#like it's still a correct appearance for her but like.. not in my verse =P and this is my blog so

[fell-court]

I need to update my icon now that Lorenza's right eye going pale is only a crystal verse trait, oops

[timdrakesbussy]

Goblin Destroyer: How the Internet Revived an Obscure Local Band

This is something that suddenly appear in my mind when I was waiting for a public transport near my campus but like ... Stardew Valley's aesthetic looks like they're in the 90s in rural Northern America/Western Europe (though still cmiiw since I don't live in neither of those regions).

So then I thought about Sam's band and the real life band called "Panchiko" where the internet basically rebirth this band. (If you want to know about the band, here's a video)

And I randomly think about some kids somewhere in the SDV-verse came across Sam's band's LP (I'm gonna go with Goblin Destroyer) and asked online forums about it but none got anything so far. Doesn't help the fact that the LP was credited only with their first names which are very very common names. The names in the back of the LP only says Abigail, Sam, and Sebastian with their roles which are drummer, guitarist/vocalist, and keyboardist/synth in that order.

OP then gave more information, like how the label seemed to be from either the late 90s or early 00s and it was obvious that they were from the Republic of Ferngill. Small problem though, Ferngill Republic is not a small place. Sure, it's not a big country, but it's still going to be hard to find the people who contributed to this record, especially since it was decades long. Regardless, this was a step forward. 

I personally think they would not take too long (like Panchiko irl) because of my personal headcanon of Sebastian being chronically online even to his fourties.

The forum was very popular with many tried to remaster their songs or figure out just who they were. So then Sebastian rolled around and was like, "Holy fuck, I can't believe you found a copy of this. Thought they threw them all away in Zuzu City back in '98."

AND PEOPLE WERE SHOCKED AND ASKED IF THIS USER HAS A CLEANER COPY BUT THEN HE WAS LIKE, "lmao I'm the Sebastian credited in the back of the LP. Sadly, no. I do not have the cleaner copy, but I think my husband do keep some in his previous house when we still lived in the Valley."

Obviously, people were skeptical because the internet lies a lot. But they still gave him the benefit of the doubt because this was more information than they previously tried to dig. It was true that Goblin Destroyers were from Ferngill, specifically Zuzu City, and it was correct that they were from the late 90s.

Few months went by without a follow-up so most people just brush him off as hoax because that's what they usually did to lost media, claimed to know and kept it somewhere but unattainable for some reason.

That is, until another user joined the forum and introduced himself as Sebastian's husband who has the cleaner copy back in his old home. The husband was apparently, a very important piece in the band because he was none other than Sam -- another name crossed off the list.

Sam apologized and claimed that it took him longer to find than he expected and to compensate, he and Sebastian did a digital remaster for the LP and will put it to streaming services alongside their previously unreleased tracks.

With the band finally found, some questions arrived. Most of the questions were about Abigail, the drummer of the band, and also about them in general. The only things they knew so far were that Goblin Destroyer was a prog metal band from the late 90s, Ferngill, and that two out of the three members are married to each other.

The two claimed that they had no idea where Abigail was; the last time they saw her was when they still lived in their hometown. Sebastian then mentioned that she joined something called "The Adventurer's Guild", and one of the last things they did together was go to the forest and watch Abigail's improved swordsmanship. That was almost twenty years ago. They just hope that wherever she is, she's alive and well because she was their best friend.

They then ended the forum with pictures of them when they were young and some band photoshoots, needless to say that social media will be filled with their pics for a few months or so because of how attractive they were. The couple also added a recent pic and well, they're still handsome as hell.

It took them a while to finally return as a band; they were not the young adults in a small town who were bored and annoyed with how their parents coddled them anymore. They are middle-aged with a family and jobs, so yeah, it took a while for them to perform again. Eventually, though, they were back as a band. At least a duo for a few months, releasing a new single after twenty years.

Goblin Destroyer did not tour or participate in any music festivals until they were hit by a surprise, Abigail finally returned to the band. She revealed that she's been busy with the guild for over twenty years and is a mentor, so she was so out of touch with the news. She also revealed that she figured out that they went viral through her mentee, who told her about it.

Finally, the band was back in business. This was the dream that Sam had thrown away, and to actually have it tenfold decades later was exhilarating, to say the least.

[angstmongertina]

Make Me Write More Results/Sentences

Okay, my poll is over, so it's time to write. As i said in my little update reblog, since I didn't get all too many votes, each fic gets new sentences based on the number of votes it got, in an effort to force me to write more for all of them.

Thanks for playing, everyone (and thank you again to Jilly for the inspiration)! If you had fun, I might do this again on Tuesday for WIP Wednesday. No pressure to vote if you don't want to though. :D

Accountability sentences (and fic premises) under the cut! Please be warned that some of these sentences will probably make no sense out of context, and are also rough first drafts. :P

Letters to Nadia -- From a shared 7KPP 'verse with @teaandinanity's Valya where our characters' kids decided they were in love with each other. (4 sentences but I cheated and added an extra.)

But now, he’s finally, finally, made it back home, back to the safety of the empty study with a decanter of baijiu, free from prying and judging eyes. Free from her eyes. He groans, barely resisting the urge to dash out the door. For one thing, he’s not sure if he’s cogent enough to make it next door, and for another, she’s likely long gone to bed, never mind the fact that there is absolutely no way she’ll even want to see him in the first place. And that is a thought that stings worse than the liquor.

Evenly Matched -- The previously hinted at 7KPP Jaslen/Falon smut that I am PRAYING doesn't start a new ship in me. (3 sentences)

“My dear general,” and there’s the scowl she is familiar with, that seems to make its way across his face with almost military precision, “I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to. Are you quite well?” Her estimation of him is satisfyingly correct.

forever i'm yours, forever i do -- A retelling of Artem's second anniversary card that started as just an attempt to write out the smut and that VERY MUCH grew out of control HELP (3 sentences)

“You’d think you were the one getting married today, not me,” she says, amusement dancing in her eyes as she shoos him away. “Now go and tell my soon-to-be husband that no, he cannot come see me before the wedding; it's bad luck. Nor are you allowed back her to see her either.”

Oh Brother -- Again from the shared 7KPP 'verse mentioned above, Thomas' little sister's version of what happened. It's still in the very early stages so this is more exposition than anything. (3 sentences but adding in a fourth because it was half-finished anyway.)

The eldest daughter of the entire Galeric-Wu clan and the future heiress to the Galerford estate beyond, she could easily have humored and generally ignored a young cousin twelve years her junior and perhaps another girl, another future duchess, would have. But instead, Nadia had chosen to dote upon them all, treating her with the same understanding and love that she gave all of her friends and loved ones. Well, perhaps not all. Because it is an equally well-established fact that, despite all attempts to hide, dismiss, or minimize the fact, Nadia has a favorite cousin.

Spiral Point -- More 7KPP because the brainrot is real, but this time for Camyon's childhood friends AU. Here is their first interaction at the Summit, when neither of them actually recognize the other. :D (3 sentences)

There was no sensible reason why she should have been struck by his appearance, by the way his brow furrowed, first in search and then in recognition, but for one illogical moment, her heart climbed into her throat, only to settle back into her chest with an inexplicable twinge once he spoke. Of course it was about her cousin. He had known Cousin Jiya, a fact that her mother never failed to tease her with, when it came to her own lack of socialization at those academic events hosted by her fellow Jiyelese elite.

Dinghun Zhou -- My attempt at a fairytale AU, it's CinderLia. In an alternate universe in which there is no Summit, but there's still an event to try and find a wife for the perpetually single Duke Lyon. (2 sentences)

She pursed her lips, studying the flimsy pieces of parchment as though they might contain answers, or at least a logical explanation for her misgiving. Unfortunately, and just as expected, none were forthcoming.

Homecoming -- For the CoG story Teahouse for the Gods, because the A'Li romance was right up my alley but we didn't quite get enough of it, in my humble opinion. It's technically two different fics (I should really come up with a proper name for the other one) but I picked the one I had more inspiration for--which you may be unsurprised to learn is probably the angstier of the two. (1 sentence but I cheated again with two.)

It takes a moment for her to clear the memory out of her mind’s eye, to remind herself of the present, and in that time, he’s already stepped into view, though his head is turned, this way and that, as though cataloging every difference in the ensuing decades. Jacqueline darts to her side, half in shock, and she makes a mental note to sit down with the poor thing before his eyes fall on her and the entire mountain seems to hold its breath.

Seasong -- Back to Tears of Themis, a friend did some art for Mermay which inspired an AU in my head that I never got very far in because I am terrible at multichapter things. (4 sentences)

She knew of cages, had seen the ones that sunk, irrevocably, ceaselessly, to the bottom of the sea floor, had heard them whispered of by those unlucky few who had witnessed the capture of one of their own, and the stories of those even unluckier who had somehow managed to escape from such capture. She had heard of the fear, of the isolation, of the greed and malevolence of those humans, who hunted and tormented without need, who captured and traded without compassion. She had heard tales, once meant to frighten her away from the surface, of the many, many who were unable to escape. And now she was trapped in one.

Okay, that's everything, I think. If you read until here, thank you, and maybe see you on Tuesday for another poll? :P

[mythvoiced]

ALLOW ME TO PLACE THESE Q'S HERE FOR OUR FAVE GOBLIN: Besides meat, what other foods does he find delight in? What's something that gives him utter peace as soon as it's there? How was his life during the Joseon era? Are there certain things in the past that he wishes could be available in the modern world, or is he fully comfortable with what's at hand? How would he feel if a particular gumiho suddenly hugged him from behind? 👀 LOVE YOU

-. @jeoseungsaja | Alex I would literally kill for you, if anybody ever comes at you, let them know I’ll be the last thing they see, BECAUSE I LOVE Y O U

---

This got so loNG I’MS O sorr y- Also look at this gif taken from the pack you sent me the link of <W<

-. Besides meat, what other foods does he find delight in? Would saying ‘fish’ be a bit too close to meat? Okay, that aside I do think Shin has a rather varied palate, mostly because he's had plenty of time to visit any place he’d wanted to visit and explore dishes and specialities to the point where it would be extremely shameful if he chose to not keep an open mind about new dishes. I also think he’s particularly fond of Korean dishes (in a similar fashion to Hyun) simply because it feels like home, especially if it’s traditional enough that it can bring him back to the beginning of it all, perhaps without reminding of the contexts that had made the beginning difficult. And I also think he might be a little bit of a gourmet: he’ll absolutely eat what he can get, considering how fond he seems to be of beer he can’t say he doesn’t like junk food or anything you could get and/or make easily. But for some reason I have a feeling that Shin thinks of food in a ‘the eye wants its part too’ fashion, meaning that he also enjoys when something looks good, when it’s presented well, and when it looks like it’s trying to make an impression - which is something we’ve seen him do before. Kim Shin is characterised by an interesting combination of ancient and modern, old and young, where he is both wise and petulant, reliable and petty, and these many contrasts living within his personality, can present themselves in something as simple as cuisine, too. So, yeah, he’ll eat ramyeon. But also that Canadian steak. And he loves homemade... and sitting in fancy restaurants.

-. What’s something that gives him utter peace as soon as it’s there? The people he loves. The Goblin has lived so long, has seen so many things, has owned a great deal of trinkets, properties, treasures. But nothing material can bring him the peace that the people he holds dear to his heart can. Because even objects with value only have said value because they remind him of those he’s had to move on from, loved ones he no longer gets to see. So, he might show anger at losing a plate Louis XIV used to eat on, but did that plate bring him peace? No. Does knowing Ji Eun-tak is safe, sleeping in a room in his house, hopefully soundly, bring him peace? Yes. Does the pitter patter of Saja’s houseslippers headed towards his bedroom bring him peace? Yes. Does purposefully ignoring Deok-hwa’s faux innocent smile in his peripheral asking him for money bring him peace? Yes. Simply getting to sit there and witness the people he loves be themselves, alive, hopefully well, going about their existence by pursuing their hobbies, engaging in their quirks and habits, is the most Shin doesn’t dare to ask for. That’s when he’s tranquil: when he gets to see those he loves be, free of plight, or imminent danger. When he’s sitting on their couch and watching Eun-tak spread her homework across their coffee table and occasionally shoot him that special smile, while Saja slurps on his milk and gets too invested in a drama playing on TV, and Deok-hwa is walking into the room babbling about some girl-related nonsense, well... What more can he possibly want?

-. How was his life during the Joseon era? I remember one shot of Shin in Joseon era, I think he’s sitting at a table and having a good time, possibly even gossiping about something, I don’t remember the episode this scene was in, nor can I find it anywhere else, but unless I’m having brain fry, I vaguely remember his appearance as well: according to his outfit, he must have been a yangban. Yangban is sort of what you could have considered nobility at the time, the ruling class of the Joseon dynasty, made up of military officials and/or scholars. Why am I mentioning this? Well, because obviously Kim Shin would have found a way to become a yangban. The title/class of Yangban is, this all according to my research so if I’m wrong shoot me and pls correct me, something a man had to earn by passing certain exams/attending a school, that would basically qualify them for the social status that would then turn the entire family into a yangban family (also because women couldn’t take these exams and studies, nor become officials or scholars, but could still inherit the title of yangban female from their fathers, for example). So, how was his life during the Joseon era? Well, high class I would say. I don’t remember what was being discussed in that scene, so I can’t say for sure, but I can’t see Shin choosing to become a military official yet again. Considering his experiences with the empire while serving it as a general, I can see Shin simply defying from the crown by minding his own and no longer offering his self and his services in any direct way to the palace. I can see him as a scholar, perhaps simply living his life as a yangban male and every now and then attending a few things just to maintain his status, all while he simply continued to explore the country and play pranks on other officials. And I can’t tell you why, but I can absolutely see him play pranks on other officials, or sneak some reading material to a daughter, or monopolise the attention of court ladies just because he can, going as far, of course, as he can get away with flirting with anyone at the time. He most definitely grew fond of a few faces here and there, since Shin is literally incapable of not growing fond of someone, once you enter his heart, you simply do, it’s far too big for a man like him, and far too willing, far too desiring, desiring to give and receive love, to give and receive attention, to give and receive the warmth and familiarity of connections. So, he led a good life, definitely financially speaking and simply in terms of quality, he was probably annoying for some, and probably avoided the very centre of palace life, because I can see him not wanting to have as much to do with royalty anymore.

-. Are there certain things in the past that he wishes could be available in the modern world, or is he fully comfortable with what's at hand? Shin is the sentimental type. I’m not even headcanoning it, and even if he attempts to hide it, he usually does an awful job at hiding just how much he cares and how much things affect him. He’s very loud and almost obnoxious at times in his reactions, he explains himself the same way a child might at times, he’s excitable, and he doesn’t feel shame to show Saja how much it matters to him, what impression he’d make in front of Eun-tak. He cares, and while vocal admittances are usually reserved for those very serious moments, he’s always proving just how sentimental he is. So, I would say, it’s a yes to both those alternatives. First the latter: yes, he’s fully comfortable with what’s at hand, because the modern world simply has so much to offer that he enjoys. Even if he doesn’t understand it or make regular use of it, you can see him move about the modern world rather comfortably, learn about any new customs, institutions, or ways of living. He keeps himself up to date (the business card thing, I swear-), he likes to tap into new passions and likes. And at the same time, he loves the world he came from. I always feel like, compared to perhaps Hyun, who I’m mentioning here because you know him which makes comparison easier (;3), who doesn’t feel himself to belong in any particular era but rather to existence as a whole, whenever I watch Shin, he’s extremely self-aware of the fact that his time on Earth has long ‘expired’. Other than the fact that he literally should have died back in Goryeo, one of the things that kind of fortifies this idea for me is what Shin looks like when he does actually die (and then returns): he’s dressed in the same clothes he wore when he ‘died’ in Goryeo. Shin’s soul seems to belong to Goryeo still, and as such, the life he’d led at the time (now, personal interpretation) somehow feels like The life, his life, while all the centuries that followed had been the extension. The culture, the habits, the food, the garments, anything, honestly, that belongs to Goryeo feels as if it’s something Shin knows, things he grew up with, things that shaped him, that was his time, and the modern world, Joseon, they’re times he’s visiting, even if it’s against his will. That’s the vibes I get. And I realise this answer is perhaps a little too much in contrast to the question :’3

-. How would he feel if a particular gumiho suddenly hugged him from behind? 👀 Oh YEAH- Now, I could answer this question by dipping into what we’ve seen Shin do in the canon in romantic scenarios/romantic-coded scenes, but I don’t want to. Because I don’t want to recycle reactions and demeanour he portrayed for/relating to Eun-tak, I want to explore what he does, and who he is, in the particular world that is verse 4 (because, this is a particular verse for Shin as well, since Yeo’s the bride <w<). SO, the reaction obviously always depends on what stage of their relationship they’re in <w< In the canon, he usually startles when Saja does anything remotely romantic(-coded?) (well, safe for some scenes where he looks a little surprised but not displeased-), but in my boat- Circumstances are different, Yeo/the person is different, and they’ve been interacting differently. I think at a point in time in which nothing has been said but a lot has perhaps been done and/or hinted at, insinuated, he’d probably startle and not really know what to do with himself. The worry that this is just a fox-antic meant to tease him or poke fun at him might be small, but very much present, so he’d just try to play it off with some lame line, half-jokingly insinuating Yeo’s being sweet because he wants something, or even straight up interpret it as Yeo holding onto him because he stumbled and Shin was just... there, to hold onto to so he doesn’t have to fall flat on his face. Have things been... discussed though, honestly, we know sometimes Shin acts like a shy virgin, which is honestly adorable, and he might even act that way a little bit in this scenario where he just has that goofy smile on his face and is doing that flustered shifty eyes thing, but I also like to think that the moment Yeo’s arms are around him, Shin just.. laughs. Like, a warm, heartful chuckle, as he leans back into Yeo’s chest and just kind of leans his head back and turns it enough to be able to look at Yeo, give him a silly flirty one-liner, maybe try to get a kiss out of hi- Or he’ll end up turning around in his arms still to grab his face and SMOOCH HIM- Might be vary slightly depending on what Shin’s doing, but this is the gist of it, yet, no matter what, sMOOCH FINALE-

[tsarisfanfiction]

Long Way From Home: Chapter 3

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

We're far enough in now that I can safely credit @ak47stylegirl and her fic Thunderbirds Meet Thunderbirds for inspiring the overarching premise behind this fic without spoiling what the premise is.  There are some obvious differences between the fics, and will continue to be differences, but I almost certainly would not have considered throwing Scott into TOS without reading that fic.

<<<Chapter 2

The room they ended up in, passing through another room full of chairs in the process, was the closest any room so far had looked to home.  A sunken area contained a variety of seats, all in front of a desk, while towards the window sat a baby grand.

“Take a seat,” Not-Dad said, settling himself behind the desk.  A position of power, Scott noted.  Not-Dad had a clear idea of where they stood with regards to each other, and it wasn’t in Scott’s favour.  He remained standing, noticing pictures of five young men and a beautiful woman on the walls, surrounded by unmistakably oriental artwork.  The young men were familiar.  Four of them, he’d already met.  Other-Scott looked back at him almost cheekily, while Other-Virgil held a cigarette.  Other-Alan looked disinterested, and Other-Gordon was reclining casually.  At the far end, next to Other-Scott, was a fifth man – blond – with his arms folded, and Scott’s insides twisted unpleasantly.  He had a feeling he knew the final man’s name.

The rest of the family began to file in, seating themselves in what appeared to be a pre-ordained seating plan.  Other-Alan perched on a corner of the desk, and Scott waited until everyone had found their seats before folding himself up into a sofa in the middle of the sunken area.

“Now, the first order of business is to work out exactly how Scott arrived here,” Not-Dad proclaimed. “He claims not to know, but there must be some clues.”

“But, Jeff,” Mrs Tracy interjected.  “What about his brothers?  You are going to look for them, aren’t you?”

Scott had been about to demand the same thing.  Not-Dad looked uncomfortable.

“But Mother-” he began. “This is a remote island.  It should be impossible for anyone to arrive unannounced.  For our own security, we must find out how Scott arrived here.”

“Surely we can look for clues about his brothers at the same time, Father,” Other-Virgil offered. “There are enough of us.”  Not-Dad seemed unconvinced, and Scott got to his feet, ready to demand that they locate his brothers before doing anything else, when the door opened.

“I, uh, think I-I’ve solved the, uh, mystery of h-how Scott a-arrived here, Mr Tracy.”  Scott stared at the man in the doorway, his stutter and blue-framed glasses instantly reminding him of Brains, for all that this man was white, and English from his accent.

“You have, Brains?” the elder man asked, his attention immediately switching off of Scott, who was getting very sick and tired of familiar names and semi-familiar faces with no explanations.

“W-well, it, uh, might sound a bit fantastical, b-but John and I believe i-it’s, uh, the only explanation,” Other-Brains warned as he entered the room properly.  At this point, Scott didn’t care if it was fantastical – if it was plausible, he’d take it, especially after the casual name drop of one of his brothers.  The final one, completing the set.

“The, uh, DNA sample I collected turns out to, uh, p-perfectly match the, uh, sample I took from o-our Scott.”

“What sample?” Scott interrupted, sparing a glance towards Other-Scott, who had spoken at the same time.

“Your, uh, surprising resemblance to o-our Scott prompted me to, uh, take a sample for a-analysis.”  Other-Brains didn’t seem the slightest bit repentant.  “A-as for you, uh, Scott, t-there are many, uh, ways to obtain a sample from, uh, your o-own home.”

“So you’re saying this guy’s a clone?” Other-Alan interrupted, and Scott bristled.

“Well, uh, technically b-by sharing a-a ninety nine point nine p-percent DNA match they are, uh, c-clones, but not in the, uh, way you m-mean, Alan,” Brains replied.

“Explain, Brains,” Not-Dad demanded.  “What do you mean by that?”

“W-well, Mr Tracy, when I-I said that, uh, their DNA was a-a perfect match, t-there is, uh, one s-small discrepancy.”  He presented them with a clipboard, which showed far too many numbers and squiggles for Scott to make head or tail of it.  “S-see here, there, uh, is a foreign s-strand in his, uh, results.”

Scott couldn’t see what he was referring to, even when he helpfully pointed to a particular section of comparison.

“I think I speak for all of us when I say we can’t see a thing, Brains,” Not-Dad.  “But we’ll take your word for it.  What does it mean?”

“Quite, uh, honestly, Mr Tracy, I-I’ve never seen this before,” Other-Brains admitted.  “H-however, I believe the answer, uh, lies with the, uh, technology that he a-arrived with.”

“You’ve been poking at my gear?” Scott demanded, stepping forwards. Mrs Tracy put her hand on his arm lightly.

“J-Just a cursory, uh, glance.”  Other-Brains still didn’t sound at all repentant for his intrusions. “Enough to, uh, tell that y-your technology is nothing l-like, uh, ours.”

“So, what, he’s an alien?” Other-Alan asked.  It was such an Alan-like – his Alan-like – accusation that something in Scott’s chest hurt.

“I, uh, believe John w-would be, uh, better to explain,” Other-Brains deferred.  “Mr Tracy?”

“I’m not sure about that, Brains,” Not-Dad disagreed.  “It’s one thing showing him our home, but John is in a top secret location.  We can’t reveal that on a whim.”

“O-on the contrary, Mr Tracy, i-if John and I are, uh, correct, he is a-already fully a-aware of John’s, uh, location.”

“What?” Other-Scott snapped, his hand landing sharply on Scott’s shoulder.  “How?” His fingers dug in tightly, too tightly to be shaken off without the use of force, and Mrs Tracy’s hand was still lightly resting on his arm.

Scott was more concerned about what they were saying.  John and location automatically signalled Thunderbird Five, but this wasn’t his John.  Whatever was going on here, despite his uniform International Rescue had yet to be mentioned and he had been intending on keeping it that way, unwilling to bring that sort of information to the attention of a group of individuals too weird and bizarre to trust.

“I want you to explain, Brains,” Not-Dad ordered. “I refuse to involve John in a situation this delicate.”

“I-if you, uh, say so, Mr Tracy.”  Other-Brains was clearly disappointed at not having back-up for his explanation, but Scott didn’t care who said it at this point as long as it was an answer.  “Well, there, uh, is a theory a-amongst astrophysicists k-known colloquially a-as the, uh, multiverse theory.  It a-addresses the theorem that, uh, there are multiple universes.  John is, uh, better versed i-in it th-than I, but, uh, I know enough to, uh, believe that this is o-our answer.”

“He’s from a parallel universe?” Other-Alan exploded. “No way, Brains.  That’s ridiculous!”

“I, uh, did say it was f-fantastical,” Other-Brains reminded him.

“Yes, Brains, but this seems very far-fetched,” Other-Virgil pointed out.  “Suppose that’s true; how did he get here?”

“Well, uh, travel between these, uh, theoretical u-universes has not been, uh, investigated, so u-unless Scott’s universe has been, uh, experimenting in the field it is most likely that the, uh, two u-universes temporarily, uh, collided and Scott fell th-through a r-resulting fissure.”

“I don’t remember falling through any fissures,” Scott protested. “I had just left,” he paused, still determined to leave International Rescue out of the conversation, even if Other-Brains was alluding to something similar with Other-John, “my plane and was on my way out of the hangar.  Then I woke up here!”

“The ‘plane’ in question wouldn’t be Thunderbird One, by any chance?” an unfamiliar voice asked.  It was slightly distorted, as though coming through a speaker.  The gentle touch on his arm and the talon grip on his shoulder did nothing to stop Scott tensing.

“What do you mean?” he snarled, looking around for the owner of the new voice.  Nothing had changed, no-one had entered the room without his knowledge-

Other-Brains had his left arm held at a weird angle, the face of his watch pointed directly towards Scott.  Instead of the ancient, analogue dial he expected to see there, a man’s head was visible.  He had a shock of platinum blond hair, but Scott’s attention was caught by the blue hat perched slightly lopsidedly atop his head.

They’d scrapped those hats years ago, one of Dad’s flights of fancy they had all been glad to ditch with a uniform upgrade.

“John!” Not-Dad sounded furious.  “Brains, I said we would not be involving John in this!”

“As Brains said, Father, there’s no point.”  The blond man – Other-John, recognisable as the fifth portrait hanging on the wall even if he was wearing civilian clothes in that, rather than what looked suspiciously like a proto-IR uniform in Other-Brains’ watch – seemed unbothered at his father’s fury.  “This Scott is another universe’s equivalent to our Scott.  According to the clothes he was wearing when you found him, that includes being the pilot of Thunderbird One for International Rescue.”

“If this is all true,” Scott interrupted, choosing to chew through the International Rescue bit and the fact that there was a Thunderbird One here later.  “All these parallel universes and colliding universes and falling through fissures into other universes stuff.  What about my brothers?  Aside from one,” he wasn’t willing to give any names out yet, even if Other-Brains and Other-John, at least, seemed to be sharp enough to make a correct assumption “they were all in the house when I got back.  Wouldn’t this ‘fissure’ have swallowed them, too?”

It was an outlandish theory.  The idea that he’d fallen through into some parallel universe and was now with an alternate version of his family – a version that still had their father, his brain pointed out unhappily – was ludicrous.  But it was a theory.  He’d heard Alan mention it once, although the teenager had been more interested in the prospect of aliens in their own universe than another one at that moment in time.  They were colonising Mars, pushing other expeditions further afield in the Solar System. Space travel was an expensive luxury, but it was a luxury available to anyone with the money, not just the strictest trained of astronauts.  Further exploration of the universe was underway, but nothing had ever touched the concept of other universes.

Yet, in the absence of anything more solid, Scott was willing to cling to the theory Other-Brains and Other-John were presenting.  As long as his brothers were safe.

“You were found in our Thunderbird One’s hangar,” Other-John informed him, and Not-Dad did not seem happy at that bit of information leaking out, from his attempt to interrupt.  Other-John ignored him.  “If you were in your own Thunderbird One’s hangar when the collision occurred, that means that you were simply displaced from the location in your home to the identical location in ours.  On that basis, if your brothers were also transported, they would have appeared in their respective locations in our home as well.  Seeing as they haven’t, I think it’s safe to assume that you are the only one that fell through.”

“But-” That was a lot of supposition, and Scott was not willing to stop searching on the assumption that just because what happened to him hadn’t happened to them, didn’t mean nothing had happened to them.

“However, to be safe, I have included additional parameters into Thunderbird Five’s algorithm to locate any mentions of people appearing out of nowhere, their names, assuming their names are the same as ours, or any other similar phenomena, so if they have ended up elsewhere, I’ll pick it up,” Other-John continued.  “If they’re here, I’ll find them.  If they’re not, that explains why they haven’t contacted you.”

It was practically a moot point to name drop Thunderbird Five at this point, as far as Scott was concerned, more interested and reassured by Other-John’s calm assessment of the possibilities and the measures he’d made to handle them, reluctantly nodding that yes, their names were the same. Not-Dad, on the other hand, seemed almost apoplectic as he stood rapidly from his desk.

“I did not authorise you to talk about the Thunderbirds, John!” the man thundered.  “You have no proof that this Scott has links to an International Rescue of his own, and even if he did, there is no guarantee that they are the same!”

“Yes, Father.��  Scott didn’t like the tone Other-John adopted, one that seemed almost used to scoldings.  Dad wouldn’t have been like that with them if he was still around and in charge of International Rescue… would he?

Deciding not to dwell on those thoughts, and also finding himself unexpectedly infuriated by Not-Dad’s temper flaring at Other-John, Scott glanced around the room and found something unexpectedly familiar.

Two lamps sat innocently on one wall, perfectly spaced for someone of his height to stand between and hold onto – or pull down.

It probably wasn’t his smartest idea – in fact, he could hear Virgil and John in his head telling him emphatically not to do it – but his reckless streak had never listened to reason.  He gently removed the light touch of Mrs Tracy from his arm, and twisted sharply to dislodge Other-Scott’s grip before striding purposefully over to the lamps.  Muscle memory dictated his movement more than conscious thought, his arms jarring as the lamps did not pull down, but a switch depressed beneath his fingers nonetheless, and to a chorus of disbelieving – and frustrated, in some cases – voices, the room disappeared in a smooth rotation to reveal Other-Scott’s launch tube.

Or should have done, if it was the same as home.  What he had not expected, as he automatically stepped forwards, off of the plate before it could spin back around, was to be immediately greeted by the sleek grey form of Thunderbird One herself.

Immediately he could see differences to his own ‘bird. The pilot seat was inside the cockpit, not extended for boarding, and the opening resembled a door more than a viewing window.  VTOL jets were positioned in different places, there were no letters dictating fuel intake, areas of danger and other basic safety information, and her shape was very slightly different.

However, small differences aside, there was no doubt that this was Thunderbird One.  Even ignoring the bold white lettering proclaiming her as such, there was no doubting the grey hull, blue engine housing and, most distinctively of all, the vibrant red nose cone.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Other-Scott asked from behind him. Scott made a noise of agreement – even if she wasn’t his, she was close enough that visually, she looked just as stunning.  “I guess you have the same access point?  You gave Dad quite the shock when you found the entrance to her hangar like that.”

“Near enough,” he confirmed as Other-Scott stepped up beside him, leaning his arms over the railing as he also gazed at Thunderbird One. “The portrait of the rocket goes to Two?”

“Virgil’s crazy slide,” Other-Scott said, bemused.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Scott agreed.  “I didn’t see Three or Four’s entrances.”

“Your Four has an access from the lounge?”  Other-Scott sounded surprised.  “Dad refused to put one in.  Gordon has to take the passenger route to Two.”

“A fish tank,” Scott admitted.  “Gordon refuses to keep fish in there, though.  Says it would be too traumatic for them.  He stole John’s model Stingray and put that in there instead.”

Other-Scott chuckled, the first time he’d been anything other than serious since Scott had first seen him.

“That sounds like something Gordon would do,” he admitted. “Your John let him?”

“Said it was a more accurate place for it then the stand in his room,” Scott confirmed.

“And that sounds like something John would say,” Other-Scott grinned, before falling quiet for a moment, studying his ‘bird.  “Do you think they’re right?” he asked.  “That you’re from a parallel universe?”

It still sounded ridiculous said out loud.

“I don’t know,” Scott admitted.  “But it’s the best guess we’ve got and sounds marginally better than insanity.”  How he was going to get home, if he really had ended up in another universe, was another matter entirely.

“I suppose that’s true,” Other-Scott said.  “But we’ll work something out.”

“Scott!” Not-Dad’s voice echoed through the hangar as the man strode towards them.  He did not look pleased, and they shared a look.

“Which one of us does he mean?” Scott wondered out loud. Other-Scott shrugged, clearly bracing himself for a storm.  Once again, Scott was left to wonder if it would be the same if Dad was still around – would he be used to disapproval, and a father ruling the roost with an iron fist?

He shoved those thoughts away firmly and straightened his spine. Not-Dad might have his own son contrite, but he had faced down too many people who saw themselves as his superior to cower in front of a man with no relation to him.

“What are you doing in here?” Not-Dad demanded.  “How did you find the entrance?”  Behind him, at a more sedate pace but intrigue clear in their eyes – exact colour matches to Scott’s own brothers – were Other-Virgil, Other-Gordon and Other-Alan.  Brains brought up the rear, his watch still broadcasting Other-John’s face.  Scott was getting fed up with all of the questions.

“Because I’m Scott Tracy,” he declared, stepping forwards, away from the Thunderbird behind him and towards the man challenging him. “Because that is my ship and I know how to get to her.”  He expected Other-Scott to protest, remind him that it wasn’t his Thunderbird One because they were in the wrong universe for that, but he didn’t.

Not-Dad was shorter than him.  Not by much, just enough for him to realise he was looking ever so slightly down to meet his eyes.  Did that mean he had outgrown Dad, a final growth spurt just after the Zero-X and the tragedy that brought?

“How dare you take that tone with me!” Not-Dad snapped, fury flashing through grey eyes.  Behind him, two pairs of brown eyes and one pair of blue had widened in surprise. “Does your father permit you to talk back to him like that?”  All at once, Scott’s temper flared.

“My father is GONE!” he shouted, fist flying to the side and connecting with the wall of the hangar.  “You might look like him, but you’re not him, and I won’t treat you like him!”

Silence followed his words, even after the echoes of his yells finished bouncing off the hangar walls.  His own breathing was loud, too loud to his own ears, and his knuckles started to throb as he felt everyone’s eyes on him.

Other-Alan spoke first, because he was Other-Alan and of course he did, for all that this Alan wasn’t a teenager and should at least have some modicum of common sense.

“What do you mean, he’s gone?”

Scott ignored him, finding Not-Dad’s – Never-Dad’s – eyes again.  They were shocked, horrified, even, and seeing that expression on a face that looked just like his father’s reminded him of the last time he’d seen his Dad look like that.  When Mom died.

He had to get out.

Thunderbird One was behind him, offering haven except she wasn’t his Thunderbird One and he knew they would all crowd the cockpit, imprisoning him inside until he talked.  He had no intention of ever talking, of telling these strangers wearing his family’s names and almost-faces about how much it hurt.  He’d never planned to tell them Dad was gone in the first place.

The two lamps stuck out of the wall, nearest Other-Scott. They’d lead back into the lounge, an unfamiliar place but one that it would at least take time for them to pursue him there, judging by how long it had taken them to join him in the hangar. He lunged forwards, found the catches on the lamps and spun the wall back around.  Behind him, the silence broke, voices talking over voices in a cacophony that was shut out as soon as the rotation completed.  Soundproofed walls.  Nothing less than he’d expected.

“Oh, dearie, what happened?”  He’d forgotten Mrs Tracy would still be there.  “Oh, you poor thing.  Look at your hand.  Tin-Tin, be a darling.”

“Of course, Mrs Tracy,” the young woman said, finding her feet and hurrying across the room to him.  “Oh, that looks nasty.  I’ll treat it right away.”  A touch on his elbow and his feet were moving of their own accord, following her down the stairs and through hallways he’d yet to learn until they arrived in a room he recognised.

The signs of his fight with Other-Scott had gone, gaps on the shelves where bottles had stood when he first woke the only indication that anything had happened in the room.  As Tin-Tin directed him to sit in a chair, grabbing a bottle of disinfectant and a roll of bandages for knuckles he hadn’t realised were bleeding, for all that they were throbbing in discontent, he caught sight of his uniform, still neatly folded.

His comm unit was on the top, and he reached for it to find it was too far away from where he was sat.

“I’m almost finished,” Tin-Tin assured him.  “You know,” she continued.  “If you open the window, there’s a track that runs up towards a cliff.  Only Scott ever goes up there – his brothers don’t know about it.”

Scott stared at her, realising for the first time that for all their differences, this young woman was likely this universe’s version of Kayo.

“I don’t think he would like that you told me that,” he said, unable to bring himself to address Not-Dad by any name.  His voice cracked mid-sentence and he frowned.  “He wants me under his watch.”

“Oh, Scott,” she replied, pulling the bandages tight. “He’s worried.”  A delicate hand picked up his comm unit and pressed it into his uninjured hand.  “I’ve known our Scott a long time,” she added, closing his hand over the unit. “In all that time, I’ve only seen him cry once.”  By the time he had registered her words and raised a hand to his face, surprised to find it come away damp, she’d left the room.

Swiping at the tears angrily now that he knew they were there, he regarded the unit in his hand, and then the window.  A place to himself was exactly what he needed, although the idea of using one of Other-Scott’s escapes felt distinctly weird. Footsteps outside the room forced his decision – if they were going to find him in this state, he could at least attempt to make it a challenge.

The window opened easily, and soundlessly. Well-maintained, and he wondered how often Other-Scott used it, or if one of the others also had escape routes from the infirmary.  Considering his own brothers, it was likely that they all did – one of the reasons Grandma had put their infirmary in a room with only one exit was because they were all terrible patients and one exit was infinitely easier to guard than multiple.

He remembered his lack of shoes only when bare feet met dirt, but he had no idea where Other-Scott kept his shoes, and no desire to go hunting.  The route Tin-Tin had described stood out to him easily, a challenging terrain that he would have chosen himself even if he hadn’t already known about it.  Then again, this universe’s version of him had done exactly that, once.  Strapping the comm unit firmly to his wrist, finding familiar comfort in its snug fit and slight weight, he started up the trail.

It wasn’t as challenging as it looked; once Scott found his rhythm it was almost easy, but as it was an escape route from the infirmary that made sense.  Escape routes were useless if they couldn’t be used.  After only a few minutes he rounded a particularly aggressive-looking crag to find a hollow tucked behind it.  The view was fantastic, jungles and volcanic crags combined with the ocean behind and the sky above.  Down below, he could just about see a white building that had to be the villa, an oddly-shaped swimming pool set in front of it.

There was no doubt this was Other-Scott’s secret escape.

He curled his legs in, out of sight of anyone that might be looking up the route, and tore his eyes away from the unfamiliar vista to focus on his comm unit.  Logically, he knew it was useless.  John would have been trying to get hold of him as soon as he woke from his cat nap, and if anything was going to get through to here – to another universe – it would be the powerful signals of Thunderbird Five.

Scott didn’t want to listen to logic.  Despite being wrapped in bandages, his fingers found all the right places to activate the comm unit, and he waited with bated breath for it to connect.  It took a while, connection symbol flashing orange as it searched for a signal to hook onto.  International Rescue technology was as resourceful as the rest of them. Designed to be compatible with every known network in the world, as well as their own with Thunderbird Five at the heart, there were blessedly few places where signal was impossible.  Here, on a Tracy Island, with a Thunderbird Five proven to be sending and receiving signals, there was no way his comm unit wouldn’t be able to find a network to hijack.

The red symbol that eventually flashed up defied him, the slash through the connection symbol taunting him as it declared there were no networks in the area.

“Don’t you dare!” he complained at it, shaking his wrist vigorously and resorting to fierce taps when the red symbol stayed steady. “There’s a signal right there, dammit!” he cursed, gesturing down towards where the villa lay.  “And up there!”  He motioned to the sky, where their Thunderbird Five undoubtably lurked. “How can you not find it at all? Dammit!”

He depressed the call button anyway, watching the hologram technology awaken, ready to beam his image to whoever was on the other end. With tearstained cheeks, scruffy pyjamas that weren’t his, and a wrapped-up hand, he didn’t want his image beaming anywhere, and quickly changed the setting to audio-only.

“Thunderbird Five?” he tried.  “Come in, Thunderbird Five.  John, are you there?”

The red symbol stubbornly remained, and his comms remained silent.  He’d thought that at least Other-John would answer.

“John?  Virgil are you there?  Come on, guys, pick up!  Gordon, can you hear me?  Alan!” His voice cracked and he scrubbed at his face again, unsurprised but frustrated when it came back freshly damp. “Kayo?  Grandma?  Brains? Anyone, dammit!”  He was begging and he knew it, tears seeping into his voice no matter how hard he tried to keep them up.  “MAX?  EOS! You’re always hacking things you shouldn’t, you damn AI.  You’ve got to be here!  Put me through to John.  I know he’s looking for me.  Just… put me through, dammit!”

The red symbol never wavered, blocking him from his family no matter how much he cursed, threatened, begged it.

“Why won’t you work, you stupid piece of junk?” he demanded.  “It’s only a goddamn universe in the way.  Just one, stupid, measly, universe!”

A universe.  An ever-expanding chasm of space that contained billions upon billions of galaxies, which themselves contained billions of stars and planets.  They were colonising Mars.  Thunderbird Three had managed to travel out as far as Jupiter. The distances were incredible; the wonder as Alan launched off to far-flung parts of their solar system never failed to strike Scott.

Those incredible distances didn’t even make a fraction of the chasm between them now.

A chance collision of universes had thrown him across. Inter-universe travel wasn’t even a daydream in the minds of their most advanced scientists, and from Other-John’s words, this universe was the same.

Scott wasn’t John, but he was reasonably handy with numbers and probabilities.  The chances of another collision occurring that would send him home again were beyond remote.  International Rescue made the impossible happen, but Scott was all too painfully aware that even they had limits.  How did you rescue someone from another universe?

Would they even know where he was?  It took Other-Brains and Other-John some leaps of logic, DNA testing between him and Other-Scott, and a grasp of the difference in their technology to reach the conclusion.  All his family would have was the fact that he was gone.  Without a trace.  It would be even worse than Dad.  At least they knew what had happened to Dad, had seen that cursed footage of the Zero-X exploding into infinite pieces with no body left to bury.

He had just vanished.

John would be blaming himself, cursing himself for going to take his next nap before ensuring Scott was safely in the house.  He remembered what his brother had been like when Dad had gone, the weeks, months, of frantic searching and sleepless nights until he’d taken Three up and all but bust through the airlock to drag John back to Earth.  He hadn’t let him back up there until the space elevator was installed, one of Brains’ pet projects that Dad had vetoed but Scott demanded because anything to bring their family closer together was a good thing.

He hoped one of the others would stop John tearing himself apart. His little brothers were strong, he had to believe that.  If Other-John was right and they weren’t also here, somewhere in this strange universe with its indecipherable technology.  No, Scott wanted them at home.  He wanted the four of them to be together, even if he wasn’t there.

But he would be, he promised.  No matter that the distance between them was insurmountable, no matter that there were some things even International Rescue couldn’t do. Nothing, not even the damn universe – or however many universes were involved in this fiasco – was going to stop Scott Tracy going home to his brothers.

He just had to figure out how.

Chapter 4>>>

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Three: Pestilence (Ignis x Reader) Chapter Three

"No red carpet, but a stone staircase is the next best thing," Gladio commented as they navigated down the flight of stairs.

"The entrance to Costlemark only opens during the night. Seeing as we don't have time to wait, I manipulated the mechanism," (Y/n) said.

"A stimulation of shadows activated the mechanism sealing the entrance," Ignis stated as he pieced the puzzle together in his head. "A splendid display."

"Exactly," the Horseman replied. "Even during the brightest time of the day, shadow spells never fail."

"I'm guessing your speciality is spells. You're too dainty to be a sword wielder," Gladio comments.

"How perceptive of you, Gladio, and a little judgmental. Though, I'll let that last comment slide. I'm an enchantress and specialize in fire, lightning, ice, light, and shadow spells."

"Whoa...That's more than Noct can use!" Prompto chanted.

"I'm also well-versed in the artes of healing. Morosely, my knowledge of herbs won't be helpful in battles."

"So we have a healer now? Yes!" The gunslinger cheered. "Now we won't have to stock up on potions so much!"

Descending the last flight of stairs, Noctis glanced at the girl. "You got a staff or something like that? Y'know, like what healers have in video games?"

"I know not of these "video games" you speak of, but yes. I posses a staff." (Y/n) held out her hand and summoned her staff.

"Ooh, never seen a staff like that," Prompto comments. He eyed the weapon until his eyes stopped at her bare feet. "Um, are your feet gonna be okay, (Y/n)? What if you step on something?"

"I'll be fine, Prompto. Without shoes, I can feel the mana flowing through the network of veins inside Eos. I'm able to tap into their energy and use an unlimited amount of mana," she replies. "With how often I cast spells, a large supply of mana is exactly what I need."

Reaching the first chamber, the group was greeted by several gelatins. As the boys were summoning their weapons, the purple blobs suddenly melted and retreated. Noctis dispelled his sword with a scowl. "What the...?"

"Did they just...run?" Prompto asked in disbelief.

"Apparently so." Ignis glanced toward Pestilence and saw the seemingly innocent smile on her face. "Care to explain, (Y/n)?"

She continued smiling as she answered the tactician. "Daemons tend to flee in my presence. Apologies for not mentioning it earlier."

"Does this mean this is gonna be easy?" Prompto asked with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"Guess we'll see," Noctis replied.

Seeing as the daemons had fled, the group decide to make their way down a hallway to their left. Gladio glanced around at the walls and commented on the structure. "Well, this place is seriously ancient."

"Indeed," Ignis agreed with the brute. "These walls have well withstood the test of time. A stark contrast to the ruins that lie above."

Inside the next chamber, more daemons appeared. While the gelatins immediately fled, the galvanades hadn't picked up on Pestilence's scent until they surrounded the group. When one tried to launch itself at the Horseman, it received a whiff of her mock orange fragrance and retreated alongside its fellow daemons.

"It's so nice not having to fight," Prompto sighs contently.

"There are daemons out there more brazen than others. Some may try to attack if they've the courage to," (Y/n) stated. "But I've yet to encounter one with such valor."

"Let's hope none possess the audacity," Ignis stated.

<-------<<<<<<

A couple of hours passed by and the group had yet to find the royal arm. They had encountered hordes of daemons, but not a single one engaged them in combat. Prompto was whistling to himself with his hands on the back of his head as they strolled down a spiraling ramp. "I could totally get use to this. We haven't even lifted a finger down here!"

Before Gladio could even respond, a yojimbo manifested from the ground with its katana resting against its shoulder. When the boys thought it would run like the others, they waited for it to retreat. When (Y/n) saw it didn't fear her, she tried to shout out to the others but she kept her lips sealed knowing her words wouldn't reach them in time.

The daemon lunged toward Ignis, who was unprepared for the sudden attack. Before he could even react, someone pushed him out of the way. He heard a shrill scream and the sound of a blade ripping through flesh. His emerald eyes widen in horror when he spotted (Y/n) pinned to the ground with the yojimbo's sword pierced through her chest all the way to the hilt. The daemon finally picked up on the Horseman's scent, but it was too late. The boys had dealt with it before it could scurry away.

Once it was eliminated, the four rushed over to (Y/n) and saw the pain written all over her face. She tried to smile through the excruciating pain, but she could only muster a tormented frown. "C-Could one of you gentlemen p-provide a helping hand?"

Gladio was shocked to see she wasn't dead while Noctis supported Prompto when he felt faint from seeing the immense amount of blood pooling underneath the girl's body. Ignis stepped forward and met her (e/c) gaze as he wrapped his hands around the hilt of the blade. "Th-The slower you are, the m-more painful it will b-be, Ignis. Just...rip it out."

"(Y/n), I-"

"I'll be f-fine. Please, hurry."

Ignis nodded and used all his strength to yank the sword out of the stone floor and the Horseman's body. She yelled in pain as the sword exited her body. The tactician was about to grab a potion when he witnessed the skin stitch back together and mend perfectly.

(Y/n) sighed in relief, placing a hand over where the wound once was. "Immortality is a blessing and a curse. A shame the pain is not annulled." She pushed her upper body off the ground and thanked Ignis. The strategist took one of her hands and carefully helped her back onto her feet.

"B-Blood..." Prompto whimpered with a pale face.

Pestilence glanced down and realized the blood that still remained on her body. She gazed apologetically at the blonde. "Apologies, Prompto. I fear I lack the proper equipment to purge the blood from my clothes at the moment."

"A-Are you okay?" The gunslinger managed to ask, trying not to look at the blood.

She nodded with a smile, trying to hide the crimson liquid with her arms. "Yes. All has mended."

"Damn..." Gladio cursed, still in shock from seeing the young girl stabbed. "Iggy would be dead right now if you hadn't been here."

"If I weren't here, you four would be somewhere much safer," the Horseman rebuttals.

"Nonsense, (Y/n). Gladio is correct," Ignis said. "I'm indebted to you."

"I simply did what was right. You are not indebted to me in any way, shape, or form, Ignis." The royal advisor was speechless and had no clue how to respond to her. The snowy-haired girl noticed this and decided to change the subject. "Let's continue forth. That royal arm is not going to magically appear in front of us."

"Dude, if they could, this would be a thousand times easier!" Prompto chanted. "Noct would have all thirteen royal arms by now!"

"If things were really that easy, we'd be in Altissia already," Noctis said.

Pestilence knew of the prince's engagement to the Oracle. Ignis had informed her of their journey and their struggle to reach the city upon the water during their lengthy chat this morning. She was glad he filled her in on the details so she could understand their predicament better.

They continued deeper into Costlemark with no repeated incidents like the one with the yojimbo. The five came across a lengthy pathway with darkness enshrouding everything. Prompto glanced around them and into the darkness. "And what have we here?"

"Dunno, but it's huge," Gladio answered.

The sharpshooter groaned when he noticed how long the path was. "I'm too tired to walk all the way across."

"We'll call it a night here, then."

"Actually not too tired!"

"I'm not so sure about that, Prompto," (Y/n) said. "You have been yawning the most out of all the others."

"Think you, uh, could send some of that immortality my way so I wouldn't need to sleep?" The blonde boy questioned with a gulp.

"I'm afraid not. You will have to stave off the weariness yourself."

"Ugh..."

<-------<<<<<<

Inside a large chamber, the group was bewildered when they found no way to proceed forward. The boys thought about backtracking to see if they had missed anything, but they abandoned the idea when they saw (Y/n) sauntering over to one of the strange platforms. They followed after her as she stood in the middle of the platform and used the sharp tip of her staff to trigger it.

"The floor!" Prompto gasped, bracing himself as the panel descended into the floor.

"It's moving," Gladio gaped in shock.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa-?!"

Noctis glances toward (Y/n). "How did you...?"

"A lucky guess," she smiled. "I've wandered ruins like these before and they contain the same mechanism. Though, if I'm honest, I did not expect it to work." She pressed the hidden mechanism once more and the platform retreated into the side of the wall, forcing them to jump down.

A few daemons manifested in the narrow space, but they disappeared in a heartbeat. The Horseman proceeded forward and pressed another switch.

After what felt like hours of traveling through a network of passageways, the five were dumped into a large room and ambushed by gelatins and a red giant. Unlike the other daemons they encountered, these were willing to stand against the group with such a large ally on their side.

"Guess these guys aren't running for the hills," Gladio said, summoning his greatsword.

"This was supposed to be easy!" Prompto whimpered as he conjured his handgun.

"Stop bitchin', start killing."

(Y/n) kept a safe distance away from the daemons alongside Prompto. She targeted the larger assailant while the boys dealt with the gelatins. Using a powerful ice spell, she was able to shatter the giant's swordarm. It roared in pain, collapsing on its back. Gladio and Ignis saw the opening and took out the large daemon. Noctis and Prompto took out the last gelatin and turned just as the red giant's body decomposed.

"Talk about a surprise party," Prompto huffed, dismissing his pistol.

"Yeah," Noctis sighed. "Could've done without it."

Suddenly, a viridescent light enshrouded the four boys. The warm radiance expelled their exhaustion and healed their wounds. Noctis, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis gazed at (Y/n) as her staff vanished.

"That was..." Ignis started.

"Refreshing!" Prompto finished the advisor's sentence.

Pestilence smirked at the boys. "Glad to be of assistance. Now, let's see where this leads." She gestured to a platform in the middle of the large vacant room. They stepped onto the panel and rode it up to the room they had been in thirty minutes ago.

"Great..." The raven-haired boy sighed heavily. "We're back at square one."

"Not necessarily," (Y/n) said. She checked the other panels and found another one had a switch. "Over here!"

The boys rushed over just as she activated the panel. "Ugh..." Prompto groaned. "Here we go again..."

Following the path, they reached a crossroad when two panels had switches. Noctis went to activate one, but the Horseman stopped him. "I suggest the other switch, Noctis."

"Why's that?" The prince questioned.

(Y/n) gestured to the symbol on the floor. "A symbol commonly used to guide those who've lost their way."

"Uh, okay." Noctis pressed the switch and the other passage was sealed. They followed the path all the way to the end, where they discovered an elevator. Stepping aboard, the lift carried them deeper underground into a lab.

"Wonder how deep we are," Prompto wondered. "And we just keep goin' deeper and deeper."

"No idea," Noctis stated. "Who would build a lab all the way down here?"

"The people who once lived here. You'd be baffled at how all this ancient machinery still works as if new," Pestilence said. "It's rather fascinating."

"You're quite knowledgeable of ancient ruins, (Y/n)," Ignis pointed out.

The white-haired girl glanced at the advisor for a brief second before looking away. She clenched her hands together, refusing to meet any of their gazes. "I've told you of how I became a Horseman, but not who I was before this life." She inhaled deeply before continuing. "I was an archeologist from Galahd. My work took me all over Lucis and certain parts of Accordo."

"Quite an accomplishment at such a young age," the tactician compliments.

"It was all thanks to my father I was able to accomplish so much before my life was taken from me." (Y/n)'s voice was low and brimming with melancholy.

"How did you-?" Prompto started to ask, but didn't get to finish as Ignis had picked up on what he was going to ask.

"Prompto," the bespectacled man scolded.

The blonde hadn't realize what he was about to ask until it had almost left his mouth. "S-Sorry..."

"A tale for another time, perhaps," (Y/n) said, offering the blonde boy a kind and gentle smile to ease his guilt.

"What's it like-y'know, being resurrected 'n stuff?" Noctis asked.

"Mostly strange. Eos has changed immensely since my departure. I'm also aware that my home is...gone. I did plan to see it once I arrived, but I learnt of its downfall."

"Must've been difficult to learn the truth," Gladio comments.

"It was, but I've come to terms with it."

Everyone fell silent as the elevator reached its destination. As they stepped off, they could feel heavy footfalls and glanced behind them. A giant beast stomped towards them with a mighty roar.

"What the hell is that?" Gladio scowled.

(Y/n) conjured her staff, staring into the beast's eyes. "A jabberwock."

[etlunainmorte]

"Oh, my!"

V's eyes widened and his protective instincts kicked in as he saw Lady just bump into you. On the other hand, you didn't even notice it when the woman who looked like Audrey Hepburn suddenly, and out of the blue, appeared just like that, and you totally blamed it on your lack of focus.

"Oh, how silly of me!" Lady apologized with a smile as she helped you on your feet.

"It's alright. I wasn't paying attention. I - "

"Jive." Lady whispered to you the moment she leaned in closer to your ear.

"Sorry?"

"That's the next dance." Lady went on, surveying the whole room at the same time with her sharp eyes. Probably on the lookout for her sly partner, as well. But, this only proved she's even more sly than Lancaster, himself. "And Fleminger is absolutely fond of Jive. So, make it count."

"Why are you doing this? Aren't we supposed to be enemies?"

"Are we?" Lady answered, and with a wink, she waved goodbye and made her way towards Lancaster, who was currently being pampered by Fleminger's older guests.

So, Jive,... is Fleminger's favorite dance,...

Just like,... !

Wait, was that the reason she - ?

"My dear, are you alright?" You heard V ask you, bringing you back from your own reverie to reality.

Looking up at him with renewed determination and keeping the little facts you've just stitched together for your own ruminations later, you answered, "Yes, I'm,... super!" Drumming your chin with your fingers, you smiled as a wild and very sudden idea just came into your mind. You were one hundred percent sure that your grandmother would faint if she finds out about this plan of yours but, you might as well make this once in a lifetime gamble worth it, right? Looking up once more at your partner, you laid your hand on his arm and said, "I'm just gonna,... fix something."

And to this, you saw how V's eyebrows furrow in utter confusion. "P - pardon? Is everything alright?"

"I'll be right back, I promise." You told him with a reassuring smile.

Slightly running towards the powder room, your eyes quickly surveyed what the other Queen competitors were wearing. And if Lady was, indeed, correct, you assumed that all of them would have a really hard time moving with those voluminous skirts of theirs.

"Ugh. Fleminger, you are such a huge sadist." You thought out loud as you opened the door to the powder room, which was luckily unoccupied, and looked at yourself in the mirror. Giving your precious vintage gown one last look of pity like it was a criminal on the verge of execution, you grabbed the skirt and started tearing it, the sound of ripping fabric piercing your sensitive ears and making you feel sorry for your great grandmother, who previously owned it. With a huge sigh and a spark of inspiration, you, then, reached up to your hair and pulled the pins that kept it secure, letting the (H/C) tresses tumble in waves at your back.

After making sure that the ripped fabric was disposed in the proper place, you gave yourself one last look in the mirror. "Not bad, actually." You told yourself as you made your way back to your partner. Ignoring the wide variety of comments by the guests who saw you, you took a deep breath and exclaimed, "Told you I'll be right back."

V turned around, and his initial expression of relief upon knowing that you're well turned quickly into that of complete shock when his wide green eyes roamed on your loose hair down to your bare legs. You couldn't help but feel sorry for the poet. Almost.

"(Y/N), dear, I don't think that's - !" V stuttered in distress, wanting to blurt out the word inappropriate as gently as he could.

"Trust me, V." You reassured him as you smiled confidently at him. Yes, you don't quite trust Lady. But, her words earlier,...

There was no way in hell that she would lie to you! No fricking way!

You looked up at the upper boxes and noticed Fleminger excitedly leaning in closer to his seat the moment the musicians picked up their instruments. What's more, you also noticed that his eyes landed on yours.

Taking a deep breath and carelessly brushing a wayward lock off your face, you spread your arms wide with much confidence and waited for V to take the lead.

His heart pounding wildly, a small bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, and his eyes wide with anticipation, V finally realized what you were planning to do. Your important, non - verbal message seemingly received and well - noted by the wise poet, you let V take your hands. With one last nod to your partner as soon as the music began, you left everything to your actual skills, your stamina, and your trust towards him.

Together, you'll see this one dance through.

And one step in, you knew. You both knew. There's still a chance to turn this whole situation around to your favor.

***

🌸 Three Wishes 🌸

***

XIV

***

Wooh!

So, you're still thinking of me,

Just like I know you should.

I cannot give you everything, you know I wish I could.

I'm so high at the moment.

I'm so caught up in this.

Yeah, we're just young, dumb and broke.

But we still got love to give.

Christopher grimaced at the way the audience was seemingly entranced, not by him and his partner, but by something else. Their excitement felt different from before during the first three dances where he simply dominated the rest of the dancers with ease and without so much as a single effort. And when he made one wrong decision to turn away from his beautiful partner and see for himself just what these ignorant people were cheering for now, he realized. He finally realized, and because of that, he lost his balance for the first time that evening.

It was you. And your lover.

Such vibrant moves! Such,... perfectly coordinated steps! Such,... powerful connection! And chemistry!

"What,... in the actual fuck?!" Christopher blurted out when he saw you and V wowing the crowd with your quick Jive kicks and flicks. And what's more,...

Since when was V able to move like that?!

That smile on his face,...

He seemed to enjoy the Jive too much! The way he's giving it his all and showing off his flashy moves at the same time,...

First verse in and you're already giving it your all?! Thought the evil doctor as he turned his attention back to Lady to try and outshine your routine. Are you really that desperate to win against me?!

"We'll see about that!" Christopher screamed as he forced Lady to do the American Spin, making the woman almost stumble to her feet.

I'll win this game! Christopher thought as he sadistically led Lady. The flashier the moves, the better! I'll become King and make you pay for humiliating me!

While we're young, dumb,

Young, young dumb and broke.

Young, dumb.

Young, young, dumb, and broke.

Young, dumb.

Young, young, dumb, and broke.

Young, dumb, broke high school kids.

Yadadadadadadada

Yadadadadadada

Yadadadadadadada

Young, dumb, broke high school kids.

Adelaide threw an infuriated look at the host of this wretched party, who was watching the show from that lofty upper box. And the man seemed to be massively enjoying the show! And at what expense? The women tripping on their skirts as they try to keep up with the brutal pace of the Jive? The men covering up their partners' mistakes by making unnecessary moves?

Her grandchild ripping her skirt and letting her hair loose wildly like that?!

"Ugh!" Adelaide exclaimed in utter disgust as she observed the man. "You never change your ways, Flanagan!"

We have so much in common.

We argue all the time.

You always say I'm wrong, but,

I'm pretty sure I'm right.

What's fun about commitment?

When we have our life to live?

Yeah, we're just young, dumb, and broke.

But we still got love to give.

While we're young, dumb,

Young, young dumb and broke.

Young, dumb.

Young, young, dumb, and broke.

Young, dumb.

Young, young, dumb, and broke.

Young, dumb, broke high school kids.

You felt yourself so energized with that yadada that the women were singing. Their overwhelming energy and eagerness to support their lead singer gave you even more motivation to support your own leader, who was surprisingly very good at this dance!

As he led you to the mooch right after that little hip bump, V couldn't help but be amazed at what you have shown so far. Nico did say that you can dance the Jive but, he never really expected you to be this good, that he almost wondered where you pitched in those extra dance lessons in between your music studies. What's even more, you sure knew how to follow his lead and still look graceful doing it. And that was a vast understatement. 

Seeing you enjoy this wonderful dance with him made him enjoy the entire dance, as well. And as long as you're happy, he's happy.

And that was the only thing he wished for.

For you to be happy.

With him.

As the song came to a close, you made one last effort to make a graceful bow, hoping to still look decent after being sorely beaten by Christopher Lancaster and his stunning partner. Taking hold of V's hand, you looked up at him and gave him that smile of yours that never failed to make him feel warm.

"Thank you, V." You simply told him.

The man smiled back at you but, a bit of confusion was still present in his facial expression. The poor poet honestly thought that he did nothing so special and that he didn’t deserve your gratitude. "It's always a pleasure." He answered regardless.

You two were about to step out of the massive ballroom when you noticed some people cheering wildly despite the dance being over. And this made the others cheer, as well.

But, why?

"Bravo!" A man dressed as a general cheered at the top of his lungs.

"Encore!" A woman, who was dressed as Marie Antoinette, added.

"Elvis!" Some group of young women dressed like the Spice Girls cheered in unison. "ELVIS! KING ELVIS!"

"Elvis?" You muttered in question as your eyes met with V's. "They're cheering for you!”

"I don't understand." V answered, his eyebrows knitted, too many questions going on in his mind. "We barely did anything,... "

"MY QUEEN!" Another man, who was dressed as an Italian painter, called. "MY QUEEN!" And his attention was totally directed at you. Not at Lady, not at Trish. You.

"QUEEN!" Some of the men started cheering, as well.

"QUEEN! QUEEN! QUEEN!"

"They were calling for you!" Trish, who was standing next to you, happily told you, shaking you a bit to keep you focused.

Dante, who was only ever so proud of V, patted the poet on the shoulder ( a bit too much ), and beamed at him. "The floor is yours, Mr. Poetry!"

"IMPOSSIBLE!" Christopher, who was watching the incredible scene unfold right before his very own eyes, murmured, unable to believe that you and V just stole his thunder right under his nose with just a simple dance.

HOW CAN THIS BE?!

"It looks like we have a winner." Fleminger declared as he gestured for his musicians to do the much requested encore. The leader nodded and gestured for the singers to have another go at it. And when that Jive music started playing once more, the other couples left the ball room to make room for you and V, all of them acknowledging your clear and clean victory.

Well, except Christopher, of course.

"Hey," The evil doctor called after Lady when he saw her going towards Dante and Trish. "HEY! WE'RE NOT DONE YET!"

"Are we?" Lady responded with much sass as she finally left her partner to cling onto Dante instead.

"Hey, babe!" The tall Devil Hunter, who was only too grateful to have two beautiful women by his side, greeted with much gusto. "Looking sharp as always!"

"Leaving your partner so soon?" Trish teased, an evil smirk fully and intentionally directed at Lady.

And to this, Lady just giggled and waved her hand. "That man needs a babysitter, not a partner. He's just too old to be grumbling like that. Besides, I’m done collecting his handsome payment for being his partner for the evening.”

"Whatever you say,..."

"May I have the honor of this dance, my lady?" V asked you with a proud smile as he held out his hand to you.

"It would be such an honor." You answered happily and graciously as you took his hand.

My name is Olly, nice to meet you can I tell you, baby?

Look around there's a whole lot of pretty ladies.

But not like you, you shine so bright, yeah.

I was wondering if you and me could spend a minute?

On the floor up and close getting lost in it?

I won't give up without a fight.

I just wanna, oh baby!

I just want you to dance with me tonight!

So come on, oh baby!

I just want you to dance with me tonight!

We're getting sweaty, hot and heavy in the crowd now.

Loosen up and let you hands go down, down.

Go with it girl, yeah just close your eyes, yeah!

I feel the music moving through your body.

Looking at you I can tell you want me.

Don't stop keep moving till the morning light, yeah!

When I saw you there,

Sitting all alone in the dark,

Acting like you didn't have a care.

I knew right then, you'd be mine.

We'd be dancing the whole damn night, like,

Oh baby, I just want you to dance with me tonight!

So come on, oh baby!

I just want you to dance with me tonight!

How can two people have so much fun dancing so energetically together like this? How can these two not mind the fatigue and stress of this crowded and heated place? How can these two lovers have all the fun in the world as if no one else existed but them?

You would never know the answer.

All you knew was that you were here with the person who made you smile. The only person who healed your broken heart.

The one and only man who made you so happy like this that you forgot all of your troubles.

And you wanted to be happy with him, not only during these mooches, these flicks and kicks, these American spins, or these simple chasses.

You wanted to be happy with him, and only him, even after this Jive.

You wanted to be happy with V. Always.

And not only you. Nico and Nero, who apparently just returned during your encore performance, were both cheering for you. As well as your stubborn but loving grandmother, who was honestly sticking out like sore thumb among the well - dressed crowd with her non - vintage attire comprised of a bright purple coat, a bright pink beret, and a pair of little blue pumps. Oh, yes, she looked so proud, and she should be! After all, she spent a huge amount of time zealously and passionately teaching you the Jive in between your piano lessons when you were just a little girl. And you kind of just figured out why after all those years of harsh, grueling footwork training!

You were on your way to your loved ones after the music changed to disco for everyone to join in when Christopher, who just appeared out of nowhere, grabbed your arm and forced you to face him.

"What did you do?" The evil doctor questioned, positively fuming with anger after being humiliated. "You,... FUCKING BITCH! WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!"

Finally having enough of Christopher's bullying and abuse, V raised his hand in an almost blind rage, ready to snap his fingers and bring chaos down unto his sorry ass when Nico interrupted by grabbing his arm.

"Ah, ah, ah! Ya haven't met our friend, yet!" Nico warned as she gave V a threatening look and forced his arm down. Gesturing for Nero to come forward, all of you watched, in utter shock and horror, as the young Devil Hunter dragged a shady looking man forward, making Christopher's veins pop up from his already red forehead.

"Who is this man?" You questioned as you uncomfortably watched Nero manhandle the poor, Kevin Bacon -  wannabe guy.

"His name is Salvador!" Nero answered with a vicious smile as he crushed the man with his muscular hug, seemingly hurting him more than introducing him. "I believe he is a friend of Dr. Lancaster here."

"Is,... that so?" V asked, his eyes dangerously narrowed and his patience already snapping like a twig.

"Yeah." Nico replied. "And check this out!" She exclaimed excitedly, taking out Sparda's ripped set of vintage clothing from her backpack. "He has this all along!"

"What's the meaning of all this?" You questioned, alarmed after seeing V's infuriated face as he glanced at the fabric in Nico's hands.

"BOSS, TELL THEM THE TRUTH!" Salvador pleaded, visibly suffering from Nero's painful hold. "TELL THEM!"

"I - I,... DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT - !" Christopher yelled, feeling hopelessly cornered, as he tried to get away from you once and for all. Unfortunately for him, Dante, who sensed all this unease and left the dancefloor for a while to come to your rescue, was already standing behind him, and the moment he turned away, he bumped against the Legendary Devil Hunter's rock hard chest, making him stumble on the ground ungracefully.

"Hey, is there something wrong here?" Dante asked good - naturedly, trying not to escalate the situation to prevent it from getting worse.

"He stole father's things." V answered monotonously, his enraged eyes still on Christopher. "And made an enemy of Sparda by tormenting (Y/N)."

"Ah, is that so?!" Dante, whose eyebrows began twitching the moment he heard the word torment, said as he began cracking his knuckles, the sound of his popping joints frightening poor Lancaster and Salvador beyond their own wits.

"Oh, please, you're being too harsh on the poor man!" You interrupted with a smile, startling everyone, most especially V.

"But, dear, this man hurt you - !" V argued but he was cut off when you helped Christopher on his feet 

"Thank you!" The doctor cried as he graciously took your hands. "Thank you so much, (Y/N)! I' am very much - !"

"FUCK YOU!" The crisp and horrible curse escaped your mouth as you let out a powerful right hook that connected straight to Lancaster's cheek, feeling his head jerk deliciously sideways beneath your hardened fist. The man stumbled on the ground once more, and when he tried to get up, he saw blood on the floor where his face was. He looked at you in fright and scrambled to his feet, making his way outside and finally leaving all of you, hopefully for good.

"BOSS! DON'T LEAVE ME!" Salvador called as he wriggled free from Nero's iron grasp and chased after the defeated doctor.

“That hand,... PRACTICED THE PIANO 40 FREAKING HOURS A DAY!” You screamed at your pathetic, narcissistic ex, and, man, it felt so, so good! "Wow." You breathed a sigh of relief, a proud look on your face. "That was so intense!”

"You betcha!" Nico laughed as she watched the two men scurry their way outside in fright.

"They should think twice before crossing any Sparda next time." Nero added, shrugging his shoulders.

"There won't be a next time! Mark my words.” Dante corrected as he stretched his long arms and made his way back to the dancefloor.

"I shouldn't say this but," V added as he closed the gap between the two of you and linked his fingers with yours. " … I'm so proud of what you've done, (Y/N). And I won't ever regret saying it."

"Haha, thanks."

"And what is going on here, if I may inquire?" You heard Fleminger's voice. Apparently, he has been watching the whole scene unfold right before him in silence. And he didn't look overjoyed.

"Well, I,... " You stuttered, feeling nervous under the host's scrutinizing gaze. "Took care of,... something?"

"Here, man." Nico whispered to V as she handed him something from her backpack.

Fleminger shook his head with an apologetic look on his face. "You must know that,... violence,… is strictly discouraged in these halls of entertainment. And for that, I must disqualify the both of you from winning the title of King and Queen for this evening." Fleminger declared, bringing down the hammer of justice right before you and V. Shaking his head with a distinct frown in his face, he turned around and muttered, "Such a shame."

"Go for it! I'm countin' on ya!" Nico told V as she pushed him closer towards you.

"Is there something wrong, V?" You asked, the sweet victory of winning against Christopher and the bitter sting of being disqualified as Queen still very much fresh in your system.

The man smiled as he shook his head. Then, making one swift decision to trust his gut and finally get this one final plan for the evening over and done with, he took your hand and led you outside, getting past the people who congratulated you, both for dominating the dance floor and for giving that evil doctor a piece of your mind.

***

🌸 I was actually wondering why it's taking me so long to edit this chapter but, then I realized, there's over 4k words in this.😅😅😅 🌸

🌸 @la-vita , @dreaming-gamer , @birdgirl69 , @v-vic , and @hanniskywalker . 🌸

***

That,... bitch! That fucking bitch and her skinny boyfriend who thinks he owns the world!

"You thought you have the last laugh, eh?" Christopher said, and as he was about to reach for that thing in his breast pocket, he felt a strange presence behind him. Looking back, he saw a tall, and ridiculously attractive dark - skinned man who was leaning against a pillar just outside Fleminger's mansion. Unlike the other guests, he was not dressed in his best vintage and he looked like he was only there to crash the party. His dark, gleaming eyes seemed to observe him very, very closely, and it felt like those eyes were piercing through his skull right to the depths of his soul.

"Can I help you?" Christopher asked, suddenly feeling the atmosphere getting heavy right before this stranger's presence.

The man raised his eyebrows. His hands still in the pocket of his grey pants, he nodded and spoke in a very deep, and yet, sweet - like - honey, voice. "Maelstrom."

"Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about - ?!"

"Exactly." The man answered. "I thought I sensed something special here. Alas, I was mistaken." The man left the pillar and turned the other way to leave. But before that, Christopher heard the man mutter something under his breath. "Ah, such a shame. No wonder Bedlam has been so down for decades now, I see. Aha, time to search for someone else,..."

"EXCUSE ME?! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU - ?!"

"Who are you talking to, scum?"

Just then, Christopher heard another voice behind him. But unlike the honeyed voice of the attractive hobo who just left, this one sounded like it was filled with such poison. He turned around and found a tall, white - haired man standing before him. He was staring him down with those cold eyes of his, and his right hand was lurking dangerously close to the hilt of the katana on his left hand.

"What now?!" Christopher howled in agony, feeling as if he was losing his mind completely.

"I believe," The white - haired man drawled, his voice sounding so much like a feral hiss, as he finally unsheathed the Yamato and pointed it at Christopher. " ... you have something that is mine in your possession?"

Wait a second here,...

Tall, ridiculously virile - looking, and white - haired,...

"Another,... SPARDA?!" Christopher helplessly gasped in fright as he felt his bladder fail on him.

Vergil gave him one last sadistic smile as he went closer to the man who almost ruined his brother's evening with you.

"And that's the last time you'll ever say that name." The eldest son of Sparda said as he raised the Yamato,...

***

🌸🌸🌸

***

[nicolewrites]

darling you’re pulling on mine

what’s with me and finishing this stuff at past 12. anyways, as promised, Pikelan heartstrings verse

heartstrings

Rating: T Genre: Romance Characters: [Pike Trickfoot and Scanlan Shorthalt], Grog Strongjaw Words: 4,114

Pike exhaled slowly. She knew what love looked like, but for a long moment, when she stole a second glance at Scanlan only to find him still watching her, she wished that she didn’t. She wished she could pretend she didn’t recognize the flames in his gaze and how it twisted her stomach because love was never easy. Love was never, ever simple. 

And there was sure nothing simple about Scanlan Shorthalt.

AO3

Pike knew what love looked like. She loved her grandfather, and her friends, and she had seen plenty of happy couples. She didn’t date, not really, because she was so busy with Grog and the channel and hanging out with friends that she never saw the need to. For so long, Grog and Scanlan were the only friends that she had needed and it had been good.

But, as she sat on the rooftop lookout of Percy’s over-the-top penthouse suite surrounded by Grog, and Scanlan, and Keyleth, and Vex, and Vax, it felt more right than she could have guessed. Percy has adamantly refused to have every gathering of their odd group of friends at Scanlan’s place, even if it was bigger, because he claimed that he had had a better view. Looking out across the roof, Pike couldn’t argue with that statement.

As popular as streaming and making videos made six of the seven friends, there was no denying that Percy was cut from a different cloth with his expensive movies and family-owned record label. That didn’t dissuade him from hanging out with their motley crew instead of other A-list celebrities.

Pike loved streaming and making videos with Grog and occasionally Scanlan. First, though, Pike was a people person. She had always found it easy to read people and what they were thinking. Her friends were not immune to this scrutiny as she had seen grief and darkness in Vax’s gaze and she had been able to offer him guidance for both him and Vex’ahlia. She saw roiling anger and unchecked grief in Percy’s gaze and she saw doubt and insecurity in the bright greens of Keyleth’s eyes.

Grog was different. He carried rage with him at all times, but Pike had helped him develop a system to deal with it long ago. There was a great loss in her big friend that she wasn’t sure how to approach, so she nurtured his love and protective instincts instead and it worked. Grog was her best friend and she loved him so much.

Scanlan, on the other hand, was hard to read. As much as she tried, he was always able to keep little things hidden from her, even if she hated him for it. He tried to seem like he wore his heart on his sleeve, but there was a guard to his charm: a barbed-wire fence of clever jokes and pretty songs built to keep people from knowing the real him. Pike tried and tried and she was pretty sure she was pretty close even if she would never fully know everything little thing about Scanlan Shorthalt.

She had never been in love. Again, she barely dated because she had no need to, but as she looked across the roof at her friends, she saw love between them both platonically and so deeply it caused her heart to ache.

Vax looked at Keyleth like she had hung the stars in the sky and then had ascended to rule over them all. He barely kept his eyes off of her and his admiration was easy to read as it rolled off of him with every stolen glance or whispered word. Pike knew Vax to love intensely and wildly and she saw this when he watched Keyleth and when he cast glances at his sister to check on her.

Vex was different. She guarded her heart much more closely than her brother, but there was something about Percy, some fragment of shared trauma between them, that lowered her walls just enough that Pike could see the budding admiration and affection in her gaze. And Percy’s darkness, his grief, wavered just for a moment when he tucked his arm around Vex’s shoulders and she shifted subtly into his side.

Pike pulled her gaze away from the warmth that sparked between Vex and Percy and let her eyes wander anywhere else so she didn’t disturb the intimacy of the moment. Her mind wandered and her eyes met Scanlan’s across their half-hearted circle of deck furniture. The corners of his eyes crinkled and his smile lifted up just the tiniest bit in one corner, but he had already been watching her as if he had been waiting for her to make eye contact.

Pike wanted to hold eye contact, to silently question him, but the intensity of his gaze flustered her more than she cared to admit and she looked down. Scanlan was normally so good at keeping his emotions under a tight wrap, but the way he looked at her was warm and open and looked entirely too much like Vax looking at Keyleth mixed with Percy looking at Vex.

Pike exhaled slowly. She knew what love looked like, but for a long moment, when she stole a second glance at Scanlan only to find him still watching her, she wished that she didn’t. She wished she could pretend she didn’t recognize the flames in his gaze and how it twisted her stomach because love was never easy. Love was never, ever simple.

And there was sure nothing simple about Scanlan Shorthalt.

-

Pike pulled her headset off, still giggling over Grog’s latest antics. Next to her, Grog was frowning, but he would get over the loss soon enough. He placed his controller on the desk and rolled backwards in his chair, leaving Pike to finish closing up the stream.

They’d been playing Wrath of Sarenrae tonight, a co-op action-adventure game. Tonight’s stream had been the culmination of several weekly Sunday night streams in a progression to fight one of the major dragon bosses of the game. Grog had been so dead set on landing the finishing blow, but Pike had managed to swing her smaller, nimbler character closer than Grog’s lumbering tank build to land the last hit. The chat had gone wild–half congratulating Pike on her kill and half laughing at Grog for failing to get the kill in the first place.

Pike closed the stream window and brought up the Major Monstahs YouTube channel. Their videos for the week were all scheduled: work out video and vlog on Monday, gaming stream VOD on Wednesday, and the monthly roast on Friday. They flipped between random vlogs or gaming videos on Friday’s normally, with the last Friday of the month always dedicated to their video series where Grog and Pike would sit and watch some of Scanlan’s videos and make fun of him.

Pike grabbed for her phone as Grog headed into the kitchen of their shared apartment. She scrolled mindlessly through Twitter for a while, retweeting some of the cool fanart that had been drawn during the stream. She had muted her mentions for the duration of the stream, but after skimming through them, there wasn’t anything that needed her attention seriously.

Just before she could lock her phone and head after Grog, it vibrated, the screen lighting up with a text.

[Scanlan] nice hit on the dragon. i told you speedboost was the spell to equip for this fight!!

Pike rolled her eyes, but opened the text app.

[Pike] you’re right, let me bow to your greatness, my liege.

[Scanlan] gasp, how dare you insinuate that i am more valuable than you. If anything, i shall endeavour to worship in the light of your glory for the rest of my days.

Pike blinked at the message, feeling her cheeks warm. She and Scanlan had been friends for so long that they’d built a steady teasing rapport and relationship over many, many years of friendship. Still, sometimes Scanlan would turn on the charm and it could catch her off guard, especially if it was in person. Pike was grateful that over text she could at least hide her flushes from him.

[Pike] :P i’ll tell my other clerics to make room for you.

[Pike] wait we’re still on for drinks Friday right? Grog’s been talking about it all week so you’d better not cancel on us.

[Scanlan] I talked to Sybil and rescheduled my Kaylie time for Saturday afternoon, so we are a go for Friday!

Kaylie was Scanlan’s three-year-old daughter. He had shared a brief fling with Sybil and Sybil had attempted to completely conceal Kaylie’s existence from her father. Scanlan had been horrified when he’d finally found out and had been heartily channelling funds to Sybil and Kaylie since he’d found out. He had fought Sybil tooth and nail to gain the right to spend time with his little girl and they’d worked out a schedule for him to see her once a week.

Pike tagged along with Scanlan sometimes. Kaylie was adorable and already had spunk and Pike loved her. She also loved watching Scanlan with his daughter because there was something gentle and open about him that she was able to see and appreciate. Plus, being around his daughter had opened up a vulnerable side of Scanlan that had hardly existed behind his barbed-wire charms.

Pike was smiling blindly at her phone as she began typing out a reply to Scanlan, but Grog appeared before she could hit send on the message.

“Hey, Pike, we gotta eat that ice cream now,” he called, his big voice booming in the room.

Pike was so startled she nearly dropped her phone, but she managed to lock it and shove it into her pocket. “Yep, coming!” she replied quickly, jumping up from her chair.

Ice cream post-stream had been a tradition for a long time. It was their cheat-treat from their usual workouts and healthy eating. She’d gotten so wrapped up in texting Scanlan–thinking about him, her traitorous heart corrected–that she’d nearly forgotten that Grog would be waiting for her.

Grog folded his arms and looked at her. “Something’s up,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but rather an observation.

Pike bit her lip. Grog wasn’t the most observant person, so she had to have been projecting her thoughts all across her face for him to pick it up. “Nope,” she lied through her teeth. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Pike,” Grog argued. “You’re my best buddy, why don’t you want to tell me?”

She sighed, her fingers skimming across the outside of her pocket where her conversation with Scanlan was on hold. “Grog, I love you, but you’re no good with secrets.”

He frowned, his nose scrunching up. “I’m great with secrets!”

“You told Keyleth she couldn’t come to Percy’s early because she wasn’t allowed to be early for her own surprise party.”

“One time,” he argued.

“You told Kima that I sit on a cushion when we stream to correct the height difference.”

Grog pouted. “Pike, I swear I’m great at secrets. Scanlan thinks so! It’s why I’ve done so well with not telling you that he loves you.”

Grog’s words doused her brain in ice water. Pike blinked slowly. She played back what her big friend had just said, but the words were swimming about and not making sense. “Grog,” she breathed. “What was that last thing you just said?”

He opened his mouth to repeat it, but seemed to realize halfway through that he’d spilled a secret he wasn’t supposed to. He clammed up, his back straightening. “Nothing, it was nothing, Pike.”

Grog immediately left the room and Pike practically collapsed back into her streaming chair. She pulled out her phone and stared at her wallpaper: her and Scanlan on Grog’s shoulders, the three of them wearing shit-eating grins, but Pike and Grog were looking at the camera while Scanlan was staring at Pike.

Sure he was a flirt, and Pike knew he had flirted with her lots, but she had just thought it was Scanlan being Scanlan. Recently, like at Percy’s, she’d started seeing more openness, but she had thought it to be just a byproduct of spending time with an adorable toddler every week.

Scanlan loved her? No, Grog was mistaken.

She wrung her hands together and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Grog wasn’t the smartest guy, but he didn’t lie. He hated liars and he had never once lied to Pike. Even with a slip of the tongue, she doubted he was capable of telling her a lie.

She felt vaguely lightheaded. Scanlan was in love with her and she had no idea what to do with that information.

She had an urge to call someone and ask for advice, but she already knew it was a bad idea. Vax would immediately say ‘I told you so’ which was something she didn’t want to hear. Keyleth would get so flustered she’d probably just hang up. Vex’s solution would probably be to sleep with him or ignore it and Pike couldn’t stomach either of those opinions. There was a whole other thing with Percy that meant she definitely couldn’t ask him. Grog was, naturally, out of the question, but that just left her with Scanlan.

Which was her problem in the first place, so she had effectively gotten nowhere.

“Pike?” Grog called from the other room. “Are you coming for ice cream?”

Pike inhaled slowly. She slid her phone into her pocket again and stood up. “Eat the ice cream and forget about the rest,” she whispered to herself. Louder, for Grog, she called: “Coming now!”

-

Pike @thetrickfootp • Just Now

Hey Internet, it’s time for @barbariangrog and me to roast @burtreynoldsesq again and it’s a good one this month :D youtube.com/watch?v=fFTukkN

Pike sent out the tweet as the video went live and flopped onto her bed. She had managed to go almost the whole week without thinking of Scanlan or the bomb that Grog had accidentally dropped on Sunday night, but after rewatching to groom a video entirely about Scanlan, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. It didn’t help that Grog had been excitedly babbling all day about how excited he was to go for drinks that night.

Her phone vibrated and she lifted it above her face to read the notification.

Scanlan Shorthalt @burtreynoldsesq has tagged you in a tweet: It’s the last Friday of the month and I am once again regaled by the wonderous @thetrickfootp and also @barbariangrog #suchmockery #theroastofburtreynolds

Pike smiled faintly and tapped the notification. She gave the tweet a like and retweeted it with the side-eye emoji. Scanlan almost immediately liked her retweet and she put her phone down. Her hands brushed against her cheeks and she was surprised to find them warm. She rolled over onto her stomach and shoved her face into her pillow, letting out a long groan. She had no idea what was going on, but she wanted it to stop.

After almost twenty minutes of wallowing, Pike pushed herself up so that she could change into something drinks-acceptable. She hovered a hand over a loose-fitting Slayer’s Take t-shirt which she would wear with ripped jeans. At the last second, she snagged a dark purple tube top and pulled it on with the jeans. She gathered her hair up into two buns at the top of her hair and dusted some glitter along her cheekbones. She swiped on some mascara and nearly put on lip gloss before realizing that it was just drinks with Grog and Scanlan and she didn’t know why she was suddenly trying so hard.

She slammed the lip gloss tube down and grabbed her purse. She didn’t change out of the shirt and it had nothing to do with the fact that Scanlan’s favourite colour was purple. Pike walked out into the living room of the apartment to see Grog and Scanlan sitting on the couch, laughing about something. She stumbled and nearly tripped as Scanlan looked up, catching her eye, and beamed at her.

“Looking good, Pikey!” he complimented. The flirtatious tone of his voice was nothing new, but the teasing glint in his eyes felt more real this time somehow.

Pike inhaled sharply and forced a smile. “Thanks, now let’s go! I need this drink.”

-

Scanlan had entirely too much charm for his own good. He had gone to the bar to retrieve a round for the three of them almost ten minutes ago. Grog hadn’t really noticed since he was just telling some story drunkenly, but Pike could clearly see Scanlan where he stood at the bar. He was surrounded by two girls in low-cut shirts and short skirts.

Pike could see the flirty, pleasant smile on his face from across the room and it made something in her stomach boil in anger. She couldn’t help it as her eyebrows dropped into a lower position and her face scrunched into an unpleasant expression. Grog finally seemed to notice something was wrong and he cut off his story abruptly as he stared at Pike.

Pike, upon realizing Grog was staring at her, immediately dropped her gaze away from Scanlan and spun her straw through the ice cubes in her otherwise empty glass idly. Her cheeks felt hot, but she could blame it on the alcohol and her fair complexion. Grog didn’t seem to notice that she’d been glaring at Scanlan, but he just frowned as he watched her.

Finally, after an entirely too long period of time, Scanlan returned with their drinks: Guinness for Grog, whiskey sour for Pike, and an old fashioned for himself. Unfortunately, he also returned with a lipstick print on his cheek that had only been half-wiped off. Pike saw it immediately and took a long sip of her drink as she pointedly avoided eye contact with Scanlan.

Grog and Scanlan launched into a conversation again and Pike tried to contribute and stay active, but her gaze wandered and she saw the two girls from earlier were still giggling and looking over in Scanlan’s direction. She settled for pressing her lips together and sipping hard at her drink.

After another painful hour, Grog saw a woman across the bar who caught his eye and excused himself from the table, leaving Pike and Scanlan in awkward silence. Pike knew Grog’s patterns well enough at this point; he wouldn’t be home tonight, much less back to the table.

“Hey, Pike, are you okay?” Scanlan asked suddenly.

His brows were furrowed together as he watched her. Pike’s gaze snapped to his face from the table and she took in his pursed lips and curiously twinkling brown eyes. There was a lock of curly brown hair grazing the right side of his face that had slipped from his ponytail tonight. The whites of his teeth stuck out against the deep tan of his skin, complimented by the pale purple shirt he was wearing. Pike’s breath hitched involuntarily because sweet mother of god Scanlan was pretty.

She snapped her gaze to the far side of the bar and exhaled shortly. “Totally fine.”

Scanlan touched her arm lightly and PIke felt an instinctual need to rip her arm away, but she managed to force herself not to move. Scanlan’s fingers traced something along her wrist and it took her a long moment to realize he was writing something as they often did.

L-Y-I-N-G, his fingers spelt out along her forearm.

Pike forced her hackles to lie flat and she retracted her arm from his touch to adjust her shirt and shift in her seat. Now that Grog, her buffer, was gone, she felt like she needed to be far, far away from Scanlan and his charming, pretty smile and gentle eyes. She stood up, reaching quickly for her purse.

“I have a video to edit for this week I just remembered. Besides, Grog’s done for the night, so I should get home.”

She turned and headed for the door, purse and jacket draped over her arm, not even waiting to see the look on Scanlan’s face. He would obviously take her leaving as a gift and head back over to the pretty girls in the corner because no matter what Grog said, there was no way he was in love with her.

And she didn’t love him.

-

She was around five paces away from the bar in the dark street before Scanlan caught up to her, his hand tugging on her arm, turning her to face him.

“Pike, what did I do? You’ve been treating me like I burned you all night.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You didn’t do anything, Scanlan,” she lied. It was a half-truth really, because all he’d done was be himself and Pike was the one over-reacting.

He sighed and scratched at his head with the hand that wasn’t holding her arm. “Can I call you an Uber at least?”

Pike shrugged. “As long as your friends back there don’t get worried about you.” The comment came out unexpectedly bitterly and Pike blamed the alcohol. She was clear-headed still, but it had given her a bit of unexpected sass.

Scanlan stared at her. “Pike, are you jealous?”

The question caught her off-guard and she tried to laugh it off and say that no, of course, she wasn’t jealous because that would be something a girlfriend would feel, not a strictly platonic, not-at-all romantically interested friend. Instead, her voice caught because, she realized, that yes, of course, she was jealous because of course, she liked Scanlan. She probably always had.

Scanlan’s features rippled into his charming grin. “You are!” He chuckled warmly. “Wow, and here I thought I was going to be the one jealous of all your fanboys for all eternity.”

She blinked at him.

Scanlan tilted his head and the confident smile morphed into a shyer, almost self-conscious look. “Grog told me that he told you, but come on Pike, didn’t you already know?”

“Know what?” she asked, her voice small.

Scanlan shifted his weight. He dropped her arm. “I’m hopelessly in love with you,” he said firmly.

The words were barely out of his mouth before Pike leaned forward onto her toes and gripped him by the collar. She reeled him in quickly and slanted her mouth over his, kissing him hard. He tasted like whiskey and orange–something sweet and something bitter. She was about to pull away when Scanlan’s hands shot upward, sliding along her jaw as he deepened the kiss. Pike melted against him, letting one hand drift up from his collar to his shoulder and then along his back to the nape of his neck where her fingers twisted in his hair.

After a long, breathless moment, they broke apart, but Scanlan didn’t let her move back. His eyes were closed and he let out a deep, heavy breath.

“Tell me you’re not drunk,” he begged.

Pike leaned forward, exhaling shakily, and pressed her forehead against his. “Just enough for courage.”

Scanlan let out a breathy laugh. “God I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I met you.”

She took a moment to tug at his ponytail, loosening it as she fought to find the right words. “You drive me crazy, Scanlan Shorthalt,” she settled on.

“Good,” he replied, “because you drove me to insanity a long time ago, Pike Trickfoot.”

She kissed him again, relishing in the feeling of his warm lips against hers as his hands cradled her face. She hummed into the kiss and felt him smile as they broke apart.

“About that Uber,” she said breathily, her gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips quickly.

“My place or yours?” he asked, dropping her face to reach for his phone.

“Mine’s closer,” she replied.

“Perfect,” he said and kissed her again.

-

Several hours later, Scanlan’s arms were hooked warmly around Pike’s waist and his face was pressed into the crook of her neck. She was running her fingers through his hair, breathing deeply.

She felt warm and safe and the bubble of emotion that had been building up slowly over years of friendship finally burst. She grazed her fingernails against his scalp and Scanlan blinked up at her sleepily.

“I’m hopelessly in love with you too,” she breathed.

He smiled. “I loved you first though.”

She giggled softly. “Probably.”

His fingers ran up her side and ghosted along her chest over where her heart was as he mimed playing the piano along her skin. “I have so many songs to write for you.”

She twisted, sliding so that they were level and she could kiss him again. “I love you.”

He hummed against her and when his eyes opened after the kiss ended Pike knew that his walls were down. The barbed-wire charm had been retracted and he was laying himself bare for her, literally and figuratively.

“I love you too.”

She kissed him again and didn’t think of anything else as he rolled her on top of him and they kissed like schoolkids.

[emo--chanel]

I've given up trying to keep my head wrapped around all the timey wimey-ness in doctor who - it just gets more & more ridiculously convoluted with each passing series & I'm ancient lol - but I have some thots on spyfall.

Buckle up mateys!

(spoilers ahoy!)

maybe whatever tf is going on now is related to parallel/pocket/bubble/whatever universes or something. Evidence: • the sassy glowy alien said that it's time to "take this universe" which suggests they're from another (pretty straightforward no? maybe too straightforward 🤔 also side note: what other glowy humanoid things have we seen before that appear/disappear out of the blue & have a habit of turning people into human shells? cybermen. and who has been involved with cybermen in the past? THE MASTER. 👀👀👀 but the alien laughed so ~myth busted~ lads aw), and • when the map thingy was decoding it split into a number of identical earth maps which could be another hint at parallel/multi-verse stuff idk & the doctor actually did start to say something about "multiple earths" before O interrupted & brought the convo back round to the alien spies 👀

if we are dealing with parallel/pocket/multi verse stuff I think maybe the master could be from one of those other universes & probably pre-missy bc all I'm getting atm is glorious chaotic John Simm energy from this new regeneration & it doesnt rlly make a lot of sense for him to be acting like that after everything that happened with missy... but then again this is doctor who. when is it ever in the business of making sense? lol. spyfall part 2 should clear it up tho. heh 🤞🏻

do we even know exactly what happened to John Simm!Master after he disappeared with the timelords in the End of Time part 2? maybe this has something to do with whatever version of the master we're seeing now. I have a feeling we have been told/shown what happened tho so this theory may not quite match up but who can keep track of these things anymore haha not me. For the most part I havent watched any episodes more than once since series 8.

also, when has canon ever stopped anyone incl the actual writers anyway?? lmao

I love Yaz & Ryan & Graham and continue to want only the best for them 💖

everybody's party outfits were On Point™! & the whole Bond vibe thru this episode was sweeeeet!! 🤙🏻

WORST. UBER. EVER!

i think that strange little humanoid form in the little glass case in barton's office has to have some significance in all this bc it was way too much of a coincidence to have Ryan draw our attention to it immediately after the glowy alien had just been trapped in the big glass case. I MEAN?? come on.

back to the parallel universe thing, the glowy alien also said that they're from "far beyond the doctor's understanding" but the doctor knows about parallel universes.... HOWEVER the master also told the doctor that everything she knows is a lie so! 🤷‍♂️ ...I dont know where I was going with this..

I am 100% here for Sacha Dhawan.

not really here for the tardis console room tho, it kinda looks like yellow snow sculptures... (I want round things). It didnt look like that last series right? It's changed right? I'm really not exaggerating when I say I cant remember shit 😂

the master taking one look in the tardis like "shut. up. *smh* ridiculous" fucking sent meeeeeeajsjjsksjdsd

also also also!! O's cheery amusement during the ~doctor arrives~ scene & the whole "that's terrifying! wow why would they be doing that??" 🤔 & the lil smirks & fuckign bottom lip bite when he asks Graham if he wants to sneak a peek at all the dirt he's gathered on the doc - knowing that this is in actual fact the master going mrburns_excellent.gif the entire time is HILARIOUS.

I think the doctor knew where she had been teleported to, at least it seemed like she recognised it. Unless her reaction was less "oh shit nononono not here! anywhere but here!" and more "oh shit I'm here on my own nononono fam is still stuck onboard a crispy plane falling from the sky! oh no oh fuck!"

now stay with me on this one ok? Stay with me. I think that maybe the weird endless gigantic DNA strand field place Yaz & the doctor were transported to could be... inside a tardis. How bout that? Ppftfftchcc nah never mind. dumb, stupid, unlikely, dumb. It's probs just whatever universe the master & glowy aliens have come from.. which could be insIDE A TARDIS!! 🤡

does any of this have anything to do with that timeless child stuff from last series???? guess we'll find out!

speaking of which, I want to see those floaty bandages again! I liked those. Why? They were kinda cute. I know not.

Sacha Dhawan is amazing!

💖 Sacha Dhawan 🙌🏻👑

SACHA

- you guessed it - DHAWAN!

I saw something earlier about some theory that the master isn't actually the master but that O is just some dude pretending ?? lol and I just wanna say that if it turns out to be correct I'm burning this whole place to the ground 🙂 dont fucken test me chibnall I've killed for less 🙂🔥

So anyway

I am excited about this series bc its doctor who & I love it & I dont actually have a life so I will always watch.

But I'm also kind of tired.

Which makes me feel bad bc I love the cast! I love the new fam! 😭💗

But.. yeah. Whatevs, y'know? I'm just here to go along for the ride & fill voids trying to simulate the happiness & wonder I felt some 10+ years ago ahahha depression

[the-prince-and-the-thief]

Come at me with the lore, fam, after making my own overly complicated fanfic for almost more than a decade with its own magic system nothing surprises me

//OH BOY YOU’RE IN FOR A TREAT

I’m putting it under a cut to save your dash. 

TW: A lot of stuff. Rape, sexual abuse, abortion, murder... just... just prepare for the worst. 

//Okay, so, Blazblue AU. 

Key characters here are: Kagura Mutsuki, Ragna the Bloodedge, Celica A. Mercury, my OC Riku Akasaka, and of course Ren and Goro. 

First off, in the BB world, there is a one-world government police state that’s currently been having a bunch of in-fighting and schisms since... forever. They had a civil war (the good guys in this fight lost 8( ), and Kagura has been trying to fix shit for uh... a long time. He’s got the true heir to the throne (Homura Amanohosaka, I think? Their name is long.) 

This is an alternate canon where Kokonoe decided to bring her dead aunt back to life like, 3 games early. So it diverges during Calamity Trigger, or The Only Game I Understood (tm). Celica has this power to absorb seithr, or magic energy that can also kill you. The main villain’s body is kind of MADE of seithr. The main villain, Terumi, had a plan to merge with his host and make himself unkillable by linking his life to Noel Vermillion’s. But because Celica decided to show up and cling to Ragna, plans did not go through, but the time loop didn’t restart. Ragna’s plans are at a standstill as well, and he gets attached to Celica, and... it’s complicated. 

To sum up Ragna’s story super quick because it’s side information-- He falls for Celica, they have twins, Ragna realizes that his soul-eating grimoire could kill said kids, gets Jubei to cut it off of him, and they live mostly happily for a while until Celica starts dying of seithr poisoning. Then Terumi decides to finally pay back for having his plans ruined, kills Celica, burns Ragna’s house down AGAIN (you know, for extra trauma), and kidnaps one of his kids. The other had a power like her mother so she didn’t get taken because being near her made Terumi sick. Ragna nearly died in all of this, spent years trying to make a decent life for his daughter, got arrested, and then after basically making prison hell for everyone else with his anger and violence, was basically given a plea deal by Kagura of “Look my dude, get on my side in this government coup I’m doing and we’ll basically give you your daughter back, a job, and a steady income. We cool bro?” Aaaand by the time Akechi is around he’s a parent with 7 kids, 2 who are the same age as Akechi and grew up being his friends. 

Kagura is the part where it gets relevant to Akechi. Kagura hears about this scandal with the Fumizuki family (long story short Shido is a Fumizuki in this case because it’s a Duodecim family they haven’t used yet, and it means “month of erudition” so I figured a focus on intelligence above all else would be fitting...) involving a bastard kid whos mom just died. Now the whole family is looking to basically throw this kid as far away from them as possible. 

Kagura, at this point, is a walking scandal magnet and has stopped giving a fuck. He married a woman literally nobody in his family liked, started a government coup, gave Ragna the Bloodedge the sweetheart deal of a lifetime and more. His wife is my character Riku, who uh... 

Goddamnit, another character break. You see why I said this would take a year and a half? XD Anyway, Riku. Riku is one of the last Japanese people in this setting. Japan got magic nuked in Blazblue, to put it bluntly. A giant world-ending monster decided to appear there first. Japan is *still* not inhabitable centuries later. The Japanese people are very few and far between, and Riku’s family is one of the last families that can boast a 100% Japanese heritage. Y’know. Except for Riku. Because her mom went and married an outsider without her family’s permission. Her mom doesn’t give a single solitary fuck what others think and does what she wants. So she’s actually only half Japanese, and her family treats her and her older brother like shit for it. They’re basically only cared about if they’re “useful”. Her brother went into the military academy to basically gain info for the family (they like to hoarde grimoires as well so the NOL and the Akasaka family kind of hate each other), but he “mysteriously went MIA”. I.e. was violently murdered and had his grimoire stolen. Riku went to the academy after to figure out what happened to her beloved onii-chan. It... did not go well for her. TW sexual abuse- she was raped in her freshman year, ended up pregnant, and when she went home in her third trimester, the head of her family forced her into an abortion that caused serious damage. They cut her hair off and basically sent her back to school traumatized and miserable. And now everyone in school treats her like a whore. She decides fuck it, if they’re gonna treat her like that, she’s going to use being a “whore” to her advantage. She slept her way to status, and, using her own special abilities, gathered a bunch of blackmail on literally everyone in the NOL. Nobody can mess with her, but she also has no one she can rely on. 

She was initially trying to use Kagura as well (trying to get put in intelligence so she could ruin the people who made her life hell), but Kagura noticed she didn’t actually seem to enjoy sex. He helped her get surgery to correct the damage done to her (he only convinced her to go along with this by saying it was for his own benefit. She did not trust him. He said basically he wanted to be the first person to make her enjoy sex.) She eventually began to open up to him and trust him when she realized they were very much alike. They both were isolated from their families for not following tradition, both had many enemies, and both genuinely wanted to destroy the government around them and create a better world. She joined him in the whole government coup thing, using her intelligence-gathering skills. They’re newlyweds when Akechi is a kiddo. 

Understandably, considering all of this, Riku doesn’t really want kids... the trauma of it all is a bit too raw. So Kagura wasn’t really planning to adopt him? He figured he’d give him temporary housing, then send him off to Ragna. Ragna would gladly adopt the kid after all. But he and Riku found out they were very attached to this sad little kid who didn’t understand why everyone looked down on him. Riku, in particular, could relate to his problems. 

So Akechi gets a nice, (mostly) stable family! He meets Ren in middle school. Ren outed a pedo teacher that was very well-liked by most of the students and staff, getting him fired and arrested. So, he was something of an outcast. Akechi, upon hearing this, decides that Ren is a hero. (And Ren p much instantly had a crush on him after that). The two grow up as childhood friends. They’re pretty inseparable. Ren doesn’t really like being at home with his family (they’re very much the type that says nothing to avoid being a target for potential assassination. The NOL has been legit very dangerous their entire lives, after all. So their outspoken, determined child causes them no shortage of headaches), so he’s always hanging out at Akechi’s place. 

You can probably guess that, actually knowing Akechi’s life story, Ren *actually* assaulted Shido when he saw the dude trying to assault another woman. He was genuinely enraged and just kinda lost it. >>; Thankfully connections save Ren. Kagura basically goes “Ok so enjoy going to the military academy as a reform school. Also you need someone to keep an eye on you. ....My son can do that.” Really... he just wanted Ren to look out for his son. 

See, Akechi in this verse is still very concerned with status? He feels that he owes it to his mother and father to live up to his family name, because they’ve done so much for him. He wants to be accepted by the Duodecim as a whole. Riku and Kagura tried their very best to keep him the hell away from all of that political bullshit, but the kid decided to go into the military anyway. He’s not physically the strongest, and he’s pretty naive and childish, deep down. His parents are pretty damned sure that Goro will be eaten alive if left on his own there. (The military academy is, for the record, it’s own massive city. So they wouldn’t exactly be able to keep an eye on him.) So, Renren gets asked to protect his friend. 

They also get chosen by two grimoires while there. These are the Rebel’s Grimoire and the Hero’s Grimoire. Grimoires are basically... to put it bluntly, training wheels for magic. Most people suck at magic by nature. Hell, most people don’t even USE grimoires. They use the even bigger training wheels that are Ars Magus. Grimoires usually specialize in a particular ability. They have their own rules, conditions for use, and often choose their hosts. People fuse with their grimoires over time. If the two become completely synchronized it’s called a Remix Heart. (This is the only important lore information from Remix Heart btw, I saved you from reading a crappy fanservice manga, you’re welcome.) 

The Hero’s Grimoire picks a host with a strong sense of justice. The Rebel’s Grimoire picks a host with a very rebellious spirit. The catch is, they always pick their hosts at the same time, and the hosts are always very connected souls, two sides of the same coin. The Rebel’s grimoire also likes to do this *wonderful* thing where it latches on your face and only accepts you if you rip it off. If you don’t, it kills you! Fun times. Goro turned around to look at Ren when this happened, and the Hero’s Grimoire embedded itself into his spine. (Ren’s looks like a pair of glasses when not in use, Akechi’s looks like a crow tattoo with a weird growth between his shoulder blades.) 

The two grimoires are sentient and talk to their owners while giving them similar but contrasting powers. Ren can use his Third Eye ability from the games, destroy barriers, teleport through shadows, and has very little presence-- almost nobody notices him around unless he’s pointed out or makes himself known. Goro has the same third eye ability, can create barriers/obstructions, can obscure his movements in bright light (either dazzling people or simply teleporting in light), and has a glamour that attracts others to him. (Ren uses this to basically cling to Akechi at all times while nobody notices him. He loves it. Akechi hates it, because PLEASE STOP HITTING ON ME I HAVE A BOYFRIEND HE’S RIGHT. HERE. ) 

The phantom thieves also still exist in this AU! They have a different MO but similar intents and goals. Basically, they steal back what the NOL has taken from others. Or, if said thing can’t be replaced (like, say, innocence, trust, etc) then they’ll take what they consider a karmic equivalent (status, power, etc). It actually all started because Ren wanted to get Riku’s grimoire back (Akechi was still vERY upset that the government had it, how dare they do that to his family). So Akechi is on the team from the beginning. Whether he wants to be or not. 

There’s a lot more but this is just the basics... @_@ I told ya it was a lot. 

[dorleing]

Secret Santa 2018

Merry Crisis @disorganizedkitten !! Hope you enjoy!! Thanks to @mlsecretsanta for hosting it!

Alix had seen far too many pairs of underwear for it to be okay. Too many pairs that weren’t hers, period. 

“Oh my god, Kim. Pull up your trousers. You ain’t ever be gangsta. You look stupid.”

“You’re just jealous of my amazing butt muscles.”

Alix and Kim were in the lunch line, waiting to be fed a substandard meal. Kim had lost a bet against Ondine last week that he could hold his breath for longer than she could. His punishment was to wear something other than athletic clothes for a full week (including sleepwear!). Ondine had been hoping to see him dress in style, like maybe a button up shirt tucked into nice slacks, but it appeared that Kim was oblivious to more than just the people around him. He thought that 2012 American wannabe gangsta was perfect for him and his newfound “swag”, and delightedly showed off his plaid pairs every chance he got.

Alix thought that if she ever had to see a Gabriel waistband again, she would murder somebody. And it wasn’t just Kim; no, he set off a ‘retro’ trend around the entire school of Francoise Dupont. Only the few didn’t follow this trend: Adrien, because there was no way in hell his father would let him leave the house with his underwear showing (that was strictly for photo shoots), Ivan, a man of sense, and Max, who said suspenders were more necessary than ever with the current trend.

“You know what, Kim? I am jealous of your Kardashian rear. Because you can show your butt to anyone you like and go shirtless anywhere, but as soon as I show as much as a bra strap, I get called out for public indecency!” Kim went pffft at that. Alix had had enough of his attitude for one day. She looked down at her chest, and then out to the cafeteria where the student body was happily eating their meal. Giving Kim the side eye, Alix spoke. “I bet you 20 euros that I can get the staff to send me to the office for dress code violation in less than thirty seconds.”

“Y’know what, I actually want to see that. Deal.” They shook hands, and Alix ripped her shirt off. She tossed behind her and smirked at Kim. She was in a sports bra and thin-strapped cami, nothing exposed but her shoulders.

The vulture-eyed Mendelieve came storming over to them. “Miss Kubdel! Put your shirt back on immediately or I’ll have to give you a demerit for public indecency!” The fury in her face was palpable as she glared down her nose at the aforementioned student.

“No.” Alix crossed her arms and glared back, channeling as much defiance as she could muster, preparing to tantrum. 

Apparently, it worked, because she had no less than two staff members escorting her to M. Damocles office a minute later, Kim giving her a look of respect as she was frog-marched from the cafeteria.

“Miss Kubdel, would you please put a shirt on while I’m talking to you,” Principal Damocles said, holding out a large t-shirt to her while facing away.

“Why?” Such a simple question, Alix thought. One that would really help her prove a point.

“W-why? P-please, child,” Damocles spluttered. “I simply cannot talk to you when you’re in such a state. It’s indecent, and frankly, distracting.”

Alix allowed herself to gasp with dramatics Chloe would approve of. “I’m distracting to you?” Alix shifted her weight to one side. “Do I need to call another teacher in here, M. Damocles?”

“Of course not!” Damocles snapped. “Why would we need someone else to help me discipline you?”

“Oh, they wouldn’t be for you.” Alix sneered. “They would be here for my protection, obviously.” M. Damocles looked a bit confused. “Y’know,” Alix started. “To keep me, a minor who hasn’t finished maturing into an adult body, from being preyed upon by an adult man in power,” His eyes widened at her statement. Damocles stammered again.

“I am not- I would never- That is an outrageous claim-”

“Is it though?” Alix said. “You are always alone in here when students are sent in, and you are well known for getting students to behave after they see you. How can anyone be sure you’re not persuading any student who comes in here? All it would take is one person…”

“Get out.” He said. “Put a shirt on and get out of my office.”

Alix smirked. Grabbing the shirt off the desk she sauntered out of his office, knowing she was twenty euros richer and had a plan of action on her side. Now all she needed was support.

 “Ailx, you know I fully share your sentiments, but are you sure this is a good idea?” Marinette said from behind her sketchbook. The Girl Squad was gathered on the steps of Trocadero, with the addition of the newly indoctrinated Chloe and Sabrina, who were off to the side absorbed with their phones.

“Absolutely, Mari. I am sick and tired of the blatant sexism happening at school. I want to be able to show my shoulders at school if the guys walk around with their pants around their ankles.”

“I’m in,” said a voice from the edge of the group. Everyone looked over in surprise at Chloe examining her nails. “What? Just because I dress more effeminate than all of you doesn’t mean I don’t want freedom of choice.”

“Yeah,” Juleka spoke up from Rose’s lap. “I’m sick of teachers saying my ripped leggings show too much skin.”

“I remember I��ve been told to zip my hoodie up because my shirt was too low cut. I can’t help that I’m busty and the girls do what they want from time to time.” Mylene offered.

“I can do an expose on the school blog to help gain more support,”

“I can make posters!”

The girls started shouting about how they could help Alix. She smirked at Marinette’s new look of resolve.

“Okay, Alix, but I can’t do my part alone. You all will need to chip in with supplies, and come in for fittings.” Everyone started nodding. “But! I’m not a miracle worker. I’m thinking I can finish these in three? weeks with help.”

“My daddy’s started being a bit too old-fashioned for my tastes lately, so I’ll handle material expenses.” Chloe smirked.

Alix brought a notebook out of her bag. “Now here’s a bunch of points to take note of when we start researching our arguments, and I also brought a copy of our school’s dress code,”

 Marinette was yawning, trying to finish the first set of outfits by the end of the weekend. Alya had left a few hours ago, being the last to go home of all the girls helping put together the new outfits. A thump from her roof and one “Hello, Princess!” later and she had a new helper. Chat Noir was surprisingly knowledgeable of the specific stitches Marinette was using to create the illusionary effects.

“I may not have your amazing skills, Princess, but I am purrfectly well versed in your lingo,” He said, nuzzling into her neck as she was trimming a hem. Marinette failed to hide her blush, his quiet laughter ringing into the night.

 Alya’s eyes were drooping. Her laptop screen was too bright, and her head hurt, and she wasn’t finding reliable sources on dress codes at the moment, and she-

Nino’s ringtone called out like a beacon in the night. Alya lept from her chair to grab her phone on the bed. “Hey, Nino,” She said, trying to not sound too eager and out of breath. “What’s up?”

“Nuthin’ much, babe. Just wanted to see if your super-secret research had killed you yet.” Alya could hear his eyeroll and burning curiosity. “And to say goodnight in person.”

“Nino, you can’t call it ‘in person’ if it’s over the phone,” She corrected, teasing him back.

“I know,” He laughed. His breathing was a bit labored, she noted. “Are you hungry?”

“A bit- why?” Her doorbell rang, and she gasped. “NINO, you didn’t-” she said, launching herself out of her room and tore down the hall.

“I did,”

She wrenched the front door open to see a flushed Nino with a bag of food and a phone to his ear, grinning like an idiot. Both phones fell to the ground a moment later as the two nerds collided.

 “Hey ladies,” Adrien crept up behind Marinette, spooking the poor girl. “I heard through the grapevine that you’re planning a protest.”

“So what about it?” Alix narrowed her eyes at him. “What d’ya want to know?”

Adrien looked at her curiously from his place on Marinette’s shoulders. “I want in.”

“what”

“I want to partake in your protest. Wear what you’re going to wear, help highlight double standards, bring in a privileged face. That sort of thing.”

“Fine,” Alix snapped. The other girls gave her a look of surprise. “What? I just wanted to keep it secret for a bit longer, but some how this nerd,” she shook her fist at him in jest. “caught wind and I don’t want him letting the cat out of the bag,”

Adrien snorted at the last bit and Marinette shoved him off her. “Will your father even allow it?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Probably. Hopefully.” Adrien said with a grimace.

“Well then, I guess we’ll tell you more over lunch, but only if you’re buying,” Marinette called over her shoulder and sauntered away. Rose nearly fainted, with Juleka catching her before she hit the ground. Then Juleka dragged the still-swooning Rose down the hallway to their next class.

“Hey!” Alix snapped her fingers in front of Adrien’s dumbstruck face. “Lover boy!”

“Hmm?” Adrien snapped his eyes to hers. “Did you say something?”

“I said,” Alix muttered. “You’re a hopeless case. C’mon, let’s get to class. I don’t want to miss Chloe’s compliments today.”

That’s all for now, but I’ll have the next chapter out soon!

[shadowtongued]

give us a grab bag of sliske headcannons. i bet you’re sitting on a mound of personal good ones.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) oh? ask and ye shall receive, my friend. ( i rly do have a mountain. i just haven’t …. written them out so this is helpful. ) note that this is just my interpretation and is not enforced on others interpretations on the mage aliens or snek man himself.

sliske, like all mahjarrat doesn’t need to eat and lacks any digestive tract / gastrointestinal system for it. but he does often eat and drink bc he’s a fuckin’ GLUTTON for taste and The Aesthetic. he’s an absolute fiend for chocolate and honey, as well as taking a liking to salty and bitter things. extra nibble: in my exiled to modern earth verse he’s really taken a shining to peanut butter. at this point reeses’ is a fucking holy grail.

he also doesn’t need sleep but will allow himself to nod off into a light REM state ( REM is p much the part of sleep where your brain repairs and relaxes ) when bored or having a lapse of platonic affection. otherwise, HARD SLEEP is reserved for periods of heavy injury or excessive stress. mahjarrat don’t sleep other than for self-preservation / energy suspension / slow healing of wounds and the like.

sliske has a rather long, black ( black bc his blood is an iridescent oily black; as are his gums and etc. ) bifurcated tongue…. like a snake, but it’s important to remember he’s not really a snake, there are no snakes on freneskae, it’s just a symbolism of physical and personality traits i love to compare him to. but !! his forked tongue and other bifurcated aspects ( and… uh… suggestively points down south, he is not human at all  (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)  whew…) is actually a mutation! i’ve hc’d that most mahjarrat have either pointed tongues or barely forked tips, but sliske is an EXTREME case of bifurcation due to a genetic mutation. yes, he’s aware of all the suggestive and lewd stuff that is to be said abt his tongue and it just entertains him further.

now for some heavy shit i have brainstormed for a year with help and research. purely non-canon and from my own development: sliske had a fairly physically and mentally abusive mother and has developed what we could call a reactive attachment disorder from it. tw for some minor physical abuse under the cut

mahjarrat parents are preeeetty authoritarian already and breed only for furthering their population from extinction and to further the eugenics of their race to make stronger individuals. but they do keep their children safe and a mother dying while gravid or a child dying is a tragedy in their culture because of their struggling population and harsh environment. but dyeosuthua, as i have come to call her, was extremely forceful towards her offspring and exuded unrealistic expectations that her children should be strong and skilled at all times. sliske as a child was HARDLY a comparison to what he is now and was a rather cute, quiet, shy, and observing child, and always strived to meet her expectations for praise, acceptance, and validation. dyeosuthua was never impressed and discouraged him, causing tiny sliske to compare himself to his older half-brother ( yes, i just made him the younger brother :3c ), others around himself, and forcing him to excel in shadow magic and being a fantastic tactician even as a child. she still failed to be impressed and several times would lift him by the scruff and shake him before dropping him back to the ground when she deemed him to be misbehaving. she also had a habit of destroying several of the treasures of stones and crystals he collected as a child by dropping them into lava and telling him they were ‘worthless material attachments’.because he never got proper attention and affection to bond with his mother in the basic way most mahjarrat children do (  way albeit lacking and radical to human relations ), sliske slipped into putting a faux air of confidence and showmanship to himself like a mask and exuded it well, like most individuals with a reactive attachment disorder do. he CRAVES attention, be it negative or positive. it doesn’t matter, as long as someone is paying attention to him; he thrives off it. most people with a RAD have trouble accepting genuine affections from others and thus, he shies away from the very affection he wants, unable to process correct empathy and emotion. anything he puts out that appears genuine may be faux layered in charming attitude ( in reality he tends to lock up if he holds some subtle attachment of feelings to someone ) he attempts to keep relationships and trust surface because of his development and it makes engaging in a ROMANTIC relationship so perturbing and confusing to him. people with RADs often also associate one night stands and sex with temporary acceptance and the direct attention they want with little attachment or fear of disapproval.

honestly, most of the hallmark traits and worldview of adult people with reactive attachment disorders from neglectful and abusive childhoods fit sliske to a t. i could divulge more on this but, maybe another time. 

[mylifeatwar]

Book 2, Chapter 2, Page 3

Archived Text Follows:

It’s still not midnight in my timezone yet so this page totally counts as being on time! In all seriousness though, Matt had this page done hours ago but I was kind of in the middle of a tattoo session and wasn’t really available to post it. That’s on me, not him

I really love this fucking page by the way, especially the shading in panel 2. There’s also some great foreshadowing here, but I’ll let you folks find it yourselves.

Something that Matt and I were joking about recently was language and accents in the MLaW verse. While the language that Free Marketeers is essentially supposed to be English (though they call it Treadspake) the accent is pretty different. It took me forever to find but here’s an example of what someone with a heavy Free Market accent sounds like to someone who doesn’t speak Treadspake.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qa-lmcdlq4A&list=FLWEkhqIkBE080OHhK-mC85g&index=1

You can already imagine how that colors most people’s perception of the average Free Marketeer.

Thanks for reading!

– Luther out

Comment Text Follows:

lhsc - Oh ho, Lulu is going to defend her favorite asset. Always bet on the Lulu.

Gillsing - So Free Marketeers aren’t big on enunciation, huh? I guess I’d need to hire a translator to understand them then. Oh. I see what they did there.

Killercow - BOP DAP BOODLY DAP DAU. Also, is lulu like, majorly huge? She looks at least a foot taller than the guy next to her, and she’s taller than Big Al by quite a bit.

plaintextman - Yeah, mista Patenge mentioned it during the long-winded discussion started around chapter 1’s cover: http://www.mylifeatwar.com/?p=26“ Lulubelle merely appears at a normal height because she’s been shown standing next to Captain Theroux, who is a very… very large ogre of a man. We made them this way as a response to the mecha genre being full of diminutive female characters, most often relegated to a non-combat role who spend way too much of their time stating everything they feel.” And MLAW is slowly but surely defying that “softy women” trope more and more (without — so far — overdoing it).

Mr. Patenge - Lulu-Belle (and her friend Missy) are around 6’3″. It’s all those chemicals and hormones in the milk man… also in the soda, the water, the coffee the air, the beer and, for some reason, the toilet paper.

Killercow - I gotta get me some of that toilet paper! Being 6’4 without, I’d probably be a freaky giant!

Iarei - Dat reflection.

Grudgesettler - Fridge with legs versus Lulubelle. Taking all bets, remember the house charges a 15% gratuity from all proceeds. A question, if I may. This one is regarding the competitive nature of the Free Market and their attitudes towards monopolies. From your answer regarding an earlier question about the util, I gather that for the most part, monopolies are disliked. My question is this: what guarantees the continuation of this competition instead of the eventual creation of a series of monopolies? I suspect that the Free Market doesn’t have much in the way of Anti-trust laws. Excellent page. I especially love the perspective shot in the second frame.

Zarpaulus - Three words: Mega-fun food inc. There doesn’t seem to be any evidence that they do a thing to prevent monopolies, real life economic Libertarians don’t so why would fictional ones?

rfaramir - You don’t have to fight monopolies, so long as you have no State which can grant one. So-called “natural monopolies” are rare and not a problem to the free market. Think of a one-of-a-kind mineral mine. Consumers did fine before the mine was discovered, life got better when it’s otherwise-unobtanium made production more efficient, but if the price goes too high, the free market will work at creating alternatives or doing without, going back to previous production modes without the others-unobtainable substance. Potential competition keeps monopolists from charging truly damaging monopoly prices.

Iarei - That simply is not true. You’re drawing an imaginary line in the sand between ‘monopoly’ and ‘dictatorship’ that does not exist. “A government is a body of people, usually notably ungoverned”. In any hypothetical ungoverned free market, the most powerful monopoly necessarily assumes the role of governance. You’ve heard of ‘company stores’ right? Any barrier to entry for competition that exists under a corrupt government is going to exist in a free market system. The only difference is that the company wouldn’t need to bribe any politicians. A question was raised earlier in this comic – “How can Fizziz stay in business if their product is both foul and poisonous”. If you’ve been paying attention here you should already know the answer.

Killercow - No, it tends to be governments that aid monopolies. In a perfectly free market, in theory, a monopoly can’t hold any power because as soon as the price becomes too dear, another company can come and offer competition at a lower price. These are opportunistic people, who would jump at a chance to undercut a company that was being a little too excessive with their prices for their worth, and without a government to aid in forcing opposition out of business, or breaking strikes and such, monopolies would be much harder to obtain. Not impossible, but extremely difficult. For example, look at the role the security contractors play. On one page it is mentioned that Mega Fun Foods is subsidizing their losses to keep them fighting, and it is mentioned that “Few enough companies can do our job”. While they don’t hold a monopoly, because of the couple of other security companies, which keep them from overcharging, they are a specialized and presumably expensive commodity. They have skills that are rare and useful, and charge more for it. But even those skills are not unique to one company. As for Fizziz, I think that was supposed to be more of a joke than a serious commentary on monopoly, but it may have also been something else, like it has a niche market of… I don’t know, horse pee lovers or something. Or it might be an acquired taste. Or maybe they used to offer good products and now people just blindly buy the brand.

Iarei -  Monopolies help themselves, they don’t need a government to do so. All they need is thugs they can pay to shoot anyone not working the line or a sufficiently high barrier to entry. What magic power do you think you have over a monopoly that you don’t have over a government? A working government acts as a check against monopolies. Like, the government that’s literally fighting a monopoly owned mercenary company in this comic? The comic you’re reading? As far as monopolies you might be familiar with go, how about your ISP? If you live in the US I can all but guarantee you you’re overpaying. That’s in a country where the government nominally has legislation intended to prevent monopolies. In this example, it has nothing to do with the government, it has to do with the fact that those companies are better off ripping off the customers in their respective fiefdoms than expanding their infrastructure into areas with competing services with competitive rates. What do you think would happen if your gas, electricity or water were held by a private entity that could set it’s own prices? I’m sure some competing company can come out of nowhere and set up competing utility lines, right? Free market magic, goo! I’m sure you can find your own solution when prices for necessities become to prohibitive, right? Want a drink of water? Hope your rain barrel’s full or you’ll be buying from T. Boone Pickens. Oh no your house is on fire? Don’t worry, Marcus Licinius Crassus is here to help! Someone’s robing your house? Store? Did you pay your protection fund? Oh, and while this is getting beside the point remember that without a government there’s no regulation on things like ‘can that company dump toxic waste in my river’ or ‘can that company sweeten it’s drinks with lead acetate’. Is our governments perfect? Are they even moderately close to good? No, probably not. It still beats the ever living hell out the alternative.

Plaintextman - Remember that regulations like ‘minimum wage’ and ‘standard bread price’ come from governments. These are made to keep monopolies in check, or rather, to effectively grant the common man some power over companies, in turn evening out the concentration of power. However, also true that insane-level OHSA requirements, government-tendered projects to large companies and overtly strict permit regulations are all government-implemented things that can make it hard if not impossible for small players to get in the game, thus supressing competition. So yeah, it’s not really so much a question of whether there is a formal government or not. More a question of how those in power act, for they are the ‘government’. And this is ultimately determined by what kind of rights (formal and de facto) the common man is granted. Do you have the right to shop somewhere else without fear for your life? The right to your own property? Freedom of speech? I love the idea of free markets. They’ve been so successful over the centuries because of that awesome self-correcting mechanism of ‘competition’; just about every city ever had a market place where businesses could offer and compete, much more than can be said of less natural systems like communism. But “total objective freedom” doesn’t really exist, so no market can be truly “free”. Illegal (drug-) industry is example of an ‘anarcho-capitalist free market’ environment that’s also extremely unfriendly to just about everyone except those in power. And the reason why boils down to how uncaring those in power (“government”) are and how little power the common person (consumer) it given: as long as they pay nobody really gives a shit about them. And if they stop paying by say, buying from a cheaper supplier, they might as well die along with that supplier.

motorfirebox - I like the tan lines.

[monikakrasnorada]

Pulling threads

There are several threads that I’ve been pulling recently, but they all seem to want to snag on the same knot.  I’m not certain that once they’ve unravelled we won’t just find more gaping holes instead of a finely woven tapestry, but since, we’ve nothing but time on our hands for the forseeable future, I thought, what the hell? So let’s see where this all goes and if any of it makes sense- or even matters once it’s all said and done. :)

*Full disclosure (though I don’t know how anyone in fandom can’t know this at this point because I’m pretty vocal about it): I’m an EMPer. I believe Mary shot Sherlock and that he hasn’t regained consciousness since and that S4 is merely the continuation of TAB- the Victorian personas in the modern age, since Sherlock clearly isn’t awake yet at the end of TAB. 

Not sure how much of this will be EMP-based, but just wanted to give a head’s up, in case that isn’t your jam and you can just skip this post altogether.

Okay. Here we go!

Lady Carmichael

Did not kill Sir Edwin.

This is my first bone of contention that I see in fandom a lot. I see so many posts that take it as gospel that Lady Carmichael did, in fact, kill her husband. But, that just can’t be the case, because as Moriarty says-

The argument can be made that Sir Eustace and Lady Carmichael are the stand-ins for a whole list of different people within the show. At any given moment they can represent:

John and Sherlock

John and Mary

Lord and Lady Smallwood

Mrs Hudson and Frank Hudson

Talk about confusing, I know. It makes my head hurt, tbh. 

There is one fact that is a certainty- Sir Eustace was killed. But, that it was at the hands of a group of women- which we are wrongly lead to believe was headed by Lady Carmichael- treated badly by the men in their lives, is more than I can accept. Yeah. there’s a few dudes I wouldn’t mind getting rid of, but I’m not going to join some group of conspirators in order to do it.

Sherlock had it right when he spoke to Lestrade-

Of course I solved it. It’s perfectly simple. The incident of the mysterious Mrs Ricoletti, the killer from beyond the grave has been widely reported int he popular press. Now people are disguising their own dull little murders as the work of a ghost to confuse the impossibly imbecilic Scotland Yard.

First instincts are usually correct, and Sherlock knows that. 

The murder of Sir Eustace did not follow the usual MO of the ‘bride’, (the league of furies)-

Murdered in their own homes, rice on the floor, like at a wedding, and the word YOU written in blood on the wall

There was none of that when they found Sir Eustace-

Sir Eustace’s stab wound was a mirror image of Sherlock’s gun shot wound. Imagine that. 

And, it wasn’t Lady Carmichael. Not only because Moriarty told us it wasn’t her, that it was ridiculous that it would be her (this is Sherlock’s mind telling him, so he knows he got it wrong) but also because, why would she go to Sherlock to prevent a murder she was going to commit?

(Just as Mary didn’t go to Sherlock for a murder she did plan to commit, hm.)

The Bride killed Sir Edwin (and Sherlock), it’s true. But she was not a member of a ‘league of furies’. There was nothing ‘honorable’ about what she did. Each time we see the Bride that isn’t Emilia Ricoletti, two very peculiar things happen-

We get the villain head tilt a la Mary, and their voice is disguised. 

In the case of the Bride that warns Sir Eustace in the maze, if that were Janine or Molly, why disguise the voice? At this point, it’s almost certain that Emilia was dead and we are supposed to believe this is one of the women conspirator’s come to threaten (which was never mentioned as part of the other Bride murders, fyi) So, the voice didn’t matter because Sir Eustace wouldn’t have recognised it, but- we would have? And then, in the hallway, as Watson waits and is scared by the ghost bride*, the voice is once more disguised. Again, why? Watson certainly wouldn’t have recognised Molly or Janine’s voice. But, guess who’s voice he would have. Mary.

(*coming back to Watson here, later)

The bride stabbed Sir Eustace, just as Mary shot Sherlock. 

Sherlock got it wrong. Moriarty told him, it’s his downfall, always. He wants everything to be clever. And that’s what he tried to do with this scenario. When he ‘found’ the “Miss me?” note attached to Sir Eustace’s dead body, that’s when his mind made the connection between Mary and Moriarty. What do we say about coincidence? But, his mind revolts and is tearing itself apart because he cannot accept this truth-

So much more under the cut.

This is my fundamental belief in what is going on throughout the end of HLV, TAB and S4: Sherlock can’t reconcile that the woman John chose is actually the enemy and he keeps trying to come up with a way to make that untrue,  but none of them work. 

Because, it doesn’t make sense.

Lady Smallwood came to Sherlock for help. Lady Carmichael came to Sherlock for help. Mary never came to ask for help. Help Sherlock surely could have provided. Why would a person go to such lengths to hide a past they didn’t want revealed, when the people they were hiding it from would be the very ones to understand and be able to help?

Mary never once offered any information about herself. She sat quietly by, as Sherlock divulged ‘all he knew’ and she neither confirmed nor denied. She handed over the AGRA memory stick and said it was her initials (another lie, later proven). When Sherlock asked her why she didn’t come to him for help with her case, she simply asked “what case?” as if she hadn’t any problem she needed help with. Five years ago she became Mary Morstan. Five years ago, Moriarty met Eurus and hatched a plan. Coincidence? I’ll leave you to your deductions on that bit.

John Watson is definitely in danger

Thinking about this makes my stomach literally hurt, but needs must.

There are several important moments that we need to remember in HLV and TAB, concerning John Watson-

John bristles at the idea of having a gun with him, but on both those occasions he did, in fact have it with him. 

Now, we get this scene in HLV. John is still riled over finding Janine in the flat. Sherlock’s being a bit of a dick about how he and Mary compare how much weight John has gained since they got married. Then we have Sherlock telling John not to bring a gun, to confront the person that just took a piss in the hearth of 221B. Do we really believe he isn’t going to bring his gun?

I would say the balance of probability is pretty close to nil.

Sherlock tells Mary that John is downstairs, where he left him in HLV and ordered him to stay in TAB-

What else are we told?

Mary entered through CAMs office (somehow, and my money’s still on her being a member of the Black Lotus, and having been the one scaling the buildings in TBB, but that’s another post) she knocked out the security guard and Janine*. So, how do we suppose she left? Who might she have encountered on her way out? Who more than likely also had a gun with them that night?

We keep getting the imagery of the gun being fired in S4 along with the rather ominous re-appearance of this carpet from CAMs office-

I am aware of the theory that John has been shot, and at this point, it’s hard to argue against that idea. It is highly likely that he was also shot in CAM Tower and S4 has been some kind of weird Inception-esque look into both Sherlock and John’s minds as they both struggle to survive. But, I feel like it’s more likely John shot Mary than the other way around. 

Go back to TAB,and my asterisk from earlier. 

Look at that once and future BAMF! Locked and loaded and not afraid of anything. I’m sorry, that is not a man that would run away from a ‘ghost’ and I don’t believe for a second he did. I don’t think Sherlock is aware what really happened after he was shot and that this is all just his imagination and what he thinks would have happened.

I think Mary went down those stairs and... I don’t know. Did they shoot each other? Did Mary shoot John and escape? Did John shoot Mary and kill her?

Honestly, I just don’t know. I only believe the fact they made such a fuss over John bringing a gun or not and that Sherlock went out of his way to tell us that Mary left the way she came is something not to be overlooked.

Perhaps this image is all that Sherlock’s mind can recall. The reoccurring dream. It plays over and over in his mind because in his own unconscious state, he doesn’t know if it’s John or Mary. (I know it’s not logical, but dreams / subconscious minds usually aren’t)

*** ETA: I was in the middle of writing this post up today when @sagestreet posted this meta Therapists for Mirrors as Love Interests. In this, sage proposes (as have many others since the show aired) that S4 is a mirror-verse. It’s hard to know just how far to take this. Can everyone and every action be flipped and reversed in order to show us what really happened? It sort of terrifies me when thinking of the aquarium scene. OR all of T6T, for that matter. Mary is much more “John” than John is in that episode. Sherlock prefers her help even, much to all of our collective disgruntlement. Can we put the mirror up to the Norbury scene? Who becomes who in that sense? Mary is really John? Norbury is really Mary? 

Like I said, it’s a disheartening thought and one that doesn’t help make any of this any better :(

But, then, my brain rebelled at the idea they would turn Mary into John and then this happened:

There’s something about Janine

Okay, so I’ve debated even writing this here and adding it to this post because it just seems a bit too...much? But, then I look at S4 again, and all the fuckiness and I laugh my ass off because really? Really? I am going to think this idea is too far-fetched for this show? :P

I was never a believer in Janine being anything other than a hapless pawn in Sherlock’s game. I still find it hard to imagine that she is, but @wellthengameover  made a really strong case that she just might be. She’s Irish. Moriarty’s Irish. She has dark hair and eyes and so does Moriarty. Yeah, and so does half the world probably. It just seemed to me like a casting coincidence, as naive as that may sound. Yeah, I was that person, until I saw this post of Andrew Scott and his real sister, and it seems like the improbable could just be possible.

I’ve written several things about Janine over the past year- (X) (X) (X)- that now feels trite and as if I was completely blind to what we were being shown about her.

So, I ran straight to watch HLV again last night with this in mind and it hit me like a slap in the face, because you can’t kill an idea once it’s in your head-

A personal assistant is a secretary!

We all hate the idea of Eurus- a last minute new character that just comes in and fucks everything up for no reason. Usually, when we have a ‘new’ villain introduced, they give us time, throughout the episode to understand why we shouldn’t like them and understand why they are the villain. The villain of T6T should have been Mary, but I understand, looking at it through the lens of EMP and Sherlock’s desperation to somehow try to redeem Mary in his own mind, that we get this convoluted mixture of a vllain. 

Mary saying this never made sense to me. We were told in TAB she is a nurse, and scenes from TEH seemed to back that idea up. So, why is she mentioning a receptionist now? I know here in the states, it isn’t normally the done thing that the receptionist is also the nurse in an office, but I’m not sure if the same can be said about Britain. It does seem like an odd thing to me. Either way, I don’t think her mentioning a receptionist knowing loads of stuff they shouldn’t is a coincidence.

Sounds an awful lot like a personal assistant or a secretary to me.

The villain is three people?

How did Sherlock know that Norbury would be at the aquarium? The aquarium???

If EMP began with the shooting, what is the last thing Sherlock would remember from the day / night he was shot?

Magnussen is a shark, which would make his office a shark tank (X) (X)-

Honestly, I really believe the Norbury scene tells us what really happened the night Sherlock was shot. The similarities are uncanny-

Sherlock recruits John to ‘assist’ him on a case “too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved with.” A case he later informs John that he knows he’s ‘free’ to help with because apparently he has already been in touch with Mary to ‘ask’-

In both the CAM Tower scene and the aquarium, John arrives after Sherlock (and Mary)-

(And, just because I think their level of detail in mirroring these two scenes is amazing, I love how Sherlock peeks around the corner in both as he prepares to see Janine / Norbury)-

Lady Smallwood as the representation of love, was pointed out by @sagestreet . Love and their secretary, shown in both instances, literally and figuratively-

Which brings me to Codename: Love-

L O V E

A M O

A M M O

That is some serious ammunition Janine used against Sherlock. “Nothing hits the spot like revenge with profits.” But, seriously, WTF? HOW is this revenge on Sherlock? Making him out to be this insatiable sex fiend? Why would that hurt Sherlock’s reputation? The only this makes any sort of sense is the fact that Janine was so sexually explicit from the moment they met.

So, in Sherlock’s mind, at this point, Janine would be all about sex and revenge to use it as a weapon.

What else do we know about “Amo”?

Betrayed by the woman on the phone. A British woman, but could her accent have simply been mistaken?

I feel like I could go on all day with the similarities between these two scenes. That there are a million threads to be pulled from just it alone. Thinking about Janine brings more answers than questions. What exactly did CAM have on her? If she isn’t Moriarty’s sister, what on earth could have been so awful that she would allow that man to flick her in the eye because of it?

*Crack alert* Read ahead at your own peril :P

My mind wants to weave all sorts of narratives concerning her now and give in to the crack and speculate the craziest of scenarios: 

Ajay. Gabriel. Rosamund. Alex.

Ajay-

held and tortured for six years. Returns to kill Mary (the one he believed betrayed them) AMMO. The code word that led them all to ruin. It was the ‘English woman’ on the phone that betrayed them, but how did Ajay know Mary made it out alive?? Mary says she escaped but lost track of the others. Why would Ajay think that only Mary survived based on Ammo?

Gabriel-

???

Rosamund-

We know where she is and what she’s been up to.

Alex-

Ajay says he was with him, tortured to death.

Gabriel is the only one left hanging. Gabriel. The name could be either masculine or feminine. I don’t know if I want to suspect Janine being Gabriel, but I mean, the possibility exists?? CAM had some really bad info on Janine it seems and somehow he had all the info on Mary. Where did that come from?

(This photo could potentially be the three remaining AGRA members) 

@gosherlocked @the-7-percent-solution @ebaeschnbliah @tjlcisthenewsexy @loveismyrevolution @tendergingergirl @johnlockiseternal @221bloodnun @mrskolesouniverse @possiblyimbiassed @sherlockshadow @sarahthecoat @kateis-cakeis @not-a-bit-good @asherlockstudy @holmesianscholar @raggedyblue @darlingtonsubstitution @devoursjohnlock ( @iamjohnlocked4life, not sure if you want to be tagged in things like this anymore, but thought you might like the Janine bit)

[destruction-personified-blog]

The Death of Guzma

(( YES; this is the CANON ending of my Guzma! I know it’s not ideal, but his lifestyle and career would inevitably lead to this type of death. Any other ending for him is an AU or headcanon. Cameo: @gruntadminloch (who is a part of this Guzmas main verse.) Since I am not the mun of this OC, my interpretation of him might not be 100% correct, but the real mun seems happy with it so /shrugs Plumeria also makes an appearance, but not any single representation of her, just the version of her that exists solely in my Guzmas universe.

This is also the last post on this blog probably so...thank you all for following me, and i hope you’ll stay tuned for the new and improved Guzma Mendoza real soon...

...so with that out of the way:

TRIGGER WARNING for blood, guns, gang violence and death. You have been warned. ))

~~~

For too long they had lived in peace. For too long they’d survived by the skin of their teeth through every battle, every war…

It was inevitable for their empire to come crumbling down, and it started with one little mistake.

The guards at the front gate, usually alert and ready to jump on any strangers who approached, on that day they’d failed to arrive to their post on time. Not the first occurrence of this, by any means, but little did they know that someone had already made their way inside unnoticed.

Unlucky for them, this time it wasn't a kid seeking some friendly pokémon battles to rescue a stolen pet. This was a more personal issue.

The unknown figure, shrouded in black clothes, kept to the shadows, only moving forward when all eyes were averted from its direction. Almost there, almost to the front door…

The Skull Boss was sitting in his throne, as per usual, casually scrolling through his phone. A quiet day, all in all. The quiet was interrupted with some gentle knocks on the door, followed by the familiar voice of his faithful guard calling through to him. “Master Guzma, if it’s not too much trouble, may I come in?”

Guzma put down his phone and sighed. “A'ight, Loch, come in then…”

Loch opened the door and entered, bowing before Guzmas throne as he usually did. “Master, I just came to inform you that some of the guards have reported suspicious activity in the last few days, including a few attempted break-ins. With your permission I think we should increase the number of guards at the gates to avoid any shady characters entering the town.” Guzma thought for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, put more grunts out there, an’ make wall patrols more frequent while yer at it.” Loch nodded. “Of course, Master. Is there anything else you want me to do before I leave?”

Guzma tapped his fingers on the dented arm of his throne, looking down at Loch thoughtfully. “…yeah, actually. I…need your opinion on somethin’.”

Loch raised his head slightly. “I’d be happy to help, Master Guzma.”

Guzma nodded back down at him, sighing.

“…its about Skull. I think…I think maybe it’s time I stepped down. I’ve been real tired recently…everythin’ just feels like a chore. I’m not happy. I’m gettin’ too old for it, hell, I’m nearly thirty-eight. I never thought I’d make it past twenty.”

He paused to rub his temples. He certainly looked older than he was, the bleach in his hair fading to look duller, and the short black hair on the sides of his jaw and back of his neck already beginning to turn grey around the ends. The years had not been kind to him.

“I know I started this gang, and it still means everythin’ to me…but I jus’ don’t think I can keep bein’ the leader you guys see me as. I don’t wanna lead this family into darkness or, Arceus forbid, disbanding. I might hand it over to Plumes, and make you the official admin. I think you two could handle it better than me. Do you…think that’s a good idea?”

Loch was taken aback. He’d never heard Guzma speak like that before. Not in all the years he’d worked for him. He thought for a few moments, before responding, choosing his words very carefully. He began nervously fidgeting with the chain around his neck, clinking the links together quietly.

“W-well, Master Guzma…in the end, your health is what’s important, so I think that…if handing over the position of leader to Mistress Plumeria is what feels right to you, then maybe it is the best course of action. If you feel she is ready, of course. And I’m sure no matter what you do, Mistress Plumeria will support you. She does care for you like a brother, it seems, so I’m confident she will be fine with this idea.”

As they talked, the shadow moved closer, and the storm outside grew stronger by the second, rain pelting the walls of Shady House.

Guzma smiled, not his usual smirk, but a more solemn, thoughtful smile. His eyes looked tired; they lacked that fire and ferocity they were so noticeable for back in the glory days of Skull. “Plumes is my sister. Maybe not in blood, but she’s been there for me almost my whole life. She’s kept me right. Without her, none of this would’ve happened…I’d probably be dead, too. I think she’s more than capable of takin’ over.” He gave a quiet chuckle, looking down at the faded carpet.

“Besides, Skull was her idea…”

There was a moment - a pause - where Loch opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the door to Guzmas room opening. Guzmas attention snapped towards the door, and Loch turned to look. It wasn’t a grunt.

It was a man, in his early twenties maybe, dressed head to toe in black. His hood was up, partly obscuring his face, but it was easy to see he was grinning. Guzma stood up, eyes narrow, growling like a lycanroc.

“Who the fuck are you. Get out.”

The intruder slowly lifted his head to look up at Guzma, before pulling something from his pocket. Guzma froze. A pistol. The intruder spoke, his voice quiet but…crazed. He lifted the gun towards Guzma.

“An old friend. I’m back, you traitorous bastard.”

The barrel of the pistol aimed straight at Guzma, but Loch was quick to stand up, making sure he was in-between the gun and its target.

“I will not let you hurt my Master…” His voice was a snarl. He was about to call on his sister, before he heard the gun click.

Guzmas eyes widened as the man took the safety off, before acting on instinct. He launched himself forwards and grabbed Loch, throwing him to the ground and shouting angrily.

“YOU IDIO–ACK!!"

…the trigger had pulled, and the noise was deafening.

The bullet, meant for Loch, had hit Guzma.

After a moment of silence, the attacker snarled and fired once more, aiming more precisely now. Guzmas body jolted. He remained still, standing there with wide eyes. Loch finally snapped out of his daze and looked up from where he’d fallen, freezing as he saw Guzma. “M-Master…!”

Guzma stood there, starstruck, mind racing as he struggled to move. A heavy wetness began to cover his shirt, and he looked down to see two gaping holes in his chest. Only then did the pain seem to register, burning like the flames of hell through every fibre of his body. His lungs tightened and he tried to take in a breath, instead gagging as blood travelled its way up his throat and began leaking from his mouth. There were a few seconds of struggling to breathe, until finally, he stumbled, and his shaking legs gave out beneath him. It was like slow motion as he fell backwards, eyes wide, thudding to the floor like a great fallen beast. The glasses flew from his head, the lenses shattering loudly as they clattered across the floor.

"MASTER!!"

Loch had finally snapped out of his trance, the sight of Guzma falling and the smell of his masters blood filling him with anger and fear. He turned back towards the attacker, who was still standing there, grinning like an idiot as he watched Guzma squirm on the floor. Loch snapped.

"RAE!"

The assassin stared at Loch, confused, and a Drifblim faded into view behind him. She silently curled her ghostly limbs around the mans head, and quickly snapped his neck. He fell to the ground dead, the gun clattering across the floor.

Loch got to his feet and rushed over to Guzma, his body filling with a sick dread. Blood was soaking through Guzmas clothes and all over the floor, and he was making awful choking sounds as he struggled to breathe. "Master Guzma...oh, no..." Loch knelt beside him, unsure of what to do. He should call an ambulance, but...Guzma had always said he hated them, and that he'd be arrested if he were taken to a hospital. Loch growled. Better in prison than dead.

It was then that the door slammed open, and Plumeria stood there, looking vicious and holding a shotgun. "The fuck is goin' on in here, I heard gunshots."

Loch turned to face her, his face pale with shock and fear. Plumeria felt the blood freeze in her veins as her eyes fell on Guzma laying in a pool of crimson on the floor. The gun fell from her hands and she ran over, collapsing to her knees next to him.

"Guzma...fuck, oh fuck, what happened?!"

Loch combed a hand through his hair, trying to calm his breathing. "I-intruder...broke in and shot him..." He managed to stammer through slow, shaky breaths. Plumeria bit her lip, feeling tears well in her eyes already. "Guz...please, stay awake, we're gonna help ya, okay? You're gonna be okay..."

She gently stroked Guzmas hair in an attempt to comfort him, just barely able to hold in her own panic. Guzmas eyes focused on her. In her desperation she turned to Loch. "Loch, he can't breathe, what do we do." Loch froze up and struggled to think. Guzma was choking on blood and most likely had a punctured lung or two - it really didn't look good.

"P-put pressure on...on the wounds..." Loch shakily reached his hands out and pressed them over the holes in Guzmas chest, pushing down on them, drawing out a long, painful cry from the wounded man. He was visibly growing weaker, and Plumeria was panicking, but she refused to give up. She stood, glancing around the room to try and find anything to help.

"Mistress Plumeria, we...we should call an ambulance." Plumeria turned to him, her eyes wide and fearful. "You know they'll just throw him back in prison, I can't let him go through that again..." Loch didn't want to argue, but the fate of his master was at stake.

"Mistress, he's dying."

He was trying to stay calm, but the quake in his voice told Plumeria that he was serious, and just as desperate as she was. She winced and pulled a hand through her hair, gritting her teeth. "Right...okay, alright, we'll call an ambulance...just...just keep pressure on the wounds, I'll dial the--"

"NO..!"

Plumeria was interrupted by Guzma, who'd finally mustered up the strength to shout something through the blood. Loch winced. "Master, please, save your strength..."

Guzma coughed violently, before continuing, his voice barely audible.

"I'd...ra-ther...die he-ere...than...i-in some...sh-itty ho-ospi-tal..."

He coughed again and Loch bit his lip. "Master, shh...please..." Plumeria made a distraught sound in the back of her throat, trying to choke it back. "Guz, sweetie, you ain't gonna die. They'll help you, okay? They'll keep you alive..." Guzma shook his head, looking up at her with weak, fading eyes.

"...no...n-no hel...helpin' me..."

The sound of him struggling to even form words was too much for Plumeria. This was her best friend, her brother. They'd known each other for so many years and helped each other through everything...it couldn't end now. She wouldn't let it. "No, you ain't dying!! Not while I'm here!! Loch, help me put pressure on the wounds until an ambulance gets here."

Loch looked down at the dying man. Guzma looked back at him. His usually fierce silver eyes were dull, full of pain and sadness. He knew he was dying. They both did. Loch had to make a decision.

"Mistress..."

She looked at Loch, and saw the solemness in his face. She knew what that meant, but she didn't want to believe it. "Loch, what are you doing, help him."

Loch took a shaking breath. "I...I d-don't think we c-can."

Plumerias brow furrowed and her fists tensed. "What the fuck are you sayin'?! We can't just let him die!!”

Loch didn't reply, but slowly took his hands away from Guzmas chest. His body felt numb, but everything he was doing was in the best interest of his master. He knew he was suffering, and he didn't want to prolong it. Plumeria wanted to scream at him.

"LOCH!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, HELP HIM!!"

She urged, desperately, her voice cracking.  Guzma coughed painfully, his breath a faint wheeze. His body felt cold. Loch couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"He's in pain...and...and I don't think even the hospital could bring him back from this. It will only extend his suffering, and then he'll die in a place he loathes. I...I'm doing this for him. It's hard, but...for his sake, we should...let him go..."

Plumeria took a minute to fully process what he had said. She was in a nightmare. All of this...it wasn't happening. It couldn't be. Even with their bad reputation and many powerful enemies, she'd never expected something like this to happen. Stupid. She was so STUPID.

"...I can't...Loch he can't die...p-please, please help him..."

Guzma looked up at her, blinking slowly, and she looked into his eyes. He almost looked like he was begging her. Plumeria fell to her knees beside him and very gently lifted him into her arms, finally letting the tears fall down her face. Guzma grunted in pain as she held him, chest heaving quickly, but her arms were so warm and safe and familiar... "Guz please...please don't die on me...we...we were gonna do so much together, you n' me, we were gonna change the world, we was gonna make a change together, I can't do that on my own...I can't..."

"Plumes...we a-already...did..."

He whispered, feeling the warm tears drip onto his own cold face as Plumeria sobbed for him. In turn his own eyes began to water, and he coughed again, more blood running down his chin. Plumeria held him close, stroking his hair slowly, and Guzma felt his vision fading.

She knew she had to let him go.

"Shhh, shh...rest..."

As his breathing slowed and he began to cry silently, Plumeria leaned down and pressed her forehead to his, whimpering. She thought back on all their years together, and remembered those hard times before Skull, when they lived off of stolen wallets and slept in the street together. Those times when Guzma was still vulnerable from trauma, regularly waking up screaming from night terrors, and she'd sing to him to lull him back to sleep... Plumeria closed her eyes, and began shakily reciting that lullaby she'd sing to him so many years ago.

"H-he na-ni lua 'ole... Ku'u we-hi o nâ lani..."

The tune brought instant comfort to Guzma, and his tense body began to relax in Plumerias arms. He cried, tears running freely down his cheeks as the song continued.

"He ki-i-lohana 'oe, Na'u e pû-lama mau..."

Loch took one of Guzmas hands in his own, stroking it gently, trying to keep the cold skin warm for just a while longer... Guzma struggled to keep his eyes open. He didn't want to die, but...the exhaustion, the urge to fall asleep was overwhelming...and he was so comfortable and safe in Plumerias arms. He silently thanked her as his eyes began to glaze over.

"Hô'olu i ka po-li e... Me-ha-na i ke a-nu e..."

Guzmas eyes faded, and his ragged breathing slowed to a halt with one last, weak sigh. His hand went slack in Lochs grip, but Loch held on tight, as if a stronger grip might will his spirit to stay a while longer... Plumeria shakily whispered to the skull boss.

"Au hui hou, Guzmania...alola..."

She lifted her head, and placed one last kiss on Guzmas forehead.

The Skull Boss was dead.

Despite being covered in his own blood, he looked...strangely peaceful. For the first time in a long, long time, he was sleeping soundly, without any worries, any pain. He was free.

Plumeria stayed with him, cradling him like he was still the scared little child she'd first met on the street. Loch was frozen in place, staring down at his fallen master. The man he'd spent so long serving and protecting and...loving...he was gone.

Loch looked down at his hands, raising them to his face. They were covered in blood...his masters blood...the blood he'd sworn to protect with his life. Precious blood that would never flow again, forever still and cold and staining the floor, staining his skin. He looked around, his own shaky breathing the only sound he could hear through the static filling his head. Blood. Everywhere. Like it had flooded his vision. A sea of crimson.

Guzma, the mighty and feared boss of Team Skull, the man who saved hundreds of kids like him from living on the streets and gave them hope, destruction in human form... dead. Murdered by the hands of an unknown assassin, and Loch could have stopped it. He may as well have murdered him himself.

Loch sat there, eyes wide, internally screaming at himself.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Plumeria spoke.

"...we...I have to...I have to tell them..." Her voice was hoarse, and she was still shaking. Lochs distant eyes slowly shifted to her, and he gave her a blank look. Plumeria realised he was probably more out of it than she was. "Loch...I have to tell the grunts."

Loch heard her this time, momentarily snapping back into reality. "Okay..."

Plumerias heart ached for Loch. She'd been close to Guzma, inseparable from him, but Loch...Loch worshipped him. He'd dedicated his whole life to obeying Guzmas every wish and making sure he was happy and healthy...hell, they'd even been romantic. Now he was gone, Loch had probably lost everything important to him, everything that gave his life meaning. Plumeria wept for him most. "Would you stay here with him..?"

Loch blinked slowly, taking a moment to respond, his voice quiet. "...okay..."

Plumeria gave him a gentle, sympathetic look, before very slowly laying Guzmas body down and standing up. She stumbled slightly, noticing her legs were weaker than she thought. With a deep breath, she walked to the door and left Loch alone. He stared down at Guzma for a while, before dragging himself forwards. He was hesitant to touch him...he didn't want to disturb that peace, even though there was no way he could wake up now. ...he did want to say one last goodbye, though.

Loch very gently slid his hands under Guzma, lifting him off of the floor slowly and holding him close, careful so as not to hurt him, as if he were still alive. He was glad, in a sense, that Guzmas pain had ended...but his own pain was just beginning. He reached up and stroked his fingers through Guzmas faded white hair, scanning the details of his face. The Boss had certainly aged, maybe more quickly than others, but he was still the same man he was when he started Skull...large and threatening, with a steely glare that could strike fear into anyone. Loch only then realised that his eyes were still open slightly. The glowing silver rings had faded to a dull grey, and there were dried tears still streaked down his face... Loch dutifully used his thumb to wipe them from his face, still staring into those lifeless eyes. This was the last time he'd see them looking back at him, so he didn't close them just yet.

The last time...

Those words echoed through Lochs head. It was beginning to sink in now.

His Master was gone, gone, gone forever.

Loch stayed quiet for a few moments, before finally, his walls crumbled and tears began streaming down his face. His head hung down and he let out a shuddering sob, his shoulders tensing.

"I'm s-so s-sorry, m-master...i-it sh-ould ha-ave b-een m-me...y-you di-dn't...ha-have to save m-me..."

He didn't want to be too loud, but...he was. His distraught sobs elevated to wails of mourning as he clung to Guzmas lifeless body, his heavy tears falling down onto his face. His grip tightened on Guzma and he lifted him more to embrace him, not caring about the blood covering his clothes. Loch buried his face in Guzmas neck, his lips curling up to expose his teeth as he cried. He took in the strong scent of his master, locking it away in his mind so he would never forget it...

"It's my f-fault!! My fault!”

After what felt like hours of sitting and cradling Guzmas body, finally Plumeria came back in, her face still stained with tears.

"Loch..?"

Loch didn't answer, silently sitting with his back to her. He had Guzma on his back, lying up against his chest, and Loch was holding him tightly and protectively while stroking his hair.

Plumeria approached slowly, before kneeling down next to Loch and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Loch...the grunts want to mourn him too...we should let them in."

Loch barely heard her, but the touch made him jump a little bit. He looked at her. Plumeria gave him a sympathetic look.

"The grunts want in here to see him, honey."

Lochs distant eyes blinked, before he nodded very slightly. Plumeria went to take Guzma from him, but he flinched away, eyes widening, like he was scared of anyone else touching his master.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to let go of him..." Loch looked back down at Guzma, continuing to stroke his hair, and Plumeria got up to let the grunts in. She opened the door to see them all crowded outside, all with distraught looks on their faces. Plumeria looked around at all of them, before stepping aside. One by one, they came into the throne room, heads down, some with wide, shocked eyes, some already crying uncontrollably, others strangely quiet. They were like different people - ghosts of their usual selves.

Loch didn't look up as they all crowded around, filling up the room but leaving a space in the middle for him and Guzma.

When everyone was inside, Plumeria closed the door, and went to stand up in front of Guzmas throne. The room was quiet, save for the weak sobbing of some of the grunts. All eyes were fixed on the broken body of the Skull Boss. After a few moments, they all lowered their bandanas and took off their hats, clinging them tightly to their chests to pay respects. Plumeria took a deep breath.

"My brothers and sisters, I'm sorry. What's happened here today is...a tragedy. Our friend and leader, Guzmania Mendoza, was murdered by an unknown intruder just less than an hour ago." Her voice wavered slightly, and she looked down.

"We tried our best to save him, but his injuries were too severe...he died peacefully in my arms."

A young female grunt clung to her male counterpart, burying her face in his chest and crying, and he stroked her back as tears silently streamed down his own face. Plumeria sobbed, shivering.

"It happened so suddenly, with no warning, there's nothing anyone could have done. Neither him or I would want any of you to blame yourselves for this...or anyone else, for that matter. Unfortunately...those are the dangers and risks Guzma chose to face every day, in order to keep our family alive. He chose this, and it's how he wanted to go. No hospitals involved. He told us himself as he lay dying. This is what he wanted."

One grunt collapsed to his knees, covering his face with his hands and shuddering. Plumeria continued, just barely holding herself together.

"Guzma was a brave man, a fierce leader. A friend. Everything he did, he did for us, all of us. He brought this family together, and even in death, he'd want us to stay together. Even without him here in flesh, he will always be with all of us in spirit, and he will help us through this. He knew the risks, and so he knew we could survive without him, however difficult it is. That's what he trained us for. We're all strong, each and every one of us. He helped us realise that."

She was crying again, but she kept talking clearly, clenching her fists together.

"This is a tragedy, but it is not the end. He wouldn't have wanted that. He'd want us to live on for him, be happy and prosperous, spread his name without him and keep him alive in peoples memories for years to come. He is proud of you all for making it this far, we can't give up on him now. We will mourn, but we will continue to live and strive without him, as hard as it may be to move on. We will survive in his honour..!"

With a deep breath, Plumeria raised her fist in the air and shouted, tears falling from her face.

"Because he was GUZMA!! LEADER OF TEAM SKULL!!"

The grunts all followed suit, raising their fists in the air and shouting in tearful unison.

"LONG LIVE GUZMA!! LEADER OF TEAM SKULL!!”

They chanted repeatedly, and Loch squeezed his eyes shut, gripping Guzma tighter against him and muttering along with them so nobody would hear him but Guzmas cold body.

"Long live Guzma, alola wau iā ʻoe...long live Guzma, a hui kaua, alola..."

He finished by placing a gentle kiss on Guzmas bloody lips, one last goodbye, as the rest of them chanted for their fallen leader.

Long live Guzma. Destruction personified.

[corviid-craft]

what’s the difference between goth and emo,, i know there is one but like how do you spot the difference

-OH BIY GLAD YOU ASK ALLOW ME TO EXPLAIN IN GREAT (unnecessary) DETAIL. basically it’s just how they present themselves, the culture behind the styles, and how serious they take it.

let’s start with emo’:

now, there is no intentional bashing going to be had on anyone’s style, hell, i USED to have this style back in middle school. but i’m not particularly an expert on any of these so keep that in mind. so let’s start with the physical aspect of it. (i’m on mobile so forgive me if this isn’t as put together bullet point wise, i’ll do my best)

•choppy hair. bangs are usually straight, long, and the ends are extremely feathered to the point of almost looking like old anime hair. girls and boys have relatively the same kind of hair, except some might have it be longer. depends on their personal preference.•band t-shirts and hoodies. this can expand from mcr to older bands like metallica. memorabilia like this is worn and loved to death do they part. •smudged eyeliner. now if the person is a committed emo, they might go for the makeup. generally dark, smudged, and it probably derives from past grunge aesthetics (which is a whole different thing which i’m NOT getting into, it would take too long)

culture of emo: •typical emo bands or old bands as previously mentioned, i can’t think of any off the top of my head•being misunderstood my parents, peers, public in general. a lot of emo’s have gone through trauma such as abuse, as far as i’ve seen. the style and community became a comfort and the feeling of belonging to a community different from people who bully them for obscure tastes appeals. (personal experience haha) •most of the culture revolves around music and the bands that influenced the style with their clothing and mannerisms. fob, mcr, and p!atd were the holy trinity™ and top is now a part of it, though it isn’t from the original three

now GOTHS

here’s the thing, i can make tbis post about the “typical” goth you would think of first when hearing the word, but if i really wanna be accurate, i really CAN’T without mentioning all the subculture and styles of goth in this category. nu goth, old(?) goth, cyberpunk goth, etcetra etcetra, are all UNIQUE au styles of goth. i’m not exactly versed in this style either but i will be talking about the “typical” style as best as i can, forgive me if i get anything wrong

physical aspect of goth:•a lot more put together style wise in general. clothing appear more refined, obviously black like emo but with inspired from its victoria era roots. dresses and suits, frills and layers of all kinds. jewelry as well! it’s crazy•white makeup, extremely detailed. i’ve seen goth youtubers who say they take HOURS doing their makeup everyday! it’s a hellava commitment. pale skin for emulating europeans (although people with dark skin can do this just fine without the light skin!!!! the victorian era was in europe guys give me a break i’m poc too for crying out loud) in the victorian era and dark makeup for the symbolism of grieving•almost doll-like? like it’s incredible how some of these people look like dolls guys just. look it up

cultural aspect of goth:•inspired my the victorian era. GONNA GO ON A BIT OF A SHORT HISTORY LESSON HERE.•ok so basically in the victorian era, queen victoria wore black for the rest of her life after her husband died. what an icon. the architecture was dark, cathedralistic, you know the type. the people would hang out in graveyards because that’s where they could enjoy the flora and fauna since everything else was just drab city back in ye olde times. gargoyles, funerals from mass deaths, y'all got me. basically this style is to emulate queen victoria’s style and aesthetic but with still modern qualities. grief plays a big role if i’m correct? ya know, coffins and dark poetry of death and grieving. that’s as much as i know though.

now i’m not gonna sit there and say this is ALL TO THESE STYLES. obviously not. but i’m on mobile and it’s been like 40 minutes and i wanna play botw. but yeah. GOTH BF IS NOT THE SAME AS EMO BF AND EVEN THOUGH THEY SHARE SIMILAR QUALITIES, THEY ARE NOT THE SAME!!!! there are lots of different styles though so some are more similar than others. i need a nap.