked back over his shoulder, observing the new recruits as they followed them to their frigate. He nodded almost imperceptibly to Wooyoung. “You’re right. Maybe it’s just paranoia. The Eastern Sea is dangerous, but they sounded desperate for employment.”

Wooyoung didn’t answer but the air was still thin around them. “I’m sure Captain picked up on it too. Nothing to worry about.” Yeosang sounded as if he had convinced himself, but both knew better at this point.

Once the ship was careened and back in top shape, she set sail for the island with the X marked on it, which was slightly southeast and only a few days’ journey away. All the sailors were glad to be at sea again, having had trouble adjusting to their land legs. The winds were on their side and soon half of the journey had passed without incident. The new hands hadn’t caused any issues but were withdrawn from the rest of the crew in a way that Hongjoong didn’t appreciate.

The Captain was on the watch before sunrise when a figure approached the quarterdeck and kept walking in the direction of the Captain’s quarters until Hongjoong called him out. He turned abruptly, face coming into view in the soft lamplight. It was Seunghyun.

“Can I help you with something?” Captain asked the man.

“No, sir, just answering the call of nature.”

Hongjoong wasn’t buying it for a second. He could see the handle of a weapon peeking out. “You need to bring your knife to relieve yourself?”

Hongjoong’s flesh was crawling at the complete lack of a change in expression as he showed him two empty hands. Unflinching, Hongjoong reached straight into the man’s pocket and pulled out his knife. “I don’t like liars, Seunghyun.”

“All due respect, Captain,” Seunghyun whispered. “But I never said anything.” Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed at the implication. “That had better not be a challenge.”

Seunghyun raised his head slightly, an air of quiet confidence emanating from him. “It is.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Hongjoong scoffed but Seunghyun ignored it. 

“A duel. Not to the death. Just for fun.” They stared at each other for a moment longer before Hongjoong crossed his arms. “You’re very eager to be humiliated in front of your friends.” 

Seunghyun shrugged with a “We’ll see” and walked away casually.

“Don’t let me catch you on my quarterdeck again!” Hongjoong pursed his lips discreetly as he returned to the wheel. This wasn’t going to end well.

...

Seunghyun didn’t let Hongjoong forget about their nightly agreement and, as soon as it was sunrise, looked directly at him and drew his sword. Not even the officers had any idea what was happening when Hongjoong walked down calmly to the main deck and drew his own sword.

Jongho threw down the rope he was holding and rushed to intervene but stopped in his tracks at the Captain’s raised hand. “It’s my fight, Jongho.” His eyes stayed on his opponent and suddenly they clashed blades.

A gasp swept through the gathering crowd and a ring formed around the two contenders. They were acknowledging an unspoken challenge between their crossed swords, neither one backing down.

“What is—” Mingi pushed past some fascinated riggers to see what was happening. “Captain!” 

Yunho held Mingi back. “Let him take care of it,” he cautioned.

Hongjoong broke the standoff and swept his weapon at Seunghyun’s neck. Seunghyun ducked and returned a blow that was evaded.

Spinning around with masterful footwork, Hongjoong had the challenger pinned and disarmed in a matter of minutes. “Well, that didn’t last very long, did it?” He growled, inches from Seunghyun’s face. 

Embarrassment bloomed in the defeated sailor but again his expression was hardened and unchanged. “I see that it hasn’t. Well done, Captain.”

Hongjoong let him up but didn’t accept his handshake, turning his back and returning to the helm, sword back in its sheath. The onlookers gaped at the swiftness of the battle before obeying Mingi’s call of “Back to work!”

Not five minutes had passed when Yunho yelled from the crow’s nest. “Sail ho!” Instead of staying at his station as usual, the master rigger rushed down the webs of rope and ran to the bow of the ship with his telescope. “Sir, the ship looks completely devastated...” There was a sail, but it was tattered and useless.

A sense of macabre hung about it as it loomed in the distance, creeping close enough for everyone to see. “I don’t like the direction it’s heading,” Hongjoong whispered.

Still Wooyoung heard him and scrutinised the mysterious ship’s path. He understood his captain’s misgivings. The weather beaten bow of the frigate was pointed straight at them.

“C-Captain?” Yunho called out from the bow. The deck of the approaching ship was completely empty. “No one’s onboard...” 

Jongho frowned from his spot at the rail. “No one’s onboard, or everyone’s hiding.” He shook his head at the others. “I don’t like it.”

Jongho was voicing what everyone else could feel in their gut. Something had happened here, and the ATEEZ was about to encounter it with no context. There was a hushed drone of men discussing the sighting with each other.

Hongjoong checked the contents of his gun and, deciding it was fit enough to proceed, called the officers to him. “Jongho, Yunho and Mingi with me. We’re going to board and investigate. I want the rest of you to keep a close eye on the horizon and our new friends. Be watchful.”

With that, he and his newly formed team prepared to board the swiftly approaching vessel. Wooyoung did as he was told, and stood at attention on the quarterdeck, ignoring the stirring in his stomach. “Bad feeling?” Yeosang whispered from behind him. 

“I get them all the time,” Wooyoung rationalised. “Nothing to worry about.” He echoed Yeosang’s own words from before, a jab that didn’t escape the older officer.

“Captain!” A familiar voice arrived from the main deck. Hongjoong stopped in his tracks, eyes pressed shut in quiet annoyance. He turned to face Seunghyun who was approaching.

Mingi stepped between the two, trying to use his height to intimidate. “The Captain didn’t give you permission to come to the quarterdeck—”

“I recognise the ship,” Seunghyun cut him off, ignoring his presence entirely and locking eyes with Hongjoong. “Let me come, I might be of some use.”

Only the noise of wood and water punctuated the silence. “Very well.”

“Captain!” Yunho exclaimed.

“It’s a chance to redeem himself,” Hongjoong explained briefly before signaling to have the boards ready at the side rail. The rest of his team followed without further protest and crossed the boards to the mysterious ship.

Immediately an air of death penetrated the surroundings. Each creak of the vessel’s frame sent a shiver down Mingi’s spine as he followed the company, bringing up the rear. Hongjoong kept Seunghyun talking about the make and territory of the foreign ship as they crossed onto unfamiliar territory, getting everything he could about its purpose in the Eastern Sea out of the man.

“What business did he have challenging Captain to a duel anyway?” Jongho’s voice was just loud enough for Yunho to hear and answer, “My guess is he made a mistake of some kind and thought he could get his honour back by beating him.” An amused smirk etched onto his face. “Obviously that didn’t work out.” The two muffled their snickers as the group made their way into the hold.

“Split up,” Hongjoong ordered, receiving nods from all parties. It was Seunghyun in the gun deck who found a heap of bodies rotting in bilge water and ran to fetch Hongjoong.

“Dead bodies again...” the Captain grimaced at the putrefying smell. He leaned forward to observe closely, reaching out a hand and checking the elasticity of what was left of the skin.

“I wouldn’t touch that,” Mingi warned, hurrying in with Jongho and Yunho, obviously put out at not being summoned.

“They died of some kind of sickness.” It dawned on Hongjoong suddenly and he took a step back.

“Why weren’t they flying a yellow jack?” Mingi snapped, accusing eyes on Seunghyun.

“How should I know? It’s not my ship!”

“You said you’d seen it before. Where?” Jongho joined in.

“It just looks like some of the other ones I see in this area, I don’t have anything more specific, sir,” Seunghyun’s tone almost slipped into disrespect but he caught himself. Mingi averted his gaze, trying to cool off.

“You three find anything else of worth on this skeleton of a ship?” Hongjoong cleared the tension. 

Yunho shook his head. “It’s just the bare bones. I think they’ve been dead and adrift for some time.”

That seemed correct judging by the state of the bodies as well and Hongjoong acknowledged it before leading the group above deck.

The officers met briefly on the quarterdeck to hear the report, struggled to keep their food down, and agreed unanimously to move on.

Wooyoung still couldn’t shake the feeling that had rooted itself in his mind again. Nothing to worry about, he repeated to himself while monitoring the soundless retreat of the ghost ship, once again the watchdog. Nothing to worry about.

...

Taglist: @nightynightnyx

A/N: Should’ve renamed this chap “nothing to worry about” lol. It appeared no fewer than 5 times. Easing into the action a bit but keep anticipating, things will pick up. I should preface it with a warning that things are getting more intense and there will be more and more potentially disturbing content. Thanks as always for the support and please reblog so others can enjoy it too xoxo

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[hoe-cuspocus]

* ╰    —— wow, odette doge sure has changed. i guess she  is feeling isolated from the other ravenclaw members. guess you can’t really blame them. i still remember them being so charming & tender,  now they just seem isolated & obstinate.  guess being a pure-blood isn’t helping matters much either.  i’m hopeful though. they’ll be just fine. 

okay SO ! odette is kind of a new character i’m flushing out so while her intro won’t be thoroughly detailed, it’s one of those instances where i’m feeling out a character and we’re going to see where it goes from this one base idea i have and hopefully it goes well so enjoy these tiny little bullet points about my damaged little baby !

DOGE, that’ rings a bell doesn’t it? oh yeah it’s because theyre a BIG name in the wizarding world. remember ? close intimate friends of the dumbledore family, been in the ministry’s highest ranks since forever, the whole shebang. they come from old money, a long line of prestige and well, let’s just say if you’re born into the family you’ve got your life set. 

one would expect that since odette was born into this lavish life, she’d be a stupid little stuck up witch growing up but she actually wasn’t. her life was as close to perfect as could be. she had a really amazing older brother that took care of her, parents that were kind and loving but still stern and striving to raise great kids, they were well off but still humble... there was no complaints at all. but life doesn’t stay happy forever and looking back it’s all really a highlight reel. 

the whole blood purity thing was never a topic of conversation in her home? everyone sort of assumed they were on the same page. like human is human, if you have magic, GREAT doesn’t make you more or less of a wizard if you come from a long line of magic blood, it just means you’re magical but like awesome ! they underestimated the weight of this subject and were way WAY too cavalier about the subject, to the point where it got them into trouble. BIG trouble. they became targets early on in the war, their outspoken natures posing a threat to the cause. i mean think about it, an influential family actually normalizing the fraternization between muggles and wizards? APPALLING. could not be tolerated. elphias jr, the heir to the thrown and renowned stubborn jackass, decided to take a stand for those that really didn’t have a fighting chance at the time. he was gunning for the position of minister for magic and decided to bank his campaign on muggle born rights, turning to activism in the late days of his campaigning. his family wasn’t against it, but they were apprehensive. like come on bro, these are dark times dont expose yourself!! but he didn’t listen, didn’t want to. so he led a rally..... and didn’t come back. two, three days came and went, no elphias. odette let it slide, he probably went out to celebrate after the rally... muggle london was always his favorite place to get lost in..... a few too many firewhiskeys takes a while to recover from..... until that HORRID morning came. odette had spent the night at a friends house, sipping on giggle water and dishing about quidditch players and boys at school she fancied, but it was time to head home. as she strolled up the long narrow road leading up to her estate, surely thinking her mother would nag her for being late, she came across the unthinkable. a bloody body, discarded like trash just in front of the doge estate gates, their family crest casting a haunting shadow over the boy. it was daunting but she just knew. from that moment on, it’s all pretty fuzzy. she knows her blood curdling screams were what alerted her parents, suddenly aurors where everywhere. she remembers how cold his skin was, how he didn’t look like elphias but how she just KNEW. she remembers the pain most of all. 

that day shifted everything for her. listen she used to be bubbly, kind, a little prissy just because she was young stupid and well.. she WAS RICH OKAY it sort of came with the territory. she considered herself a little bit like royalty because people just fawned over her when she walked into a room. but after this... she turned cold, skeptic, cynical, confused.... she doesn’t know who to trust. she’s mad.. she’s paranoid and pretty much going insane.

hints of her old self still remain though. she’s still kind like she won’t snap at anyone and she knows her place but there is a crossroad she still has to face: her place in the war and this world. AT THE MOMENT, she resents muggleborns. it was because of THEM that her brother died. he wasn’t the target, they were, so why did he end up how he did? but with that comes the guilt. what would her brother say if he knew what she was thinking? its that turmoil that’s ultimately eating her up inside. 

[pengiesama]

what do you call a penguin with berseria who has two thumbs and is playing it more

me

did i do that joke right

(we’re getting into real big spoiler territory for berseria so proceed with caution)

while on a pointless plot detour to get medicine for the pirate ship, we learn via Magilou planning on forcing Bienfu to drink her medicine for her that, if malakhim drink medicine or potions, whatever they drank also affects their bonded exorcist. thus, when Mikleo drank the aphrodisiac potion, it hit Sorey too. and now you know.

Laphi compares having a person as a vessel to being carried around in a box. and now you know.

the Videl and Laphi friendship is a cute little sidequest. i'm glad Laphi's found someone to nerd out about history and archaeology with. just tough it out for a few millennia and you'll have Sorey and Mikleo as your new nerd fathers.

i never liked that magic gun nonsense in Zestiria and kind of rolled my eyes at it being back here. at being forward here? prequel grammar. it being a gun is just so incongruous to the setting, and not in a good way -- i know it's brought up that it's such a "mysterious-looking thing" but it's just a big clunky glock with some shit taped on it. plus, its powers are so vaguely-defined that it's essentially a deus ex machina fix-it button for a whole bunch of random shit. it makes you more powerful when you shoot yourself in the head with it, also it de-brainwashes malakhim when you shoot them with it, also it dispels illusions when you shoot them, also if you tell a seraphim to climb in and be ammo you can kill god and it kills the seraph except when it doesn't and that was never a concern, what are you talking about. so yeah not happy that it's back

they did explain how zaveid got it, though, and gave a little backstory on him -- he used to be a brainwashed slave malakhim, and when he was sent by the Abbey to assassinate Aifreid, Aifreid shot him with that gun (which he picked up while pillaging a faraway land) and it debrainwashed him. because reasons. then Aifreid entrusted him with it to keep it out of the Abbey's hands when he was captured. so thrilling.

i really miss the cute character banter in the enemy book from Zestiria -- each and every enemy had its own unique commentary by the party. Berseria's enemy book is completely vanilla; just enemy stats.

one of the many other things i miss from Zestiria is that there's literally no reason to ever stay at inns unless the plot forces you. that's something i've always grappled with in RPGs in general -- why bother ever staying at inns when you've got healing spells, healing items, or healing save points? Zestiria's forced integration of inns into the skit system definitely wasn't without its flaws, but it at least made me visit them.

berseria: a whole story quest abt finding someone who can read the ancient tongue even a little sorey: i taught it to myself at age 8 lol

the ancient tongue is also known as "Ancient Avarost"; it's very complicated with a grammar structure that revolves around swapping words around on the page and trying to figure out things in context. thus it is all the more impressive that Sorey taught it to himself, reading AND writing AND speaking, fluently, at age 8

what is with all the misspellings in skit dialogue and in speech bubbles. what even is QA. we just don't know.

Grimorh is soooooo far superior to Bienfu as the token "cute mascot" party member it's not even funny. she's an elegant old lady scholar Normin who tutors Laphi and constantly takes potshots at every party member when they're being annoying. kill+skin Bienfu and replace him entirely with Grimorh.

Laphi asks Magilou about the books on her belt, she immediately starts sexually harassing him and essentially forces him to lift and look up her skirt. please kill the skit writer.

i really love the discussion and closer look at the elemental lords/Empyreans! Zestiria didn't have much on them (for good reason, as worship of the elemental Empyreans was basically extinct even in Berseria's time), but in Berseria we visited a whole seaside culture and temple dedicated to the worship of Amenoch, the water Empyrean. they explain that they attribute the typhoons that temporarily routed the mainland's takeover of their land to Amenoch's doing.

Amenoch's temple is so pretty! it's underwater with lovely waterfalls and the bow crest everywhere! but it's a water dungeon so, as is a proud gaming tradition, it is a pain in the ass without a guide!

there are so many child sacrifices in this universe. like, so many. there have been at least three in this game alone, not even counting Zestiria's track record.

it wouldn't be a Tales game without an 8-year-old girl in fetish wear. who constantly shrieks and cries and talks in cutesy baby words while the camera zooms in on her exposed chest and crotch. fucking vomit.

Laphi has harnessed the power to alter the flow of time and uses it on petty shit like fighting rogue wildlife. sweet baby.

writing out the dealio on the plot for my own reference and for anyone interested. the Empyreans are the four elemental seraphim lords mentioned in Zestiria. there is a fifth Empyrean known as the Nameless Empyrean, or Innominat. he is an ancient dragon Empyrean with eight heads, and eats malevolence. the elemental Empyreans oppose him. malevolence, as we know from Zestiria, is naturally generated by humans at all times simply because they experience emotion, and eventually turns them into monsters. this is not common knowledge in Berseria, and is in fact a secret that the malakhim have deliberately hidden from humanity, as they fear it would make everyone lose their shit. it is taboo to speak of it and Eizen only eventually explained after the party ganged up on him about it. because humans don't know about malevolence, they assume the "daemonblight" is a mysterious curse/sickness; instead of humans simply falling to their own negative emotions. malakhim are not capable of generating malevolence unless they've already turned into dragons, and it is highly toxic to them. the earthpulse is essentially the lifestream from FF7 -- it's the churning energy of the planet, and is where all naturally-born malakhim come from. there are leypoints around the planet where the earthpulse is especially strong, and magically-sensitive people and civilizations in the past have built temples and structures on top of them to honor the malakhim/Empyreans as gods. the eight heads of Innominat are known as therions, a subtype of daemon -- Innominat chooses people/animal/things to turn into therions, based on their reciprocity to his power. if a therion is killed, a random individual gets immediately transformed into a new one to take its place. the Abbey's plan to awaken Innominat revolves around plonking therions on top of earthpulse leypoints to absorb malevolence from the surrounding citizens. the therions pass the malevolence on to Innominat, who will eventually awake once he's fully fed. removing the therion from the earthpulse point stops the feeding frenzy, but the disruption in the flow of malevolence will almost immediately make all humans in the surrounding area succumb and turn into daemons. so far, we have three of eight therions: Velvet herself, a bug we found in the forest, and that obnoxious half-naked eight-year-old. yes, i'm serious, this is the destructive force we're up against. we're currently looking for the others to stop Innominat's awakening (which i'm sure we'll fail to prevent, and i hope the eight-year-old dies or puts on some fucking clothes jesus christ bamco), Laphi has the ability to search for them through his compass. once Innominat's feeding tubes are cut off, i assume we trek on back to the Abbey's clubhouse to let Laphi knife fight him again. Laphi got him to a standstill last time and i've been stuffing herbs in his mouth since then so i think we'll do fine. 

[shooter-nobunagun]

The One, Reborn [Bloodborne AU]

//Originally part of the previous chapter but I had to split it b/c it was getting ridiculously long. The lore will probably start taking some liberties at this point...

Every Great One loses its child, and then yearns for a surrogate... Somehow, through the near-deafening shrieks and her own cries that thought reached her. It told her, gave her a vision of how things were and how they came to be...or rather, it tried. For she couldn’t yet understand the Great Ones, and maybe it wasn’t possible at all—but it tried, anyway, flooding her mind with images and thoughts that sought to drive her to the brink of insanity.

‘N-No...I don’t want this...stop it, stop it...!’ Just as she felt like her head was going to burst, Sio suddenly became aware: the rotting flesh pressed against her face, those gangrenous limbs and hands groping all over her body as the beast tried to draw her into their fold and make her a part of them. Growling, she fumbled for her gun, pointed it away her and deep into the undulating mass, and fired.

“What th—!” A voice, and then a very familiar blade sliced through the rest of the bodies, until Sio finally gasped at the fresh air flooding her lungs, coughing as Adam pulled her out while Hunter made quick work of the rest of the beast. “Sio! You’re—!”

“No! No! Get it away!” The girl immediately pushed herself away from his grasp, crouching on the ground and quivering as she seemed to be swatting away something from her body. “I don’t want it!”

“Ogura...Sio! Hey hey, just....calm down, alright?” Slowly he approached the girl, careful to not scare her anymore than she already was in this state. “Hey there, you’re out now...it’s just us...Sio, do you know who we are?”

She stared at him with wide-eyed maroons, before the tremors eased and she let out a gasp, as if finally realizing what just happened. “A...Adam...Hunter...”

“That’s right, everything’s all right now, Sio.” Still using the same low voice, he gently put a hand on her shoulder, and when she didn’t flinch, eased his arm around until she was gently folded against his chest, though her body still felt stiff as a corpse. “You did good, Sio.”

“You hurt anywhere lass?” Hunter did a quick check, but other than some tears in her clothes and the greasy bits of splattered monster remains, she seemed none worse for wear. “We shouldnae ‘ave let ye take th’ lead...forgive us...”

The girl shook her head slightly. “No...that was my choice...” Though she was calmer now, her actions and tone of voice were still...off, as if the girl herself was still trying to bring her mind back into the present realm. “I-It happened...again...”

The two men glanced at each other. “...Again? You mean when you were trapped? Did it try to do something to you?”

As he said that though the girl shrunk back in fear, whimpering slightly in his arms and Adam felt the slow burn of anger starting to form. He didn’t even want to begin to imagine the atrocities the monsters were capable of—regardless of whether or not they were human.

“L, Like with, Rom...” The anger in his stomach now turned into fear, Hunter looking aghast as well. “Th, th-that thing...it, told me things—b-but I don’t, I don’t understand—!” And then she finally broke, sobbing against the worn leather of his vest as she seemed to burrow into his very being.

“O-Oy, Sio, it’s all right now...shh, you’re alright...” Worried as he was about yet another encounter with a force they couldn’t understand, Adam also knew it would be unwise to push the girl any further until she calmed down. Gently he carried her off to the side, away from the mangled casket and patted her back as her tears subsided, Hunter on the lookout to give them some privacy. “Shh...there there...I promise, everything will be fine, all right?” Despite his stoic appearance, Adam hated to see anyone in distress, least of all the petite huntress that he was holding in his arms; the sight of her quivering and crying, sent an uneasy wave of anger and pain throughout him. To end the hunts, no longer for his mother’s sake, but to end the girl’s suffering as well...sighing, he rocked her slightly back and forth, mimicking the motions his own mother used to go through whenever he was upset about one thing or another.

Gradually the girl’s sobs quieted, though just as Adam was about to ask if she were feeling well enough, she suddenly removed herself from his arms. “...Sio? You feeling better?”

“..Yeah. I’ll...I’m fine, now...thanks for getting me out.” She said all this rather stiffly, as if those tears hadn’t happened at all—despite the streaks on her face.

Adam frowned. What was with the cold shoulder still...perhaps he’d underestimated just how much she would be offended by Geronimo’s behavior. ‘I suppose her heart is still that of a young maiden...’ Those issues could wait until later, though. As in, preferably when they found everyone else and got the hell out of here.

Hunter raised an eyebrow as the girl strode past him, face set in a determined glare, but said nothing more. The trio crested the rise on the road, which was strangely deserted except for the other half of their group, which was apparently scouting out something, judging from the looks of their positioning.

“What’s going on? Is there a reason we’re all gathered like a herd of sheep?” Adam gave a quick glance around. Tell was sighting off into the distance again, while the rest of the hunters milled around, preparing their weapons or even taking a rest. “Let me guess, we’re about to square off with another abomination or other.”

“Perhaps. But if we are, then it hasn’t shown itself yet.” Tell withdrew his bow. “The plaza looks to be a prime location for sure...but all I’ve seen are a few shambling corpses.”

Adam sighed and rubbed his temples. “Great, it’s going to be one of those types...”

“What types?”

“You know, the kind that don’t show up ‘til ye walk right into their trap,” Hunter answered Mirza. “I hate those...would it be so much t’ ask fer them t’ at least just show themselves?”

“And take away the fun? Hunter, you’ve been doing this long enough by now; surely you know that the suspense is half the fun?” Geronimo teased.

“Sure, tell me that again when yer a bloody mess on the ground,” the surgeon muttered under his breath. “Well, ‘f that’s how it’s gonna be, let’s just get this over with. I dinnae wanna stay here anymore than we have to.”

“Then you’d better get going, before she beats you to it.” There was a look of confusion on Hunter’s face, before Jess nodded her head towards a small figure who was already marching determinedly towards the center—

“—Blast it girl, don’t just go off by yourself—!” Without another word, Hunter and Adam ran after her, the rest of the group observing with a bemused amusement, before they gathered and followed.

They had barely caught up to her before they heard it; Adam was about to give the girl a tongue-lashing for both her moodiness and her reckless behavior, but before he could even open his mouth there was that tell-tale ‘chime’, echoing among a growing wind and everyone looked towards the enormous red moon, which now appeared to be swallowed up by an endless void...

“It’s coming...”

“What?” Adam wanted to ask the girl if she was experiencing that strange bond again, but the next second a wave of slime was dripping from that black hole, followed by a dangling corpse that was similar to those in the caskets, yet he knew it was also something entirely different. First one, then a few more, until Adam realized it wasn’t just a random collection of bodies—but the small ones made up an enormous beast, coated in that vile slime. As if cut from some invisible string, the giant corpse fell from the hole, creating a slight shockwave as it hit the stones. They all stepped back in caution, as the creature seemed to crawl upright, heaving itself onto a body made up of smaller bodies; only a skeletal torso seemed to be erupting from the mass, an enormous skull with empty sockets for eyes as it screamed into the air, almost like it was announcing its existence. Next to him, Hunter was bemoaning at having to fight yet another creature that towered several stories above them, but Adam wasn’t listening to him right now.

“What the hell...”

“Is it...a surrogate? Is that what they are...?” He heard Sio mutter something to herself, but this was certainly not the time to be deciphering it. “Adam...!”

“Get yourself together, Ogura. If there was ever time we needed that keen mind of yours, now would be it.” Chastising could wait until later; no matter how odd or irritating her behavior was, what mattered was working together. Everyone else was spread around, cautiously trying to approach it in between dodging its multitude of flailing limbs, or the pieces of rotting flesh that seemed to be raining from the sky.

“Careful!” For once it was her who tackled him to the ground, both of them barely avoiding a fireball that seemed to come out of nowhere. “It’s not alone—something else is here...!”

“I think I know...chime maidens, up there!” Only now did they show themselves, sequestered away in the crumbling alcoves high above the battle, casting magic and it seemed, healing the giant corpse. “Blast, we’ll have to take them out first—there’s no way we’ll be able to kill it otherwise.”

“Leave them to me.” An arrow fired off into the distance, Tell picking off the maidens one-by-one with a perfectly-timed arrow. “I’ll handle those maidens, the rest of you take on the beast.”

Adam nodded in thanks, he and Sio dashing off to reconvene with Hunter, the three of them scrambling onto a half-ruined rooftop to try and make sense of just how to fight it.

“Well lass, any ideas? Seems weak to lightening damage, but uh, there’s only one of us who can really do that...”

“It’s...it’s, we don’t have to...i-it’s such a large target, anything is...well, a target,” the huntress gazed at the massive creature, wiping the blood that fell with the pieces of flesh from her face. “Like they say...the best defense, in this case is a good offense. And if you want my opinion...let’s just go for it.” She didn’t quite laugh that maniacal laugh that she often did when possessed in a frenzy, but her maroons were wide and glowing, a fierce expression on her usually-kind face.

“Offense huh? That’s one strategy I can get behind...then let’s go already!” Without another word they leapt off the roof in a single charge, even Hunter, who hesitated for only a moment before throwing caution to the wind as well. Adam drove his Stakedriver into the beast’s side as he landed, a ferocious roar coming from the creature as it attempted to swipe him off, Sio landing next to him with her spear as leverage.

“Just hit it! Give it everything you’ve got!” Their clothes soon became stained crimson, not just from the nicks and scratches they were receiving, but the red liquid seemed to pour forth from the very beast itself with each swipe and slash. Below, he could see the sparks flying from Vidocq’s weapon as he struck one of its many legs. Tell had taken care of the maidens so at least they no longer had to worry about magic flying about, but the sheer size of their opponent was still foreboding. Not to mention just what it was...a hole opened up in the sky, and this creature suddenly came out from it? Sio had once again said something that didn’t make sense...a surrogate? And why was it that she seemed to be the only one who kept having this strange connection with these creatures...

‘Is it related to her blood sickness...? But that has to do with contamination from the beasts...this seems to be something else entirely...’ Adam grimaced to himself as his stake sank into the bloody flesh, trying to ignore the myriad of grasping hands that tried to grab him and pull him down. No matter how many times their weapons stabbed and tore into the flesh, the creature seemed indomitable; even with half their party on the ground attacking it, it didn’t seem to be weakening though it must be losing some strength, judging from the increased flailing of its limbs. The euphoria he’d experienced in the Hunter’s Dream earlier—when he held her and dreamed about a possible future—had been tamped quite a bit. Perhaps he was being too optimistic about their chances...and Capa and the others were right, regardless of how much he didn’t want to believe them.

Suddenly every single corpse that made it up flailed their limbs at the same time, grasping and shoving those who had managed to land on it. Try as he might, it was all he could do to try and stay upright, never mind attacking.“Fuck—!”

“Adam! Shite, hang on!” Hunter was trying to get over and pull him to more solid footing, but everything was slick with blood and writhing corpses, and he could only grasp the air around the other man’s fingers before he found himself tumbling through the sky—

“Adam!” He looked up and for some reason there she was, whether she had fallen as well or purposely jumped he didn’t know—but she grabbed his hand and pulled herself towards him, Adam instinctively holding her close. “Hang on!” Using her blunderbuss as a propelling force, Sio fired a shot to send them through a broken window and into an abandoned room in the tower, instead of the cobblestones several stories below.

“Ughn!” Although a deserted room was better than becoming a bloody mess on the ground below, it didn’t change the fact that their landing was a hard tumble through broken glass, before rolling to a stop against a table leg. “Bloody hell...you all right?” Slowly he unwound himself from the huntress, both of them groaning as they righted themselves and checked for injuries. Outside, they could faintly hear some sort of roar, and then the entire tower seemed to shake, both of them tensing up in anticipation—and then it was still and silent, signaling its defeat. “Oh, thank the gods...” Heaving a sigh of relief, Adam sank back onto the floor, the exhaustion suddenly sinking in now they were out of danger. “Guess they managed to take care of that...whatever it was.” Grunting, he offered a hand to Sio, but she merely turned away and pulled herself up without saying a word.

“All right, enough’s enough. What’s gotten into you?” Though Adam considered himself to be fairly thick-skinned and diplomatic, this cold-shoulder, sulking behavior of hers had gone on long enough. “Sio! Talk to me, dammit!”

“About what? In case you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t exactly the time for chit chat,” the huntress replied testily, but Adam wasn’t about to let her off that easy. “Hey—what gives? We need to regroup—”

“—Not until you either stop it with this childish brooding of yours, or give me an explanation.” His eyes were just as hard, staring straight back into her fierce glare as he situated himself right in the doorway.

“I’m not brooding—” She raised her arms to push him away, but he gripped her wrists tightly and held them in place, the girl glowering but she didn’t pull away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about...”

“...I’m not blind, Ogura. And I know you’re capable of much more than throwing tantrums like a child.” She bit her lip and turned away, but didn’t say anything. “This...is about that incident with Geronimo earlier, isn’t it? When we were fighting those three hunters...”

Adam didn’t even need to see her reactions to know that he was correct. Sio may have been an excellent strategist, but she was terrible at concealing her feelings. “Unbelievable...even after all that, and at a time and place like this, you’re more concerned with a, a...juvenile prank, than getting out of here alive?”

“Shut up! I-I...I don’t know, okay?!” Sio jerked her hands in frustration, though Adam did not let go. “Fine, if you want a confession, then yeah, I’ll admit it; I’m not happy that you decided to take Geronimo, of all people, as your partner...and I, don’t know why...but I just am, all right?” She almost added ‘instead of me’, but caught herself just in time. Sio had an inkling going in that this was going to blow up in her face sooner or later, might as well try not to shoot herself in the foot anymore than she already was. “There. Satisfied?”

Adam eyed her with a level look, but didn’t give any hint as to his inner turmoil. So she had been jealous of his attentions towards another woman, regardless of the situation. Part of it made him strangely excited, that she held some kind of feelings towards him, but his logical side berated him for being distracted by something as petty as this while in the middle of a battlefield. “...I don’t know what it is that’s goin’ on inside that head of yours...but I can tell you, I made that decision for strictly utilitarian reasons. Not personal ones,” he added, though it didn’t seem to have any effect. “That...moment you saw, I didn’t want any part in it. Regardless of whatever would’ve happened...well, you’d have t’ ask her,” he grimaced at that memory again. “Geronimo...sure, she an’ I go way back as fellow hunters, but that’s about it. Wouldn’t even really call her a friend...she’s just another ally at best, and at worst...the last person I’d want to cross or even get involved with. So yeh...interpret it how you will, but I’m done tryin’ t’ explain myself.” He let her go and both of them stood there sullenly, neither speaking nor looking at each other. If she didn’t want to believe him, then whatever—there were more pressing matters to worry about.

“...Is that all I am to you? A brooding, irritating child that you bring along out of pity?” Her voice was calm, but when Adam finally looked at her there were droplets already forming in her eyes. “If you don’t want me to be a part of your group...then just say so. I know I’ve caused more than enough...inconveniences for you and Hunter already.”

Though he knew that part of it was the insecurity talking, and her emotional state, for some reason those words made him as irritated as he’d ever been with her. “‘Out of pity’—god dammit Sio, I don’t—what are you trying say? What the hell are you trying to prove?” Forget about going back to the group just yet—not until they resolved this tension that had been eating away at the two of them even since before this incident. “Do you really, honestly think that you would still be around, still be calling the shots and just standing here had I not wanted you in the first place?!” Adam didn’t mean to shout at her, but somehow the words just spilled out before he could control himself. “When I said that the night will end, and that we will find a cure for you...do you really, truly believe that was just a lie?”

Her breath was just as harsh in his face, those tears now falling but she was still maintaining a straight face. “...No...I, I want to believe...I, want to trust you...but, it’s hard...” Her voice shook, but she didn’t cry. “How do you know...th, that, everything will be all right...”

“Well I—” But the truth was you could never be sure, could you? Just because he was a veteran of several hunts at this point did not guarantee that each night would end the same way, or end at all. “...You’re right. I don’t know for sure; hell, nobody ever knows for certain. But what I do know, is that if we don’t believe at all...then we might as well just throw ourselves to those monsters right now.” Hesitantly, he took her face with one hand, gently rubbing away the tears with a gloved thumb as he looked at her straight in the eyes. “Look, I know you’re scared; you think that there is no way to escape the blood plague, the curse that eventually befalls all hunters. Believe me, I know that feeling...but I also know that hope will provide a way out, as well. You must believe, Sio...if not in me, then at least yourself. And know that I believe in you.”

Even as he said all this, her tears continued to fall, and when he finally finished the dam broke and Sio choked out a sob, her legs giving way but Adam caught her and, regardless of everything that had happened and the myriad of conflicting feelings, held her close against his chest. “Sio...it’s fine...you will make it out, I promise...”

“I-I’m...sorry...!” She hiccuped in his arms, breathing in the scent of worn clothes and metallic blood—but beneath all that was something distinct, something that calmed her spirit and made her feel protected, even if only for a little while. “You’re right...no matter how hard I try, in the end, I still am just a child...one that gets jealous over stupid things, even when it doesn’t make any sense...”

“Heh...well, to be honest, you’re a lot better than when we first met.” There was a wry chuckle from the man as he ran a soothing hand through her hair. “I actually think you’re quite capable; you just lack the experience, but your instincts are second to none. You being young doesn’t have any bearing on your skills as a hunter.” He didn’t miss how she mentioned being jealous for a second time, but decided against probing further. “Trust me Sio, you’re fine just the way you are.” Perhaps that was a little too intimate of a thing to say, but at the moment Adam was too exhausted to think clearly, other than what he felt in that moment. In the end, it always boiled down to how he felt, and not what he thought...otherwise why else would he be caressing her cheek still, even when both of them were tired and cross with each other. 

The girl didn’t seem to mind at all; instead she moved her head closer to his neck, the fine hairs tickling his skin. She was soft and warm, and despite the scent of battle he was aware of something else, something different—Adam didn’t know how to describe it, but he knew it was uniquely her. Slowly her body shifted a bit, and he moved to accommodate her as well—again, he didn’t seem to be conscious of his actions but he just knew it was what he wanted to do. Perhaps that was why when she turned her head to look at him directly, maroons a bit hazy and uncertain he didn’t turn away, instead gazing back at her as well. There weren’t any words exchanged between them, neither before nor after when their lips met, the kiss itself at once both a shock and yet was most welcoming. The softness of her lips, her movements a bit clumsy—just like how he’d imagined it—but then she leaned in deeper, fingers grasping the fabric of his coat and Adam eagerly obliged. He breathed in the warm scent of her hair, his own hands gently cupping behind her head and the other around her waist, to pull her closer if possible. It felt good, a needed comfort; his heart was pounding heavily in his chest and his breath was growing tight but he didn’t want to part just yet. The heat coming from not just her lips, but her body as it draped against his that seemed to bleed into the heat that was coursing through his own body as he tilted his head to get into a more comfortable position, relishing this wild emotion that seemed to overtake him.

Just when Adam thought he couldn’t hold his breath any longer voices drifted through the broken window, and the two pulled apart with a slight gasp as they fumbled for air. Neither said a word, and though Sio wasn’t looking at him directly, he could tell that she was trying to find the courage to do so. Not that Adam himself knew what to do, or even say—that ‘what-if’ kiss scenario that had plagued him since Cainhurst had finally taken place now it seemed, and though it was much more pleasant than he’d imagined, it also left him with a whole host of uncertainties on how to deal with the aftermath. After all, it had never exactly occurred to him just how he was going to make this type of relationship work while still in the midst of beast-hunting; most of his fantasies seemed to take place after things were settled, or when he was particularly stressed, rather lustful imaginings that usually involved a stone wall and very little clothing.

“W-We, should probably get back now...th-the others, they’re going to be worried...” Sio stood unsteadily, cheeks blushing hard but still attempting to take care of the business at hand. “Especially Hunter...”

“Yeh...” He cleared his throat and offered a hand, which she took this time. “Knowing him, he probably thinks we’re half-dead...or worse.” The two trudged down the remaining stone steps in an awkward silence, Adam desperate to say something to confirm, or at least acknowledge whatever it was that just happened, but each time he wanted to there was an even stronger feeling of fear that held him back. What if that had just been something she did in the heat of the moment; or worse, some bizarre side-effect of her blood sickness, that often clouded her mind and overtook her usual modest behaviors? He knew that her personality often became much bolder and aggressive during battle, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to imagine it could extend to other aspects of her mind, as well.

“Och, there ye are! Was nearly thinkin’ I’d hafta prepare two graves fer yur corpses,” the surgeon sighed heavily and shook his as the two finally appeared, but Adam could tell he was relieved. “Wha happen’d? Muirhead, ye fell from tha’ beast, an’ then Ogura caught ye...?”

“Sort of; I uh, used my gun as a propelling force to make sure we didn’t land in a bloody mess on the ground,” Sio fidgeted slightly, for some reason just thinking back to what happened between them made her both excited and nervous at the same time. “What about the beast--it’s, it’s dead...right?”

“Naturally. It seemed that creature, grotesque as it was, was not nearly as difficult as it would have us believe, despite its size.” Vidocq answered in a bored tone, as if all the hazards and difficulties they’d encountered in Yahar’gul were nothing more than a walk in the park. “Once Tell disposed of the maidens, it was merely a matter of time. Even without the two of you, it wasn’t much of a challenge to deal the finishing blow.”

“Yeh, after we softened tha’ bastard up for you,” Adam muttered darkly under his breath, but didn’t say anything else. “I take it no one’s worse for wear?”

“No, unless you count being in desperate need of weapon repairs,” Mirza replied. “If anything, I’d almost want to say the two of you took more damage from that fall...luckily there was that tower there. Or should I say, lucky for you Ogura was there, Muirhead,” those dark eyes narrowed in a way that were not missed by Adam. “Wouldn’t do to lose our dear leader.”

“I’m flattered,” Adam’s face was a deadpan expression in contrast to Mirza’s too-cheerful grin. “If there’s nothin’ more, then we should leave; I’ve had enough of Yahar’gul to last a dozen lifetimes.”

No more quips were exchanged as they lit the lamp that was now accessible next to the massive corpse, though Sio felt as if someone was watching her the entire time they were heading back--even though it was nearly impossible, given how the lamps just magically transported them to the Hunter’s Dream each time. As soon as they were back she made her way to the farthest corner of the gardens, behind the bushes of the messenger fountain, absently playing around with the small skeletons as they eagerly welcomed her attention.

Adam Muirhead. Surely she couldn’t be serious about ending up with such a man--let alone in a place and time like this. But there was no denying that kiss; even now, she couldn’t remember who initiated it--maybe it was her, maybe he was the one who leaned in first, but she did remember the sensations. Heat, a most wonderful warmth had spread through her body the second their lips touched--and speaking of which, despite the harsh conditions and how he carried himself, she was pleasantly surprised to discover that his lips were very soft, and the skin of his face quite smooth against her fingertips. A very pleasant shiver ran through her body as she unconsciously touched her lips, her mouth forming a small smile as she couldn’t help but replay that so very wonderful moment amidst all the terror they’d faced lately. 

“Adam...”

“Yeh, squirt?”

She nearly leapt up from the bushes with a shriek, but managed to control herself just in time so it was more like a half-hearted stumble. The man gave a slight chuckle at her bewildered expression, though he was polite enough to not laugh out loud. 

“Apologies, didn’t mean to frighten’ yeh like that--”

“Gee, you think?! I almost jumped out of my skin!” She shot back, though truth be told she was more mortified that he might have actually seen and heard her silly little daydreams about them ending up in a relationship. “D-Don’t just, sneak up on people like that! Is it so much to ask for just a little bit of privacy around here?”

“I’m sorry; truly, I am,” he apologized once more, though Sio noticed that grin hadn’t left his face. “Look, I, ah...actually was hoping to find you alone. So, I did...sorry about that.”

Finding her alone? What could he mean by that? A million-and-one scenarios started running through her head, Sio feeling herself getting increasingly flushed and flustered by the second, so much so that she barely noticed Adam had been talking the entire time she’d been lost inside her own head.

“...Ah. Ogura? Squirt?” He waved his hands in front of her face and she snapped back to reality. “There you are. You sure you’re all right? Do you want Hunter to take a look over?”

“N-No, no no! I-I’m...it’s fine. I’ll be fine,” she added hastily, though even she had to admit her tone and body language were not exactly convincing. “S-So, uh, wh, what...did you want to talk about?” Drat. Why did she have to start reverting back to her nervous habits now? Weren’t they already past this stage? ‘Though I guess that kiss kind of threw everything out the window...’

“Uh, huh...sure.” Adam raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. Truth be told, he was as nervous as he’d ever felt himself, but experience helped him to hide a hell of a lot better than the poor girl, who was looking very much like a tomato. A sweet, adorable tomato that he wouldn’t mind having another taste of... “So, back there, in that tower...”

Sio nodded furiously, so nervous that her voice had stopped working and all that she could manage to utter were some strange, animal-like squeaks. Oh boy, of all the things she’d imagined while being a hunter, a confession was probably the last thing on her list. But there was no way they could just ignore that kiss and pretend everything was as it used to be between them, right? 

“...Thanks. I mean it. If it hadn’t been for your thinking and skills...well, needless t’ say I doubt I’d be scaring you in the bushes right now,” he chuckled to himself, before resting a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you. I owe you my life now, Sio Ogura...and you can be sure I’ll repay it, somehow.” 

Oh. Right, she’d saved his life first. Of course. She nodded mechanically, all euphoria suddenly draining from her body, the smile now frozen on her face as she pretended to laugh it off, oh it wasn’t a big deal, not after all the times he’d saved her hide when she was still trying to get her bearings. 

“I, it’s...nothing. Don’t mention it, I mean...if it’ll even make up for one of the times you had to clean up my mess...” she shrugged wordlessly, not even sure what to say or feel now. “So...was that all?”

He gave her a casual glance, and Sio felt her heart sink even further. “Hmm? Why, was there something else you wanted to discuss?”

“...No, nothing really...” she muttered, eyes looking at her feet instead of at him. Silly girl; did she really expected a veteran hunter like him to suddenly just drop everything and confess his feelings? Who knew if he’d even meant that kiss--maybe it was just a way to release some stress, maybe he just felt sorry for her and decided to indulge her whims just once--before she knew it her lips were wobbling and she had to bite them to prevent the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Really? That doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” To Sio’s horror, she could feel his shadow coming over, apparently he was now leaning down so he could be level with her. “And these, don’t look like nothing, either,” he quirked that odd half-smile that only he could pull of, a thumb brushing a tear away. “You’re upset.”

“...That’s because you’re an idiot,” Sio whispered, before realizing in shock that she’d actually spoken it out-loud, rather than just in her head. “...God damn it--!”

To her great surprise there was genuine laugh from the hunter, Adam shaking his head in amusement and not at all offense as Sio watched him with red, indignant eyes. “Oh, so I’m an idiot, am I? Well, I suppose I’ll allow it this time...because you are right, you know. Some of the time, anyway.”

His breath was brushing very pleasantly against her cheeks, and Sio felt her mind fog over with that haze that she’d felt back in the tower. Was this really happening...the same heat, the same pleasurable anticipation, surely it couldn’t be real...!

“Back at the tower; there was one other thing, I did want to discuss with you,” his voice murmured in her ear, and Sio felt her body slowly shifting to accommodate his. “You may be young, but you’re no fool; I know you know what this means...what I want,” his cheek brushed against hers and Sio felt her knees nearly collapse, “now I want to know, what it is you want. If it is the same as what I want...”

“Wh...what...I...I...” It was becoming hard to think straight; there were a million voices in her head, all telling her different things--some telling her to stop fooling around, others telling her to go for it, and still more voices that questioned if this was a wise move. But none of them were having an effect on her actions, where she turned her head more against his, lips brushing against the smoothness of his skin once more, her hands automatically wrapping themselves around his broad shoulders.

He gave a low chuckle at her actions, and Sio felt her body temperature rise significantly. “So, I see you’re a woman of actions, rather than words...I admire that. Then I’ll simplify my question: Sio, do you want this?” 

She felt herself nodding yes, maybe even said something to that effect--but none of that remained in her memory or mattered as he drew her close once more and this time she didn’t hold back anything.