#maybe I’ll render this later on but knowing me I’ll make a whole new drawing and render that instead lmao

[soulsty]

Got the itch to draw Mephiles again and ended up redesigning him a little bit

[lemuelthelemmy]

Hey FNAF Artist be careful of this Dude, he steals Art

Ok guys, i want to warn you about this dude 

His last name was Ningen Two and was a channel of 4k subscribers until i took down his channel.

This dude was known for took pictures, fanarts, renders, and sometimes even theories from reddit, deviantart or another places and makes videos with them barely crediting peoples.

At first he sometimes credited some people but then he just posted the video with a void bio

He also had unlocked the community option in his old channel and started to post other people’s art

Obviously without any credit

I told him to credit

and according to some friends he hided my comment.

Coming to why i took his channel (if all of this was not a reason enough) here is how i discover him.

This person in 2020 took a drawing of me, and credit (surprisingly) everyone except me, i warned him to credit me or i’ll took down the video, so that’s what i did.

Short later he did it again and i warned him, he added the credits and i told him that he should credit any art (he deleted that LOL)

Welp, weeks ago i saw he did it again 

He used another of my arts on his videos (and other people’s and the bio was completely void, so i got sick, and i took down the videos were he gave me credits (because the first warning) this one and another one he used a fake leak of mine.

This resulted in 3 strikes, so his channel was took down.

He posted an screenshot were he called me piece of human trash and showed everyone my whole name and mail, then he mailed me, im gonna show you his behavior

First he claimed the art doesn’t belong to me

So i showed him how all that art belongs to me, and warned him about what he did, and he should credit the artist always

also i warned him that he didnt deleted that IG post i would sue him.

Then he called me a liar and insulted me for this

And he called me a Child and told me that he never used my mediocre art.

Well dude, you did 

so the one lying it’s you.

BTW if you need more proof of how he steals art, just watch his Instagram

He now made a new YT channel, and as far i know he haven’t steal art yet, but looking his behaviour with today’s mail i want to Warn ALL FNAF ARTIST about him.

Check in the future if he stole your art without credit you on his YT channel or in Instagram, and due what you have to do, and be so careful with him.

ARTIST SHOULD HAVE CREDIT ALWAYS

Share this in your post so other artist could realize, maybe he’s stealing their art and they don’t know it yet.

UPDATE:

This man doesn’t learn.

I already contacted with the authors, like i said, be careful with this dude

[blacktofade]

This is approximately 3 million years late, but what’s up. I’m still alive. Hope you’re all okay.

*

“It’s getting long,” Ryan says apropos of nothing on a Thursday evening.

Shane looks up from his phone and glances over. “What?”

“Your hair,” Ryan clarifies. “It’s getting long.”

Apart from Anthony, who’s quietly clicking away at an edit in the back of the office, Shane and Ryan are alone. It’s already dark outside, the spring nights still closing in quickly, and honestly, Shane would have left a long while ago, but he’s lost track of time.

On his desk is his abandoned beanie. He doesn’t remember pulling it off, but he’s not surprised it’s there. He gets a hot head and has picked up a habit of raking his fingers through his long hair, which accidentally shoves off anything in the way, hats and headphones included.

“Oh,” Shane says. “Yeah.”

Ryan leans in, reaching up to flick a strand of hair out of Shane’s eyes. “You haven’t cut it.”

Shane shrugs and pushes his fingers through it, tucking some behind his ears. “I kinda like it.”

Ryan’s gaze skitters across his face. “I do, too.”

Shane doesn’t think there’s anything he can say to that.

“You could go longer,” Ryan tells him. “You could do a lot with it.”

Shane leans back in his chair. “I could braid it.”

“You shouldn’t hide it under your hats.”

“You like a good hat,” Shane points out. “Seems hypocritical.”

“Maybe I like your hair more than I like hats.”

Shane spares a glance back at Anthony, who has his headphones on and doesn’t seem to even know they’re there.

“You suddenly have a lot of opinions about my hair,” Shane says looking at him again and Ryan shrugs.

“I like it long.”

“So you’ve said.”

Ryan rubs the bridge of his nose. “How long do you think you’ll let it get?”

Shane grabs a nearby pen, using it to occupy his antsy hands. “I think you’ve thought about this a lot more than I have.”

“You were the one who decided to grow it out,” Ryan scoffs, clearly trying to save face. “You’ve gotta have a general plan.”

“No,” Shane insists. “I just missed a haircut, which was fine until you decided I deserved the third degree about it.”

“I’m not giving you the third degree,” Ryan tries and Shane lifts an eyebrow.

“So there’s no newfound interest in my hair.”

“I mean, it’s hard to ignore,” Ryan says, gesturing vaguely at Shane’s head. After a lack of reaction from Shane, he huffs in frustration and leans over, reaching into Shane’s space.

The second Ryan’s fingers curl into Shane’s hair, part of Shane’s brain yells that he should pull away, but overwhelmed by unexpectedness, the rest of his brain freezes and he can’t move at all.

“Look how thick it is,” Ryan mutters, raking his fingers the wrong way through Shane’s hair to muss it. Shane washed it that morning, which means it’s fluffy and unstyled. He hadn’t even put gel in it because he’d planned on covering it with his hat. “You missed one haircut and this is what happened?”

“It started with one missed haircut,” Shane explains softly, half afraid to move his mouth too much and draw attention to the quickly growing weirdness of the situation.

“It’s been months,” Ryan continues idly, fingers shifting in a way that Shane can’t predict, that keeps him on edge.

“Sure,” he agrees, glancing at the inside of Ryan’s elbow and the flex of his arm as he holds it aloft.

“I can just grab a whole handful,” Ryan announces, and Shane finds all the air suddenly rushing out of his lungs as Ryan tightens his grip and does just that. It tugs at the roots of his hair, tipping his head in the direction of Ryan’s hold.

Shane doesn’t expect to let out the noise he does, least of all one that sounds horrifically sexual in every way possible.

Ryan pauses and their eyes meet in what could be the longest second of Shane’s life. And just like that, Ryan’s letting go, pulling away like he’s just burned his hand on a stovetop.

“Fuck,” Ryan says, blinking like he’s only just realizing what’s happening. He glances to his right, towards where Shane knows Anthony is still working, but he turns back to Shane almost immediately and Shane knows Anthony hasn’t noticed. “Jesus. Sorry.”

Shane doesn’t think sorry covers any part of it.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Shane should say something like you’re right or try to make a joke about being the next Fabio, but instead he does nothing, just keeps quiet.

“I didn’t think,” Ryan admits. “I just — ” he flexes his hand and Shane understands. Ryan has a habit of doing that — just acting without thinking.

“It’s fine,” Shane finds himself saying, because it’s easier than anything else.

“I just — ” Ryan starts and Shane can’t let him finish the thought.

“It’s late,” Shane interrupts. “I should go.”

He pulls his hat on because he feels strangely vulnerable with his hair exposed now, but the action doesn’t seem to be lost on Ryan, who quickly glances away, probably already internalizing things.

“Don’t go because of me,” Ryan says and Shane shakes his head like Ryan’s not the issue.

“It’s late,” he repeats.

It doesn’t feel right to leave with things left unspoken, but Shane knows that sometimes it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.

He undocks his laptop and slips it into his bag, ready to go in the blink of an eye, already an expert on extracting himself from awkward situations.

“You’ll be in early for the meeting tomorrow?” Ryan asks, clearly grappling for something just to make sure they’re okay.

Shane knows him. He holds Ryan’s gaze as he says, “Yeah, I’ll be here.” Meaning, it’s okay, you haven’t scared me off completely.

Ryan nods, adjusting a post-it note on his desk, like it’s the thing he’s most worried about. “Okay, cool. I’ll see you later.”

Shane tips his head in response and carefully slips past him to leave.

He takes a moment to lean against the office door, letting out a heavy breath as he adjusts his beanie. It feels like something too huge to think about...so he just doesn’t. He shifts the strap of his bag onto his shoulder more securely and then heads down the hallway towards the elevator.

He’s just pushed the call button for the elevator when he hears the office door open and close behind him. He’s not entirely surprised when he turns to find Ryan standing there, five or six paces away, but that doesn’t mean it makes sense.

“Did I forget something?” he asks, but Ryan’s quick to shake his head.

“No, I — I think it’s hot,” Ryan says instead and it feels like the continuation of a conversation Shane doesn't remember having with him.

“In the office?”

“Your hair,” Ryan explains, taking three steps closer, and the bottom of Shane’s stomach drops like he’s staggered backwards and plummeted straight down the elevator shaft. “The longer it gets, the hotter it is.”

Shane grabs the strap of his bag, his whole body feeling unsteady, like the slightest push might send him sprawling.

“What?” he says. “Is this a bit?”

“God, I wish,” Ryan mutters, shoving his fingers through his own hair to push it out of his face. “It would make it so much easier.”

Shane stares at him silently because for once in his life, Ryan has rendered him speechless. He has no idea how to respond or even how to act natural. It’s like he’s suddenly become aware of each breath he takes, which only makes it harder to remember how to breathe normally.

“It’s been driving me crazy,” Ryan continues like he just doesn’t know when to quit. “Every time I look at you, I just want to — ” He raises his hands and clenches them into fists.

“You want to fight me?” Shane asks, because it turns out that when he panics, he deflects with humor.

“Yeah, sorta,” Ryan says with a snort. “But I also want to get my hands in your hair.”

The thought makes Shane’s legs feel weak. “That’s new.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Ryan says not realizing Shane’s talking to himself. “Bad timing, huh?”

“No better time to hit on your coworker than after starting a company with them.”

“I thought I was hitting on my friend,” Ryan tells him, which makes Shane swallow thickly.

Behind him, the elevator dings, having finally arrived, the doors quietly sliding open. Shane glances backwards at it, knowing it’s his one chance to escape. He could duck inside and be out of the building before Ryan even realizes he’s fleeing. He could keep his head down and wait for whatever it is that’s happening to pass.

Instead, after a long minute, he watches the doors close and turns back to Ryan. “This is a bad idea,” he says and Ryan nods in agreement, his eyes seeming brighter with the knowledge that Shane hasn’t immediately left, that Shane hasn’t rebuffed him.

He takes a step closer to Shane, staring up at him. Shane doesn’t know what to do, so he does nothing. He watches as Ryan reaches up, slowly so as to give Shane time to move if he wants to, but Shane doesn’t. He pulls Shane’s beanie off with a deliberate tug, freeing Shane’s hair.

He tucks it into the front pocket of Shane’s bag, which shouldn’t feel illicit, but does anyway. Shane feels his pulse begin to quicken as Ryan leans in, hands raised as he slides his fingers into Shane’s hair, sighing like it’s all he’s ever wanted.

“It’s soft,” Ryan tells him, like it’s not the weirdest thing he’s done and said. He cards his fingers through it a few times, parting it to one side and then the other, as though he can’t decide which way is his favorite. Eventually, he pushes one hand around to the back of Shane’s head, firmly gripping a handful of hair and tugging just enough to rock Shane backwards into the hold. “You liked this earlier.”

Shane lets his eyes shut, senses narrowing in on the dull ache of Ryan pulling again, a little harder this time.

“I’m going to grow it out more,” Shane blurts, which wasn’t what he was planning on saying. He wasn’t going to say anything, in all honesty, and he still hasn’t decided how long he’s going to keep the hair. But one touch from Ryan and he’s apparently making all kinds of rash decisions. “What do you think?”

“I think you already know my answer,” Ryan tells him and it’s a genuine surprise when Ryan pulls him down, pushes up onto his toes, and kisses him.

His mouth is warm and insistent and Shane finds himself automatically gripping Ryan’s shoulders in his surprise. For a second, he thinks he should nudge Ryan away — it’s not the time nor place for it — but instead, he clutches at Ryan’s sweatshirt and Ryan deepens the kiss like he knows exactly what he wants and how he’s going to get it.

Shane doesn’t think a single kiss should be able to change his life so easily. He thought his evening would be uneventful. He’d wrap up work, pick up a pizza, and watch Netflix until he accidentally fell asleep on the couch. Instead, he’s kissing Ryan in the hallway of their office.

He pulls back carefully, a hand on Ryan’s sternum to keep him from leaning back in immediately, and Ryan exhales shakily against his mouth.

“That was unexpected,” he says and Shane lets out a huff of laughter.

“You kissed me.”

"So what,” Ryan argues. “I got caught up in the moment.”

He lets go of Shane’s hair, patting at it in a clear attempt to try to flatten it again.

“Not the best place for this,” Shane admits and Ryan steps back, rubbing a hand over his face like he still can’t believe what he’s done. Honestly. Shane can’t either. Ryan lets out a long breath and looks at him.

“Did you already order a Lyft?”

“No,” Shane admits. “Not yet.”

“I can give you a ride, if you want,” Ryan offers and Shane raises an eyebrow at him.

“How many bases are you planning on rounding tonight?”

Ryan laughs, but shrugs casually. “As many as you’ll let me.”

It would definitely be a change of pace from falling asleep on the couch, he thinks, which might be why he finds himself automatically nodding, intrigued by the possibilities.

“If you’re lucky, I might even let you explain the rules of baseball to me.”

“Would that be considered foreplay?” Ryan asks with a quirk of his mouth and Shane gives him a gentle push back a step.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby downstairs,” he says instead of answering and Ryan almost trips over his own feet in his hurry to turn back towards the office.

“I’ll be five minutes,” Ryan says over his shoulder, already halfway down the hallway and Shane lets out a quiet laugh, watching him go.

“Sure,” Shane agrees. “See you in five.”

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #36

Prompt number: 2 - “That’s the easy part?”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: joe x nicky, fluff

“That’s the easy part?” Nicky asked, mug raised halfway to his lips. Maybe he heard wrong, he hadn’t even finished his fourth cup of coffee yet. Sleep was still threatening to drag him back into its warm embrace and if Nicky didn’t finish this cup soon, he was going to be flinging himself into those arms again.

God, he was so tired. It was 10 a.m. and he was awake.

Nile frowned, her eyebrows drawing in. “You just have to spend the whole day with Joe. Then you bring him back when I text you!” He definitely heard her correctly the first time then. Nicky rubbed a tired hand over his face. Nile made some hand-waving motions in front of him, “What? I thought you’d be glad to be with Joe!”

“I am happy that I will spend the day with Joe,” Nicky responded and took a sip from his mug. The coffee was getting cold, edging towards lukewarm rather than hot. Nicky quickly finished the rest before it became unpalatable and licked his lips before continuing. “The only problem is Joe will know something is up.”

Nile grabbed the coffee pot and topped his mug with fresh, hot, delicious coffee before placing it back in the coffee machine. He hummed in gratitude, cradling the warm mug in his hands. “How could he possibly know something is up? There is nothing significant about this day as far as Joe is concerned.”

Nicky lifted his chin in concession. “That may be, but my Joe is not stupid. He’ll quickly catch on that I’m trying to stall him.”

“You’re telling me that you can’t act normal for one day?” Nicky raised an eyebrow and Nile huffed. “You know what I mean.” He did know what she meant. That didn’t make teasing her any less fun.

“We’ve been together for over 900 years, Nile. That man could probably tell you how many strands of hair I have on my head. He definitely knows when I’m purposely distracting someone.” This was putting aside the fact that half the tricks Nicky used all came from Joe. Joe had a gift for interacting and understanding people. It was something that used to infuriate Nicky. Here was this man who Nicky barely tolerated but made everyone he met practically fawn all over themselves for him.

“Come on, Nicky. Take him to the movies, a museum, the mall. Hell, have a quickie in the parking lot! Just distract him for a couple hours.” There was a desperate gleam in Nile’s eyes and Nicky sighed, hating himself just a tiny bit for being such a sucker. She definitely learned how to do that face from Joe.

Nicky took several gulps from his mug just to be an ass and make her believe that he was still pondering her request. He couldn’t let her think that he was that easily persuaded. At least, not yet. She’ll have plenty of time to learn just how easy he was for the people he loved. “Fine.” Nile let out a victorious crow, clapping her hands together and bouncing on her toes. “Yeah, yeah,” Nicky grumbled, noisily slurping his coffee.

“Alright, get your man out of the house. I’ll text you when to come back!”

Nicky protested as he was pushed out of the kitchen and into the hallway, slumping as he came face to face with his closed bedroom door where his other half remained sound asleep. Releasing a deep sigh, Nicky scratched the back of his head to buy himself a couple more seconds. He really didn’t know how he was going to keep Joe out of the house. It would’ve been so much easier if he had to keep Joe in, he thought wistfully.

Fearing that Nile would come and check in on him any second now, Nicky opened the door. As expected, Joe was still asleep, half covered by the down-comforter, head resting on two pillows, one arm hugging Pedro to his chest. Even 900 years later, Nicky stood in the doorway, frozen and completely helpless to the way his heart started to flutter with the amount of affection he held for this man.

It didn’t take long for Joe’s instincts to kick in. Sensing another presence, Joe stretched out on the bed, slow to blink the sleep out of his eyes. “Nicolò?” His voice was sleep-warm, slightly raspy and elongated vowels. It was music to Nicky’s ears. Nicky placed his mug on the nightstand and crawled into bed next to Joe. Still, Joe shuffled in closer until the only thing between them was Pedro. “What time is it?”

“10,” Nicky answered and Joe groaned, burying his face into the crook of Nicky’s neck. Nicky didn’t think they would have lasted as long as they did if one of them was an early riser. He brought a hand up to bury in the tight curls, using his fingernails to gently scratch at Joe’s scalp.

“Want to go get that new set of oil pastels today?” Nicky asked after several minutes of peace. Joe shook his head. “We can’t stay in here the whole day.” Joe let out a confused whine. “Because-because it’s rude to stay in bed all day. We have to at least last another year before Nile figures us out.” Joe didn’t move for a couple beats. Nicky was starting to feel the beginnings of a cold sweat when Joe finally sighed, nuzzling into his neck a little more before rolling away with a grumble.

Nicky had to resist the urge to close his eyes and sigh. So far, so good.

—

Okay, so maybe he was too optimistic. It took Joe 30 minutes for him to realize that something was up. Nicky had to beg him to play along, promising the new oil pastels and himself as a live model for the whole afternoon. It was an amazing deal and Joe knew it. The only time Nicky was still was in his sleep, on a mission and when reading a book. Having a whole afternoon to draw Nicky in whatever position and scenery? Truly a once in a lifetime offer.

By the time Nicky got the okay from Nile, he was beyond exhausted. Sitting in one position and being admired was hard work. But a deal was a deal and so Nicky had remained in whatever position Joe had arranged him in without a protest, sinking into that headspace he only ever used during missions.

“This surprise must be really good for you to have modeled the whole day,” Joe said, tangling their fingers over the center console. Nicky squeezed his hand, not taking his eyes off the blurred trees outside. They were almost home. He could keep the secret for a little longer. He just had to keep his mouth shut and it would still be a surprise. Sort of. Did it count as a surprise if the person knew that there was a surprise but didn’t know what the surprise was? Nicky decided that yes, it was still a surprise. The actual surprise was still unknown even if the entire event wasn’t.

“I hope you realize how nice I was today. I could’ve made you spill before we even got to the art supply store.” That was a bait. It was a bait. Nicky was confident that there were even studies about this kind of bait. Even with that knowledge, Nicky had to bite his tongue to remain silent, focusing on the sharp pain. “Fine, keep quiet. Don’t think there won’t be payback for keeping me in the dark.” It was a weak threat since Joe brought their joined hands to his lips not a second later.

It took 15 minutes to get home. It was the longest 15 minutes of Nicky’s life. He swore that entire generations lived and died in those 15 minutes. He had endured torture that felt shorter than those 15 minutes.

As soon as the car was put in park, Nicky hopped out of the car and ran to the other side to open the door for Joe. “Come,” Nicky said, extending his hand.

“Now you want me to pay attention to you,” Joe teased but took his hand with a fond smile. With Joe’s hand in a tight grip, Nicky led him inside the house and into the dark living room.

“Uhh, I’m a little confused-“ Joe started.

The lights flicked on.

“SURPRISE!” Nile yelled, followed by Andy and Booker’s weaker attempt. Nicky wouldn’t be surprised if they had spent the whole day practicing and this was their best one yet.

Joe frowned and turned to Nicky, looking utterly adorable with that little furrow and pout. “I’m still confused.”

It was Nicky’s turn to smile and bring their joined hands to his lips. “This was Nile’s idea,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Nile clapped her hands together, drawing their attention back to her. “Remember when we were talking about birthdays?” Joe slowly nodded. “Right! Well, you said you never had a birthday party. So…” She motioned to the balloons taped to every piece of furniture in the living room, the dozens of party streamers, the platters of food on the dining room table.

“It’s not my birthday,” Joe said, still confused.

“Do you even know your birthday?” Nile asked and Joe slowly shook his head. “Exactly. So there’s a .003% chance that today is your birthday and we are celebrating! We got presents, cake, balloons and your favorite foods!”

Joe opened and closed his mouth several times as he took everything in, rendered completely speechless for the first time in what had to be decades. Nicky squeezed his hand, a silent are you okay? It took a moment for Joe to respond yes, a watery smile tugging on his lips. “Thank you, Nile.” Joe sniffed and swallowed the lump that had swelled in his throat. “This is amazing.”  

Nile beamed, looking like sunshine personified. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Everyone deserves to have a birthday party.”

Joe turned to the other two occupants in the room. They were definitely a little tipsy already and Nicky couldn’t blame them. He probably would’ve drank too if he had to tie as many balloons as they did. It was going to take forever to clean all of this party stuff up. “Thank you to you two as well. I know Nile probably bullied you two into helping,” Joe said and Nile let out an indignant, “Hey!”. Both Andy and Booker rolled their eyes in tandem, reluctant smiles gracing their faces and really? They were able to get that down but not the surprise?

“We love you too,” Booker said, pulling out a flask from the inside of his jacket pocket. He took a sip and passed it to Andy.

Andy pointed to Booker with the flask. “What he said,” she said and tipped the flask into her mouth.

Joe tugged on his hand and Nicky turned to look at him, one eyebrow cocked. “Nile said presents. What’d you get me?”

Nicky couldn’t help the baffled laugh. “Who do you think bought you the oil pastels and modeled the whole afternoon?”

Joe’s cheeks dimpled with how wide he smiled. “That doesn’t count,” he declared, lightly clapping Nicky’s hand. “Come on,” he whined, “Present.”

There will be a day where Nicky will finally be able to resist that smile. Where he’ll be able to look at those dimples, the small wrinkles at the corners of those warm brown eyes and not fold faster than wet paper. Today wasn’t that day.

Nicky let out a deep sigh, pursing his lips in feigned annoyance as he reached into his pocket to pull out a small box. Joe snatched it out of his hand with a giddy whoop, tearing through the wrapping paper and throwing the lid to the floor. He pulled out a thick platinum ring, his eyes gleaming similar to what Nicky had always imagined a dragon looking at its treasure would look like.

Joe twisted the ring to look at the inside. “My everything,” Joe read aloud and Nicky wrapped his arms around him.

“Happy birthday, amore.”

[itsthenovelteafactor]

Vanya and the Phantom

I asked and y’all answered (special thanks to @schizoidwire and @the-aro-ace-arrow-ace  and all the people who responded to my earlier post for encouraging me!), so it is time for how The Phantom of the Opera song introduction can be read as a look into Vanya’s self-narrative and also foreshadows future events in a really subtle and interesting way. 

I’m channeling my inner Elliot and going into full conspiracy mode. This is gonna be a long one, y’all. 

Part One: In Which I Expose Myself as a Former Theater Kid

So, for those who aren’t familiar with The Phantom of the Opera, it was originally a novel by French writer Gaston Leroux back in 1909. In 1986, Andrew Lloyd Webber rewrote it as a musical. For purposes of my analysis here, I am just going to be discussing the musical because 1) the score used in the opening scene is from it and 2) I’ve never read the book. (If anyone out there has read the book and wants to weigh in, please do!) 

It’s a very aesthetic show, and draws on a lot of gothic themes and imagery. The plot follows an opera house, and specifically a young chorus girl named Christine Daaé. I’m not going to explain the whole show plot in detail because wikipedia exists, but I will do a quick overview here and point out some things as they relate to things I’ll be discussing later. Also there will be a test after and it will NOT be multiple choice.

The show begins when the opera house is sold to new owners who 1) just want to make money and 2) do not respect the opera house’s resident ghost (who isn’t really a ghost, but we’ll get to that later.) When the Phantom makes his presence known, and freaks out the resident prima donna singer (who will be relevant later) Carlotta, who says she won’t sing under these conditions. It is then that Christine appears. She’s quiet and humble and has always lived in the background, but is incredibly talented. The woman who runs the chorus (also owner of the opera house’s resident braincell) suggests Christine sing the part. She does, and is amazing. Everyone is blown away, and she’s catapulted into instant fame and success. 

We later learn that Christine has been studying under the Phantom, who appears to her in mirrors. She calls him the Angel of Music, and thinks that he was sent to teach her by her recently deceased father. He isn’t. He’s actually pretty malicious, and is obsessed with Christine, wants to control her voice, and doesn’t like her dating anyone. Which is a bit awkward when her childhood friend shows up and promptly falls in love with her. 

Anyways, Carlotta is jealous of the attention Christine has been getting and threatens to leave prompting the new owners to cut Christine from the program. The Phantom doesn’t like it at all, sends a bunch of letters, things escalate, people are murdered, and the whole first act ends with the chandelier falling from the ceiling and crashing onto the stage (which is done with really cool effects, oftentimes beginning the show hanging over the audience. It’s a BIG MOMENT and one of the most iconic ones from the show. This will also be relevant later.)

Act two takes place a few months later, wherein no one has seen the Phantom. Shock of all shocks, though, he’s not dead. He’s been writing an opera and he wants Christine to star in it. More stuff happens, you learn the backstory of the Phantom (which is pretty sad, ngl, but in no way makes him less of a creep) and the story ends with the Phantom kidnapping Christine and giving her an ultimatum: stay with him forever, or he kills Raoul (aka childhood friend/romantic interest guy). She agrees to stay with him and he’s so moved by her compassion that he lets them both go and disappears forever. 

Part Two: Casting the Characters

That’s interesting, Rosie (note sarcasm) but you said this was about The Umbrella Academy? I did, in fact. So, we meet Vanya when she’s playing a medley of songs from The Phantom of the Opera. Since it’s primarily the melodies and not one of the orchestral pieces from her performance later (I don’t think), we can assume she’s just playing it for herself (which is nice! good on you, Vanya). 

Maybe she’s never seen the play and just likes the score, but for purposes here, let’s assume she’s familiar with it. 

You can tell a lot about a person by the stories they connect with (for example, I like TUA because I like fun sibling dynamics, found family, music, and being sad). And I think that it makes sense that The Phantom of the Opera would be a story that resonates with Vanya. The overlooked chorus girl finds power in music, and, after years in the background, is finally given a chance to show how special she is. 

So, yeah. I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility that Vanya sees herself as Christine. There are some discrepancies, sure, but this is Vanya’s self-narrative, which we learn pretty much immediately is unreliable. (Love her, but it’s true.) And if Vanya is Christine, then we can try and tap into her perspective to look at some other characters. 

Anyways remember Carlotta (the prima donna opera singer who always got the spotlight and tried to destroy everything good that happened to Christine because she felt threatened that someone might be as good/better than her whose entire personality and role in the story I just summarized, rendering my plot recap useless)? Carlotta is how Vanya views Allison. (Kind of all her siblings, but her relationship with Allison is the most important here.)

Think about the scene in the cabin? 

“You couldn’t risk me threatening your place in the house! You couldn’t handle the fact that Dad might find me special!” - Vanya, having a mental breakdown.

This always struck me as an interesting accusation to throw, since prior to this moment, I don’t think there was any indication that Allison had ever felt threatened by Vanya. She excluded her, sure, and wasn’t super friendly at times, but the idea that Allison has been pulling strings to keep Vanya out of her spotlight is new. But that is exactly the role Carlotta plays in Phantom. 

Fun fact! At one point in the musical, the Phantom enchants Carlotta so that she loses her voice right before coming on stage. 

Part Three: The Phantom of the Opera is there

So based on everything I’ve said so far, the most straightforward reading is then, that Leonard Peabody/Harold Jenkins (who for purposes here I’ll call Leonard) is the stand in for the Phantom, which works... really well. Both in helping to understand Vanya and also because it foreshadows the twist of season one in a really cool way.

So, the Phantom appears to Christine first not as an enemy, but as a friend and teacher, who encourages her to be more confident in her abilities. He trains her to develop her singing ability. While the teacher-student dynamic is actually inverted initially with Vanya and Leonard, from the get go, he is showering her with compliments, encouraging her to be confident in her abilities, and, at least on the surface, supporting her in a way she hasn’t been supported before (he’s a trash human but an expert manipulator). 

But, in the play, the Phantom is also very possessive over Christine and her power (er, I mean voice). He also is perfectly willing to kill and/or hurt people who he views as standing in the way of Christine and her success (see the aforementioned Carlotta incident). Which is exactly what Leonard does to Vanya. He kills the first chair violinist to help her get it, and orchestrates a whole master plan to get her to reveal her powers on his terms. 

Even the part where he starts “training” her to use her powers kind of resembles the second act of the play. The Phantom wrote a play for Christine and she’s going to star in it, whether she wants to or not. 

(One could even make the argument of the parallels between Christine believing the Phantom was sent by her father to teach her and Leonard showing up because of his revenge scheme against Vanya’s father, but I honestly don’t have much support for that.) 

Part Three: Two Conflicting Narratives

So, as you might’ve noticed, I sort of have two different threads of analysis going on right now. 1) The Phantom of the Opera parallel is part of Vanya’s self-narrative and in it she mischaracterizes Allison, making her more suspicious of her motivations and 2) Leonard Peabody is clearly the Phantom and doesn’t bother being subtle about it. I hope that I’ve been convincing (or at least intriguing) for you to get to this point, because here is where they come together.

Vanya has this parallel going, but she doesn’t see Leonard as the Phantom. In the beginning at least, he’s her Raoul. If I had to guess, I’d say Reginald Hargreeves is the Phantom in Vanya’s self-narrative (says he’ll train her but wants to manipulate her and keep her locked away for himself, strict teacher who doesn’t really care about her well being, wearing a mask to appear more normal/human... she wouldn’t exactly be wrong). Leonard, on the other hand, is Vanya’s supporter. He validates her, and believes in her, and taker her side when Carlotta and the opera house owners (er, the rest of the Hargreeves children) gang up on her and conspire to keep her out. 

This is all building to, of course, the final confrontation. The Phantom says Christine has to pick one or the other. When Allison comes to talk to Vanya, Vanya feels as if she’s been given an ultimatum and lashes out.

And that’s where everything (including this parallel) starts to crumble. 

(I honestly don’t know a lot about the other characters and how they fit in. I suppose we could have Five = Raoul if we ignore romance plot and focus on the childhood friend that hasn’t been seen in a while angle? And maybe also Pogo = Madame Giry. Vanya doesn’t really have any friends to be Meg.) 

Part Four: It’s All About the Moon

So that is kind of the gist of The Phantom of the Opera as a window into Vanya’s self-narrative theory, but there are a couple of other loosely related ideas I thought I might as well bring up since this thing is already ridiculously long. 

Remember how I mentioned the chandelier is like, THE scene from The Phantom of the Opera back in part one, and said it’d be relevant later? Bringing that back now, because I’m going to pull a Luther and connect everything to the moon. 

So, to get the obvious out of the way, the moon exploding and the chandelier coming crashing to the stage are similar because something falls, breaks into a bunch of pieces, destroys a bunch of stuff, and creates a powerful and memorable image to close off before an act/season break (the next installment of which begins with a time jump). 

Additionally, it’s worth mentioning that The Phantom of the Opera is told out of order. The opening scene shows a grown up Raoul at an auction for the items left behind after the opera house closes, and it switches to the past as the remains of the chandelier rise upwards to the ceiling, Phantom’s theme swelling (it’s a really cool moment, tbh). Following the prologue of The Umbrella Academy, we switch to the present with two images: Vanya alone on the stage, and then Luther alone on the moon. Which has a kind of symmetry that might mean nothing, but is still kind of cool. 

(Also the item that Raoul buys from the auction is a music box with a monkey crashing symbols on top of it. Which might mean nothing.) 

Part Five: How is she STILL talking about this? (AKA Conclusion)

To be honest, this is more a very tangled “things I noticed and thought were interesting” discussion than a formal essay with any clear thesis. While there is a chance that this was all coincidental and I’ve gone full Pepe Sylvia, the music selection in The Umbrella Academy is one of the things that they seem to be really deliberate about. 

I would love to chat with anyone about this theory, so feel free to reach out in the notes or message me! My inbox is always open. Much love, and thank you for reading, if you got this far! ❤️

[goosewhisker]

this crooked posture (is all you’ve ever known)

read this on ao3 || read this on fanfiction.net

i wrote this whole thing in a span of about 5 days :pensive: as u can maybe tell i have a lot of feelings abt that one conversation btwn scourge and jules...there is so much potential here and im sad we never got to see it

as far as timeline goes- this would probably take place in the pre-boot universe about six months or so after scourge & co escape from zone jail. the destructix are camping out on mobius for the time being to avoid drawing zonic's attention and knothole has wrapped up the ixis naugus/metal sally arcs.

Summary: Fiona heads off with a wave, and he's left where he started - staring through a window into a nearly-empty kitchen, looking in on a life was never his and never will be. Inside, the robian sets bacon on the stovetop to fry and starts making toast, blissfully unaware of the hedgehog just outside. It's hard to tell on a robot, obviously, but he looks perfectly content with his life. Happy, even.

Pathetic. 

Or: Scourge avoids his problems, Fiona is exasperated, and Jules is mostly oblivious.

It's the early hours of the morning. So early, in fact, that it shouldn't even technically be called morning because it's still basically nighttime and no one sane is up right now.

Which is probably why the idiotic robian is up at five o'clock in the morning, puttering around in the kitchen and making breakfast. There's literally no reason for it. It's not like he can eat anything, after all, and his stupid son lives off chilidogs, so he's not going to eat it. And his stupid wife isn't getting up for like two hours, so she's not eating it either. See? Idiocy.

Yet another thing that their universes seem to have in common.

"What are you doing?"

Scourge almost shrieks - key word is almost, 'cause he's too cool to scream like a dork - and tackles Fiona into the bushes. "Shhh!"

Fiona splutters indignantly and a second later her fist bounces off his jaw, which, ow. "Are you nuts? Get off me!"

"Shhhut up!" Scourge throws a quick glance over his shoulder at the window. No one's come outside to investigate, so hopefully no one's heard. He rolls off her a second later. "You wanna get us arrested, woman?"

"Hey, I'm a legal citizen of this universe!" Fiona protests. "If anything, it's you who's getting arrested, Mr.-Snooping-Through-Other-People's-Windows. That's so creepy."

"We're both wanted criminals here; if we get caught, we're going down together," Scourge points out, graciously ignoring her last comment. "And anyway, I'm... gathering intel."

Fiona snorts. "Pull the other one, Scourge. That's not gonna work on me." Crossing her arms, she adds, "You've been gathering intel every night for the past week. And I know you're technically the same person, but watching Sonic sleep is really weird."

"I'm not watching him," Scourge snaps before he can help himself.

"Oh?" Fiona's eyes glint and it's then that Scourge realizes he's slipped. "Then who are you watching?"

"Uhhh..." Scourge fidgets while trying not to look like he's fidgeting. "No one. I'm just passing through, not watching anything. Why'd I want to do that anyway?" He forces a laugh. "So lame."

Fiona regards him with a flat stare. "Your fingerprints are smudged all over the window."

"What?" Scourge whips around to check the window. He'd been so careful not to leave any traces of his visits, but-

Waitaminute.

"Very funny," Scourge growls into his gloved hands. Fiona snickers.

"Look, if you don't want to tell me, I won't make you," she says, standing up and brushing the dirt off her pants. "But I'll find out eventually. And if this new obsession of yours endangers yourself or the team, I'm going to put a stop to it."

"Yeah, yeah," Scourge mutters, waving her off. "Get lost."

"Mhm. We still on for that movie night?"

"'course. See you there, babe."

Fiona heads off with a wave, and he's left where he started - staring through a window into a nearly-empty kitchen, looking in on a life was never his and never will be. Inside, the robian sets bacon on the stovetop to fry and starts making toast, blissfully unaware of the hedgehog just outside. It's hard to tell on a robot, obviously, but he looks perfectly content with his life. Happy, even.

Pathetic.

Scourge kicks the side of the house, suddenly incandescently furious with everything. Inside, Jules looks up in surprise, but Scourge is already gone.

"I need to stop," Scourge says later. The movie is over - some samurai flick that Simian had picked out and Lightning had ruined with his constant nitpicking - and they'd gone out for ice cream afterwards (read: robbed that nice gelato place downtown). Getting used to having teammates again is... something, Scourge supposes. But it's not completely terrible.

"You need to stop," Fiona agrees. She's texting furiously, slouched into the ratty couch in their current hideout with Scourge's head on her lap.

"It's just weird seeing him alive, is all," Scourge tells the ceiling. "That's all it is. Like, when you see something weird, and you just gotta look at it. It doesn't mean anything."

"Are you trying to convince yourself or me?"

"Not tryin' to convince anyone. I'm just saying what it is."

Fiona sets down her phone with a sigh. "Look, you gotta stop hurting yourself like this."

Scourge sits up a little too fast. "Hurting myself? What? Babe, have you forgotten who you're talking to? I'm Scourge the Hedgehog, I don't hurt."

Fiona gives that all the acknowledgment it deserves, which is none. "I told you about the... the prison, when I was a kid," she says. Scourge falls silent. "I went back there a few times, after I was big enough to handle myself. There wasn't a reason, really. I just thought I had to see it. And it sort of helped the first time - I cleaned out all the bots and made sure that place couldn't hold anyone ever again - but after that, I just went back again and again because it made me hurt and that felt good. Because I was hurting anyway, and being able to make it worse when I wanted to made me feel like I could control it."

Scourge doesn't say anything.

"But that wasn't true," Fiona says. Her voice shakes just a little, and without thinking Scourge takes her hand. It's stupid (sentimental) but she smiles faintly. "I wasn't healing or in control or anything. I was just hurting myself. And I can't stand watching you do the same."

"Babe," Scourge begins hoarsely.

"Tell me it's not the same," Fiona says flatly. "Or tell me- tell me that if I went back to that prison and crawl through that tunnel I dug with my own hands and relive every moment of the hell I went through, that you wouldn't stop me. That you would watch me do it."

He can't tell her that. He can't tell her that and she knows it.

Scourge looks away.

Fiona sighs and runs her hand along his spines. "He's not your dad, Scourge," she says quietly. "He's an entirely different person. Hurting yourself isn't going to make anything better."

"Okay," Scourge agrees. "Okay." Then, after a moment, "Thanks, babe."

Fiona smiles again, and there's something so sad about it he squeezes her hand again (uncool, but it's not like there's anyone else to see it). "No problem, hun."

He goes back again the next day.

This time, the wife is there too.

Scourge crouches in the massive oak tree beside the window, pretending he doesn't feel like a massive creep. His green fur blends neatly with the leaves, rendering him all but invisible to any casual observers, particularly when it's not-quite-light. With luck, it'll fool robian eyes as well.

Anyway.

Scourge doesn't remember his mother. She was simply never in the picture; whether because of death or divorce he never knew. Generally, he suspects the latter - months upon months of neglect, of being constantly passed over and ignored for the more important burdens of the state and the good of the people - yeah, he can see how a divorce would happen. Not that he'll ever know now.

The hedgehog in the kitchen doesn't look neglected. She throws her arms around the robian, not seeming to mind the cold metal, and dances around him as they prepare breakfast. The robian, in turn, leans into her touches and takes advantage of a moment of distraction to dab pancake batter on her nose. It's disgusting. Scourge gags.

Part of him wonders what he's gaining out of this. Hiding in a tree, spying on some losers and their dumb domestic life - not exactly fitting behavior for the former king of Moebius, after all.

It's not... It's not that Fiona's right. It's not like he's hurting himself - like he told Fiona, he's Scourge the Hedgehog. He doesn't do that emotions garbage. That kind of wimpiness is more Sonic's thing.

(Let alone that Fiona had said it happened to her. Let alone that she's usually right, and that she's one of the strongest people he knows.)

He's just curious. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less.

(The voice in his head sounding suspiciously like Fiona whispers, Yeah, right.)

Inside the kitchen, the robian starts flipping pancakes. For a second, Scourge tries to imagine his own father like that: Jules the Hedgehog, king of Moebius, flipping pancakes in a frilly pink apron and laughing with his wife. Arguing over who gets to wake up their son. Talking and hugging and laughing and living -

- and the illusion dissipates. Jules wouldn't set foot in a kitchen. He had servants to do that kind of thing, just like he had servants to take care of his son.

Scourge drops down from the tree branch and lands lightly on his feet. He's done here. He slinks off into the streets, hiding his face from the strengthening sunlight as synthetic laughter rings out behind him.

"Hey, Simian," Scourge says a few days later.

Simian continues lifting weights without slowing. "Yes?"

Scourge likes Simian, as much as he likes anyone. The ape is steady and has a solid head on his shoulders, and while it's kind of a drag most times, he does occasionally have helpful bits of advice. And when he goes loose on the battlefield, he can be really fun to fight alongside.

So that, plus the fact that Hawk doesn't care and Lightning would probably make fun of him and he'd rather eat his own shoes than talk to Fly, makes him Scourge's best option.

Scourge swings his legs back and forth as they dangle off the chair and tries to think of a way to broach it. He just needs to be subtle, right? "When was the last time you saw your parents?"

And maybe that wasn't super subtle after all, because Simian stops in the middle of his workout session (he never stops in the middle of a workout session) to stare at him. It feels... extremely uncomfortable, actually, wow. Scourge hops up and starts his stretches (anything to avoid looking back).

"When I last left my village, I was eighteen," Simian says at last. He sounds thoughtful, which is never a good sign. "That was several years ago... six years, I believe."

"That long, huh?" Scourge moves to quad stretches. "You're pretty old, man. Slowing down anytime soon?"

He's rewarded with a sharp grin. "I'm not that old. Though I suppose most people look slow next to you."

"Damn straight!"

"Why do you ask?"

And that's the issue - when even Scourge isn't sure why he's asking. He takes his time answering. "Oh, you know... just curious. Ever think about 'em?"

There's another ponderous silence, which mostly just succeeds in making Scourge antsy. Well, antsier.

"Sometimes," Simian says. "But I am a dedicated member of this team. You can rest assured of that."

And that's nice, but it's not what he's asking-

"...but that's not what you're asking, is it?"

Scourge freezes. Is he just that transparent? Why can everyone suddenly read his mind now? "What're you on about, man?" he deflects.

Simian shakes his head. "I do miss them, sometimes. It is natural for children to miss their parents."

"Not me!" Scourge laughs, and if it comes out a little too sharp, well, who's to blame him?

"Of course," Simian says, sounding vaguely indulgent. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"Uh, sure," Scourge lies. "A little heavy on the oversharing, but it's cool." And then he scarpers, because if super speed's good for anything it's for escaping uncomfortable conversations. Simian doesn't say anything about it later, and thank Chaos because he doesn't think he'd be able to face Fiona if she ever got wind of that little talk.

The next time he's in town, Scourge picks up a new set of woodworking knives and leaves it on Simian's equipment. It's not like he's gone soft, buying presents for his friends or whatever, Scourge tells himself. He's just... buying Simian's silence. It's a bribe, is all.

(Simian saves him some extra ice cream the night after and that's that.)

It is natural for children to miss their parents, Simian had said. Ha! As if. Scourge hasn't missed his old man a day of his life and he's not about to start now.

... that'd carry more weight if he wasn't spending two or three mornings a week moping outside their kitchen.

Scourge sips his frappe and pretends he's not sulking. Right now, he's outside some random diner in Knothole in full disguise, complete with a trenchcoat, fedora, and sunglasses. He was honestly expecting someone to stop him before now - this kind of garb is about as suspicious as it gets - but no one seemed to even notice anything out of the ordinary. Idiots.

Fiona would kill him if she knew the kind of risks he's taking - which, of course, is why she doesn't need to know.

Scourge checks the time. Seven o'clock, meaning the wife is just getting up and they're having breakfast right now - Chaos, he has their entire morning schedule memorized, doesn't he? Fiona was right, he is obsessed. Scourge slumps over the table and buries his head in his arms.

He can still turn this around. Knowing their schedule is useful, from a strategic standpoint; he could threaten them, take them hostage... even kill them. Sonic would be taken completely offguard. It would be simple. Easy. The smart thing to do.

Scourge's groan is only partially muffled by the table.

"...you alright, son?"

What-

Something electric shoots up his spine. Scourge's claws dig into the edges of the table with a crunch as he bolts upright. And there, before him, with a look so familiar but so foreign in his eyes is-

He's not the same.

His skin is metallic where it should be flesh, plated where it should be furred. His eyes burn a bright pixelated red when they should be brown. That stupid tuft of fur on his head is shining chrome that glints under the bright sun.

But the way he stands - colored though it is with a hint of a soldier's posture - that proud tilt of his chin, the gentleness in his hands as they reach out to him -

It's Jules.

It's different from seeing him in that dim, lamp-lit room. In the daylight, the differences are exaggerated - and so are the similarities.

For a second, Scourge can only see his dad standing there.

He reacts on instinct. Scourge rears back and smacks Jules' outstretched hand away. "Don't touch me!"

Jules straightens up, virtual eyes widening with shock. "I'm- I'm sorry, it looked like you were unhappy. I only meant to-"

"Well, don't," Scourge spits. "Get lost."

Jules looks at him longer and then, for some Chaos-forsaken reason, doesn't leave. Why isn't he leaving, Scourge thinks furiously, and only realizes he's breathing heavy when his breaths start coming too fast and harsh in his ears. Jules says something, but the words don't make sense and he can't tear his gaze away from the polished metal. Beneath his fingertips, the table starts to splinter.

And then there's warm hands on his shoulders, and a steady voice in his ears, saying, "Listen to me. Do you want me to leave?"

Nothing comes out of his throat. Scourge shakes helplessly. He wants him to leave, he wants him stay, he wants to never see him again. He wants his dad.

Jules must take it as permission to stay, because he doesn't leave. The grip on his shoulders is a solid, unmoving presence, and Scourge can't help but lean into it. "I'm going to count slowly. Try to match your breathing to my voice - it's alright if you can't. Starting now. One, two..."

For some completely batty reason, he tries, and it helps some. His breathing is a little too fast and a lot shaky, still, but it settles into a more even pace instead of the uncontrollable rush. Sense comes back slowly, and with it, an acute, uncomfortable awareness of what just happened.

Well. At least he's not crying.

Scourge stands abruptly, tearing himself from Jules' arms. The robian raises a brow but doesn't protest. "Are you feeling better?" he asks instead. It's entirely casual, with no hint of pity, and Scourge hates himself a little for being pathetically grateful.

"Peachy," Scourge snaps and whirls around, hiking up his collar. Jules isn't screaming yet, so he clearly hasn't realized who he is, and Scourge is in no hurry to correct him. Honestly, this hedgehog's stupidity knows no bounds.

"Well." The robian stands up, reaches for a grocery bag that Scourge only just realized was there, and adds, "Stay safe, son."

Scourge's vision briefly whites out from fury. "Don't call me that," he snarls and takes off running before Jules can reply.

He finds a secluded place in a lonely corner, throws his warp ring, and promises himself that he'll never go back.

Scourge does some research.

It's called a panic attack, apparently. Common among soldiers, which is probably why Jules knew what to do - he said he'd been on the front lines, hadn't he? Common among victims of PTSD, the website says, and Scourge scoffs and closes the tab. Trauma - ridiculous. Scourge doesn't do trauma. If anything, he gives it to other people.

He's still snickering at his joke when Hawk comes in to tell him that Finitevus called in with another job. Normally, Scourge would tell him to screw off, but he's offering a massive stack of Anarchy beryl in return - something they've been in short supply of since they ditched Moebius.

Scourge's body itches at the thought of going super again. He accepts.

Thirty minutes later, they're waist-deep in smashed Eggman bots and struggling to fend off a fresh wave while Fiona and Hawk bicker over the terminal.

"I'm telling you, if we do that, we'll get locked out of the system entirely!" Fiona snaps.

Hawk throws up his hands. "Fine! Ignore me! It's not like you literally just have to enter the code or anything!"

Scourge spindashes down the line of Eggpawns, smashing through them like paper. He hits the wall at the right angle to bounce right off and uncurls in midair to land on his feet.

"Wrap it up, guys!" he yells and ducks beneath a stray kunai. "Watch it, Lightning!"

"Thought you were supposed to be the fast one," Lightning calls back.

"And I thought you were supposed to be able to aim!"

"I can." Lightning flicks a wrist and Scourge drops backward into a roll to avoid the next kunai that comes his way. When he springs back onto his feet, ready to chew out the idiotic trigger-happy lynx, there's a Badnik pinned to the wall right where he'd been standing. Lightning shoots him a smug grin.

"Right back atcha," Scourge mutters and barrels through the cluster taking potshots at Hawk and Fi.

"Ugh, fine!" Fiona shoves Hawk away and starts typing furiously.

Scourge drops another five Badniks and skids to a stop as an Egg Launcher smashes through the wall directly in front of him. "Fiona!"

"Give us a minute," Hawk snarls back.

The Launcher brings its arms down to eye level and Scourge leaps into the air as its targeting system locks on - and then Fly drops out of nowhere onto on its shoulders. "Need help?" the frog giggles (sweet Chaos Scourge hates him) and rips the thing's head off. Scourge blitzes right through its chest.

As its body slumps bonelessly to the floor, another Launcher steps through the wall behind it... and another one. And another. Chaos.

"If those things unload all those missiles in here, we're going to have a problem," Lightning says, echoing Scourge's own thoughts.

"Out of the way," Simian grunts, swinging the first bot's disembodied missile launcher-slash-arm onto his shoulder and taking aim.

"Are you nuts, man?" Scourge yells. "Didn't you hear Lightning? You fire that thing and this whole building's going down!"

"Better have the exit ready, then," Simian returns evenly.

"Got it!" Fiona announces, jumping up from the terminal with a chip in hand. Hawk follows, looking severely disgruntled. "Turns out we really did just have to enter the code. Hah."

"I told you," Hawk begins, but Fiona waves him off.

"You were right once, don't go getting a big head. You got the ring ready, sweetie?"

"Everyone over here! You miss the ring, we're leavin' you behind!" Scourge doesn't wait for a response and throws the warp ring. The portal spins into existence, glistening faintly in the electric light, and they all pile in. Simian fires off a final missile salvo before the ring vanishes and they tumble haphazardly into the Doc's lair to the sound of the entire base going up.

For a second, no one moves, too tired and bruised and tangled together to bother getting up. Lightning sighs heavily from the bottom of the heap. Scourge laughs.

"I trust you have what I asked for?" Finitevus asks from literally two feet away, and Scourge isn't even going to question how he knew where they'd end up. After all, they are at his mercy inside his weird evil lair, and Scourge knows how to be tactful.

Scourge props himself up on an elbow. "So do you like, practice being creepy, or is it natural?"

Without looking, Fiona smacks him in the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"We have it," Fiona says, extricating herself from the tangle. Scourge considers tripping her as she walks past, decides against it, and settles for hooking his ankle around Hawk's heel as he stands up. The bird goes down with a satisfying squawk right on top of Lightning and the ensuing chaos lets Scourge hop up onto his own feet.

Fiona ignores it.

"All the files relating to the roboticization process are on this USB," she says, holding it out. Finitevus takes it and, after a moment's inspection, slips it into his robes.

"So why'd you want that, Doc?" Scourge asks, adjusting his sunglasses. "Woulda thought that robot stuff wasn't quite your style."

"It is true that roboticization is a perversion of the natural order and representative of that which I seek to destroy," Finitevus concedes. "But I am not opposed to much that will give me the advantage against my nemeses. And I must admit the idea of enslaving your opponent's will to your own has a certain... charm."

Scourge and Fiona exchange a look - of the literally why is he like this and the why do we talk to him again variety - and Scourge shoves his hands in his pockets and steps up. "Uh... yeah, man. Totally. Anyway, if we're done here, can we have the beryl now?"

"Of course. But first, I have one more task for you."

Scourge scoffs disbelievingly. "Are you kidding? The deal was we break into Eggman's lab, steal your stupid information, and hand it over. We've done that. It took like forever and it was a massive pain in the butt the whole time, we are not adding anything else onto that and that's final."

"...I'll double the amount of beryl."

Scourge hesitates.

... which is how they ended up here. Scourge crouches on the windy rooftop, tugging his dumb fancy suit jacket closer and hoping idly that something happens soon. "Can we go in yet?" he asks.

Hawk, who's busy adjusting his own disguise, shakes his head. "You really have no patience at all, do you?"

"Nope!" Scourge tugs on his overly-tight tie and mostly just makes it worse. "How 'bout now?"

"If you were any good at infiltration, Fiona would've let you go in already," Hawk says. He's typing on his communicator, syncing all their devices into something they can actually use. It's not that Hawk's particularly adept at technology, or anything; it's just that all the rest of them are so abysmal at anything electric that tech duty usually falls to him or Fiona. "Unless Plan C falls through, you're not headed in 'till the last minute."

Scourge sighs loudly, letting his feet dangle off the edge of the building. "I could just walk in and grab him. They wouldn't even see me coming. Then we wouldn't have to spend a million years sitting out in the cold."

Hawk doesn't look up. "And then Sonic would pursue, and then we'd have to fight him off while trying to kidnap a geriatric former soldier without killing him. Which, given our previous track record..."

The bird trails off and Scourge grimaces. Yeah. They'd given up on kidnappings for a reason. They wouldn't have even considered this one if not for the offer of Anarchy beryl - which has been in extremely short supply recently, given they can't hop dimensions without instantly snagging Zonic's individual attention. And it's not like Scourge isn't flattered that the self-important dimensional cop will drop everything for a chance at catching him, but he's not planning on seeing the inside of Zone Jail ever again.

Anyway. It's a small blessing that Zonic hasn't come looking for them personally, or sent Sonic after them, but it's one Scourge isn't willing to throw away just for a power-up. Thus the kidnapping mission.

Scourge swings his legs contemplatively and longs for Fiona to hurry up so he can bash some heads.

Right on cue, their communicators ring. "Alright, boys," Fiona's voice comes through a little tinnily. "You ready?"

"Heck yeah," Scourge says immediately.

"Ready to go whenever," Hawk confirms.

"Roger. Meet me where we agreed." The comms unit crackles and goes silent. Scourge hops up and starts stretching quickly, trying to limber up his half-frozen muscles. Hawk sets his communicator down and picks the lock on the trapdoor they'd been sitting next to. Once it's open, they slip down a small flight of stairs and through an empty hallway. At the end, they take a right through another hall and stop outside a janitor's closet.

Scourge raps on the door. "Knock, knock," he says.

There's a moment of silence. Then Lightning opens the door. "Hurry up," he whispers, peering over their shoulders.

Scourge clicks his tongue in disappointment. "Dude, you're supposed to say 'who's there.'"

"Yeah, Lightning," Fiona says from inside. "You're ruining the script."

"I- what?" Lightning sputters. "You people are so immature. Simian, can you tell them to shut up?"

There's a good fifteen seconds of judgemental silence. "...you should've said 'who's there.'"

Lightning rolls his eyes and Scourge pushes past him into the room. Simian nods as he enters and Fly, who's doing something he can't quite make out, cackles in a corner. Scourge spreads his arms wide. "Alright, I'm here now, the party can start!"

"Good to have you," Fiona says. She's sitting on an overturned bucket, one ankle folded over her knee and eyes glued to her phone. "Alright, so Plan A failed."

"Yes!"  Scourge cheers, pumping a fist in the air.

Fiona shoots him a glare. "We weren't able to get him away from his bodyguards and the speech is about to start soon. I didn't want to do this in front of a crowd, but we may not have a choice. Right now, we only have to deal with the normal security and Sonic. After the ceremony, they're going to meet up with a bunch of Sonic's friends before going back home to Knothole."

"Wouldn't it be better to wait, then?" Simian asks, folding his arms.

Fiona shakes her head. "No for two reasons. We can handle the normal security easily, especially if we use the crowd for meatshields while Scourge is distracting Sonic. Sonic's friends are, frankly, a much greater threat than the security, and they will not be holding back. And if we wait until they go back to Knothole, we have that... woman to deal with."

Everyone shudders at the mention of Nicole. Their last attempt on Knothole is not a memory anyone wants to relive.

"So if we use the crowd for cover and Scourge's able to distract Sonic for long enough, this is doable," Fiona resumes. "We'll just have to time it right. And we can not let Sonic know our target at all costs. If he realizes we're trying to kidnap his uncle, he won't let the old man out of his sight, and our job will get a lot harder. Got that?"

A quick briefing on everyone's roles later and it's time to go. Scourge starts to follow the guys out the door and is caught short by Fiona's hand on his wrist. "Sweetie, can I talk to you for a second?" she asks and drags him back inside before he can answer.

She turns him loose and Scourge spins around, rubbing his wrist. "Alright, if this is about what I think it's about-"

"Don't worry, I'm not yelling at you. Just..." she trails off to stare at him.

Scourge tries not to fidget and goes for a confident smile, propped up against the wall. "Babe, don't worry about me. This'll be a lark."

"It's... you know." Fiona shrugs and apparently decides to just go for it. "You've been having issues about your dad. I need to know if that'll affect your performance here."

"What?" Scourge is almost kind of offended. If it was anyone but Fi asking, he would be offended. "Babe, my uncle was a total nutjob. Like, worse than my old man. No issues here."

Fiona looks at him a second longer. "Alright," she says at last. "If you say so. I'm counting on you."

She brushes past him on her way out, squeezing his hand on the way, which is nice since she's weird about stuff like that. Scourge follows a minute later.

I require one more thing for my research, Finitevus had said. Charles the Hedgehog. Inventor of the roboticization process. He is receiving an award for his technological advancements in Central City in two days. Bring him to me alive and you will have your full reward.

Scourge scans the crowd for Charles now, leaning on the fancy railing of the fancy indoors balcony overlooking the fancy banquet hall. There's a name for a balcony like this - a mezzasomething - but he can't remember what it is. Maybe Fiona would know.

Scourge tugs at the collar of his unbearably fancy suit jacket and longs for his sunglasses.

He'd told Fiona the truth earlier - his uncle was a wackjob. Paranoid, jittery, simultaneously ravenous for power and terrified of it - no one had liked him, least of all his nephew.

Jules had liked him, probably. Enough to give him a home and a laboratory for his crazy experiments and to turn a blind eye when they started getting darker and more deadly. That had gone on up until Charles had invented a machine that turned moebians to robots, and its first (unwilling) test subject had been Jules.

Yeah. After Ivo managed to save Jules' life, they'd put a stop to that real quick.

They'd told Scourge that Charles had gone far away to someplace he could be happy. He still remembers that scene - Jules crouching down before him with mournful eyes, one arm cold and stiff where the roboticization process had gotten it before Ivo had pulled him out. His flesh hand had been warm and comforting on his shoulder, and Scourge had been so distracted by the touch that he hadn't even cared that his uncle was gone. He'd faked tears just to get Jules to stay with him a little longer.

Scourge shakes his head wildly, dissipating the memories. Anyway, it was painfully obvious in hindsight that Charles had either been jailed or executed for treason. Not that Scourge would have cared either way. Mostly, he's just vaguely curious to see what Charles is like in this world. Still a mad scientist, or something more benevolent?

A mass of whispering erupts at the main entryway of the hall. Scourge straightens up.

A bunch of bodyguards in black enter, followed by a few people who could be family or friends. Sonic's there, obviously, and next to him can only be Uncle Charles.

Scourge doesn't really remember his uncle; he was, after all, a kid when the guy vanished, and he avoided him whenever possible. But the face before him is undeniably like his own. He has the same sloping forehead, the same pointed muzzle. Honestly, he looks exactly like Sonic with a mustache.

Scourge leans forward, intrigued, as the old guy says something that has Sonic pitching forward in laughter. It's weird, seeing him. Not like seeing Jules, or even like seeing the mom. Just... weird.

Not the kind of weird that Fiona's worried about, thank Chaos. No, he'll have no problems handing this schmuck over to the Doc.

Charles and his little squad sit down in the front row while the bodyguards split up to cover the exits. Scourge tracks their positions automatically, mostly focused on the target. Charles claps his nephew on the back and leans over to whisper something in his ear. Scourge looks away with a sneer.

The ceremony starts. A bunch of people Scourge doesn't know talk about a bunch of things he doesn't understand, blah blah blah. Scourge yawns and taps a tattoo on the railing with his claws. Luckily, all the civilians seem to have gone down to the seating area, so he's alone on the balcony. As long as the security doesn't notice him, he should have no problem staying under the radar until it's time to make his move. Until then, he amuses himself trying to find the rest of the Destructix hidden in the crowd.

Down below, the speeches start wrapping up. Charles ruffles his nephew's quills one last time and heads up to the stage. Scourge straightens up as he accepts his award and takes the mic.

"First, I'd like to thank you all for being here today," the hedgehog says. Scourge taps his foot impatiently. "I know it's a bit of a long way for a lot of you - we've got some visitors from Holoska, even! - and it means a lot to me that you'd take the time to make it here today. So thank you."

Ugh, so boring. Can't Fiona hurry up? At this rate, they'll be doing the audience a favor by sparing them all this drivel.

"- of the University of Spagonia for funding my research and going out of his way to help me whenever I needed it. Thank you, old friend."

Scourge taps his communicator and almost jumps when it crackles to life.

"Alright, everyone's in position," Fiona says. "On my mark, Scourge, you're going to distract Sonic. Jump down there, challenge him to a fight, anything. His sole concern needs to be beating you up."

"All he has to do is be himself and Sonic'll be jumping at the chance to tear him a new one," Lightning interjects. "Works on me."

"Oh, shut up," Scourge says. "Fiona, tell him to shut up."

"...well, he has a point."

Lightning's amused huff is audible over the comm. Scourge rolls his eyes. Traitors, all of them.

Fiona's voice goes serious. "But for real. Get him mad and get him out of here. Make him chase you 'till I call you back, and don't give him a second to realize there's more going on. If he comes back here before we're done, it's over. Okay?"

"I got it handled, babe," Scourge says. "Worry about yourself."

"Believe me, I am." The comms go silent a second later. Scourge stands up, shakes the stiffness from his limbs, and hops up to crouch on the railing. It's showtime.

On stage, Charles is still talking. Does the hedgehog not know how to shut up? "And finally, I'd like to thank my family, who loved and supported me every step of the way, up to and including being here with me today as I accept this award. Sonic, my amazing nephew - you've grown so much and, while I wasn't there for all of it-"

Well, that's enough of that. Scourge leaps into the air, curls up, and lands a perfectly executed homing attack on the podium. Splinters, chunks of wood, and a massive dust cloud fly everywhere. Someone in the audience screams, and behind him he can hear Charles stumbling back and coughing furiously.

"Uncle Chuck!" In the front row, Sonic rockets to his feet and dashes forward, only to come skidding to a stop. As the dust dissipates, Scourge grins. He can feel the light glinting off his fangs.

"Long time no see, faker," Scourge spits. He pulls his sunglasses out of the stupid suit jacket's pocket and slides them on with a flourish. "Can't exactly say it's a pleasure seeing you... then again, I always look forward to a chance to kick your butt."

"Wh- Scourge?" the blue idiot sputters. The shock only lasts a matter of seconds before fading, as the flabbergasted expression turns into something more like a smirk. "Well, well. I haven't heard from you since I demolished you and left Zonic to drag your sorry carcass away. Did they let you out on good behavior?"

Good behavior. Hah. As if Sonic knows anything about what goes on in Zone Jail. "Please. I smashed my way out of there the first week. The Zone Jail's in shambles; just ask Zonic! Oh wait - you can't." He laughs.

Sonic's smile slips a notch and the quills on his back bristle. "What happened to Zonic?"

Scourge keeps laughing.

"Alright, pincushion. Maybe you'll tell me when I beat it out of you!" Apparently done talking, Sonic curls up into a spindash. Scourge, still laughing, topples off the wrecked podium and leaves Sonic to smash into the stage where he'd been standing. People are screaming, someone's escorting Charles off the stage, and Scourge is reveling in the chaos.

"Slowing down, blue boy?" he mocks him. "You'll never find out about your stupid friend if you can't even touch me." Zonic's perfectly fine, actually, unless you count the truckload of paperwork Scourge saddled him with after his escape from Zone Jail. Not that Sonic needs to know that, 'cause if anything ticks him off, it's a threat to one of his friends.

And, true to form, Sonic snarls wordlessly and Scourge knows he's got him.

"You're looking kind of slow today - let's see if those legs of yours still work," Scourge calls over his shoulder and takes off. The world blurs around him as he taps into his speed, rockets between panicked partygoers and confused waiters and angry bodyguards. Out of the corner of his eye, he briefly spots Fiona crouching behind a pillar before she's blown away in his wake. Like this, outside sounds, sights, everything drops away, leaving him alone with himself and the wind.

It's nice. Peaceful, even.

And then the only other being who can keep up with him barrels into his side, sending them tumbling over each other right through the big open doors outside. Scourge lands a kick to Sonic's chest, sending him spinning away, and sprints down a sidestreet towards the marketplace. A moment later, the sound of footsteps running at 300 mph picks up behind him.

Scourge grins. The plan's working, then - Sonic's so ticked that he hasn't even stopped to wonder why Scourge isn't stopping to fight, or why he crashed the party in the first place. Now he just has to play this out 'till Fiona's done.

"Been slacking your exercise regimen lately? 'Cause I thought you were faster than this!" Scourge calls out.

"That so?" Sonic returns. The sound is unexpectedly close and Scourge looks back to see Sonic running only a few paces behind him. "I could say the same for you."

Scourge growls and vaults a fruit cart, sending it flying with a back kick. Sonic dodges the cart and dives through the onslaught of flying fruit, coming up without a scratch. Scourge's gained a precious few seconds, but in a contest of speed, those seconds mean everything. He blocks Sonic's path - kicking over trash cans, dodging in front of moving cars, knocking a baby out of its mother's arms with a well placed swipe. Sonic dodges the trash cans, goes over or around the vehicles, and loses a good fifteen seconds saving the baby. By the time they've cleared the marketplace, Scourge is about thirty feet ahead and gaining.

"What's wrong?" Sonic yells. "Scared of a little fight?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Scourge yells back. "Dunno 'bout you, but I'm not wasting my time fighting someone too slow to keep up!" Up ahead, a pile of trash bags is stacked against a sloping wall, reaching up to the edge of the roof. Scourge leaps up in a single bound and sprints along the rooftop. Behind, the trash bags crinkle as Sonic races up, and tiles creak as the hedgehog fights for balance. Scourge snorts and picks up speed.

The rooftop run is fraught with near-misses and almost-falls. This area of town has a mixture of buildings; some are modern and boxy, with flat tops, but there's a number of older structures with pointed tile roofs. Scourge skids down the sloping ridge of one of these, slips off the building, snags a flagpole on the way down and turns his fall into a launch point. He lands upright on the narrow ledge of a skyscraper and darts along the line of windows, flashing a mock salute at some goggle-eyed kid in its bedroom.

Sneakered feet hit the concrete behind him as Sonic pursues, grinning despite his ferocious eyes.

Scourge hooks a fast right as the ledge ends and drops down to the top level of the parking garage nestled against the 'scraper. Mostly he's planning on going back down to street level, but Sonic puts on a burst of speed and tackles him right there.

They roll head over heels across the concrete, colliding with a dusty pickup truck hard enough to dent in the side. Scourge throws himself out of the way and rolls onto his feet just as Sonic picks himself up. The blaring car alarm is the only sound as they stare each other down.

Sonic moves first. He doesn't bother curling up, just lunges fist first at Scourge's face. Scourge ducks the punch and goes in low for Sonic's solar plexus, narrowly dodging a knee to his face. Sonic slams his heel down on Scourge's foot and drives an elbow into his neck. Scourge stumbles back, falling into a roll to avoid Sonic's left hook, and comes up on his feet with room to spare.

There's another moment of staring and circling as they pant heavily and pretend they're not.

And then Sonic steps something that crunches and looks down.

Scourge lunges. Sonic sidesteps him easily and snatches it up - and wait, Chaosdammit that's his communicator-

"Is this a mic?" Sonic asks disbelievingly and then the pieces click.

He stares at Scourge blankly, and Scourge can practically see his train of thought - comms means accomplices, accomplices means there's a plan, a plan means Sonic was intentionally drawn out here away from the ceremony, and if Sonic's out here then -

Then -

Scourge swears and moves to tackle Sonic but the idiot's already gone. Instinctively, his hand goes to his ear - "Fiona, he's coming your way, I-" No, wait, Sonic's got the communicator and it's broken anyway, dammit. The plan's falling apart and it's entirely his fault.

Well. It hasn't fallen apart yet.

Scourge takes off, running full-tilt after Sonic. The irony of the situation isn't lost on him, not that he appreciates it. Sonic's trail is a direct beeline back to the hall. It should be easy to follow, but for some reason Scourge can't catch up those last few feet.

"I thought you wanted to fight, you dingus!" Scourge snaps. "Make up your mind already, sheesh!"

"You tricked me," Sonic growls.

"Uh, yeah? I'm the bad guy. It's kinda what I do."

"What's your actual plan?"

"Thought you were gonna beat me up and find out?"

Sonic snarls and, impossibly, picks up speed. Scourge has to drop the conversation entirely to focus on just keeping up.

They hit the convention hall scarce minutes later. There's clearly a fight going on inside; explosions and the faint sound of screaming accompany the flood of people battering down the doors in their desperation to escape. The Destructix are clearly having fun... and more importantly, haven't escaped yet. What on Moebius are they doing?!

Sonic zips through the crowd, dodging panicking mobians with practiced ease. Scourge doesn't bother; he kicks one middle-aged cat into the heart of the rush and vaults over the resulting pileup without missing a step. "Babe! Hope you're wrapping it up in there!" he yells as they burst into the ceremony hall.

The Destructix are more than holding their own. The security has been almost entirely cleared out; fallen guards litter the area while none of their own are even scratched. Fiona, wielding a G.U.N. issue stun pistol, jerks up in surprise as Sonic skids into the room. "Scourge, you had one job!" she screeches.

"So did you!" Scourge rams into Sonic from behind, sending them both flying into a row of seating. Scourge comes out on top. "What happened to Ch- the target?" he asks, pinning Sonic down with an elbow to his throat.

"Escaped," Fiona says grimly. "We've already informed the Doc... and, uh, we have a new objective now."

Sonic makes a choked-off sound and Scourge leans down harder. Something shifts behind him but he ignores it. "Alright, what is it?"

Fiona hesitates.

And then cold metal claws clamp down around his shoulder and tear him off Sonic, lifting him bodily into the air. The hedgehog wheezes for breath on the ground, but Scourge isn't paying attention. He's not paying attention to anything anymore, because in front of him-

"What the hell are you doing here," Scourge breathes.

Artificial red eyes burn into his own. "Don't touch my son," says Jules, and the anger in his voice causes every limb in Scourge's body to lock up with instinctive fear.

Of course Jules is here, Charles is his brother, why wouldn't he attend the ceremony - hadn't the blasted hedgehog said as much during his speech? Scourge should've realized it then. This was a bad idea, they need to get out of here, why did Scourge even come here in the first place-

Something in Jules' mechanical expression thaws.

The clawhold on his shoulder eases as he's lowered to his feet, but Scourge's brain is still spinning in circles. He's gone completely unresponsive, some part of him knows, but he can't think.

"Get away from him!" Fiona yells and plants a high kick right in the center of Jules' chest. The robian goes flying, pursued by Simian, and Hawk swoops down behind them to tackle Sonic away. "Babe," Fiona says, kneeling down beside Scourge, feeling frantically at his shoulder. "Did he get you?"

The world shifts a little bit back into place. "No," Scourge mutters. "Fiona, I don't-"

"Save it." Fiona's eyes are full of worry as she grabs his wrist and hauls him to his feet. "I think you need to sit this one out, sweetie."

"What? No." Scourge grips her hand like a lifeline. "I can fight. I can still fight."

"Scourge... the new target is Jules."

Something in his chest catches. Scourge stares at her, and around them, the noise of the battle seems to fade. "...what? Why?"

Fiona grimaces. "We lost the inventor of roboticization. Next best thing is its last survivor."

"No. We're not doing that." Scourge has no idea what he's doing, only that they cannot hand his- hand Jules over to Finitevus. He catches both her hands in his own and squeezes them tight. "Call off the mission, we're going home."

Fiona stares at him. "What? Scourge, you can't be serious! After all the work we've put into this? And what about the beryl?"

"We already got the beryl from the first mission. We'll be careful and save it until we can restock. We've gotten this far without any beryl at all, we don't need it that badly!" Scourge hesitates. "...Fiona, please."

It's the last word that breaks her. She knows how bad he hates saying it, knows how much this means to him that he's saying it now. Her shoulders slump in defeat. "...fine. But you get to explain this to the Doc - and please, let's try to avoid burning that bridge again."

Scourge squeezes her hand one last time before letting go. "Thanks, Fi. And don't worry about the Doc; I'll take care of him."

"That's what I'm worried about," Fiona grumbles, but she's smiling. "Alright, team," she calls out, pulling out her warp ring. "Mission's off. We're going home."

"Wait, what?" Hawk asks and nearly gets clobbered by Sonic for his trouble. "Why?"

"Ask questions when we get home," Fiona says and throws the ring. As the portal whooshes open, Scourge turns to survey the troops. Lightning and Simian are slowly retreating back to the portal, fighting Jules every step of the way, while Hawk and Fly are trying without much success to fend off Sonic long enough to run.

Scourge spindashes into Sonic, knocking him off-balance. "Get to the portal, idiots!" To Sonic, he adds, "Sorry, but it looks like we're cutting this date short." If Chaos has even a drop of mercy in its unforgiving soul, Sonic will have been too thoroughly distracted by the fight to have overheard his exchange with Fiona.

And it looks like for once, his prayers are answered, because Sonic's grin, strained with exhaustion though it is, hints at nothing off. "I'm not letting you get away this time," he says and launches into another spindash. "I still have some questions for you to answer!"

"Then they'll have to wait for next time." Scourge ducks the attack and slams his heel into Sonic as he passes, boosting his momentum to slam into the opposite wall. "Alright, time to go!" he yells, scrambling for the portal. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the rest of the Destructix doing the same.

Fiona's already waiting at the portal, with one leg halfway through, and-

"-aaaaaAAAUGH, WHAT THE HELL," she screams and falls back, pinwheeling wildly.

"Fiona!" Scourge yells and then the world blurs briefly and he's at her side, hauling her to her feet. "Fi, what's-" and then he screams too, because Finitevus is literally right there, climbing through the ring like a monster in a horror movie.

The battle cuts off. A few feet away, a newly recovered Sonic skids to a stop, staring incredulously. The Destructix are sort of ranged out behind him, looking to Scourge and Fiona for the next move. And who knows where Jules is.

"Dude," Scourge says emphatically, putting a hand to his chest. "Don't do that."

"What are you doing," Finitevus hisses.

Scourge makes a show of looking around. "Uh, escaping? I mean, what does it look like?"

"I should have known better than expect you lot to pull through," Finitevus mutters, and hey, that's actually kind of offensive.

"Hey! Screw you, man!" Scourge yells, shaking his fist. "We're leaving 'cause we want to, not 'cause we're losing!" Fiona slaps a palm to her face.

"Oh? And what possible reason could you have to do that?" Finitevus asks, but he doesn't seem very interested in an answer, because his hands flare with dark energy a second later, and Scourge knows what that means.

"Scatter!" he yells and hits the ground with Fiona as a bolt of Chaos energy goes right over their heads. Fiona rolls out from under him as he leaps to his feet.

Sonic seems to have switched targets. Currently, he's hammering away at Finitevus' defenses, running his mouth the whole time. The ring portal is still open behind Finitevus, but they need to get the crazy echidna out of the way first.

Fiona, as usual, is two steps ahead. "You're going to need to team up with Sonic."

"What, seriously? Can't we just let Sonic take care of the Doc and ditch?"

She gives him a flat look. "I don't know how he did it, but Finitevus must have hijacked the ring's signal and keyed it to his lair. I need time to reset it before we can leave. Just, you know-" she waves a hand vaguely. "Move the fight away. Whale on Finitevus. Keep them both off my back long enough for me to work."

"Ugh. Fine." Scourge turns around on his heel. "Hey, loser!" he calls out, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Five minute truce?"

Sonic uncurls in midair long enough to yell, "Make it two!"

Fiona had better work fast, because this isn't going to take long. "Destructix, watch Fiona's back," he orders and throws himself into the fight.

Finitevus was clearly anticipating something like this, because he moves smoothly into defending against the both of them without hesitation. And it's - frustrating. Whenever Scourge throws a punch, a ring portal swirls into being in just the right place to take his hit. If he tries a kick, the same thing. And Chaos forbid he spindashes, or he'll wind up on the opposite side of the room (or, more accurately, slamming into Sonic).

Between the ring portals and the constant misdirection, the two minute mark passes and they haven't landed a single hit. The guy isn't on their level, exactly, but he's unpredictable with enough tricks that he could probably take either of them on their own. Against both of them, he doesn't stand a chance - or he wouldn't if Sonic would get out of his way.

"Dude, we're supposed to be working together!" Sonic snaps.

Scourge flicks his ear (it's been ringing since Finitevus dropped a portal that sent a spindashing Sonic on a collision course with Scourge's face) and ducks beneath a Chaos-infused punch. "Not my fault you can't keep up."

He sidesteps a second punch and follows up with a roundhouse kick that comes inches from the Doc's face before another ring portal intercepts. Dammit.

Sonic, of course, chooses that moment to go for a homing attack, which takes him right into the portal as Finitevus dodges. From somewhere on the other side of the room, the moron makes a faint oomph sound as the portal spits him out.

Scourge rolls his eyes and sweeps his legs under Finitevus' ankles, forcing the echidna to stumble back. "You make a remarkably disloyal minion," Finitevus says and drops into a portal.

On a hunch, Scourge spins around and slams a haymaker into Finitevus' face when the echidna reappears behind him. "Calling me a minion was your first mistake, Doc," Scourge says. "I'm the king, baby."

Finitevus snarls and vanishes again. "I must wonder at the cause of this particular instance," his voice says. Scourge whirls around, fists up before him, but the scientist is nowhere to be seen. "You were, after all, so eager to serve at first. What changed your mind?"

"You really gotta learn the difference between serving and making a deal, bud," Scourge says. "This why your friends always leave you?"

Finitevus ignores him. "Nothing changed between then and now. Nothing... except the target." Something flickers in the corner of Scourge's eye and he starts to turn, but he's met with a blow to the jaw followed by one to the shin. Scourge crumples to his knee with a cry of pain and looks up to see Finitevus' Chaos-powered boot swing for his face-

And then someone's hand snags his wrist and they're moving.

The world blurs just a little as Sonic hauls him across the room at lightning speed to drag him behind an overturned table. Scourge clutches the lapels of his jacket and tries to force his racing heartbeat to settle. For a second, they just breathe.

"Okay, we need to coordinate," Sonic says belatedly.

"Don't tell me what to do," Scourge says, mostly on reflex.

Sonic rolls his eyes. "If you draw his fire, I'll go behind to take him offguard. Think you can do that?"

"What? No. You draw his fire and I'll sneak up behind him."

"Yeah, maybe I'd do that if I had any faith at all in your stealth. You aren't exactly subtle, bud."

Scourge thinks back to every mission that involved some level of sabotage/stealth/general sneakery and their inevitably disastrous ends and winces. Unfortunately, he has a point. "Fine, whatever. Don't mess this up, dweeb." A blast of chaos energy rocks the floor beneath their feet - time's up. Finitevus is here.

Scourge breaks for the left.

"Hey old man, having trouble keeping up?" He leaps into the air as Finitevus goes for a sweeping kick and curls into a spindash, aimed at the scientist's head. Predictably, he sails right into a ring portal and falls out several feet away. In midair, he uncurls and kicks off the ground to rebound towards Finietvus.

The Doc raises his hands coated in Chaos energy and actually catches the spindash. For a moment, they war against each other - dark energy to living buzzsaw - before Finitevus shoves back and they break apart.

Scourge hits the ground in a crouch and lunges again. This time, he feints an uppercut followed up with a knee strike to the gut. The echidna stumbles back, but recovers almost instantly. As Scourge goes in for another strike, Finitevus snags his collar and yanks him off-balance, slamming him into the dirt. Scourge tries to wriggle out of his grip, but the Doc pins him to the ground with a hand on his throat and a knee on his chest.

"I can't say I haven't been waiting for this," the mad scientist breathes, and raises a handful of swirling black energy.

Scourge scrabbles helplessly at his wrist and wonders, briefly, if this is it.

And then a blue ball of spikes rockets out of nowhere, smacking into the back of Finitevus' head so hard the floor creaks when he faceplants. Scourge kicks him off and rolls back onto his feet, smacking away Sonic's outstretched hand. The echidna staggers upright, but his shield is broken and Sonic and Scourge poised on either side of him. The echidna eyes them warily, rings at the ready, and for a second no one moves.

"Got it!" Fiona's voice breaks the spell.

Sonic's concentration slips. Scourge can see it; the way his posture straightens slightly, the way he half-turns to face her. Finitevus sees it too.

And then Finitevus' hands are up, radiating dark energy, and Scourge drops into a defensive stance 'cause the blue buffoon can get himself killed if he wants but Scourge is going down fighting- but Finitevus isn't looking at either of them.

He's looking behind them.

At Jules.

Jules, who has no Chaos abilities, can't break the sound barrier on a whim, can't dodge bullets point-blank.

Jules, who both is his father and isn't, who's a machine but still alive, who stood across from Scourge in a dark room and didn't flinch though Scourge held his life in his hands, who loves his wife and child and wouldn't hesitate to die for either of them.

Jules, who would walk a random stranger through a panic attack on the street but can't dodge a Chaos spear if it's pointed at his chest.

Time slows down to a crawl. Scourge doesn't think.

He just moves.

The last thing he sees, as pain erupts from his chest like lightning and the world is drowned out by the black of corrupted Chaos energy, is the bright red of Jules' horrified eyes.

There's a beeping noise somewhere near his ear. Fiona's phone, probably (even though it sounds nothing like her alarm). Scourge reaches up to shut it off and is stopped halfway by the clink of cold metal.

...huh?

He opens his eyes to dim electric light and a pounding headache. There's a hard surface beneath his back, thin sheets around him, and a metallic chill around his wrists, ankles, and throat.

Through the haze, something about the last one feels familiar.

Beside him, something rustles, and a soft voice says, "Awake, then?"

"Dad?" Scourge mumbles foggily. For a moment he's eight again, in the hospital after a near-drowning, and his dad took a whole day off from work to rush to his bedside and hold his hand. It was the first time he'd seen him in a week.

Then reality catches up and reminds him that no, his dad is dead and whatever's going on here is something to worry about. The fog is gone in an instant.

Scourge's eyes snap open and he throws himself as much he can to the far side of the bed from the figure standing there now. Jules is there - a little scratched and dinged up but very much alive.

There's a flicker of something like relief inside him before Scourge stuffs it down and crushes it very firmly. Chaos, Fiona was right. He let his stupid hangups about this robian get out of hand, and now look what's happened - the mission went south, Scourge is chained to a hospital bed, the rest of the Destructix are nowhere to be seen, and worst of all, he made a heroic sacrifice like he's Sonic or something.

Chaos, Scourge is never living this one down.

"It's good to see you're moving around already," Da- Jules says in that same too-soft tone. "Some of the doctors were convinced you wouldn't live another day. I suppose any son of mine, even from another dimension, is just too durned stubborn to go out like that..."

"Don't," Scourge rasps.

Jules blinks at him. "Pardon?"

"That." Scourge lets go of the bed's railing just long enough to gesture irritably. "I'm not your son. Don't call me that."

Instead of rearing back in offense or dropping the nice act altogether, Jules tilts his head slightly, as though in recognition. "Ah," he says after a moment. "So that was you."

Scourge freezes and tries to play it off. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That day in front of Chuck's diner," Jules says. "That was you. I wasn't sure, since you were still supposed to be in Zone Jail then."

"Chuck's diner? What?" Scourge forces a laugh. It comes out entirely fake and just a little unhinged.

"You had a panic attack," Jules continues, unperturbed. "I walked you through it. Honestly, at the time, I thought it was because of me."

It was because of you, Scourge wants to say. Instead, he asks, "Whaddya mean?"

Jules gestures vaguely to himself. "I'm a robian," he says. "Robotnik put Knothole through a lot when the roboticizor was still functioning. Plenty of people have had... adverse reactions to my body in the past. It's unfortunate but can't really be helped, except through time and patience."

...for some reason, that stings. Scourge pushes the thought away and snorts. "Sucks to be you. Don't see what that has to do with me."

"You did ask," Jules reminds him, which is fair. He supposes. They lapse into silence.

Scourge slumps against the bed, a little more relaxed with no attack evidently imminent, and holds up a hand to the light. The dangling cuff glints coldly. He can't reach the collar on his neck, but he suspects it shines the same way - like the inhibitors back at Zone Jail. "You guys already talked to Zonic, then?" he guesses.

He's not really expecting an answer, but Jules gives one anyway. "We did. He gave us that inhibitor collar you're wearing right now." Nailed it. "He wanted to take you back with him to Zone Jail right away, but with the condition you were in, we didn't want to risk moving you until you were stable."

Scourge flexes his fingers, watching the muscles move. He'd suspected already, given how drained he feels right now, but knowing that he's wearing the collar is... disheartening. That level of powerlessness is something he'd never wanted to feel again. "I'm stable now. So when will you be moving me?"

Jules hesitates. "Now that you're awake, we'll probably call Zonic to pick you up sometime tomorrow. It's nighttime right now."

"What? How long was I out?"

"Two days."

Two days, and he's still here? Either the Destructix got nabbed too (possible), are planning a rescue mission (unlikely), or ditched (most likely). That... also stings. A lot. He'd liked Fiona, and he was getting used to the rest of the idiots, too.

"What about my team?" he asks.

"Vanished. They tried to retrieve you but retreated when reinforcements arrived."

It doesn't mean much - he is, after all, their strongest fighter and tactically it makes sense to avoid losing him if possible - but it makes Scourge feel better to know they'd at least tried. He lets his hand fall back to the bed with a metallic jingle.

"I still don't understand," Jules says, and Chaos, why won't he shut up? Is this something inherent to Sonic's family? "Why did you save me?"

Scourge inspects the patterns of cracks on the ceiling. That one looks like Sleuth Dog's face. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he mumbles.

"You took an attack meant for me. That much concentrated Chaos energy would've killed me - it's likely the only reason you survived is because you're a very adept controller."

"Sounds like you already have an answer to me."

There's a brief pause. Scourge continues avoiding eye contact. "I do have an idea," Jules says softly. "But I'd like to hear a confirmation from your own mouth."

Scourge doesn't say anything.

What's he supposed to say - that every time he sees Jules some stupid, long-dead part of him longs for his approval? That Jules is dredging up memories better left buried? That when he saw his dad - any version of him - in danger, that his first instinct was to protect him, despite everything he'd done?

Ha. Yeah, right.

"Think what you want, old man." Scourge bares his teeth. "It doesn't mean anything. It was an accident."

Jules doesn't waver. "I think we both know that's not true."

Can't this guy take no for an answer? Scourge huffs and rolls over as much as he can so his back is toward Jules. "Leave," he says. It's what you're best at, after all.

"Sonic heard that you attacked the ceremony to kidnap Chuck."

Scourge has a sudden, sinking feeling he knows where this is going. "I don't care. Go away."

Jules marches on, implacable. "He said that halfway through, after Chuck escaped, Finitevus told you to switch targets. That the new target was me."

"Shut up!"

"And that when you heard I was in danger, you-"

"So I called it off, alright?" Scourge bolts upright. The handcuffs snap back against his wrists painfully and his ankles scream as the cuffs cut into his skin, but he's too furious and aching and raw to care. "Yeah, I called off the mission. Yeah, I took that stupid attack. It doesn't change anything! I'm still your enemy, I'm still going to kill Sonic, I'm still going to tear apart your world and everything you love! So what if I- if I..."

"Risked all that to save one broken-down, tactically unimportant robian?" Jules finishes quietly.

"Yes! No!" Scourge tries to bury his face in his hands and can't even do that, damn this tiny range of motion. "Will you leave me alone?" Metal glints in the corner of his eye as Jules reaches out a hand. Scourge growls deep in his throat until the hand is slowly drawn back.

Mercifully, the robian is silent while Scourge desperately tries to keep himself from falling apart. Chaos, what is wrong with him?

"What do you want from me," he mutters.

This time, it's Jules who looks away. "There's not much time before I have to call Zonic in," he says. "Before he left the first time, there was talk of... life in solitary confinement. Or execution."

Breathe. It's fine. Scourge has been in worse scrapes before. "I can see where the similarities between you and my dad come in," he says softly. Venomously. "He never hesitated to lock me away, either." Sure, it hadn't exactly been tossing him in a prison cell and throwing away the key, but the perpetual grounding to an empty mansion, the total abandonment of him to an endless stream of nannies... and then, of course, that fiasco right before he died.

Dads. So eager to foist their screwups on other people, wash their hands and move on.

"Doesn't any of this setup seem odd to you?" Jules asks abruptly.

Scourge blinks, thrown. "What? You hit your head somewhere, old man?"

"Think about it. You're a top-priority prisoner. You've broken out of Zone Jail. And yet your only security here is an inhibitor collar, some handcuffs, and a broken-down old robian."

...there's a trap here somewhere, Scourge knows it. "Yesss?" He eyes Jules warily. Is this some kinda reverse-psychology thing?

Jules laughs wearily. "You're not the only one with emotional ties he can't quite cut, son."

"Don't call me that," Scourge says reflexively before the weight of Jules' words catch up to him. "Wait, what? Are you saying-" and then he cuts off, because that's so ridiculous it shouldn't be said out loud.

"Yes," Jules confirms. "I volunteered for guard duty because I had to ask, first. To make sure for myself that something of my son is in there."

"I am not your son," Scourge snaps. Distantly, some part of him recognizes that he's being actively detrimental - that if he plays his cards right he could actually walk out of this free - but he's past that kind of rational behavior now. "You're chasing ghosts, old man! Stop looking for stuff that isn't gonna happen!"

"You're not my son," Jules agrees. "You're not my Sonic. But you're a Sonic, and somewhere... that potential for great good is inside you."

And isn't that exactly what Sonic had said on their last birthday - the day he'd finally ditched that lame Anti-Sonic moniker, had finally stepped out of Sonic's shadow into his own light - that all it'd take is a bit of decency, and Scourge would be just like him? The echo stills him.

"You're making a mistake," he says hoarsely. He's not going back to Zone Jail, he'll die before he goes back to that hellhole, but he needs Jules to understand this. "I'm not Sonic. I'm no hero. If you let me go, I'm just gonna go right back to doing what I did before. People will die because of you."

"No, they won't," Jules says, half-smiling. "I've done my research. The Destructix don't kill. You wreak havoc and destroy things, but... no bodies. I understand it's to avoid trouble with G.U.N.," he adds, holding up a hand to forestall Scourge's protests, "But you don't have a body count. That's important."

Shows what he knows - but Scourge can't bring himself to point out the obvious. "I still ruin lives," Scourge says instead. "There's other ways to kill people without holding a gun to their heads."

"I know. And that's where I'm being selfish." The half-smile turns into a full smile, but it's so sad and wracked with exhaustion and bitterness that Scourge has to look away. "I... I lost my son once. I can't help it... I can't watch a son of mine - from any universe - be destroyed while I can do anything to stop it. I'm not a good person, Scourge. I've lost too much to try. So I'm going to be selfish, just this once, and hope you don't make me regret it."

Scourge is silent. He's silent when Jules stands up and unlocks the cuffs, one by one. He's silent when Jules reaches up to his throat to unlock the inhibitor, and he's silent when it falls away and power rushes freely beneath his skin once more.

His boots are on the floor, suit jacket draped over a chair. He pulls on the shoes and digs through the pockets until he finds his sunglasses, but leaves the jacket behind.

"Scourge," Jules says quietly, as Scourge pushes the window open. He hesitates over the window sill, half inside and half out.

If Jules asks him to stay, he doesn't know what he'll do.

But he doesn't. In the end, Jules looks down and whispers, "If you ever need somewhere to rest, my home is always open. Till then... be safe, son."

The words catch in Scourge's throat. He nods, wordlessly, and drops out of the window to land lightly on his feet on the ground below. For a moment, he dallies beneath the window, waiting for-

For...

He doesn't know. Scourge shivers in the cool night air and starts running.

...thanks, Dad.

He finds the base a few hours later, jogging to the next town over and hopping a train the rest of the way. When he walks in, the base goes dead silent.

Fiona leaps up from the circle of Destructix - planning a rescue mission, he later finds out - and tackles him, hugging and pounding him in equal measure. She cries a little too, which he only discovers when she points out he's tearing up himself. The Destructix surround them, yelling over each other and clapping him on the back until Simian picks them all up in a group hug. It's at that point that Scourge declares he's done with all this mushy stuff and if they don't knock it off he won't bother coming back next time. Fiona announces that if there is a next time he won't have to worry about coming back because she'll kill him first, and Simian gives them all one last squeeze before turning them loose.

Scourge retrieves his leather jacket with a sense of great relief and they all end up watching another trashy samurai movie, which Lightning ruins again. Fiona holds him tight the whole time and doesn't chew him out like he deserves, for which Scourge is unendingly grateful.

He doesn't go back to the house. He pulls jobs with the Destructix, they beat up on Sonic and his lackeys, they have one run-in which Finitevus that they come off much worse for. And they watch crappy movies, eat ridiculous amounts of junk food, and get personally banned from every arcade and amusement park across the continent. He's... not gonna lie, it's actually pretty fun.

But in the back of his head, the house is always there. The robian bustling around the empty kitchen in a pink apron. The scent of pancakes frying. Till then... be safe, son.

It takes a long time - months of denial, of wondering and longing and furious self-restraint - but he caves eventually.

He shows up on a morning he knows Sonic and his mom won't be there. He doesn't knock on the door, or ring the bell. Mostly, he just hovers outside, unable to work up his nerve to do anything.

He's about to leave when the door swings open. Jules stands there, looking exactly the same as he did that night by the hospital bed, with eyes too soft for his wayward not-son. Scourge, half-frozen on the sidewalk, searches for something to say and comes up empty. They stare at each other silently.

Scourge shoves his hands in his pockets and forces back the lump in his throat. "I was in the area, so I dropped by," he mutters. "Don't think this means anything."

Jules looks at him for a long moment and Scourge forgets to breathe. Slowly, softly, his dad smiles. "Welcome home, son."

[ash-rabbit]

Abitc: Chapter 9 cuts

Before I go into why what's below was cut, I'm going to preface this by saying that due to how I write:

This is not beta read, I send the chapter their way when it's done. And I haven't given this my own layer of gratuitous edits. I edit as I write, usually tweaking lines and moments to better flow to where I want to go, sometimes this includes gouging out 2.5 pages of writing.

Anyway here's why I cut 2.5 pages.

It simply took too long, chapter 9 is already 15 pages (7650 words). This would come in around pg 9, and I don't think I could have concluded it in any satisfying or timely way. I'm not going to have a 10,000 word chapter unless it's the ending of an Arc, ala ch 6&7 which was split into something more easily digestible. And my intentions went off the rails by Elias electing to make an especially stupid decision. It halts the progression of events, and doesn't tell us anything that's pertinent. It feels like filler, especially if I followed this thread to it's end.

And most important of all I don't like it.

He skulks into his dark office, slips his throw over his head and tosses his blazer to his right. No use putting this off, but a harmless Leitner was a rarity in itself. Though, there was a copy of ‘Goodnight Moon’ that was liable to be harmless. So long as it didn’t blow up the moon it should be fine.

He walks back out and ignores their raised eyebrows as he tugs the blanket tighter. “A copy of ‘Goodnight Moon’ will be our choice of reading, I’d recommend that three of us should hold an artefact that can counter a theorised side effect of the book.” He pauses, waiting for any sort of reply.

“The children’s book?” Sarah exclaims, followed shortly by a yelp as someone, likely Rosie jabs her. Michael’s much too polite for assault.

“I don’t- I can handle a proper demonstration.” He can hear Michael’s frown, but Elias doesn’t care for any larger risks then necessary.

“It was at the top of my list for Rosie’s training.” Elias scans the shelf for the slim volume, it sits beside Jon’s ‘Mr. Spider’ which is as poor an omen as any. “Leitner’s are something of a different animal, and if any of you would like to guess what wild effects the book can have, please go ahead.”

“What is the Moon’s destruction?” Sarah’s amusement sits thick in her voice, coating her words in a playful lilt.

“We don’t have an artefact for that.” Elias laughs. Saying goodnight was a form of goodbye, that would be loneliness? Or maybe he was overthinking it and it would simply turn off all the lights. It’s been awhile, and he can’t just run off to a bookstore to check. “I’ll mark you down for the removal of light sources.” A ‘Hand of Glory’ or other objects that dealt with sight, Beholding as Mikaele and Jon preferred to call it, seemed an easy counter. Though would any fire starter suffice? Hm, best to pull one of those down as well in case they needed to dispose of the book. Reality warping was a possibility, the pseudo erasure of things could be untwisted? If anything it would act as an interesting third control, though perhaps, the reader would be a separate subject, and they’d need a pure control for the best observable results.

He grabs the book and doubles back to the table, scratching out his theories on a scrap of paper.

“Fine- um- it’s a children's book, and those are uh fantasies.” Michael starts, and while he’s on the right track, ‘Goodnight Moon’ is hardly a fantasy. “So I guess that if it does do something it would be drawing the fantasy out here?”

“Reality warping.” Elias nods, seems there’s a general consensus on this at least.

“There’s no guarantee that it’ll be anything like the original, we’ve had cases where whole sections were rewritten in a gruesome parody.” Rosie says, and that’s a fair point as well. “For all we know it could be a- I don’t know a way of disappearing someone.”

“I’ll mark that down as carnivorous literature.” Elias sighs, before holding the page out towards Rosie. “Do you think there are other types of artefacts that could counteract any of our theories?”

“What if the reader is stuck? Do we have a magical bucket of water, or do we just slap them in hopes of breaking the effect?” Rosie asks, though she knows the standard protocol, passing the paper to Sarah. Right of course, the Archives crew wouldn’t know.

“We remove the book while wearing gloves, or set it on fire.” Arson tended to solve most problems, not all of them unfortunately, but enough to be an easy fallback.

“And in the worst case scenario?” Rosie presses, slipping between the shelves, her movements are purposeful, her two weeks alone must have been productive.

“I suppose we can give Gertrude a warning, just a ‘If you don’t hear anything from us in, say twenty minutes, assume the worst.’” He shrugs, before frowning, right then. “Not it.” He’s had enough of management for one day, and if he’s lucky a large enough mess can be a tidy excuse to escape Wright later.

“Not it!” Michael and Sarah chime.

“I- how old are you people?” Rosie huffs, stepping back into the open research area, arms full of misc objects that Elias only vaguely remembers. Hng, he’ll probably just use the monocle in his office, it was dependable and the side effects weren’t any different then his normal brand of paranoia. Assumedly of course, it’s been a while since he was without a buffer, supernatural or otherwise.

Rosie grumbles as she kicks off her heels, pulling out another set of shoes, black and lowheeled with little bows on the toes. Another set of shoes? Where on Earth? Why?

“I’ll be back, don’t start without me.” And she flits off towards the Archives.

“Right then, we can parse out who does what.” He drags the blanket further over his head as they turn towards him. “I need to fetch something from the office but I’m sure you can decide between the two of you who’s better suited to reading or acting as an observer.”

He traces his eyes over the small office, now where did he put- Ah, there it is, wedged under his desk. He pulls out the damaged monocle and watches as it swings like a pendulum, the cracks catching the light with a peculiar shine.

He hasn’t tested the object since, hasn’t had the occasion or much cared to. Would the effects be amplified or would it be rendered completely null from damage and what he can only assume was something amounting to overuse? Only one way to find out. He wedges it into place, slipping his blazer back on so he can safely notch the chain through the lapel hole. Elias keeps the blanket on as he shuffles back out.

Michael and Sarah seem to have come to a conclusion and it would seem the power of the lens was only magnified by the incident. He sways under the sight of it all, there’s a sort of afterimage of thousands of eyes winking in and out of existence across the room. Bile rises in the acrid tangs of burnt coffee and curdled cream, this was unexpected.

He needs to sit down. Now.

So he does. Practically collapsing on the spot as he gathers himself beneath the throw, dragging it over his eyes. The world goes dark and he breathes, short and quick, a cold sharp breath that mingles with the burbling nausea.

He wraps his fingers around the chain, and tugs. Once, short and light, it doesn’t budge. Twice, more forcefully, a stern yank, nothing. His breath quickens. He grabs the frame of it and tries to pry it away with trembling hands.

It doesn’t budge.

Fuck.

Right then.

“Good news everyone,” he says, swallowing his tremors the best he can, hardly a waver apparent as he digs his nails into his thighs. “We don’t need to test the Leitner.”

“Are you, er alright?” Sarah asks.

“The bad news is, we have a different artefact issue.” he tugs the blanket down and regrets it immediately as a thousand eyes bore into him and find him wanting.

Don’t get sick, don’t get sick, don’t look them in the eye and- he fumbles for a cigarette.

The nicotine does nothing and he finds the sick rising faster.

[mahalkitajohnnysuh]

Couple Things (Part II)

Here’s another installment of this mini-series, in which Johnny and Essie have intimate yet hilarious moments together. 

If it hasn’t been said yet, Mr. Johnny Suh is the perfect combination of cute and sexy, which makes him hot overall. Don’t you agree? 

Here’s further proof of that with this GIF. 

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :) 

Summary: Here are some snippets of Johnny and Essie’s life at home, which often involves comfortable areas and cuddles. 

POV: Both of these were written late last year, so they’re in 2nd person. 

Word count: 1,270 + words

Warning: In my opinion, the first piece is a bit steamy. The second one’s plain silly – nothing to be scared there. 

Recommended listening: I found out about FKJ because of Johnny, and as always, he has good taste! It’s also part of my Makin’ Babies playlist. The video of the song will be at the bottom of the post for you to listen to. 

–––

It was another normal day in the Johnny and Essie household – you were working on your laptop while Johnny was busy cooking.

You woke up from the sound of a sizzling pan, your feet immediately bringing you to the kitchen to greet him. He was wearing a black muscle tee and a pair of gym shorts with a cheesy apron on top of it. ‘Kiss Me I’m the Chef’ was printed in front with a kiss mark beside it, making you roll your eyes as he pointed at it for you to do what it said.

“What are you cooking, handsome,” You asked after pecking his cheek. “Your favorite – sausages and eggs.” He winked at you, implying something else with his words.

“Yes, I do my love sausages and eggs, darling,” you groaned as you stared at the schlubigs on the pan. “I bet you do,” he chuckled, pulling you closer to him.

“Do you have any work to do today? You’re up early,” he continued, peering at the perplexed expression you now wore.

“Yeah, I have another sideline to do. But as you said, we’ve got to get that coin,” you looked up at him, and he flashed you a smile.

“I’m going to cook more, so you have the energy to finish it soon.” He kissed your temple and let you go, making you motivated to get your work done, so you have the time to bond with him this weekend.

As soon as you set up your work station on the couch, Johnny decided to play some music for you to listen to. You loved his playlists since you always discovered new and current artists, which made you feel up-to-date with the times. You were quite a grandma when it comes to music – it’s either you listen to bands from the past, or you are stuck with your favorites until you get tired of them.

When the chill-house track of FKJ and Masego played, you heard Johnny moan. “Yeah, that’s the shit,” he said.

You were intent on editing a different chapter until you saw him from the corner of your eyes dancing to the song. He moved his body sensually to the beat, especially when the horns came in.

“Baby, what are you doing,” you asked, trying to keep your attention on the screen. His butt was even more alluring as he moved erotically a few meters away from you.

“I’m dancing for you,” he twirled around to face you, continuing his lewd dance, “because I want to get some later.” He walked like a runway model toward you and plopped on the couch after.

“When was the last time we did it?” You asked, placing the laptop on the table. “I don’t know, maybe a week ago?” His hands snaked around your waist, and he put his head on your shoulder.

“You missed doing it that much?” Your eyes widened in fake shock, knowing deep inside that you want to do it as well. “It’s exercise for the both of us,” he chuckled, tightening his hold on you.

“Later, baby,” you whispered too close to his ears, making him flinch. “Feed me first, and I’ll be yours as soon as I’m done with this.” Your voice returned to its normal volume as you pointed at the laptop perched on the table.

You heard him grumble at how you were such a workaholic before he buried his face in your neck. “Okay, fine. But please make it quick,” he whined before he loosened his hold on you. “Breakfast will be ready in a bit.”

“Thanks, love,” you pecked him on the lips. He returned it affectionately, but you had to pull away when you felt that he wanted to go further. “Not now, you have to wait,” you mumbled, squeezing his biceps. He huffed at your response and went back to the kitchen defeated. You giggled his reaction before picking up your laptop again, ready to finish the extra work you have.

You can’t wait to finish this sideline so you can have an amazing breakfast cooked by an equally amazing man you’re lucky to call yours. And of course, what comes after that is what you considered the best part. He’d agree with you too, if only you weren’t being a tease right now.

///

It was that time of the month, and you dreaded it.

Lady pains were no joke – you are rendered immobile and stuck on your bed for almost the whole day.

Johnny knew that it was your period when you refused to get up from your bed.

You didn’t even sleep beside him because you knew you might hurt him. After all, you thrashed a lot when you have your period. There was an instance that you left a bruise on his stomach when you kicked him too hard out of sheer pain.

As he carefully opened the door to your room, he saw you clutching his hotdog pillow and groaning in pain. “Fuck this shit, I want to die…” you grumbled as you rolled to the other side.

“Hey, baby. How are you holding up?” He asked, closing the door behind him.

“This sucks. I hate being a girl sometimes,” you mumbled in response, burying your face deeper in the pillow.

“Well, give it a few days, and it’ll be over.” You felt him approach you and moved a little when the bed creaked with his weight. He wrapped his arms around you and turned you to face him.

“What can I do to make you feel better, my baby princess?” He flashed you a goofy grin, trying his best to lighten your dour mood.

You threw the pillow away from you and clung to him like a koala. “I’d rather have this than your humongous Winne the Pooh pillow,” you said, burying your chin on his shoulder.

He chuckled at your response and adjusted his body so both of you felt comfortable in your positions. After a few seconds, you felt something poking below your crotch. “Not now, love,” you flicked his forehead in annoyance. But how could he not feel turned on when your bodies were basically intertwined with each other?

“I know, but how can I not? You’re like an erotic koala clinging to me,” he hissed, rubbing the part you flicked.

“But you like it, you pervert!” Your comment got you two laughing because you know it’s true – he admitted it the first time you did this.

“Because you’re so warm and smell so good, that’s why I love it when you cling to me like this.” His hands were drawing circles on your back, and you felt relaxed, lessening the pain you felt.

“Thanks, love. You’re sweet as always,” you started, giving him a shy look, “but what I miss about this position is this.”

Both of your hands grabbed his butt cheeks and gave it a good squeeze. “You have the nicest ass I’ve seen in a man.” You didn’t hide the fact that you were turned on by his backside.

“Thank you, baby. You know I work hard to make them look good.” His words earned a spank from you, and he raised an eyebrow at you. “Hey, calm down. Don’t slap them too hard.”

“I don’t care. Just be a good tree and let the koala do her thing,” you mumbled against his chest as you continued playing with his backside.

“And who’s the pervert here, eh?” He snickered, which made you pinch his butt in response.

“Both of us are, and don’t you even dare deny it.”

–––

FIN

[stry-someone-to-remember-you]

Plan(ed) to Have Something Ready, By The Ball Drop &/or Tomorrow!!! If Everything Works out...

Hey Everyone, 

HAPPY NEW YEARS EVE!!!

Wow, this is the second message without any art added or anything... LOL... Seems odd really to do this without having something up by now... By the way, yes the current avatar pic is related to the comic as you’ll come see soon. It’s and early sketch so some kinks aren’t worked out in the current image. But it was the one I was ready to have when I made this blog so there was at least something...

So as you probably can see by this title, I do plan on having something posted... I just don’t know to what extent. Due to some family drama, and continually piling on work I wasn’t able to get my Christmas Pic out to you guys, which was just a static scene with a few of the characters to get us started here. But... well family got in the way, continually decorating till Christmas day... a lot of things going on, bickering (though we all love each other) it’s just... you know life. I fully expected this as well, which is why I promised something before New Years, but didn’t specify as to what.

I postponed that idea to be released today or tomorrow, after seeing how I was completely unable to get to the work by Christmas Eve. But, by the looks of the progress I made on it and my families continually need of me till we get some things done in this house (that always has something to be done in it... LOL, at least things are coming fairly together).  So lets just say, I may not have anything out by tomorrow. But with hopes I want to have something out. So We’ll see. I could release early the character sketches. But I want to keep this blog clean as possible, so I feel releasing the character profiles, cards and blogs together prior to the Prologue, would fit better and keep this page having a cleaner look to it at the start.

 Maybe even by midnight tomorrow PST I could have something... But that again depends. I need to clean stuff for the internet/cable guy and I’m seriously allergic to dust... So the next few days I may be in an almost sickly comatose state regardless of the precautions I take. If dust gets kicked into the air at all and isn’t properly vacuumed up, than I’m often sick for days... I feel like all I’ve been doing the whole month is cleaning or working story wise on this comic... Mostly cleaning if you ask me, but at least after Saturday things should be more relaxed and I can have a better work schedule planned out. So yeah, that’s my life...

But DIDNT’ WAN TO LEAVE YOU HANGING with this Negative Nancy Talk ;D ;P ;D lol....

I want to tell you what I have so far:

I have the Christmas Image at least with the basic building blocks to complete it. Like I’ve drawn where I want things, but not detailed anything... So that’s why it may be a day or so... Technically its a Happy Holidays and New Years piece, but with the Christmas Tree in it I have the habit of calling it such...

I may have plans to detail it a bit more then I plan on having the comic, but that also depends on things. I may just leave it in the same style and not fully decked out to make it easier to finish...

~Several Characters for the beginning have their final forms created. These are major characters that will be scene in the prologue. I’m just having to figure out out little things with background characters in some instances.

~The prologue is almost completely written out. I had a change of heart a week ago on some things and had to change it around, which is why the written format for the prologue isn’t complete as it initially was. I just felt some things didn’t fit, so I added and took away some things so it flows better and also works both fanfiction wise for the story, but easily mixes for the Ask AU... I also have at least the beginning portion of the Intro script written, the parts unaffected by the changes. However, parts of the intro will be written out, depending on the questions you ask the characters in this prologue so these portions I’m leaving open on purpose. It’s the plot driven portions I’m mentioning that I’ve changed slightly. ;) I have fun plans for the prologue. Remember this story has a clear direction I’m taking it with plot. But the Ask portion will be a part of it, I have such a fun way of Ask’s being tied into the plot driven story, and it will change depending on the context, person and setting which makes this really fun to plan out. 

                   -With that said, here’s an early heads up, that for Ask Questions, I will allow any sort of asks, but if it has potential to spoil a part of the story, then I won’t answer it. Alongside this, I’ll allow Anon magic to a small degree. I won’t include Asks that like spoil something for a character, or tell the character where someone is, give away what someone else is doing to another character, etc... Unless it may fit the context, but generally I won’t use these types of asks. I will allow Anons to appear occasionally rather then just be unseen voices, as I have fun ways of incorporating Anons into the story that also works with different points in the plot. I will accept things like... say a dog or cat to appear for ex. amount of asks. I already know who they’ll be and have been planning out their designs, but I may draw the line at other animals (e.g. horses, fish, racoons, squirrels, lizards, etc.) Although, I do really love rabbits, I chose to make it concise to just two animals that if asked could appear. It’s not because I can’t draw them but I don’t want things getting out of hand. Types of anon magic I’m not going to use if put in the Ask portion, are things like giving people certain powers or items that may completely effect the tone or plot of the story, accept maybe if I did a non-canon AU to this au for fun one day. I will go more in depth in the general rules later. In no way is this to discourage anyone from asking such things. I may set reminders at times if I get to much of something. But, in general I’ll do what I can to make this a fun Ask blog all the same.

~The Larger Summary, I promised like a trailer would be in the comic form I have rendered the Script for, and have two slides so far drawn out, just not completed. (for the time I didn’t have around the Holidays compared to normally I actually surprised myself with this)

~The story itself is really coming together, I already have a starting and stopping point (which I had prior to this blog) as it will have several Acts and Arcs, some which have greatly changed and take on new depth since the point I started this blog. The themes and story in general are drawn out pretty well.  I don’t have all the chapters I’d want fully written. As I have my plan, but I also want to get the prologue in first, just to see if there’s anything I should change with my concept. It’s just a precaution, something I’ve learned well when taking on something new. So I don’t have things that are written in stone and hard to change if the form I’m hoping to take doesn’t work out and needs to be retooled or something. But these are minor and shouldn’t change the overall scope and plot I’m taking this story on either.

~I’ve created several of the character bios, many in fact are already written in true Henry Stickmin fashion. But as I took inspiration to make this into a AU as well, I will possibly make both the bio cards and show a static shot of the characters alongside it or something... It’s an idea, but I want this to also be the easier comic. But, considering that I’ll always have a static shot I use as reference for any character I make, this is what makes this more realistic to occur as well. ~I’ve nearly drawn out all the characters for the intro portion. And already know how I’ll handle Anon’s in the story. In the Prologue itself, I’ll actually have you Anon’s being referenced as audience members in a conference of sorts. Think of it like those conferences when a new Apple or Microsoft product is first advertised as something new to the news conference, those big rotunda’s where someone's being interviewed and presenting the hot new item. Think of the opening to the prologue being something like this scenario. So the questions directed at the character in there, who... *cough* I will introduce later after I fully render both their character profile and have their character bio(s) fully done. Which considering how fun and easy it’s been to do this so far shouldn’t be to long now... Although to keep from getting questions to soon on them, I may hold off on posting the Characters and Bio’s till I have that Intro/Trailer completed... I��m still considering which to do first actually. But top on my list out of all of these is having my cover art for the top completed. That’s something I admit though I have the layout I have hardly started on and should focus on first.

~I’m also taking close looks at how to properly make the rules for this group. When I posts either the Character Bios, Holiday Pic, OR the Trailer Comic... Maye even just the cover art... Then I will try to have out an official Rules list. The one I have on the group posts is just general stuff... But I’m reconsidering some rules I already wrote... Basically keep things family friendly, be kind an courteous, nothing vulgar or disturbing. 

I may change this from a PG-13 comic to maybe PG-15. I’ve realized recently, there are some points that some characters do swear... sometimes more then once. I’m not someone who talks with vulgarity myself, but I sure can write characters with it.... Let’s just say I’m going to see if in those scenes I might just bleep out words and see if the dialogue still comes through. But, I dunno... LUCKILY, we don’t have to worry about many of those scenes till way further into this comic. So lucky for either of us, this isn’t a major concern at the moment. And on the plus side it’s not the crudest words I could have chosen so... it may still work as a PG-13 work... I’ll make this decision soon as possible. 

Another reason for the sudden change, came as I realized as the story goes, and even in early chapters there will be scenes where blood is shown and physical mortal danger and peril is experienced by the characters. I do have heavy theming sometimes, later on it may seem constantly about. As this story is heavily Drama/Mystery and some suspense based. As the story progresses it will become less Drama/Mystery and more based around the drama/suspense itself. This will obviously be some more intense scenes that showing less blood would allow me to make PG-13, however I also don’t want to undercut the certain tones using representations of a mortal wound would bring. I also want to look at things like these future scenes realistically. Which is why I’m mostly considering changing this story to a PG-15 or at least more certain I am. I just don’t want people shocked that I’m doing this. I don’t feel this story will be R, there was a time where I heavily considered it. But for once I decided no, I didn’t want that. I just didn’t want to open the door for scenes I didn’t intend to have in this story. There will be heavy themes that my have TW for some people. But I didn’t want some TW’s  that having a R rated story could potentially have. I mean certain themes people are free to write fanfictions for, and depending on the content can make art for. But again this will be family friendly group... As You can see I’m considering more then a little here when it comes to the official rules. These details will be followed up on the official rules post.

~~~~~~

Now I apologize for the length.

The structure of this and the previous Authors Notes will probably fall under their own category for length. I’ll work to make sure posts in the future won’t be so long and hard to read. It is early morning for me when I woke to write this, and I found once much of the day passed that I still wanted to include the stuff I did into this update.

I have more to tell you, but I think this post has spurned the energy in me out. Anything that I missed in this post, I’ll try to remember to update in the next post (hopefully after I get some art on here). What I can’t do at the moment is promise dates right now till I’m more certain of schedule to work on this or can promise that my general allergies won’t cause me to delay this at all. But I can confirm that I should have several things coming out this next month, including the comic Prologue I hope. Depending on the traction the comic and fanfic gets, I may try to work on it quickly, or take my time with it. I may do a mix of both as my perfectionist self won’t let me just shoot something out without giving it my all first. I’m shushing that side slightly so this comic will be easier on me then the more detailed one I have planned. All the same, I’m planning to work on this one more at the moment till I can get an idea of my work flow. Sometimes the easiest route of work is better for planning, rather then diving head first into the deep end right away. You don’t learn to swim by jumping head first into the ocean. Piece of advice that it took years for me to learn myself ;). Anyways, I figured since I did promise something hopefully by today or tomorrow, I’d give you a formal update... Also... Well I can’t promise that updates won’t be like this in the future. I’ll try to keep them concise. But as people who know me, well have learned when it comes to personally talking I tend to write or talk out epistle. So... When I give updates, I may have lengthy ones... I’ll try my best to keep this side of me out of updates, if I can help it. Anyways Happy New Years Everyone!!! I hope everyone's Christmas and Holidays were extra special, despite the state of the world!!! 

HAPPY NEW YEARS EVE AND DAY!!! Sincerely, <3 (Mod) Sweet Heart Blaze

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 27 - The Party

this 'episode' will discuss underage drinking and its connection to mental health. This storyline will conclude in three chapters if you want to skip it.

Varian's back ached and he was beginning to get a crick in his neck, but he dared not move. He was in the middle of posing for a picture. Honey Lemon had asked him to be her model for her latest painting.

They were both sitting inside one of the art studios on the SFAI campus. The San Fansokyo Art Institute was the artistic counterpart to SFIT and Honey Lemon was a part time student here as well. She had a final coming up and needed to complete a portrait before the end of next week and so Varian had volunteered to be her subject; any excuse to spend more time with the pretty redhead.

Though his plans to spend some quality time with his crush weren't going quite like he had hoped. She was too busy concentrating on her work to really talk to him and his joints felt stiff from standing still for so long in one position. He was also really, really bored. She had instructed him to stand facing to the side and all there was to look at was the blank wall opposite himself.

He sneaked a sidelong glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She sat upon an odd looking bench with an easel attached to the front. In one hand she held a palette and a paintbrush in the other. She chewed on the end of its long handle in thought as she straddled the 'art horse' before her face lit up in inspiration. She then leaned down to apply paint to the bottom portion of the canvas. Varian watched as her brow furrowed in concentration and she stuck out the tip of her tongue as she tried to delicately get the stroke just right.

Varian had to stifle a laugh. She looked so silly and beautiful and adorable all at the same time. He could just watch her all day he thought. Shame he was stuck facing the dang wall.

Honey Lemon heard him anyways and looked up from her work.

"Getting tired?" She asked with sympathy.

"No. No. Not at all." Varian lied but he couldn't resist rolling his shoulders anyways to try an ease the soreness in his neck.

"I just got this one little section to finish and then we can take a break and you can stretch, promise."

"It's okay, take your time." He assured her.

It took her another ten minutes to come to a stopping point.

Finally free to move, Varian stretched his arms wide and then proceeded to rub the side of his neck as he walked over to look at Honey Lemon's handy work. It was very good he had to admit. It wasn't finished but what she had completed was rendered in great realistic detail. But was his nose really that long? He self consciously peered down at the tip of own nose, not that he could really gauge it's length that way.

His thoughts were interrupted though by Honey Lemon.

"I usually don't do realism" She nervously excused herself, "but the assignment was to render fabric on a person. What do you think so far?"

"Well, it looks great to me!" He encouraged. "It's every bit as good the royal paintings inside Corona's palace."

"Really!?" She blushed. "That's quite the compliment. I bet they have a lot of priceless artworks. I don't know if it's that good, but I did have fun painting your googles." She reached her hand up to readjust his headgear.

He laughed and bent down to give her a better angle. Once she was done he looked at her and they shared a smile. It was nice being at her eye level for once. Oh, why did have to be so short!?

He was going to give her another compliment. Tell her how lovely he thought she was, but the moment was ruined by another student walking in on them.

"Hey, Honey Lemon! Getting a head start on midterms hun?" The tall guy said as he sauntered over. He had blonde hair and wore a red blazer and tan dress pants.

"Well it's due next week, so I don't know how much of a head start this is?" She laughed.

"Two schools, dual majors, and a part time job; when do you ever find time to just have fun?" He teased.

"Oh but I have lots of fun learning!" She sang and they both broke out in laughter.

Varian felt a little left out. Apparently this was one of Honey Lemon's friends at the art school and they were sharing some sort of inside joke that he wasn't privy to.

"Oh, Brad, I'd like you to meet my friend Varian." She introduced, "He goes to SFIT. Varian this is Brad. He's in my drawing class."

"Ah, a member of the nerd school!" Brad said not unkindly as he offered to shake Varian's hand, "It's rare to get a visit from you mad scientist types. Got any interest in the arts?"

"Eh, I draw sometimes." Varian admitted. "Usually drafting."

"He's really good at it. You should see his naturalist drawings." Honey Lemon praised and Varian had to blush. He didn't really consider himself an artist, but drawing was often very helpful in his researches.

"Oh, well maybe you should bring some by to the party and show them off." Brad said. "We're holding our annual Fourth of July blow out bash at the fraternity house tonight. The whole school is going to be there. That's why I drop by, to invite you Honey Lemon. You're both welcome to come, and bring the rest of your nerd friends too. I bet they'd like a break from their test tubes as well." He laughed at his own joke.

"Oh, well, that's very nice of you Brad, but I don't know if I'll be able to make it." Honey Lemon apologized. "I gotta work a shift tonight."

"Awe, that's a shame. Well, if you manage to get off the party starts at eight. See ya around." He waved goodbye and walked out the door.

After he left Varian spoke up, "You're going on patrol on a holiday?"

"Well, maybe," she bit her lip and then confessed, "I didn't want to say anything to Brad, but those frat parties aren't really for me. They can get kind of...wild."

Varian laughed, "Not as wild as a Saporian party I bet. One time they released all of horses from the stables and built a bonfire right on the front lawn of the palace using all the saddles as kindling. They said something about 'burning the bonds of oppression'. Anyways the party lasted till dawn. They were still at by sunup. Now that was wild, if a little weird."

Honey Lemon stared blankly at him in confusion. "You...you mean like a protest? Are the Saporians activists?"

"Yeeeah, you might could say that." Varian slowly said in a strained voice. Then he gave an awkward coughed and tried to change the subject, "Why don't we finish up here and go grab something to eat? My treat."

She agreed and he took up his pose once more so that she could get a little more work done before they left.

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

"Hi Aunt Cass!" Varian sang as he entered the Lucky Cat Cafe and swung behind the counter to nab a chocolate muffin.

"Oh hi sweetie! How was your day?" Aunt Cass replied as she placed two steaming cups of cappuccino onto the counter. "Hernandez!" She called and a customer walked forward. "You're soy mocha cappuccinos are ready sir, and I added in a splash of honey in one just like you requested."

Varian watched as she finished handing the customer his coffee before answering. "It went fine. I helped Honey Lemon with her painting assignment and we had lunch together. Then I did some work on my own project afterwards."

"How did that go? I know you mentioned having some trouble with, what was it, the turbines?"

Varian gave a dismissive shrug and took a big bite of the muffin he was holding. He didn't feel like getting into any great details about his project with Aunt Cass.  Not the least of which because she didn't know he was from another world.

Aunt Cass however sensed his evasiveness. "Look, I know that you're still disappointed about the fireworks, but today has been kind of slow. Maybe I can close shop up early and all three of us can go watch the official city fireworks down at the park?"

Varian considered her offer but he didn't want her to go out of her way to just to accommodate him. "It's okay, you don't have to do that. I know there'll be a big crowd afterwards and you'll want the shop open for that."

"Crowds, shmowds, there'll be plenty of opportunities to make money later." She dismissed. She walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun; our first family outing together." She gave him an encouraging smile as she waited for his answer.

Before Varian could reply though, Hiro burst through the door.

"Hi Aunt Cass! Bye, Aunt Cass!" He yelled in the same breath as he ran pass. Fred followed close behind, gave them a wave, and bounded up the stairs after him.

"I think, Hiro, might have other plans." Varian said slowly.

Aunt Cass gave a frown.

"Honey Lemon and I got invited to a party tonight, over at the art institute, but she said she couldn't make it. I think her and Hiro and all them have a meeting of their ‘study group’ tonight." He explained.

"On Fourth of July weekend?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, midterms do start next week."

"So, what are your plans? Are you going with the study group or to this, what was it, a painting party?"

Varian shrugged. "I figured I just help you at the cafe. I'm not really in the study group and I don't know anybody at that art school besides Honey Lemon."

Aunt Cass studied him for a moment before answering, "I think you should go."

"Really?"

"Yeah, get out and meet people, make a new friend, try something new. If you make a painting I'll hang it up on the wall." She joked. "Look, I don't want you cooped up here or at school all the time. Go, have fun; be a teenager while you still can."

"You sure? You don't need me to help…"

"I'm sure. Just text me when you get there and don't stay out too late. I would like your help in the morning opening up."

"Okay, then I'll go get ready. It starts at eight."

"Good, and don't forget to wash your face." Aunt Cass teased as she wiped a chocolate smudge from the corner of his mouth with her thumb.

He rolled his eyes in exasperation and tried to pull away, but he flashed her a smile afterwards to show her that he wasn't really upset. Then he turned around and headed upstairs to get ready for the party.

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

Varian stepped off the bus in front of the SFAI campus. It was easy enough to find where the party was held. When Brad had said the whole school would be there, he hadn't been kidding. Varian followed the sound of blaring music and crowds of other students to the fraternity house. Right next to it was also the sorority house. They were each a couple of three story buildings painted with fanciful colors and designs and both had party goers running in and out of them. The crowd was so large that they spilled out onto the front lawns and a DJ was stationed in the middle pumping out loud drumming music for everybody to dance to.

Varian paused on the sidewalk unsure of where to go or what to do. He didn't see a single familiar face in the crowd and the dancers were lost in their own little worlds. It felt out of place to jump right on in with them.

He scanned the scene and debated about just leaving. Maybe it wasn't too late for just him and Aunt Cass to go see the fireworks. Then he noticed a girl standing at the doorway of one of the houses greeting people.

She was a petite woman with curly brown hair and a wide friendly smile. She wore a simple white dress to match said smile and her sing song voice carried itself over the noise of the party.

"Y'all go on in and have fun!" She told a couple as they walked inside. She then spotted Varian as he made his way up the front porch stairs. "Howdy!" She exclaimed. Her voice had a slight accent to it that told Varian that she was from a different province than California; possibly one of the eastern southern states of the country but he was no expert.

"Hi, is this the fraternity house?" He asked.

"No, that's next door. This is the sorority house, we're co-hosting the event. I'm Carol by the way." She held her hand for Varian to shake and he introduced himself.

"Varian."

"Well nice to meet ya, Varian. I don't think I've ever seen you around campus before. What major are you in?"

"Physics, I go to SFIT. Brad invited me."

"Oooh the nerd school. I gotcha. Yeah we got people from all over here tonight. Follow me, I'll show ya around." She gave another winsome smile and Varian followed her inside.

They entered into a large living room adjacent from an open kitchen. On the opposite side of the stairwell Varian could see a den which housed a tv, card table, and billiards. Groups of students clustered around eating, drinking, and playing various games.

"That's the game room," Carol said,"and we got three bathrooms, one on each story." She pointed towards a little hallway that ran past the stairs,"feel free to make yourself at home, just know that the bedrooms are off limits. We're trying to avoid a repeat from last semester."

"What happened last semester?"

"We were hosting a St. Patrick's Day party and some jerks trashed this poor girl's room, broke her vanity set, so no sneaking up there anymore to make out. If ya meet someone, take it to the frat house. Those guys don't care what you do." She rolled her eyes and Varian casted a confused glance at the stairs.

"Who'd be so rude as to break into someone else's bedroom?"

"I know right!" She agreed enthusiastically. "Some folks just ain't got any class."

They made their way to the kitchen. There was a vast spread of food on the dining table and cups, plates, and silverware were sitting on the countertop behind that.

"We got chips and dip, sandwiches, all kinds of snacks. There's ice cream in the freezer if ya want some, and of course the boys have more food over at their place." Carol walked over to an ice chest sitting at the end if the table. "Unfortunately all we got to drink though is coke and beer." She reached into the ice chest pulled out two cans. "I told everybody we should've gotten like some tequila or rum as well, but nobody wanted to spring for it." She gave an over dramatic sigh and then flashed Varian another one of her charming smiles to show that she wasn't fully serious about her disappointment in alcohol choices.

She offered him one of the cans she was holding.

It was the aforementioned beer and Varian hesitated to take it. He remembered his and Gogo's fight last month over his attempts to buy an ale for himself. But the law was just about purchasing alcohol, it didn't say anything about drinking it in your own or in someone else's home. There was no way every single person at this large party was over 21 and clearly everybody else was drinking too. After all, he was a college student same as them. Besides it'd be impolite to turn down a drink from such a nice hostess.

He thanked her and took the drink from her hands. It was a lighter grain than the darker ales he was use to, but there was no mistaking the familiar taste and smell of a good beer. It was comforting in a way. The drink reminded him of dinners with his dad on cold winter nights, gathering at the tavern to hear gossip and stories from from the old farm hands and to escape the midday sun, and of fall festivals and summer parties, like this one, where the whole village would be gathered to celebrate a bountiful harvest or to commemorate some ancient holiday. Perhaps it was an odd thing to feel homesick over, but going without something for two months that was once an ubiquitous part of his life hit him harder then he had realized. He really did not understand Americans' hang ups and silly rules over alcohol.

"So how long have you been going to SFIT?" Carol asked as she popped open her own tab and took a sip.

"This is my first semester. I just moved here from Europe."

"Really!? Where from?" She asked excitedly.

Varian had to give a chuckle, people always seemed so surprised and impressed just because he grew up in a different country. "Uh, if you looked on a map it'd currently say 'Russia' but we've always called Old Corona." He explained. "It's a German speaking country. My dad is the only native Russian speaker I know and he moved there from Umbra."

"Umbra?" She asked confused.

"The Dark Kingdom." Varian explained. "It's a region that's far north of Corona. So far that the days are really short and nothing can grow up there, according to my dad that is. I've never been there."

"So it's like the frozen tundra? I'm guessing Corona is warmer then."

"Warm enough to grow things, but not nearly as hot as it is here in San Fansokyo."

Carol laughed, "You wanna talk about hot? I grew up down in Mississippi."

"Mississippi? That's..that's the state with the really big river in it, right?" Varian asked, trying to recall what little he knew of the place.

This only elected more laughter from the pretty girl. "Yeah, that's the one. This is my first year here, music major, I moved from Tupelo and it's not only hot but muggy. The humidity was murder on my curls. It couldn't stop them frizzing no matter what I tried."

"Oh, well, I think your hair looks nice." Varian complemented.

"Oh, why thank you!" Her whole face lit up and her grin became even wider. She raised her hand to her head to give a light pat to the side of her afro. "I spent all mornin' styling it for the party. Not many people understand how much work goes into keeping hair like this lookin' good. How about you? Do you dye your hair yourself or go to get it done?"

"Oh, uh," Varian's brain stalled as he realized she was talking about his stripe of blue hair. "It's not dyed at all…this? This was a...a..a lab accident. I can't seem to get rid of it." He awkwardly laughed and pushed his bangs to the side before taking another gulp of his beer.

She suppressed a snicker. "A lab accident? What do y'all do over there at that nerd school?"

"Well I'm researching portal technology, but all kinds experiments go on there all the time." He said, happy to steer the conversation away from his mysterious physical anomaly.

"Portals? Like the kind that's suppose to let you travel all over the world or even enter another other worlds?"

"Yup." He gave a proud smile.

"That's sooo cool!" She cheered. "Y'all over there makin' sci-fi a reality and all I'm doing is singing for my supper."

"You're a singer? Like for musicals or opera?" He asked enthusiastically.

"Well I'm in the choral program here at SFAI, so I can technically sing opera, but really I wanna be a pop singer. I'm hoping after college I can move down to L.A. and try my luck."

"Oh I bet you'll do great, and then I can tell people I met a real life pop star."

She giggled, "You haven't even heard me sing yet. How do ya know?"

"Well then let's hear it!" He encouraged and then took another swig of his drink. He was beginning to relax and his more outgoing nature was starting to show. Though whether that was because of the alcohol or the attention he was receiving from the lovely young woman before him, he couldn't tell.

She laughed harder. "Oh no! I can't! There ain't even any music to sing too."

"Then let's make some." He said as he leaned down closer to her with a cheshire grin across his face. She was lot shorter than him and for once it felt good to be the taller person in a conversation. "If ya got a guitar or piano lying around, I could play something for ya to sing too."

She bit her lip in thought, "I think Jake might have one over at the frat house. We could go ask him." She said then she grab Varian's sleeve and they both ran out the door.

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

Varian stood next to the bus stop waiting for the tram to arrive. Carol came along with him to see him off. He had thoroughly enjoyed the party and he hated to leave. He felt more at ease here than he had in weeks and he was really hitting things off with this new girl. But he had promised Aunt Cass and he took promises very seriously.

"It's sweet that you help out your aunt, but it's a shame you have to leave so early. It's only 12:30." Carol said.

"Yeah, I know, but I gotta be up by six to unlock the doors to the cafe. You should come by sometime. I'll make you my patented special."

"What's that?" She asked.

"Shortbread cookies and an espresso."

She giggled, "Did you bake the cookies homemade?"

"Sure did." He gave her a wink which only ignited more laugher between them. They were both lightheaded from drink and merriment and would laugh at just about anything.

"Ooooh you know what!" Carol suddenly exclaimed. "You should come dancing with us tomorrow night. We're going to Monroe's for Jessica's birthday."

"You sure she'd want me around. I mean we don't really know each other.." Varian had met Carol's friends at the party. They all seemed like nice people and they had included him readily into their little group. They played games and music and generally just goofed around all night. But even then he didn't want to intrude.

"Oh it'll be fine. The more the merrier! I'll text her right now and tell her you're comin'."

She pulled out her phone and typed up a message. They heard the ding that indicated that she had gotten her reply.

"She says, 'Sure, and bring a gift.'" Carol rolled her eyes. "She's jokin'. You don't have to get her nothin'."

"Naw, it's her birthday. I'll get her a card at least. If I can get off work."

Just then the bus pulled up.

"Here, let me give you my number real quick." Carol offered and Varian handed her his phone. She entered her name and number into his contacts. "Let me know if you can come and I'll text you the address." She said as she handed him back the device. "It's easy to find and you can just meet us there."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll be there." He waved goodbye and got on the bus to head back home.

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

Varian was almost to the cafe when saw Hiro and Baymax standing in the doorway. Baymax was wobbling back and forth while the smaller boy was trying and failing to push him inside. It didn't help matters that they were still dressed in their armour and Baymax was almost too tight to fit.

"Come ooon…" Hiro spotted him as he came up. "Hey, lend a hand?" He asked.

Varian did and together the started to push.

"Why not enter in another way?" He grunted.

"Ahh...well…" Hiro stumbled but Baymax answered for him.

"Oh Hey, VarAI-ann,...We JUMped OFF a rooooffff..f and into the traaaashhh.." The robot slurred.

"His battery is low." Hiro explained. "It's hard to get him to follow orders when he gets like this."

"You have weird haaair." Baymax lent down to examine Varian's hair stripe more closely.

Varian gave the robot an extra hard push to stop him from commenting further. It was just what was needed. All three of them landed in a heap on the floor. They froze, worried that they may have woken Aunt Cass.

However it was only Mochi that greeted them.

"HAIRy baBY" Baymax exclaimed and got up to chase after the cat.

The boys ran after him. Which caused only more of a commotion.

Hiro casted his eyes about looking for a way to distract the robot while Varian fruitlessly tugged on the machine's arm. That's when Ruddiger popped up beside him, curious as to what was going on. In a panic Hiro grabbed the raccoon and held him out in front of the robot's face.

"Hey look Baymax! A cute trash panda!" Hiro backed away towards the stairs still holding the unfortunate raccoon in midair.

"He's not a trash panda!" Varian protested indignantly but was interrupted by Baymax suddenly changing course.

"Ooooo" he cooed and made off after Hiro and this new object of interest, which sent Varian tumbling to the ground.

Hiro managed to get the robot to follow him up stairs to the second floor with Varian following close behind, casting annoyed glares at both of them.

"Cooome on… juuust a little further...oof!" Ruddiger had had enough and wiggled out of Hiro's grasp and jumped on his head. He tried to grab the raccoon before he got away but that just made the creature struggle harder, knocking off his helmet and pushing him to the ground as it bounded away up the second flight of stairs.

Varian laughed. "Ha! Serves you right for calling him a 'trash panda'."

"Awwww….masked BAby go BYE bye." The robot said in disappointment and then turned to wobbled into the upstairs kitchen instead.

Hiro gave an indistinct whine in frustration and Varian just rolled his eyes before following after the robot once more.

Hiro picked himself up and dragged himself into the kitchen slumping down into a dining room chair in defeat. He rested his head on the table while he wearily eyed Baymax who was now playing with a drinking glass. The robot had amused itself with rolling the glass back and forth and back and forth.

"How did the party go?" Hiro asked.

"Fine." Varian said as he walked over to the sink to pour himself a glass of water.

"Did you paint anything?" Hiro said teasingly.

"It wasn't a painting party."

"Then what kind of party was it?" Hiro asked confused.

Varian shrugged "Just a regular party." He dismissed before taking a long gulp of water.

Hiro watched him with growing suspicion. "Then why did you tell Aunt Cass that it was?"

"Because I didn't tell her. All I said was that it was a party. What's the big deal?"

Hiro frowned and then he sniffed the air as if just now noticing something. "What's that smell?"

"Who ever smelt it dealt it." Varian sneered.

"No! It's not that!" Hiro protested. "No. It smells.. yeasty…like .. like I don't know.." Hiro racked his brain trying to describe what the smell was and where he had come across it before. "Like whenever Aunt Cass tries to make beer battered fish…" he paused and looked at Varian who had stood there frozen and pensive.

"I LIKE Fisshyes.." Baymax slurred but both boys ignored him.

Hiro got up and walked over to Varian, the smell was definitely coming from him. "Were you drinking?" Hiro accused.

"So I had a beer at the party." Varian brushed him off. "Big deal."

Hiro placed a hand on Varian's shoulder to stop him from walking away. "Very big deal. Drinking is illegal."

"Nooo, purchasing alcohol if you're under 21 is illegal." Varian corrected and firmly removed Hiro's hand. "The law doesn't say anything about just drinking it. Besides it's stupid law anyways."

"I don't care how stupid you think it is." Hiro admonished. "There's a reason for it. Drinking's unhealthy and dangerous."

Varian gave a sardonic laugh."Oh and soda isn't? Hiro, you don't get it. I've been drinking beer since I was five. We drink it in Corona like you do coke cola. Besides one beer isn't going to hurt you. It can't even get you drunk." He rolled his eyes, put the glass of water down, and started to leave.

Hiro wasn't ready to give up the argument just yet though. "Oh, so you think that makes it okay to lie to Aunt Cass and then just sneak off to who knows where?"

Varian stopped in his tracks and screwed up his face in anger before rounding on the other teen. "Oh and look who's the one wearing armor and sneaking a robot back into the house in the middle of the night! I told Aunt Cass where I was going and I went there and I came back on time just like she asked. You've been lying to her since before I ever even arrived."

"That's different!"

"Is it!? Is it really, Hiro? How many lectures have I had to sit through just to cover your butt? How many lies have I had to tell to keep your secret? How many times have I had to step in before you got hurt? Yet, I go out to have fun for one night, to just be normal for once, and suddenly I'm the bad guy."

Hiro pouted and angry tears stung his eyes, but he couldn't come up with a response.

"Ssssh… you'll wake the Hairy Baby…" Baymax's voice pierced the silence and the boys turned to find him now cradling Mochi in his arms. "Who'sss a good BAby...wh-who'sss a goooood baBY."

"You're robot's more drunk than I am." Varian said flatly.

Hiro sighed in exasperation, "It's not about that.."

"Then what is it!?" Varian angrily interrupted, "That I'm not a goody two shoes like you? That I'm a jail bird while the rest of y'all are superheroes? That I'm not Mr. Perfect like Tadashi was?"

"N-no.." Hiro backed away in shock, but before he could gather his wits Varian pressed on.

"Look, go ahead and tell Aunt Cass." He said bitterly."See if I care. I'm going to go take a shower." He then turned around on his heel and stormed down the hall to the bathroom.

"Varian…" Hiro ran after him but the other teen just slammed the door in his face.

Hiro angrily pounded on the door but Varian ignored him and Hiro could hear the sound of the faucet being turned on. He turned away defeated as he debated on what to do. Just then the door to Aunt Cass's bedroom started to open.

Hiro looked down at the armor he was still wearing terrified. He then dove into the living room, flung himself on the couch, and wrapped the throw blanket around seconds before Aunt Cass walked in.

She yawned and mussed up her hair "Hiro is that you?" She said sleepily.

"Y-yeah" he squeaked.

She walked over to him and tenderly ran her hand through his hair. He tensed, knowing how close he was to being caught.

"How was your study group?"

"Fine."

She paused and listen to the water running. "Did Varian make it in?"

"Yeah, h-he's taking a shower right now." Hiro sighed. If he was going to tell Aunt Cass what had happened now would be the time, but his mind still raced with worry and indecision.

"Oh, well I hope he had a good time at the party." She yawned again. "I'm glad your both back safe." She kissed Hiro on the forehead. "Don't stay up too late, okay."

"O-okay."

She headed back to bed but stopped long enough to wish Hiro a happy fourth.

"You..you too."

"Next time we should plan ahead for all us to go on a trip or something." She smiled.

"Sounds great." Hiro responded with a strained voice and he only relaxed when heard Aunt Cass close the door to her room. Only to tense up a again as he heard a loud crash come from the kitchen along with cat hissing in anger. When Aunt Cass didn't reamerge he let out a long weary sigh. He still needed to pull Baymax back into his charging case.

However, before he went to do so, Hiro paused long enough to look at a picture of him and Tadashi hanging on the wall.

"What would you do?" He asked the picture in despair. He felt so lost. Tadashi would have known how to reach Varian, Hiro was sure of it. But he wasn't Tadashi.

Another crash came and Hiro shoved aside his worries with a heavy sigh before checking on his robot.

[anomitafics]

When The Heart Beats || [5]

WHEN THE HEART BEATS || Levi Ackerman x Reader CHAPTER V

Slicing through Titan after Titan, a young female not older than 20 glided through the battle fields following in tow after her Squad Leader's built back.

"(L/N)! Two abnormals ahead! Get ready!" her Captain shouted, making the woman withdraw her blades as she replaced them with new sharper ones.

"Yes Sir!"

"(Y/N) if you're getting tired--" the blonde beside her started but was interrupted by the [c] haired woman drawing her swords forward.

"I'm not Erwin!" she said as she winked at the poor worried male beside her.

(Y/N) had developed a rare respiratory illness when they were younger. The young lady would always end up having long painful attacks in the middle of fighting making Erwin concerned about her well-being at all times.

He wouldn't want to loose his only childhood friend; the only one who never thought of him as a weirdo, the only one who had always listened to his every opinion and rant about his late father's theories.

More so, he had seen how tortured the look on her [c] face was as she gasped for breathe with such difficulty.

It was the blonde's nightmare, it was something he couldn't bare watching. He could watch his comrades get eaten by Titans again and again but would later get used to this however the sight of his good friend's cruel torment was something he would never be used to.

Keeping his blue hues gaze ahead, his peripheral vision had never left (Y/N)'s determined form as she zoomed through the forest with the whole squad.

Slashing another Titan, Erwin's eyes widened in fear as his peripheral saw how his [c] haired friend stopped midair grasping her chest.

When had she gotten so far?

Erwin zoomed and almost used half of his gas in order to catch her falling figure yet the action proved to be a futile attempt. Watching her small figure fell hard to the ground rendering her unconscious.

"(Y/N)!" he yelled as he let himself fall as his cables supported his body down, failing to notice an incoming Titan.

Their squad leader noticing this, yelled, giving an order to the nearest before him:

"Muller! Prevent Smith from reaching the ground!"

The assigned soldier then grabbed the blonde from the collar making Erwin shout in protest.

"NO! CAPTAIN! (L/N)'S STILL ALIVE!"

"That was a 20 meter fall! No one can survive that!"

"She's having her attack--"

"Smith just give it up! Allot of soldiers' lives had also been sacrificed--!"

"No Captain she's still alive!"

Erwin was shouting in rage now as he figured a way to escape his comrade's grasp.

His eyes then looked at where her figure was making him struggle harder seeing a Titan now approaching her motionless body. His comrade was practically hugging him now in an attempt to stop the blonde from risking his life for the fallen woman.

Suddenly a figure of a woman dashed in action retrieving (Y/N)'s unconscious body.

'Hange!'

"You promised me you'd protect her!" now flying her way to the woman in her arms' Squad, Hange shouted at the Blonde.

It was a rare sight to witness Hange so serious, but now was one of those instances.

Glaring at Erwin she flew away, (Y/N) in her arms, her eyes searching the wagon for the injured. Erwin staring with helplessness at the brunette's back.

A day after that, (Y/N) had woken up to a paper of resignation lying flat on her nightstand and two of her good friends begging her to sign it.

Yet once again, it was another futile attempt.

"Did they seriously receive no private exclusive trainings before this?!!" Hange excitedly shouted as she shook (Y/N)'s body along.

But was surprised at how frail and weak it seemed as her body moved with no constraint making Hange stop her actions. Looking worriedly at the female beside her.

"I'm sorry. Long night yesterday!" the [c] haired woman explained witha toothy grin.

"Your breathing... Your breathing is off!" Hange whisper shouted mindful of not letting Flagon who was standing beside them with some of his squad hear.

"I'm fine... It's just, that thing that you made that helped me breathe didn't work this morning, I wasn't able to nebulize myself." (Y/N) looked at her sheepishly.

"It's called Nebulizer. And why didn't you tell me or Erwin?" Hange asked narrowing her eyes. "I woke up late, I had no time to! I needed to be here for them right now, I want them to feel supported." the [c] haired female moved her gaze to Levi's form as he spiraled through air leaving not only a cut on the foam but also a crack on the makeshift Titan.

"Great Job!" (Y/N) cheered which Levi just dismissed flying further into the training grounds.

"I swear he'll have himself killed for that pathetic way of holding his blades." She heard Flagon murmur making her face the male and giving him a glare.

"Well then let's go, I'll fix it, you have to use it or else you'll get severe attacks at the end of the day!" Hange pulled but (Y/N) just stayed in place.

"Hange please... I need to be here."

"Is this so importa--"

"Yes Hange, so please... I promise I won't do anything to worsen my condition." she asked staring at the brunette straight in the eyes, making her sigh and once again stand beside her as they watch Levi's figure from afar.

"You said you had no time but you were able to braid your hair." Hange snickered making (Y/N) scratch her head smiling.

"I needed to look normal 'else Erwin will notice something's off, so you better help me out!" she laughed making Hange smirk at her friend's silliness.

"Betcha' will! In one condition! Help me get close with your squaaad!" Hange pleaded in a childlike manner, brown eyes almost twinkling.

"I can't even get close to Ackerman myself, but maybe with Isabel and Farlan." she said making Hange slump her face lowly.

"He does act like he's the boss doesn't he?"

"You bet!"

Landing with a swift maneuver, Levi walked closer to the group of veterans with his all so bored expression.

"I'm done right?" he asked eyeing his Squad Leader making it clear that he was only asking her and would not want to hear anyone answering than her.

Smiling she placed two thumb ups "Great Job! You were able to finish everything in an hour, it's supposed to be a day long exercise but I guess not anymore. You're free for the day."

"Tch" was his only reply as he stated walking away passing the small group in a brusque manner.

"(Y/N)! You shouldn't do that! He's still a rookie he needs mor--" Flagon started to lecture but was dismissed by a friendly wave.

"He's done enough than any rookie could ever have, he deserves it." which made the ash haired Captain grumble in frustration.

Levi who was not too far away heard this and it made his hatred for the Survey Corps-- except her-- grow more. He was actually starting to trust the young Captain.

"And Commander!" she called out.

Scratch that 'except her'.

Levi stopped in his tracks as his Squad Leader called out, making him mentally hate himself for acknowledging the title.

"Make sure to tell Farlan that he'll be having his individual training today instead of tomorrow." it was because Levi finished earlier than expected.

Not even giving a nod, the onyx haired male started walking again, soft clicks coming from his boots as they reach the cobbled ground. Taking this as his way of complying to her request she turned to face Flagon and Hange who were talking amongst each other.

"So this was what Erwin meant." Flagon murmured making Hange squeal in delight, her face turning redder because of excitement.

"With them! With them we can capture more Titans to experiment on! More abnormals!" Hange exclaimed as she kept on murmuring uncontrollably.

Flagon who was staring at Hange with such unease then cleared his throat as if to return his composure. Looking at the young woman beside him he started:

"I'm relieved they didn't have to be placed in my squad, I wouldn't be able to handle them, especially Ackerman, but you do seem to manage them well."

"Oh, In my opinion though, what they need are people who understands the hell they've been through, those who wouldn't look down on them, and as their Captain I'm only doing my job to take good care of my Squad." (Y/N) stated as Flagon hung his head both in deep thought and guilt.

No wonder many of the new recruits begged to be placed under her.

"Captain!" showing himself in front of the veterans, Farlan had made sure that he had done the most proper salute he had ever done, much to Flagon's surprise.

Smiling kindly the young captain then explained how the training will be executed, relieved that she didn't have to practically explain anything to the bright recruit infront of her she heaved a small sigh. She wouldn't be able to make it without collapsing if she were to.

"I'll start now!" Farlan declared as he took use of his Maneuvering Gear as if it was as easy as breathing.

(Y/N) stared as the figure flew away, as usual, Erwin was once again winning his small gamble. These newcomers are even better than other captains if she were to say. Though she took note of how they use too much gas.

As her jet black eyes watched in awe as Farlan took over Titan dummy after Titan dummy, her sight suddenly wavered.

Blinking in order to block the small form of weakness, she focused on regulating her breathes more.

'I wasn't even doing anything than to stand... '

Eyeing Hange, (Y/N) was relieved to have her too engrossed on Farlan and Levi's ability on 'capturing abnormals'.

Stepping a step backwards in order to not be seen on the brunette's peripheral, this was when she started to heave larger inhales and exhales.

She can do this, she doesn't have to let Hange know. She can take care of herself.

Yet her thoughts were proved wrong as she unexpectedly stumbled backwards and her breathe suddenly halts in a hitch. Everything was a blur and the last thing (Y/N) remembered was Hange's face as she asked the brunette of one final request before blacking out:

"Don't let them know..."

"Shit... You're already struggling and you're still thinking about them." Hange murmured as she placed (Y/N)'s head on her lap checking her pulse.

Flagon who had no idea of what was happening, attempted to help the brunette only to have his hand swapped away.

"Call Erwin, now." a dead serious Hange commanded making Flagon shout a series of orders to his squad who were now standing idly by the corner.

Farlan who was looking for his last Titan cutout had noticed the commotion and instantly turned his attention to the slowly forming crowd.

The blonde, however wasn't able to comprehend the situation, he couldn't even see the focus of every one within the crowd of soldiers.

Not when he suddenly saw a familiar figure running into the seen. It was Erwin!

Farlan watched as the blonde captain jammed himself through the crowd. It made him even more curious now seeing Erwin himself trying to get involved in the commotion.

Now entirely forgetting about his prior activity, Farlan flew once again to the surface of the makeshift forest, trying to get a better view.

Yet was left stunned as he watched as Erwin embraced a woman's unconscious body within his arms carrying her out of the scene, a woman no other than..

"Captain...?"

END OF CHAPTER V ANOMITAFICS

When The Heart Beats Masterlist   <----------CHAPTERS HERE!

[hypnotica-ships]

3x3

So, thanks to some A+++ enabling from the discord server, I've decided to post my BNHA self insert fanfic. I haven't really talked about my insert, but I plan to sometime in the future, but for now I"ll leave ya'll in the dark.

This whole thing was made just to make me and my friends feel good and give us some much needed self indulgence.

Word Count- 1,550

Hypnotica- My S/I

Grafight- @fictional-characters-are-hot's S/I

Slasher- @alwayslovestruck's S/I

It's been 3 hours.

4 hours since the hero team Discorded was asked to help out with a capturing some drug smugglers.

3 1/2 hours since they found the drug den.

3 hours since Hypnotica sent in Grafight and Slasher to covertly search the place.

3 hours since he's heard a response.

It was a loud, shrill scream that made his blood go cold. Expecting the worst, he decided to find some loiters and use his quirk to get some backup.

After being only able to scour up 2 shadows for his mask alts to posses, he realized the longer he spends time looking for people, the more harm could come to his friends...*family*. Dolly, taking the form of a Harpy, and Dylan taking a shape of a Lion man, will have to do for backup. Hoping that it won't be needed, he finds an open window and heads into the den.

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

"Look! They're opening the crates. That must be how they ship the quirk enhancing drugs."

"Slasher. I can't see shit, it's too dark in here and I don't have dope cat eyes like yo-....wait a sec..."

The younger of the heroes takes out a sketch book and quickly draws our some night vision binoculars and they suddenly 'pop' out into a physical object. After giving a thumbs up, in order to stay quite, Grafight uses the goggles.

"Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit....that's a lot of powder. How the hell do they sell it all?"

Slasher just shrugs it off and continues watching the group of men, tail swaying as they do.

All of a sudden, all of the men stop moving. A few moments later they all turn to the gurder that the hero duo were perched on.

"Hey! Lookey here fellas, some new 'test subjects' to try the new mix on."

"Oh as if you'd even come close to touching us! You won't even get a chance to lay a finger on us. Right Grafight?"

"Right! Good luck fuckers!"

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

"Slasher! Grafight! What's going o-...."

"We won!'

Hypnotica was greeted by the sight of Slasher triumphantly standing with one foot on top of a human mound of passed out thugs while Grafight was looking over the crate of drugs, kicking one of the thugs that started move on the ground.

"Wha- Then who the hell screamed?!"

Grafight, grabbing the thug she kicked by his collar and threatening to punch him again.

"This guy did. I think he's like...the kingpin or something. Screams like a little bitch though."

"We managed to take these guys out super easily, like it was nothing! Can't believe they were talkin' smack like they could beat us..."

Still a bit shaken up from his worry, Hypnotica headed over to check out the crate. Noticing a strange metal box buried slightly underneath some of the drugs, he pulls it out and begins to question the kingpin about it.

"This your tracker? Is this the thing that you use to keep an eye on your 'supplies'?"

"You better answer. Grafight is pretty liberal with bodily harm."

Slasher says as she walks over to look at the box better, poking it with one of her claws.

"...it....it...he.....hehaha..."

"Punching time?" Grafight asks looking up at Hypnotica.

"Not yet. He needs to be conscious to answer our questions."

"Talk then, asshat."

"...doesn't matter....we....we were gunna..."

"Gunna what, idiot?!"

"d....die...die anways..."

"...Punch him Grafight."

Hypnotica grumbles while Dolly pried open the box with her talons.

"Gladly!"

"...I don't think he meant, like, *80 times Grafight...*"

Slasher now worriedly watches as the kingpin get's absolutely destroyed by fists.

"..."

Hypnotica seems frozen as he looks down at the box, unmoving, and holding his breath. Cocking her head, Slasher notices that somethings wrong with him.

"Hey....you alright big bro?"

"..."

Finally stopping her onslaught on the kingpin, Grafight looks over to Hypnotica.

"Cat got your tongue or something?"

Still not saying a word, Hypnotica turns the box so the others can see. In the box is a small glowing green tube with wires attached to it, there's also a countdown screen slightly below it. It's only got 3 seconds left on it.

As her tail drops, so does her heart, with only a few second to accept her fate Slasher meekly gasps as she starts to speak.

'Oh..'

'Shit'

Grafight finishes Slasher's thought, right before everything goes white.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sirens are blaring as the green mist clears from the rubble of what's left of the warehouse. Various bodies are strewn all about, policemen and EMTs were able to arrive on the scene fairly quickly. Not that it mattered, the damage was done. From the looks of everything, there was no survivors, all thugs and kingpin were either crushed by the rubble or suffered from some strange type of asphyxiation. Death seemed to encompass the area, until one of the EMTs discovered a lion like shadowy figure seemingly protecting a group of still breathing bodies. The figure soon dissipated leaving a strange mask in it's place.

The bodies were still alive, but barely, and they needed medical attention and fast.

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

"-Sources say that the 'hero' team were incapable of apprehending the group and had to resort to extreme measures to stop the-"

"Horseshit! Why would we set off a bomb? We had it covered already, it wouldn't kill them to get their facts straight..."

"Calm down Gummybear, the doc said you shouldn't strain yourself..."

It's been 4 days since Grafight was released from the hospital, suffering from 2 broken arms, rendering her unable to use her quirk...among other things. Fatgum, her partner, had insisted to stay by her side until things healed, neglecting his own hero duties in the process.

"The doc can shove it as far I care! These newscasters have no right to spew out garbage lies like that! It's gunna hurt our rep.... Sure we might not be the nicest, safest, smartest heroes in the game, but we aren't villainous either!"

"...You...you do have a point, but don't worry about it, I"m sure one of the others will give them a piece of their mind and sort things out. Right now you and I have dinner to eat!"

Grumbling as she rose from the couch, Grafight followed her partner to the kitchen, sitting down at the small round dinning table that the family usually shared. This dinner was different though. The table had a nice white satin cloth draped over it, with 2 light candles on top. It seemed that this time these two will be dinning alone.

"Take a seat baby, I'll go grab our meal."

"It better be something good, the meals at the hospital were utter shit..."

She lets her sentence trail on as a covered plate is placed ever so gently in front of her.

"Oh? Did you plan on surprising me? ....Babe, my arms, I can't open it."

"Yeah, my bad, here ya go my sweet Gummy."

Fatgum slowly removes the cover for maximum surprise effect. Once it's off, Grafight can't help but smiley widely as she notices one of her favorite meals, but with a culinary twist. Hotdogs sliced up into star shapes, surrounded by a circle of mashed potatoes, topped with melted cheese, a dash or salt, and a glob of ketchup in the middle of it all.

"So? Ya like?"

"..."

Grafight's eye's start to tear up, but her smile still stays plastered on her face. Fatgum notices right away and goes to quickly grab some tissues.

"Oh Gummy, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you! I just...I just thought I could do something special for ya...I...I-"

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe! I love it! Omg, I love it so much, you're the best, you know that right?"

"I...yeah....no. Wait. YOU'RE the best, you're so strong and special to me, I...I"m just so happy that I didn't lose you...you mean the universe to me."

"Stop...I'm already crying, let's just...let's just enjoy this meal together, okay?"

"Okay. I"m starving anyways..."

Fatgum takes his place across from Grafight, and starts to devour his meal.

"Uh....Ahem...."

"Oh! Yeah, my bad, let me help ya."

The two enjoy their meal together, never breaking their love filled eye contact.

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

"Slow down Mochi, you shouldn't be over-exerting yourself."

"But Kano, I want to dance! I really like this song...cough cough...it's a total....total banger, and I deserve to have some.....fun after what happened. Everyone else has been so....gloomy since then....I just....want to bring some life.....back into the house is all...."

"I know, I know...but, you won't be able to do much joy-spreading if you can barely walk to the mailbox without getting winded halfway there."

"Hmph, stupid bomb chemicals getting.....getting into my lungs...fucking up my whole system...did they ever figure out what...what was in that tube...anyways?"

"They still haven't called us back about the results yet, but they said the inhaler they gave you was working well enough for us not to worry. So we won't, right Mochi?"

"...Yeah...I guess...I just hate...feeling weak like this...I wanna cry but.... I don't want the others to...to see....they've been through enough....I don't wan them to worry about me...me too..."

Kano takes a moment to think, after a moment he takes Slasher's paw and leads her into the living room.

"Sweety...what are you doing?"

After he gets Slasher to relax on the couch, he walks over the Hypnotica's advance sound system and grabs a homemade looking CD. Putting it in he looks to Slasher.

"The good doctor said YOU shouldn't exert yourself, but....he never said anything about me."

As soon as the music starts, Kano begins to dance in a way that's all to familiar to Slasher. It's a dance they've grown to call the 'Humpty Dance', and no one else in the house can quite get it right like these two.

"Oh Kano! This....this makes me so....happy! Keep...keep going! Maybe...maybe you could...put in some...Slipknot next? Pwetty Pwease?"

"Anything for you my Mochi."

Slasher enjoys the show Kano puts on for almost 2 hours, by the time he gets done, Kano is just about as winded as Slasher has been recently. The two then cuddle on the couch, just taking in each other's slow and labored breathes.

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

"You will most certainly not."

Sir Nighteye slams his hand down on the counter to emphasize his point, making Hypntoica jump a little.

"And why the fuck not? The need to get their facts straight. I will not stand for all of this fucking slander."

Sir sighs and pushes his glasses up, trying to calm himself down.

"I understand that, but 'kidnapping the newsroom executive' is not the most ideal way to go about it. You can barely walk, even with the crutches!"

Motioning to Hypnotica's broken left leg, and the sprain in his other. Hypnotica just huffs and looks off to the side, still with an angered expression plastered on his face.

"So. Fucking. What? Okay, maybe kidnapping is a bit extreme, but..."

Sir's own angry expression starts to soften as he notices the tears that begin to fall from his partner's face. Wondering how long he's been holding it in.

"...I can't let my family take the blame for a stupid mistake that I made!"

Hypnotica's body begins to shudder as more tears fall, Sir walks over to him and embraces him in a way to try to calm him down.

"It's not your fault...all of you did what you could to try and handle the situation."

"That doesn't excuse all of the death and destruction that happened, and not to mention all the hurt my family is going through because of it!"

"No. It doesn't. But how is any of that your doing, hmm?"

"...I...I..."

"Shh, just stay, and relax. I'll make up a fully detailed report and send out a few copies to some of the stations. They'll most likely use those facts since my name does carry some weight..."

While still holding him with his right hand, Sir uses his left to tilt Hypnotica's chin up to meet his eyes. After a few seconds go by, he rests his head on his partner's.

"...Trust me dear. Everything will turn out just fine."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I saw it."

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

"A trusted source, who has decided to stay anonymous, has confirmed that the deaths in the Discorded Warehouse accident were not the before mentioned teams fault, but the fault of-"

"Thank you! Finally, a news channel that checks their facts. Even though I'm fine with a few deaths under my belt, but whatever I guess."

"Oh! Look Gummy! That's me! Saving all of those orphans was quite the task, I'll have to tell you all about it later."

"Kano my love! Let me help you with those dishes, there is far to many for one man to clean."

"Thank you Mochi! I kinda went all out with the meal this time, it was a celebration for everyone recovering so quickly....well, mostly everyone..."

"I call bullshit. Of course right after I get healed I trip down the stairs and end up right back to square one."

"Guess that means I'll have play nurse bit longer my dear."

~~*Cue Laugh Track*~~

[sparkkeyper]

We Don’t Have to Be Perfect

Sneaking in just before the deadline, this is the first of my three submissions for @itsthearoway‘s Aro Way Challenge, which highlights Good Omens fanworks with an aromantic light. I love how versatile the bonds in Good Omens are, and how they lend themselves so well to a number of a/sexual and a/romantic and a/gender identities. As an aro person myself, it’s nice to see some representation in a fandom that I love. 

We Don’t Have to Be Perfect

Prompt 34: At a woodworking class

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: Aziraphale+Crowley

Warnings: none

Summary: Aziraphale takes up a new hobby and tries to make something meaningful with it. It doesn’t quite go as planned, but maybe that’s okay. 

--------

“So this is where you've been disappearing to.” 

Aziraphale held open the door he'd just walked out of so a young woman could exit the woodworking studio after him, barely sparing a glance toward the gangly form of the demon on the sidewalk. “I haven't been disappearing anywhere. I told you the dates and times of this class and even gave you the address.”

“Looking for a new hobby, are you?”

“One can always learn new skills. Now that I'm not reporting to Heaven anymore, there's no reason I can't try something new when the whim takes me.”

“Not that that's ever stopped you before,” Crowley grinned, falling into step beside the angel as he started the walk back to the bookshop. “Well let's see it then.”

“See what?” Aziraphale fidgeted, fooling exactly nobody.

“Last I checked, when somebody signs up for an art-based class they usually make some sort of art-based thingy to take home. Let's see it, come on.”

“I, ah...” Aziraphale glanced everywhere but at Crowley, looking rather embarrassed. “It's not up to standards.”

“Whose standards?”

“Yours. Mine. Anybody's, really.”

��I think I can be the judge of my own standards, angel.”

“Oh very well.” And from a bag at his side he pulled a wooden oval, roughly eight inches at its widest point, and the demon plucked it from his hands to study it before he could protest.

It looked, quite frankly, like a child's drawing rendered into wood: a very rudimentary snake wiggling around the outside of the frame with two pairs of feathered wings inside. Bumps and gouges dotted the surface and it seemed not even the final sanding could take care of them. The width of the snake was hilariously inconsistent and the wings were missing more than a few feathers each where Aziraphale had clearly misjudged the carving process and accidentally chipped them off.

Crowley snorted before he could stop himself. “Is that me? And wait, the bit inside, is that supposed to be the two of us?”

Aziraphale grabbed it back, his expression somewhere between a scowl and a pout, and he refused to meet Crowley's eyes. “As far as I can tell, we have the longest-running friendship on the planet, you and I. It seems to me that that's worth commemorating, and for something of that magnitude it really ought to be magnificent. Perfect. But it isn't. I intended to hang it in the bookshop, now that I don't have to worry about anyone connecting us or not. But...well look at it.”

Beside him, Crowley began to laugh. Aziraphale glared at him in affront. “Let me get this straight. You wanted something utterly perfect to celebrate sixty centuries of knowing each other, and your first go-to was woodcarving?”

“I wanted something more durable than paper, and I have no desire to put the time into metalworking.”

“So you went with woodcarving.”

“I went with something I thought I could learn and enjoy, yes!”

“How long have you spent in that class?”

“Nine sessions. It's more difficult than it looks!”

“Clearly.” The demon shook his head in amusement. “I wouldn't be surprised by an illuminated manuscript, I think, but I never expected something like this from you.”

Aziraphale's eyes flashed. “Well, if it's such a ridiculous notion, perhaps I should just forget the whole thing.”

“Wait-”

But he'd already slammed the piece down into the metal rubbish bin next to a bus stop.

Crowley rounded on him. “What the heaven did you do that for?!”

“I tried very hard for that poor result, I'll have you know!”

“And? Looks like a snake, looks like wings. Seems like you succeeded.”

“Does that look like succeeding to you, Crowley? Because if that is your idea of success, it certainly puts your failures in a whole new light!”

A wall slammed down over Crowley's expression. He spun without a word and marched away down the street. Aziraphale regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth but it was already too late.

“Crowley, wait! Crowley- Oh...” His fists clenched. “Drat everything!”

Aziraphale plopped himself down on the bus stop bench and glared out into the traffic. 

It was several minutes later that the demon sat down beside him.

There was a feeling between them like tension releasing. Crowley melted into a slouch across the back of the bench. “I can respect a clever insult when I hear one, angel. Well done. That one was quite good.”

“You'll be disappointed to hear that I'd like to retract it, then.”

“Mmm, pity.”

The silence between them grew more comfortable as the seconds passed, rather than awkward.

Aziraphale sighed. “I was hoping to make something worthy of what we have. It ought to be intricate and lovely and grand. Something worth six thousand years. I don't have nearly the skills to make it how it deserves to be.”

Crowley nodded just a bit. “Wasn't telling you to stop, by the way. I just never pegged you as the woodcarving type.”

“Well...I suppose I'm not.”

Crowley held a hand over the bin and the remains of the woodworking project leapt dutifully up to his fingers. Being slammed into metal had snapped it into several bits. He tried to fit the pieces back together again to get another look at the picture. “It's...good,” he tried.

“No it isn't.”

“No it isn't.” Crowley turned it upside down. “We were never really perfect, though, were we?”

Aziraphale sighed. “No, we weren't. I do wish I could reach back into the past and fix things. All those times I said no. All those times I insinuated we weren't friends, or that I didn't like you, or that you were somehow less than I. It wasn't fair to you and...we could have had so much more, Crowley. More time. More drinks and dinners and conversations, seen more plays together, gone to more concerts together.”

Dark sunglasses watched the traffic. “And yet it worked.”

“What?”

“I'm still here. You're still here. Somehow we muddled through it all, that's my point. It was never perfect. It started with bad small-talk and veiled insults, and only went downhill from there for a few thousand years. It was rocky and awkward and suspicious. It took time to become worthwhile.” Crowley turned the pieces over in his hands. “And it broke. And we had to put it back together again. Yet it's still going. If I had the choice to do it all over again, I would in a heartbeat. Because...” He trailed off and covered his mouth with a hand. “Oh shit, you've got me doing the mushy stuff.”

Aziraphale glanced at him curiously. “No, go on. Because...?”

“Because...it was worth it. Because...I appreciate it more, I think. I know what it's like to not have anybody. And to have your only connection to somebody be built on mutual distrust. And...I don't take any part of this friendship for granted now because of that. It means more because we had to work for it, you get me?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said softly. “Yes, I think I understand.”

Crowley offered the broken pieces back to his friend. “A little wood glue ought to put it right. Maybe one of those little picture hangers on the back, could hang it from a nail.”

The angel looked at him skeptically. “You'd really want this hanging in the bookshop?”

Crowley shrugged, a hint of red colouring his cheeks below his glasses. “I mean...I've never had a picture of me on someone's wall before. Thought it might be nice, you know?” Nice to be wanted, said the spaces between his words. Nice to be able to say, aloud or through symbols, that we do have a friendship, that it doesn't need to be a guarded secret. “What I'm saying is, maybe it's fine that it's not perfect. Because neither were we.” 

Aziraphale regarded the pieces of the project with the same warm look he usually reserved for Crowley. “I'll patch it up and hang it in the shop,” he said decisively. “Over the till. And when I get a little better at the whole woodworking thing, I'll make another one. And another. And each time it'll get a little better. Stronger. Hopefully more detailed.”

The demon was trying to maintain his casual facade but Aziraphale still caught the pleased smile fighting for purchase on his lips. “I’d quite like to see that, angel. I really would.” 

[zrtranscripts]

Season 9, Mission 7: Scream

Scream and Shout

~

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Oh, my calves are killing me.

PETER LYNNE: Yeah, as the dairy farmer said to the... other dairy farmer?

SAM YAO: Yeah, dunes aren't the easiest, are they? It feels like I'm trying to get up a down escalator. Still, we must be near our rendezvous with Mohammed now, mustn't we?

JANINE DE LUCA: That was the message we received via coded transmission from Miss Spens. Mohammed Boujettif, a fixer based in the city of New Agadir, will meet us at coordinates a short distance from here. He'll wait for one hour, no more.

PETER LYNNE: Well, we're still a good day's journey from New Agadir, though. Um, question. Does anyone find it a little suspicious that he wants to meet us so far from the city?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I've been rereading Amelia's info packs about New Agadir. It's supposed to be very hard to get inside the city. Citizens of the Maghreb Protectorate - that's the nearest official government - generally get let in. Everyone else needs friends inside - or favors from - the criminal networks that really run the city. Amelia said the place is like post-apocalypse Ipswich used to be, before the Last Riders razed it. Maybe Mohammed's going to introduce us to some friendly New Agadirans.

PETER LYNNE: Or he's going to rob and kill us, and maybe eat us! I don't know. Listen, sorry. It's just, it's all gone fine for the last few days. You know, camping in the desert. Janine's rain water collectors. Our maps have actually been accurate. And hang on, not been pursued by anything! I mean, it's going to go wrong now, isn't it?

JANINE DE LUCA: In my experience, little goes wrong in quite the way one anticipates. We must get into New Agadir. That is where the Death's Hand mercenaries are expected to be, and that way, we can enter Red Scorpion base. So we must attempt to make contact with Mr. Boujettif.

SAM YAO: Shame Veronica's not here to triangulate our position, really. She's back in my tent, said she wanted to avoid getting more sand in her circuits. Got the compass, Frances?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Yep. Yes. It's uh, that way, towards the tree. The-the one that looks like... the only tree.

JANINE DE LUCA: Very good. Come along, everyone. Run!

~

PETER LYNNE: Well, here we are at the tree. Got to say, I mean, of course the desert as a whole is beautiful, but in terms of your actual landmarks, it's kind of... a bit weak, maybe?

JANINE DE LUCA: Miss Dempsey, are we still on course?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Sure are. Oh, uh, heading confirmed. We must continue straight on towards the uh... more sand.

PETER LYNNE: See what I mean?

JANINE DE LUCA: There is rather an abundance of sand, but also an abundance of stars. Goodness me, just look at that sky. Perhaps I'll satisfy entry 48b on my bucket list, “Witnessing the entry of a meteor into the earth's atmosphere.”

PETER LYNNE: Yeah, we humans call that a shooting star. Never seen one?

JANINE DE LUCA: Perhaps I never thought to look up.

PETER LYNNE: Oh, well, you should have said. I would have laid one on for you.

SAM YAO: Oh, all the constellations. Never seen them so clearly before. Mum used to point them out to me. There's Orion. There's Cassio-whatsit. And there's the Big Dipper... or is it the Plough? Are they the same thing?

PETER LYNNE: And look over there, it's the Hurry Up Man, tapping his star watch.

[distant scream]

FRANCES DEMPSEY: We should definitely hurry up. What was that?

JANINE DE LUCA: A hyena.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Oh. Are they very dangerous?

JANINE DE LUCA: In numbers, yes. Provided we leave the area before the pack answers its summons, we'll be fine. Come on. The coordinates aren't far, but progress is slow. We must run as best we can.

~

JANINE DE LUCA: Are you absolutely sure these are the coordinates?

SAM YAO: Janine, Frances ran Dearg for four years. She can probably read a compass.

JANINE DE LUCA: I... Yes, quite. I'm sorry, Miss Dempsey. I'm merely concerned that the mission be a success. Your navigation has been unimpeachable. I didn't want you to accompany us here, but you haven't yet been a hindrance on our mission.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Oh, uh, thanks. I-I think.

JANINE DE LUCA: It's Mr. Boujettif who has let us down. You were right, Peter. It's hard to imagine why he would bring us out here if not for malevolent purposes. We must be on our guard.

PETER LYNNE: And it's pitch black. Never seen a sky cloud over that quickly. Cold, too. Let's get going now.

JANINE DE LUCA: I concur. We will have to abort the mission, find another way into New Agadir. Miss Dempsey, which direction back to camp? I've got rather turned around.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I uh... hang on. [flashlight rattles] Damn! Torch is on the blink.

PETER LYNNE: And we're much too far from New Agadir to see the city lights.

[distant scream]

SAM YAO: That's not a hyena. Bloody hell, must be Mohammed! Come on, he needs our help. Head for the scream, run!

~

SAM YAO: The screaming, it stopped. I hope that doesn't mean... which way was it coming from, Five?

[muffled screaming]

PETER LYNNE: There it is. See, I swear that was coming from the other direction a second ago. God, I just wish it wasn't so dark. I can't see a bloody thing.

JANINE DE LUCA: We're close to the source of the scream. I know our instincts are to render aid as swiftly as possible, but we must approach with caution. Fan out. If the threat is still present, we will surround it. [footsteps through sand, muffled nearby screaming] Almost there. Slowly, everyone. Slowly...

[FRANCES DEMPSEY stumbles in the sand and shouts]

SAM YAO: Frances, you all right? Five, can you see her?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I'm okay, Sam. Just tripped over something. [muffled screaming] I... Oh God, the screaming's coming from underneath the sand. It must be Mohammed!

SAM YAO: Dig! Everyone dig! [sand shifts] It's definitely a person. Crap, they feel cold.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: [flashlight rattles and clicks on] Torch is back on.

[flashlight clicks off]

PETER LYNNE: And off again.

JANINE DE LUCA: I found his head. Frances, shine the light by my feet.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Ah, hang on. [flashlight rattles and clicks on] There.

[very nearby scream]

SAM YAO: That's not Mohammed, it's a really decayed zombie. A screaming really decayed zombie. Run! Everybody run!

~

[zombie screams]

PETER LYNNE: Okay, so running screaming from a zombie, yeah, used to it. Old hand. Running from a screaming zombie, that's new. Oh, and it's so dark, I can't see my own hands. Does anyone know where we're going?

JANINE DE LUCA: Our only objective is to lose our pursuer. We shall just have to do without light.

SAM YAO: What kind of zombie is that, anyway? Why is it screaming?

PETER LYNNE: [laughs] Maybe it looked in the mirror. Tends to do it for me.

JANINE DE LUCA: We've not encountered this variation before and should not engage until we learn more about it. Our cure might well prove ineffective against its bite. Keep running!

[zombies scream]

SAM YAO: Oh, to our left, there's another one. There's loads! Oh crap, they've got us surrounded. Hey! Ooh, maybe if we scream, they'll think we're zombies, too.

JANINE DE LUCA: I don't think that will prove effective, Mr. Yao. No doubt they're adept at distinguishing predator from prey. Listen, to the right. The quality of the sound is different, reverberant. A ravine, perhaps. Can you hear that?

PETER LYNNE: Well, I'm not a bat, so no. Uh, not that... I mean, I'm not saying you're a bat, Janine, obviously. Um, just only in terms of the exceptional, impressive hearing. [laughs] And of course, the leathery wings. I mean... Right. Uh, sorry.

JANINE DE LUCA: I suspect my improved hearing is an effect of the nanites. However, you've hit upon the crux of my plan, Peter. It's only an educated guess, but that will have to do. I'll lead you through the gap in the screams and into the ravine. With me, run!

~

[zombies scream]

JANINE DE LUCA: Yes, it is a ravine. I've found the wall. A river must have run through here long ago.

SAM YAO: Ah, yeah. Would that be attrition, do you think? Or abrasion. Um, what's the other one? Hydraulic something. And that's all I can remember from A-level geography. Except lateral moraines. What even are they?

JANINE DE LUCA: Mr. Yao.

SAM YAO: Sorry.

PETER LYNNE: Haven't we sort of... trapped ourselves? Uh, you don't know what's at the end of the ravine, or if there even is an end. Just sort of wondering, what are we doing?

JANINE DE LUCA: I suspect the zombies are using echolocation to hunt. The screams bounce off our bodies and alert other zombies in the area to our location.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Ah, I see. So if the echoes are pinging around the ravine, that'd sort of baffle them. That's clever, Janine.

JANINE DE LUCA: The zombies are entering the mouth of the ravine. Listen.

SAM YAO: Ugh, that's horrifying. Is it working?

JANINE DE LUCA: We'll have to trust that it is, but even if they can't pinpoint our location, they will stumble into us eventually. We must push deeper into the ravine. Peter, take the vanguard. Runner Five, draw your sidearm, protect our rear. Run!

~

[zombies scream]

JANINE DE LUCA: We seem to be losing the screaming zombies. Keep moving through the ravine until we can no longer hear them and then we will try to find a way... Peter, stop!

PETER LYNNE: What? Oh! Ah. Oh. The massive hole in front of me. Um, did you hear the hole, Janine, by any chance?

SAM YAO: Oh, I wonder how deep that... [pebbles clatter into hole and echo in the depths] Very deep.

PETER LYNNE: And the zombies are very close. This isn't good.

JANINE DE LUCA: Runner Five, ready your weapon. [gun clicks] I estimate ten hostiles. It's far too dark to aim. Spread your shots. Fire!

[gunshots]

SAM YAO: Five’s out.

[gun clicks]

JANINE DE LUCA: My weapon is jammed. The zombies are upon us. I... I don't have a plan!

[rifle shots, zombies splatter and stop screaming]

PETER LYNNE: Right, someone's shooting with a rifle. The zombies are down. What is happening?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Up here, can you see me? The skies have cleared, to give the heavens a better view of your heroics, no doubt. Wait there, I'm coming down.

SAM YAO: Well, good thing I activated my Mysterious Stranger perk.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: What's the saying? “A stranger is a friend you haven't met yet.” Well, now we've met.

PETER LYNNE: There's another saying! “A friend is someone who doesn't lure you into a dark ravine filled with screaming undead!” ... It tends to be quite situational!

JANINE DE LUCA: Mr. Lynne is right. You have put us in danger, mortal danger. I assume you are Mohammed Boujettif?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Yes, and I'm sorry, truly. Screamers don't usually hunt here this time of year. I myself was forced to flee our rendezvous coordinates.

PETER LYNNE: But why bring us out here in the first place?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Unfortunately, I'm currently persona non grata in New Agadir. I'm being followed by certain agents. Should we be seen together, you'll become known associates, never to be admitted under any circumstances. If I'm to assist you in entering the city, I'm afraid you'll first have to help resolve the misunderstanding that led to my exile. And I see you are more than up to the task. So quick to figure out the screamer's hunting technique. And look, to the west! A shooting star. The heavens approve.

JANINE DE LUCA: The heavens are indifferent to our activities, but beautiful. Quite beautiful. We will help you, Mr. Boujettif.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: And I will help you. Your prime minister explain the severity of the situation when she contacted me. I would love to know how she came to discover so much about me. An intriguing woman. But she informed me that without your intervention, a malignant fungal entity might swallow my country as it so nearly did yours. So I will help you to assume the identities of this band of assassins and to establish contact with those inside Red Scorpion base. Together, we will penetrate the impregnable fortress, you have my word. And please, call me Mo.

~

[artificialqueens]

Like They Do in Vegas, 1/5 (Vanique) - Mac

AN: This fic came about from a series of prompts I did on my blog and is entirely Ortega’s fault. I blame her, and this is also dedicated to her because Vanique is a god tier ship and I needed to contribute in some way.

As always, Meggie is a lovely person and I thank her endlessly for betaing this.

And to you at home I hope you enjoy!

BGM Challenge Notes: Vanessa and Monique’s friends show up in Chapter 4! And I’m working on a playlist for this AU that I’ll link next chapter!

Summary: Vanessa is a Casino Girl just trying to get by. Monique is a mysterious rich stranger. They meet in the city of sin. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 1: Go Big or Go Home

Vanessa arrived exactly twenty minutes before she was scheduled to clock in.

She threw her purse into the row of lockers and headed for the back of the small employee lounge. She passed the clock-in computer, the whiteboard on the wall, the flyers for various shows around town, and walked all the way to the last dressing room, after noticing the other two were already occupied. Vanessa smiled instinctively at the sound of Vixen’s voice raised above the sound of someone else playing music. She was yelling to whoever was in the adjacent dressing room, recounting a story of the night’s events.

Vanessa got dressed quickly, slipping out of her plain black jeans and sweater combination and into her sparkly silver dress that caught and reflected beams of light in a way that she had been told was mesmerizing. Vanessa never really noticed before she started working here, the dress most likely having been picked off a sales rack back home. It didn’t matter where it came from now.

What mattered now was that Vanessa’s hair was a mess.

Aquaria told her so and tried to sound exasperated when she did. It only ended up coming out fondly. Vanessa gave her a winning smile and batted her lashes too for good measure before the younger girl rolled her eyes and motioned to the chair beside her. Aquaria went to town on curling the particularly unruly strands, but there wasn’t time for much else; they both knew another round of patrons was due to hit any minute now.

Everyone that worked in Vegas knew the waves.

11 p.m. brought the moms and the bachelorette parties.

11:30 p.m. brought older couples and divorcees.

12 a.m. brought the guys with girlfriends.

12:30 a.m. brought the guys without girlfriends.

1 a.m. brought the wealthy singles, and the wealthy not-so-singles.

1:30 a.m. brought in the drunk people.

2 a.m. was what girls like Vanessa liked to call ‘closing time.’ Seal the deal or your ass was out on the curb for the night.

Luckily, Vanessa had an apartment, unlike some of the other casino girls. And the 300 square feet could be roomy—if she closed her eyes.

Vanessa made do.

Aquaria shooed her away from the chair at 12:55, giving Vanessa ample time to squeeze every last detail from Vixen, who was more than happy to recount yet another story about a creepy man trying to get her to join his brothel.

Offers like that were strangely common in this line of work. Well, maybe they weren’t so strange.

Most people thought they were sex workers anyway. Prostitutes or strippers, whores hired to seduce the male patrons and run them dry. Some of the other girls saw it that way. But as far as Vanessa was concerned, she was a glorified waitress. Her job was to facilitate the purchase of alcohol. The more people drank, the prettier she looked; the more they bet, the more they lost or won, the more money the casinos made.

In a lot of ways, it was a dream job. Vanessa got paid to look pretty and talk. Two things she was naturally gifted at.

Out on the main floor of the casino, Vanessa began her usual route around the space. She spent a good few minutes just drawing eyes, pulling focus from the card games, slot machines, and general greed. She walked slowly, careful to tilt her head down, flutter her eyelashes when patrons were close enough to see the eye makeup she had hurriedly done on the bus.

Vanessa was good at her job. She found a mark within five minutes.

Older guy. Late fifties. Nicely dressed. Seemingly ordinary. But what Vanessa instantly noticed was his watch. Rolex, one of the older ones. That’s ultimately how Vanessa picked all her marks. Her daddy used to say ‘what a man wears on his wrist he wears with pride.’ There was something more about shoes and hiding, but Vanessa never remembered that part.

She was fine with the Rolex, but she had really been hoping to find a Patek tonight.

Rolexes only started at $5,000.

But Vanessa made do.

She waltzed over to the roulette wheel, making sure to smile warmly at the employee behind the table. She gracefully rested her hands on the edge of the table as the casino employee gave a nearly imperceptible nod toward Mr. Rolex. Vanessa winked at him in thanks.

“You know I always go for 32,” Vanessa said to the group of men who had just started to take notice of her presence. She honed her sights on Mr. Rolex to see his reaction.

He practically preened under the attention. Vanessa rolled her eyes internally.

This was getting too easy.

Mr. Rolex eventually pulled up another seat and sent Vanessa to the bar three times before turning to ask her name.

If she were anywhere else, doing any other job, Vanessa might have been offended.

She only batted her eyes and giggled animatedly. “Vanjie,” she lied.

Mr. Rolex took that as his cue to lean in closer and press a whiskery kiss to Vanessa’s neck. She did her best not to freeze up under the attention and to just go with it.

It was then while pretending she was anywhere else, that Vanessa noticed a woman at the opposite end of the casino. She was sitting alone in one of the plush chairs that made up the lounge. It was noticeable because she was alone and fucking gorgeous. Long flowing dark hair and the tightest red dress Vanessa had ever seen that fell off her curves like water.

Vanessa was intrigued instantly. No woman that looked like that was alone in Vegas for no reason.

She convinced Mr. Rolex and his new buddies that they needed more gin and made her way quickly over to the bar, allowing herself the immense pleasure of ogling the strange woman from afar.

For all her smooth grace and easy confidence, Vanessa was rendered nearly incoherent when it came to women. Men were easy. You leaned over the table and their monkey brains took over. Women on the other hand… Women were a different species.

Vanessa tried to squeeze information from the bartender. He knew nothing, only that she ordered a martini and had been sitting alone all night.

Vanessa couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to her. So she did something stupid. Something stupid and silly that she would beat herself up over later: she ordered the mystery woman a martini. Vanessa went back over to Mr. Rolex and his friends, placed the drinks in front of them, and then made up an excuse about ‘being right back’ and having to ‘take care of something.’

Mr. Rolex and his friends were too engrossed in their game to care and Vanessa slipped away without any fuss.

As she headed back over to the bar, Vanessa noticed the woman was gone from her spot in the lounge. Vanessa’s heart sank in her chest and she was tempted to throw the whole night out as a waste when she noticed the woman perched at the bar looking directly at her.

“So you’re the cute thing that ordered me a drink,” the woman said by way of a greeting. “This one,” she nodded her head at the bartender, “was tellin’ me you don’t do that for many people. Should I be honored?”

“You tell me,” Vanessa shot back, surprising even herself with her quick wit.

The woman chuckled in response, throwing her head back and causing a commotion with her joy. Something inside Vanessa ached to be that free.

The woman motioned to the barstool next to her and Vanessa took it without another thought.

“You play much?” Vanessa asked, motioning to the various gambling methods.

“Betting?” the woman asked. “Not usually. I get sucked in, and you know what they say.”

“Hmm?”

“Greed is a sin.”

Vanessa laughed. “Oh baby, you in the city of sin.”

“Monique,” the woman corrected.

“What?”

“Not ‘baby.’ Monique.”

Vanessa smiled, and the woman, Monique, smiled back.

She raised up her hand to take a sip of her drink and Vanessa nearly choked at the sight of a Mille RM 51-02 draped elegantly over Monique’s wrist.

She had never seen a Mille in person before, having only ever heard stories of the watches that started at $30,000 and could go up to two million.

The vortex of gold and silver embedded in the watch face drew Vanessa’s eyes and she couldn’t help the smile overtaking her face. “Well, you know what they say, Monique?”

The corner of Monique’s mouth quirked up and she shook her head no.

Vanessa smirked. “Go big or go home.”

…

Vanessa smiled into her drink as Monique threw her head back in a laugh.

The sound reverberated off the glass in her hand, and Vanessa was sure that the joy in Monique’s voice had more to do with the warmth in her stomach than the alcohol.

“So what is it that you do, Vanjie?” Monique asked, her voice alight with humor and warmth.

“You ain’t never met a casino girl before?”

Monique shook her head no.

“I look pretty and get drinks,” Vanessa chuckled. “Speakin’ of,” Vanessa trailed off, looking to the side door where she could clearly make out her boss, Ms. Visage, glaring at her. “I’d love to keep talkin’ but—”

“How ‘bout I play some games?” Monique offered. “That should get her off your back, yeah?”

And now Vanessa was sure the alcohol couldn’t be the cause of the warmth because her whole body lit up under the knowledge that Monique wanted to spend more time with her.

“Thought you didn’t gamble,” Vanessa teased. “Somethin’ about it bein’ a sin…”

“I think if the Lord were in my place, he’d understand.”

They made the rounds: slot machines, poker, and Vanessa’s favorite, Blackjack.

The Blackjack tables were set apart from the rest of the casino, some architect really letting loose with the layout of the section. The ceiling was arched, and the tables were long surrounded by plush seating rather than the stiff angled chairs that lined the other tables.

Vanessa assumed her favorite position, perching herself on the arm of the chair while leaning into Monique’s presence, allowing her easy access to duck down and huskily whisper words of encouragement. All the while keeping their skin from touching.  

It was an old move. One she had learned her first week working here. The girls called it the Blackjack Bag. You made it so you were constantly leaning down to whisper directly in your target’s ear; this gave you the excuse to flaunt your cleavage while also getting a target riled up by the sound of your voice.

The Blackjack tables are where you bagged targets, hence, the title.

Monique seemed to be no different in that respect. No matter how hard she tried to hide her flush, each time Vanessa leaned down to compliment her, her hands tightened on her cards.

She was doing well. She had gotten a face card nearly every hand, and she knew when to fold and when to go for it. Vanessa was impressed. She told her as much.

“Beginner’s luck really does exist,” Vanessa teased.

Monique pulled her head back to look Vanessa up and down, taking her time to really take the younger woman in. “I’ll show you luck,” she said as she moved her massive pile of chips to the middle.

“All in.”

The men at the table squawked in a mixture of shock and protest. Monique just made a vague hand motion to keep playing.

Vanessa’s jaw was on the floor.

Monique only had a three and a queen. Statistically, at least one of the other players had to have higher cards than that.

The house went around, the men to her left and right got another card, but Monique stayed calm, and denied it.

It was then that Vanessa realized what Monique was doing.

She was using Vanessa as a lie detector almost, signaling to the other players what cards she had. Vanessa kept her expression neutral, and did a damn good job of it too because the other players all looked at her surprised.

As expected, they all folded, and Monique took back her mound of chips and the additional bets.

She looked up at Vanessa with a self-satisfied smirk, never breaking eye contact as she flipped her cards over.

The table erupted.

Two can play your games, she had said without opening her mouth.

Vanessa just smirked.

At one point, after Monique bested some business suit out of his measly twenty grand, the man approached Vanessa and attempted to make a move, running his hands harshly up and down her sides. Vanessa rejected him but pointed him in the direction of one of her fellow employees.

He didn’t seem to get the hint until Monique looked up from her cards and wrapped an arm possessively around Vanessa’s middle.

“I think,” she practically spit, “my girl told you to get lost.”

The suit looked at them with a raised eyebrow but didn’t dare say anything more. Vanessa felt white heat in her gut at the feeling of Monique’s arm around her, and she had to take a second to compose herself.

Vanessa turned back to the game and was surprised to find Monique’s eyes searching her own. “Does that happen a lot?” she asked, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” Vanessa tried to brush it off, “but you know, it’s Vegas.”

“And that makes it okay?”

Vanessa shook her head lightly. “Nah, but what can ya do?”

Monique looked at her hard, calculating. She didn’t say anything, but turned back to her game, placing her cards on the table before attempting to stand up

“I fold.”

Vanessa looked at her shocked. “You were winning, wha—”

Monique stood in front of her, eyes wide, asking permission, seeing if this was real. The vulnerability in her expression nearly made Vanessa take a step back.

“You wanna get out of here?” Monique asked, expression unassuming and open. “You can say no. I—”

Vanessa stopped Monique with a hand to her face. The first skin to skin contact. “Do I look like I wanna say no?”

[cloudphillips]

Back To December

Summary: It was only a month before December 13

A month before December 13

The sensation of featherlight touches stirred Joohyun from her sleep. It traced patterns along the slender tilt of her nose down to the curve of her jaw before an voice so sweet yet distant whispered to her ear. "Wake up sleepyhead."

A soft smile broke on the corners of her lips before she lazily dragged her arms and clung onto the person beside her. "Five more minutes Wan." She groaned upon burying herself in the comforts of her lover's embrace, deeply smelling the scent of jasmine and relishing in the warmth Seungwan had to offer.

"You said that earlier." Seungwan fondly ran her fingers through the smooth tresses of Joohyun's raven hair before affectionately placing a lingering kiss on her forehead. "Come on you lazy butt. I already cooked breakfast." Her efforts remained futile since Joohyun wouldn't budge.

"Please. Just give me five more minutes with you." Was Joohyun's simple response as she tightened her hold around Seungwan, clearly indicating that she had no intentions of letting go. In the end, Seungwan finally relented because how could she ever say no to Joohyun.

Five minutes turned to ten until it lasted for an hour before Seungwan decided that Joohyun had enough rest. The sunlight was already streaming from the curtains and birds were already chirping merrily to start the wonderful day. Brushing away stray locks of raven hair, Seungwan nudged her girlfriend awake. "Wake up Hyun. You need to let me go."

Seungwan's odd choice of sentence brought a chill down her spine and promptly caused a small frown to paint her features. Joohyun didn't like hearing those words. She greatly detested it. Tightening her hold around her girlfriend's waiste, she whispered hollowly. "I won't."

The blonde merely shook her head. "Then you'll be stuck with me forever." If they'll just laze around all they, they won't get anything done. At this point, will they ever accomplish anything?

"Good. Because I'm binding myself to you."

"If you keep saying things like that, how can you expect me not to marry you?"

***

A week before December 13

"So when are we gonna get married?"

Joohyun abruptly asked Seungwan out of the blue when they were cuddling on the couch, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace while sipping hot chocolate on a cold night. Snow fell like droplets of rain and enveloped the earth in a winter wonderland. Christmas was already nearing and most people were out buying presents. Meanwhile, the couple decided to skip the holiday rush and just spend some time together.

Seungwan choked on her drink and felt the hot beverage scalding her tongue. Joohyun soothingly patted her back as she tried to recover from the shock. "What??" The blonde probably looked like a bewildered mess but she completely blames her girlfriend for making her like this.

"I said, when are we going to get married?" Joohyun repeated, like a mother speaking to a toddler, perfectly enunciating the words to ensure that Seungwan would hear them correctly.

"I don't know Hyun. Don't you think it's a little sudden for that?" Seungwan preoccupied herself with wiping away the stain on her sleeves. Her girlfriend remained silent for long while and when she looked up, saw Joohyun frowning in disdain.

"So you don't want to get married with me?" She was demanding an explanation and didn't look quite at all pleased. Joohyun probably took offense in that statement.

Seungwan was quick to backtrack and reassure her. "No no no. It's just that... I would still have to buy you one of those large diamond rings with 24 carats, take you out on an expensive dinner, sweep you off your feet and propose under the night sky." She rubbed her neck and acted all sheepish. "I actually planned everything back before to make sure the plan was perfect. All that's left is my properly timed execution."

The blonde was fully rambling now. Her hands flew around to make wild gestures and Joohyun found her heart melting at her girlfriend's confession. She was happy, completely over the moon, upon knowing that she wasn't the only feeling the same way. That she wasn't the only one thinking of spending their whole lives together.

"I don't want a fancy wedding." Joohyun gingerly took Seungwan's hand and laced their fingers together. "I just want you." She lifted her gaze and stared deeply into those eyes with deep pools of brown that she countlessly found herself drowning in.

"I want to grow old with you."

There was tension in the way their gazes met. The gap between them slowly diminished until they forgot which one began and the other ended. Seungwan conquered Joohyun in a feat of everlasting kiss as their bodies joined together in a heated urgency. Clothes were torn and wills clashed. Joohyun was unable to contain a moan when Seungwan bit a particularly sensitive spot. She wanted to fight the blonde for dominance but she was helpless, especially when her lover expertly used her fingers to draw out the monster inside of Joohyun. Halos of light clouded her vision and she gasped breathlessly as Seungwan brought her to another high. When she was about to reach the peak, she cried out. "Take me! Take all of me!" All the while staring into those brown orbs when she felt those lips marking her, claiming her, conquering her.

Seungwan grunted as she continued her ministrations and together they lapsed into surreal bliss. Their height of passion slowly dwindling to a mellow crescendo. The blonde collapsed on top of her and sweat clung onto their bodies after their passionate lovemaking but all Joohyun could ever think about was having Seungwan close. There was a lull of silence in the air as they stared into each other's eyes and Joohyun declared the words she had long kept hidden.

"Please don't ever leave me."

Seungwan didnt deign a reply as she affectionately placed a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be yours until the sun doesn't shine."

Her lips trailed along slender nose. "Til' time stands still."

"Until the winds don't blow."

Then she sealed her promise with a kiss.

***

A day before December 13

"Babe. I need to leave."

Seungwan was already donning her coat and tying shoes when she called out to Joohyun, who was lounging by the living room, watching the daily weather forecast. The news anchor predicted that a heavy storm will hit tomorrow and adviced everyone to stay indoors to avoid getting stranded.

"Where are you going?" Joohyun frowned when she saw the blonde heading for the doors.

"Just gonna buy some groceries. I won't be taking long." Her girlfriend shrugged before taking the keys from the bowl by the counter and checked her wallets for extra money.

For some reason, Joohyun felt uneasy as dread crept up her spine. She watched as her girlfriend kissed her farewell and headed towards the door. This odd sense of deja vú became something she couldn't ignore. Like, Seungwan leaving her alone somehow happened before and that thought alone scared her.

"Wan?" She called out just before the blonde could fully walk out the door.

"Yes?" Her girlfriend flashed her a bright smile. Joohyun couldn't shake the feeling that this would be the last time she'd ever see Seungwan.

"Don't go where I can't follow."

With that, she watched Seungwan walk out the door and completely left her alone.

***

An hour before December 13

"Unnie, are you going to visit the memorial later?"

Seulgi spoke through the other end of the phone. She called a few moments before to check on Joohyun, knowing that today was a very special day, and see how her friend was doing.

It's been years... years since Seulgi talked to Joohyun. They've lost contact since she left and Joohyun haven't been the same ever since. The older girl had become more withdrawn and reclusive. She had never fully recovered from her loss. Joohyun practically had her entire soul ripped away after that unfortunate car accident. It was understandable that she was still grieving.

A flash of lightning briefly lighted the sky followed by the mighty roar of the thunder and that's when the rain started to pour.

"No Seul. I'll be staying home." Joohyun was pacing around the house, trying to calm the rising panick in her heart. Her hands wouldn't stop trembling and her entire body felt numb. Seungwan still hasn't returned and she was becoming terrified.

What if something happened to her along the way?

What if she couldn't come back home?

What if?

There was a brief pause at the other end of the line before Seulgi broke the silence. "Joohyun." The gravity of her tone caused the older girl to momentarily stop pacing. "You should go. It's been years since you last visited and I'm sure she misses you."

For some reason, anger bubbled inside Joohyun and she was unable to stop herself from lashing out. "Don't you dare speak about her!"

"You can't hide from reality forever." Seulgi's calm and understanding voice did nothing to alleviate her frustration. It only made it worse. "I think it's time you accept that she'll never come back."

"No one asked for your opinion Kang Seulgi." With gritted teeth, Joohyun ended the call and threw the phone away. The device hit the wall and broke into several pieces then rendered completely useless. Thunder roared above the heavens and Joohyun could only watch as the rain poured on and on. It seemed like it would never stop. She needed to find her girlfriend and bring her home.

Staring at the dark sky, she clenched her fists and decided to visit the only place where she could find Seungwan.

***

December 13

Joohyun finally arrived at her intended destination. Only brief flashes of lightning seared the sky and the rain had somehow stopped pouring. It seemed like a diving being was watching Joohyun and keeping her safe. Maybe it was her all along.

Releasing a shaky breath, she got out of the car and trudged through the snow as she made her way along the familiar path leading to the cemetery. She decided to visit today. Seulgi was right. It's been a long time coming and she couldn't hide from reality forever.

It's about time she found closure.

Stopping in front of a marbled tombstone laid on the ground, Joohyun settled down and carefully brushed away the snow that accumulated in order to discern the words imprinted on the slab.

Here lies Son Seungwan

Born: February 21, 1994

Died: December 13, 2020

No matter the distance between us, we’re always gonna be under the same sky.

"So you finally came after all this time."

Her gaze shifted to the person she'd been missing for years, casually leaning against the tombstone and flashing that megawatt smile, acting completely nonchalant as if she never left Joohyun devastated. Just the sight of her presence caused the older girl to break. It was painful seeing her like this and Joohyun was still hurting. This emptiness will probably never go away now that she took everything with her. "Seungwan."

"You promised you would never leave."

The smile on the blonde's lips was slowly replaced by a frown. "I know."

But Joohyun was too late to stop the tears from falling. "You promised that we'd get married and grow old together." Maybe she was holding on to this pain for too long. Maybe it was time she let it all out.

"You promised not to go to a place where I can't follow."

She missed Seungwan. She missed everything about her.

"Maybe if I hadn't argued with you on that day then you'd still be here beside me now."

Joohyun finally found the courage to stare into directly into her eyes. The very same eyes that haunted her every waking moment.

"When I stay up at night, I stare at the empty side of the bed and wonder about the things I would tell you if you were lying next to me."

Tears fell like droplets of rain.

"I can't do this without you."

A beat.

A moment of silence.

"You have to let me go Joohyun." Seungwan tried to reach out but her advances were denied.

"No!" Joohyun shook her head vehemently. She refused to forget Seungwan. How can she do that? How can she just forget the person she offered her heart to? How can she forget the very reason she was still breathing?

"You have to let me go my love. Stop dwelling in the past and just accept that I can never come back." Seungwan sat on the ground before Joohyun and gingerly wiped away the tears that stained her cheeks. "You still have your whole life ahead of you. Don't let the dead hold you back."

"Live for me Joohyun."

Seungwan laughed wholeheartedly and Joohyun had never before seen such a breathtaking sight. She tried to commit every bit of her features into memory so she could not forget... would never forget.

Her silky blonde hair that flowed against the breeze.

Her deep pools of brown eyes that held secrets of the universe.

Her soft lips that Joohyun will forever yearn to kiss.

"I love you." Joohyun whispered a promise.

Seungwan smiled contentedly and a glowing bright light enveloped her entire being. Joohyun watched as the love of her life was bathed in the sunlight and completely disappeared before her eyes, leaving her alone in that empty cemetery.

When blue returned home, the sky could only mourn in gray.