#not sure what kind of creature wil turned into yet

[sioster]

Dream needs a job and the only place that accepts him is the local cementary. It's in the old town district surrounded by a park with tall trees and dirt paths.

At first, everything is good. But then some tombs in the back are getting damaged and scratches appear in the ground even though Dream is sure that he never let any dog in.

Turns out that a resident of a massive mausoleum has been waking up in the night for the past few weeks and scavenging whatever it can find.

[oneatlatime]

Appa's Lost Days

Dare I hope?

You know, if ten year old me had turned on my TV to watch my weekly dose of Avatar and been greeted with a nearly two minute long uninterrupted sequence of a frightened and distressed animal being mistreated, that TV would have turned right back off again.

I don't buy that a ten tonne bison who has the leverage of his own weight as well as his airbending abilities would succumb to so few people.

Name one other character that Avatar has presented as so thoroughly without any redeeming characteristics. Even Zhao was at least kind of funny. Everything about the chucklehead on the left is rotten to the core. "What's your dad going to do when he finds out we broke his stuff while doing crime?" "Nothing. It's not his stuff; it's previous crime."

I thought beetle-headed was a commentary on their intelligence, but it's actually a description.

I'm rapidly coming to the conclusion that I should have waited to get my hopes up until I came to an episode called Appa's Found Days. Is this whole thing going to be a series of near misses with the Gaang?

You know, if I had a nickel for every time an animal companion on this show has been threatened with a trip to the butcher's, I'd have two nickels. In the space of two episodes.

This is not fun to watch guys.

Not if I break you first asshole.

The way this Nurse Ratched type circus guy says "earn it" is chilling.

Of course the Fire Nation would find a way to turn bending into animal abuse. Of course.

a) that cage is way too small b) who knew cabbage suction could be so cute?

Completely unsubtle parallel with the boy here, right down to the complete disregard they show to the threats thrown their way.

Stubborn and wilful are not adjectives I would use to describe Appa this episode, or ever.

Wind buffalo. Wind Buffalo. Really? Was Fart Cow taken?

That's a very relatable facial expression.

That makeup and costume is awful.

Now that's satisfying.

Is the Fire Nation kid voiced by Aang's voice actor?

Nevermind. THAT'S satisfying.

I was right - this episode is Appa always being a step behind the Gaang.

Baby Appas! This almost makes this episode worth it!

It's funny how a single feature can contribute so much to a character's design. Arrowless Aang is just some kid. Let me rephrase that, since such a big part of Aang's character is the fact that he's just some goofy kid. Arrowless Aang is indistinguishable from other kids for the first time this series, because every other time we've seen him on screen he's either the only child airbender with his arrows, or the only airbender left.

Lady monks. Nuns? I don't think I've seen those before.

Appa and Aang share a dreamscape? That could be useful.

There's dumb, there's really dumb, and then there's 'wake a completely asleep and therefore harmless unknown creature with threats of violence' dumb.

Close call for Iroh. Do you think he's suspected that Appa (and presumably the Avatar) haven been in Ba Sing Se this whole time?

Bipedal Appa is strange. A very effective fighter, but strange to look at.

I'm amazed that giant boar thing walked away from that.

And now they're hitting me with an 'Appa's given Up' montage. Someone who works on this show hates me.

*Heroically refrains from ranting about the impracticality of using white fabric for an active warrior's glove.*

"This could be our most important mission yet." Foreshadowing?

Did Suki and Appa actually meet at any point in the Warriors of Kyoshi episode?

Turns out 'Aang' is a magic word.

Appa kisses!

Appa is apparently legally banned from having anything good for more than five minutes. Although it's good writing that they're using a previously established weakness - Appa's shedding - to bring the danger ladies back in.

I guess they have Azula drop the line about her brother to remind the audience of who she is, but surely Suki's like "Who are you? Who's your brother? Why should I care?"

Azula going after the Kyoshi warriors is completely unnecessary right? The Avatar isn't there. Neither are Zuko and Iroh. It doesn't even net her Appa. She's just looking for someone to beat up.

WOW this is bad writing. Like really bad. My Immortal levels of bad.

Would it be too much to ask for the Kyoshi warriors to do even slightly ok against the Azula ladies? Couldn't they at least get a couple of hits in?

Kudos to Suki for essentially sacrificing herself and her warriors to save Appa. 'Most important mission yet' was a bit on the nose.

Out of options, Appa goes home. Ouch.

Someone explain this to me. Air Bison teething ring?

My what a human sounding cough you have buddy.

This is why you don't use Air Bison as guard dogs.

I like what this Guru is saying. Fear displacing trust but not love feels more accurate than how I usually see the consequences of trauma discussed.

The music playing throughout this sequence fits so well. I think it's some sort of metal thing you hit - I want to say a variation on tubular bells, and maybe something Glockenspiel adjacent? It's unlike anything I've heard in this show before and it fits so well that I'm nerding out a bit.

Disney princess Guru. Aang has Disney princess moments too. Maybe it's an Air Nomad thing?

No wonder the monks built a temple here. Even destroyed, it's gorgeous.

And Appa decides to trust again. I love it when an animal visibly comes to a decision about your trustworthiness.

This energy reading stuff makes sense given that Aang and Appa already share a dreamscape.

He IS a great beast. The best!

OH COME ON

Someone whip up a wanted poster for Long Feng: Cattle Rustler. It had also never occurred to me that he was an earthbender.

That flip move with the earthbending platform must have caused Appa to land on his back. I bet that hurt.

One of the times I am very grateful that the closing credits music is so upbeat.

Final Thoughts

@aboutiroh I see why you recommended I save my chocolate for this episode.

The Tale of Momo was really just a preparatory taste of things to come, huh? Almost a microcosm of this episode.

This is the first episode where I had to take breaks while watching. Especially the circus sequence, I think I got up twice to do things like get a cup of tea and stare randomly out windows at squirrels. I didn't even have to do that with Zuko Alone, despite freaking out a lot about it, because at least that episode took breaks from the child abuse to check in with Aang being miserable. This episode was unrelenting.

If I had seen this episode when I was the age of the target audience, this may well have turned me off the show for good. If my Mom had seen this episode, I would have been banned from watching the show entirely. Not a decision I'd agree with, but my Mom is the type of person who banned her kids from watching Bambi.

To watch through all of that unrelenting animal (at best) unhappiness, and still not get Appa back at the end of the episode? That's a bit much. It's not often that this show ends its episodes without at least a little bit of something positive.

Once again, the music did a lot of heavy lifting this episode. The animal noises weren't quite as emotive as the ones in Momo's Tale, but Appa's face is more expressive, and more was shown through his expression than through Momo's, so I feel like this episode had just as much non-verbal animal communication as Momo's Tale.

I think I'm renaming season 2 "the Suki redemption arc." I really didn't like the Warriors of Kyoshi episode, and I didn't like what her character did in that episode. But every time Suki appears in season 2? She absolutely nails it.

The show since losing Appa has taken to wallowing. Even with bright spots like the poetry bouncer, the overall tone since Appa's appanapping has been ever more dark. If this keeps up for many more episodes, it will no longer be fun to watch.

Somehow I don't think this one is going on my rewatch list.

[amintyworld]

I'm Like You - Origins SMP Oneshot

A/N: So... Origins SMP may be over but that won't stop me from posting this-! :D

Origins SMP please come back

Anyway here's some hurt/comfort more on the fluffy side. - Minty

TW: Blood/gore, mention of death, kidnapping, mention of chopping one's wings off, mention of selling body parts, almost drowning, cursing. (Let me know if I need to add anything else!)

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

Phil remembered the day they found him - he was tangled in some seaweed and reeds, floating along in the water, leaving a trail of crimson red in his wake. The teenager's right wing was a shamble of blood and feathers, bruises and cuts littering his skin that ignited Phil's anger - he had half a mind to find that damn village and set it ablaze. But, his mind made sure the boy was the priority. Phil untangled him, thankful that the ocean hadn't let him float out to sea, and pulled him on land, quickly searching for a pulse and practically sighing in relief when he'd found one. Phil wondered how long the kid had been out here - he felt ice-cold to the touch, skin ghostly pale.

He remembered, holding the teenager close in his arms as he took off in the air, wondering why. Why would someone hurt a kid, a child, for something they couldn't control? Why would someone have so much hate in their hearts to land deadly hits on a defenseless person? Why then, after everything they did to him, did they leave him in the river to die? Phil never really got an answer that night as he returned toward Ghostbur's mansion on the mountain. He guessed that maybe the world just didn’t have an answer, or rather, they just didn’t have an answer he wanted to hear.

Phil’s roommate, a good-natured phantom called Ghostbur, practically rushed the kid upstairs to a bed, grabbing supplies before Phil even had a chance to explain what happened. ���Ghostbur, you really shouldn’t-!” Phil huffed as he launched himself to the second level, grabbing his friend by the arm, feeling his friend’s body shake with adrenaline, emotion. “Wil, he’s got a broken wing - wings are very sensitive and extremely delicate, we need to be careful.” His hand reached up to steady his phantom friend. “Can you grab a couple of potions, bandages, as well as a needle and thread for me? I’ll work on cleaning him up.”

The phantom took a deep breath, silently phasing through the floor beneath his feet to grab the items Phil requested. He understood Ghostbur’s worry - damaged wings for winged creatures could quickly turn detrimental, it was a natural part of who they were, how they felt, and sensed danger around them. Without it, they’d feel incomplete, empty, but most importantly - they’d be in their most vulnerable state.

Phil’s fingers were soft and light as he cleaned out the wounded wing, picking out and straightening feathers that were stuck, misshapen, or out of place. Gently, using lukewarm water, he washed the dirt, rocks, and dried blood from the wound, careful to move slowly so as to not cause alarm to the kid. Ghostbur floated up next to him, placing the things he asked for on the bedside table, crossing his arms, and looking over to the teenager. “Is he gonna be okay, Phil?”

“I…” Phil sighed. “I dunno. The wound’s deep, half his flying feathers are gone… thank gods whoever left him had a shit aim, it looks like they were trying to take the wing off at the source.”

“Can you fix it?”

“...I can try.”

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

Tommy’s head pounded, his body wrapped in a comforting warmth that practically screamed at him to sink into. His muscles ached for rest, but Tommy knew he needed to get moving. His head ached so much it made his brain go fuzzy as he struggled to remember what happened yesterday. He and Tubbo were moving to go collect some honey… Did he fall asleep again?

Tommy would admit it wouldn’t be the first time he found a good sunlight patch to catch a nap and the shulker hybrid had to carry him back to their base on the mountain. How long had he slept? Why was he still tired?

His ears perked up as he heard shuffling around him. His instincts began to flare, sending signals up his spine. Wait… the hunters… the hunters took him… Tubbo’s in danger-

He felt someone touch his wing, gently moving it toward themselves. His wing… they tried to take his wings, they wanted to sell them for money-! Tommy’s eyes snapped open. He wasn’t home. He didn’t know where he was and a stranger was touching his wing.

dangerdangerdanger-

Ignoring his body’s protests to rest, he leaped up, surprising the attacker as he tackled him toward the wall quickly to restrain him, pinning his neck with his arm. A crash sounded behind him but Tommy didn’t care. He was getting out of here and saving Tubbo no matter what. His eyes bore into the ill-intended stranger, ready for a fight. “Where am I?!”

The stranger’s eyes flicked up toward Tommy’s, at first matching his intense gaze before quickly softening, silent as he became acutely aware of the razor-sharp talons digging into his leg. “You’re in my house.” He did his best to keep his voice calm. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Where’s Tubbo?”

“Who-”

Tommy slammed the man back against the wall. “Don’t act dumb you fucker, where’s the shulk?!”

“I don’t know, okay?! Just-!”

Tommy’s eyes flicked over toward the window - an escape! He needed to get out of here, clearly Tubbo got taken somewhere else if the stranger didn’t know him. He needed to get free and… and come up with some kind of plan...yeah! Adrenaline pumping like mad from the close encounter, the stranger noticed his gaze as realization hit him.

“Wait… hold on, you really shouldn’t-!”

Tommy felt the wind flow underneath his wings, perched on the window ledge. They were achingly sore - who knows how long he’d been trapped here? Moving to crack a tense spot in his back, Tommy felt a sense of relief. He smiled, knowing that his wings wouldn’t be sore for much longer. They just needed to stretch.

Phil rushed forward, an inch too late as Tommy leaped from the building.

The teenager stretched his wings out to catch himself on the breeze, confident for the span of at least a minute. He closed his eyes like he usually did to better focus. Why couldn’t he feel his wings picking him up? Why wasn’t his body doing what he needed to - it was as simple as taking a step! Just stretch and glide on the breeze.

Stretch, and…

For the first time since the avian learned to fly, Tommy found himself crashing down onto the grass. Shame welled up in his stomach, paired with confusion. Hearing the door bang open behind him added to it all a twinge of fear. He stumbled, trying in vain to gather his bearings. Ignoring the sting of scratches from the crash, he ran into the forest.

“Wait! Mate, just wait for a second!”

The wind picked up through the trees, tangling through hair and setting practically every nerve on Tommy’s wings aflame. There was danger. He needed to fly. He needed to fly away, but… but he couldn’t. He was trapped and alone with hunters chasing him down to finish the job they started. He couldn’t stop running. He couldn’t, because if he did he could say goodbye to flying ever again. He’d never grow his wings back, and he’d look like a useless disgusting human.

He’d be normal.

Flying was the only hybrid skill, the only uniqueness about him. Tommy would rather die than ever have that stripped away from him. Chopping away bone, muscle, and feather - all in the interest of earning a few gold coins! Well, fuck them. His body barely running on energy as it was, his legs gave out on him as he fell to the ground again.

No. Please.

He heard footsteps, flipping around to see the blonde man. Pure fear gripped him for the first time in his life. He scooted backwards as the man tried to approach. Another pathetic attempt at escaping - why was he even trying anymore? His back hit a tree trunk, his wings shrinking back, as scared as he was. Yet, the blonde man moved closer.

“Stay back! Stay back, or…” Tommy struggled, quickly moving to grab a rock, holding it up in some sort of threat. As if a rock could take down a hybrid hunter. “...or I will mess you up, bro!”

The blonde man stopped walking forward. “Look, I know you’re confused and scared, I would be too. But I promise, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Liar! I won’t let you take them!”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Take them…? I…” He looked down at the teenager in sympathy. “I don’t want your wings, I swear!”

“Bullshit!” Tommy yelled. “I know your game, stop acting so innocent! You can’t lure me in, you can’t make me trust a single word you say, hunter!”

“I’m not... I’m not a hunter, okay?” Phil said, stepping closer and making Tommy tense. He sat down four feet away from the teen, taking a deep breath before shouldering off his green robe, leaving the white tank. Immediately, a pair of translucent, metallic wings unfurled from his back, so large Tommy almost felt intimidated. Tommy wanted to say something, but words died on his throat. Phil shrugged his shoulders after stretching his wings out looking up toward the avian. He awkwardly smiled. “...well mate, I’m like you.”

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

General Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added/removed!):

@bones-sprouts

@benzel

@foolishcaptains

[corysmiles]

IT IS TIME FOR ANOTHER ENTRY IN THE POTION AU!!

This is full of nothing and fluff, so prepare lmao

After a while, they began organizing group dinners, where they would all meet up in the evening and eat together. It took a bit of convincing Tommy's parents, but they accepted more easily when they realized it was just between close friends. Wilbur was already living on his own so it was no problem and Phil always was a free spirit. 

And so, at least once a week, they met up at Techno's abode to spend the night together.

Tommy was elated to see all of the furniture now 10 times his size, and all the objects and decoration. "We're gonna have to try and play Hide and Seek, big man. Because this looks like the best fucking playground!" Wilbur, meanwhile, was looking in awe at the whole thing. It felt weird to be so not rightly scaled, but he got used to it soon enough.

Phil was the most surprising of all, due to the fact that he wasn't surprised at all. Even unbothered, in fact. Techno wondered if he was faking it to make him feel better, but everything seemed honest. For someone who claims to never have interacted with giants, he acted as if this was his everyday life. One day he wanted to ask him about that, but he figured those were not the time.

And so they would gather around, bringing each a part of the meal so they could enjoy together. 

Sometimes, techno would drink the potion and join them, other times, he would stay at his regular size and simply enjoy the conversation. It was fine like that, Techno liked it. And his friends didn't seem to mind so it was perfect. (Well, Phil kind of minded, but he was always like that whenever he as much as looked at the potion so that wasn't really anything to go by.)

But it was nice, Wilbur would even bring his guitar from time to time, noticing Techno had a violin. He hasn't touched the instrument in a while but seeing Wilbur play the guitar, it was very tempting. 

"You should try and play again, Techno! We could even make a duet! That would be fun"

"Maybe one day, yeah… but I would need to practice, it's been years."

"Well I don't know violin" Phil perked up "but I'm around Tommy almost everyday, so I'm used to bad sounds" he chuckled

"WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN??"Tommy argued, baffled, which made the other three laugh. 

"But yeah, I think I'm gonna try to play again, it could be fun."

"How did you even get a violin this size? Are there giant shop owners ?"

Techno crackled at that "Na. I made it myself. Took a while, but I'm proud of the result."

Wilbur made an "ooohh" before returning to his meal with a smile. 

It was pretty quiet for a while, everyone enjoying the silence before Wilbur perked up again. 

"I'm wondering, are there giant animals? Like cows or chicken? How do you eat?" 

Phil's fork almost dropped on the plate and looked at Wil with wide eyes, while Tommy added "hey yeah! You never eat with us when you're all big, how come?"

Techno smirked a bit at the question, and his hand reached for a counter. "Actually" he said, grabbing and showing an object they knew all too well "This is why I brought the potion in the first place." 

Wilbur looked confused, but kept smiling, while Tommy exclaimed "wait, really?!?" 

He chuckled "yeah. If creatures like that exist, I never found any. So I started hunting and eating stuff at human size, so when the potion effects wears off, it's like I ate a meal my size. That's how it started, pretty funny when you think about it."

Wilbur laughed a bit "yeah, who would've thought it would lead to this."

"Not me, that's for sure" techno confirmed.

The rest of the meal was spent in comfortable silence. Yet he could feel another question lingered in the brunette's tongue. Carefully, he bopped his hair with one of his fingers, and ruffled his hair gently, which made Wilbur laugh. It wasn't holding yet, but he was getting better at the whole contact thing. "What's stuck in that head of yours, Wilbur?" 

The other continued to laugh a bit even after techno stopped, and he sheepishly smiled. "Well, I have a question, but it might come off as very rude, so I don't know if I should ask."

Phil turned to Wilbur, with an almost scolding glare "wilbur, don-" 

"It's alright, Phil." He lifted a hand before turning his gaze towards Wilbur "ask away."

"Well… About the, hm… myths. Is that… is any of it true?" He finally said, clearly trying to word it inoffensively. 

It was vague enough that Tommy didn't know what he was talking about, and Phil stayed silent, though his brows furrowed. 

Techno bore a small, earnest smile. There was something that could be mistaken for sadness, but it wasn’t quite. 

"Maybe a long time ago, but not that I know of. Giants heard of it too, but from tales and legends taking place so long ago the line between fiction and reality is a huge blur." he couldn't blame Wilbur for his curiosity, and he was surprised the question didn't even make him nervous. He was glad. Very glad. 

"And I didn't meet a lot of giants in my lifetime, but none of them did it, so yeah. Maybe it was true at one point, but I think if it still was, humans would clearly be aware of it."

Wilbur hummed, satisfied with the answer. He took another bite of his meal "yeah, I mean to us, it's only a myth, so it makes sense. Thanks." 

"No problem?" Techno had an amused smile on his face. Wilbur was a weird one sometimes, asking the weirdest or scariest things with only a childish smile on his face. 

Tommy turned to look at wilbur, then technoblade, then wilbur again, before speaking “What the fuck are you two talking abou-”

“Nothing” They hummed in unison. 

--

Eventually, the night fell completely and it was time for the humans to go home. They waved goodbye and walked toward the exit, but before they walked through the door, Wilbur turned around sharply and prompted "Can I sleep at your house tonight?" 

Techno, phil and tommy were all taken aback. "You can go home if you want" he reassured the two blonds "I just really like Techno's house." 

"Uhh" techno hesitated. It's not like Wilbur was in any danger, he was careful not to fall from heights… and he would be dead sooner than letting his friends get hurt. 

"You don't have to, if you would rather sleep alone" the brunette was quick to add once he saw the small tension in Techno's stance.

"I think it'd be fine. I spent nights at your house after all, it's only fair. Yeah, you can stay." Techno settled on, earning another bright smile from the human. 

After a couple of minutes, it was just the two of them. It was a bit awkward, seeing as it was the first time Techno was at real size on a one on one. But Wilbur didn't seem to see it that way, enjoying the view. 

"Want me to join you down there?" He asked. 

"Nope! You don't have to worry about a thing!" Wilbur simply replied, grabbing on a drawer handle and slowly making his way up. Techno was quick to put his hand below in case he fell.

"You could have warned me!" Techno complained, to which the other simply laughed a quick "sorry". Not stopping at all. 

After almost falling only twice (and techno almost getting a heart attack two times), Wilbur made it onto a safe platform. The two sighed,one from exhaustion, the other from relief. And he laughed again.

"Tommy wasn't lying. This house really is an amazing playground." He stated, earning a snort from Techno.

"Did you want to stay at my house so you could play with the room without any remark?" He asked, amused. 

"Maybe" Wilbur admitted. “But I also like to spend some time with you. You’re always a comforting presence.” 

"Pff, yeah, right." Techno tried to ignore the warmth coming for his cheeks and ears. “You’re just saying that so I help you with something.” 

“No, no, I mean it, techno. You’re a good friend.” And when he turned to meet the human’s face, it was a simple, honest smile. They stared at each other for a moment, unspoken words being said. Unspoken promises being made. 

Techno stared at his friend’s eyes and saw: not fear. Not méfiance, not worry. His eyes were full of acceptance. Filled with joy and curiosity and wonder. It was the first time he had ever seen such an expression, and yet this look was dedicated to him. Wilbur had waited for them to be in absolute intimacy to offer him this moment.

A good friend.

Techno laughed. Quietly at first, but it grew and grew until the sounds filled the whole room. Wilbur could probably feel the vibration through his whole body but he couldn’t stop. The brunette soon joined in and happiness filled the entire room for god knows how long. Maybe it was two minutes, maybe it was an hour. 

The laughters quieted down eventually, and Techno noticed the fond way Wilbur looked at him. The warmth quickly reached his whole face as he failed to keep a neutral expression. He coughed to wash away his awkwardness. “What- what with that face?” 

"Nothing. It's just nice to see you less restrained." Wilbur smiled "you're always so careful when we're all together." 

"Well, I have to be careful around humans." He hummed, pointing a finger at his friend "you're so small."

"Eh. You couldn't bruise us even if you tried" wilbur shrugged off. "But it's nice! We should do this more often if that means I get to hear your laugh like that more."

Techno cursed himself for the smile that wouldn't wear off. 

"Yeah… maybe we should."

-Written by @melissa-s23 please send them love!!! I love the fluff so much

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Wade, part Four

Rating: NSFW Length: 2146 Pairing: Male Fishman/Gillman x GN Reader

The finale for the story written for @momolady​

xxx

The next few weeks are pure pandemonium as nonhuman beings come out in full force in support of the gillfolk republics. Ancient entities crawl out of the forests and seas, werewolves and vampires and other creatures make their presence known, with the full support and protection of a healthy and growing population of human former hunters who have been operating their support networks for generations.

The transition is rocky at best, with many human politicians calling for their eradication while others make it clear that attempting to do so would be a terrible mistake—not just for humanity, but for the world at large. Many of these beings are magical in nature, and while humanity is not threatened in so many words, it is weightily implied that the wilful culling of the nonhuman population would have a great many varied and equally devastating consequences.

You don’t see Wade for the majority of your vacation as he recovers beneath the waves. Instead, you’re interviewed (and interrogated) by just about every news outlet and television network, along with many other humans who step forward to give their positive testimonials about their experiences with other nonhumans. It doesn’t go as smoothly as you hope. You wake to eggs on your house and your parents’ car windows broken, and more than once you’re called the first of many inventive slurs when you’re recognised in public. You get many nasty phone calls and you get harassed on the street, until your parents express a desire to move away from the coast for your protection.

You’ve just hung up on the third such caller of the day when your cell phone rings again, and you can’t help but heave a sigh before you swipe the green ‘accept’ button on your screen. “I don’t fuck fish,” is the first thing that springs out of your mouth, followed closely by, “they’re gillfolk.”

“Duly noted,” says a familiar voice from the other end of the line, and you fling your mercifully plastic cup clean off the dining table you’re sitting at with the way you spasm in place.

“Wade!”

“Hey, you,” Wade says around a laugh, but it doesn’t linger in his voice for long. “Where are you? We need to talk.”

Shit. “I’m at home,” you say. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

“The usual place?”

“The usual place.” You can hardly get the words out before the line goes dead. You take your pepper spray and pocket knife just in case things get hairy before you can make it to the coast, but thankfully your hurried pedaling is uninterrupted and you make it to the beach in record time. You’re still catching your breath by the time you get to the cove, and you almost twist your ankle in your haste to get down to the sand where Wade is waiting, out of sight.

“That was quick,” he mutters as you approach, and you huff as you rest your bike against the rocks. You can’t help but look him over, focusing on the spot where you had last seen a goddamn harpoon sticking out of his side. There’s nothing but puckered white flesh there now, though his scales have yet to regrow over the scar. Still, you can’t help but frown.

“Are you sure you should be up and about? You were run through just a few weeks ago.”

“I’m fine,” says Wade, watching you unblinkingly. “Why? Don’t want me around?”

Your frown turns into a scowl. “I didn’t say that.”

“You left because of me.”

“I left because of me,” you reply, putting such force into the word that you shake with it. “I left because I love you and I couldn’t bear to be a creep and ruin it between us. I left because—”

“You’re damn stupid,” Wade cuts in, closing the distance between you and pressing his lips so hard against yours that it almost hurts. You reel back from the shock and he drags you back in, kissing you over and again until you’re whimpering for mercy against his mouth. “Idiot,” he whispers when he breaks the kiss, cupping your face between his soft, warm hands. “Fucking moron.”

“Keep being romantic. It’s working,” you snort, sniffling when you realise that you’ve started to cry. “So you—?”

“Yes.”

“And I—”

“Left me,” Wade all but gasps, words leaving him as though excised from his throat. “Don’t ever do that again. You can’t do that to me. You can’t.”

“I won’t,” you promise, stroking along the frills between his head fins with your fingertips. “I’ll transfer schools. I’ll—“

“Marry me.”

You choke on your own spit. Wade frets and tuts and pats at your back, though he grins his amusement with his needle sharp teeth when you look up at him like a deer in the headlights. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly.”

“We’re not even dating.”

“I think we just skipped to the good part, what with the kissing and all.”

“You said we needed to talk!”

“We did. I recall the conclusion to that talk being that you were a jackass.”

“You called me an idiot, not a jackass.”

“Semantics. The point is, some things need not be spoken to be understood.”

“That��s not how any of this works.”

“It works however we make it work. I think that’s the point of a relationship: you have to work at it to make it any good.”

“I’m not discussing the philosophy of this with you, Wade.”

“Spoilsport. You said you loved me.”

“Don’t use that against—”

“I’m not. I love you, too.”

You come up short. “You do?”

“I do,” murmurs Wade, shy in a way that you have never seen before. “I have for a very long time.”

“Since when?” you ask, and you can’t help but smile when Wade wraps his arms around your waist as though he’s always done so.

“Since you first let me take you diving,” he says, spreading his fingers and letting them wander up and down your back.

“That long? I had braces then!”

“You weren’t any less beautiful.” His eyes crease with mischief, and you know you’re going to be prickled like a child poking a bear. “I kind of miss them, actually. They were shiny.”

“Are you a gillman or a magpie?” you snort, though you can feel your face growing hot.

Wade only grins. “Your turn,” he says. “When did you know you loved me?”

You huff, having to look away from his self-satisfied expression. “During one of your business trips in sophomore year. I was so gross, writing you sappy text messages and never sending them.”

“That’s years after I fell in love with you,” says Wade, and you can hear his pout in his voice. “Was I that obnoxious?”

“Yes.”

“And you still love me?”

“Yes. Gods help me, I do.”

Wade laughs and kisses you again, gently this time, pressing his lips to yours in several soft smooches and pecks. You can’t help but sigh and coo at his attentions, melting against him and sighing when his tongue slips past your lips. You don’t dare return the favour, with all his sharp, pointed teeth, but he kisses you so thoroughly that it doesn’t matter, until it suddenly does. “Have you done this before?” you ask, and know the answer immediately when Wade ducks his head with guilt.

“A few times.”

“Wade.”

“A few dozen,” he corrects, wincing when you jab a finger in his uninjured side. “But never further. I wanted my first mating to be with you. Though that doesn’t mean I haven’t used my hand for relief whenever I thought about y—”

“Wade!” you squawk, elbowing him in the ribs.

He coughs and laughs, rubbing his side and grinning down at you. When had he gotten so tall and broad? You’re lamenting your own lack of muscle when Wade scoops you up into his arms, ignoring your various noises of shock and embarrassment as he carries you to a more secluded part of the cove. You can feel your face flaming when you realise that he’s aiming for privacy, but when he leans in to kiss you after setting your back against rocks worn smooth by waves, you wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close.

Wade makes quick work of the clothing you wear below the waist, and you briefly wonder where he’d gotten practice with that before your thoughts disappear in the wake of his fingers teasing you. He’s careful with his claws so that he doesn’t hurt you, but that just makes every twist of his wrist all the more maddening, until you’re squirming and writhing against the rocks with Wade standing between your legs.

“I knew you’d like that,” he whispers, almost a purr, and you have to fight the urge to swat him or hide.

“Shut up,” you beg, breathless and moaning as Wade teases you to dripping.

“No,” Wade cheekily replies, taking his hand from you to bring up between you both. You’re mortified to see strings of your fluids clinging to his fingers, and even further embarrassed to watch him slip his tongue out to lick them clean, bright pink eyes burning into yours.

“I’m gonna die,” you say, covering your burning face with your hands for some relief.

“You’re going to come close to it by the time I’m done with you,” Wade rumbles, kneeling in the sand and lifting you up so that both of your legs hook over his broad shoulders.

“Wade!” you meep, but he only chuckles, tongue snaking out of his mouth to tease your most sensitive places. You squeak when he finds your entrance and Wade splutters against you, earning himself a soft smack to the top of his head. “Don’t laugh during this!”

“I can’t help that you’re cute,” Wade protests, burying his face against the insides of your thighs and returning to his task with renewed enthusiasm. You whimper and mewl as he works you open, squirming on his tongue and shivering as his dangerous teeth brush tenderly against your skin. You almost choke when he draws away a sizzling eternity later, apparently satisfied with his work.

“Wade…”

“My pearl,” he murmurs, and you find yourself held aloft in his powerful grasp when he stands, thighs hooked over his muscular forearms. Between you is his prick, deep blue at the base and a vivid purple at the tip, with bumps and ribs that grind against you and make you shiver from head to curling toe. “I’ll make you weep for me around this cock.”

“Don’t say that,” you manage to whimper, feeling his slippery pre-cum slick up your entrance before he starts to push in. “Wade!”

“Say my name,” he rumbles back, voice straining at the edges. “Say my name forever, you precious, precious thing.”

“Stop talking,” you whine, embarrassed and aroused as warm butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Wade chuckles, burying his face against the side of your neck. “You picked the wrong man.”

You curse and writhe as he pushes inside of you with slow, steady thrusts, clinging to his shoulders and biceps whenever the sensations are too much. “I’m going to die,” you gasp, tears in your eyes. “It’s too much.”

“It’s not enough,” Wade growls, teeth grazing along your throat. “So many years I’ve hungered, so many years I’ve yearned.” He surges up into you at the word, and you’re mortified when you wail into the briny air. Wade rocks his hips up into you, hands splayed across your ass, thumbs spreading you open to take him deeper. You whimper and clutch him as tightly as you dare, feeling your breaths mingle as your nerves come alight like a pyrotechnic display.

He moves inside of you like you were made for each other, fitting inside you again and again as you cry out and shake apart. When you come, it’s with his name on your lips and his teeth around your neck, his fins rustling as he empties himself inside of you with a few final, reckless thrusts. “Don’t drop me,” you pant, blunt human nails digging into Wade’s scales. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“And you think I can?” Wade grunts, though he obligingly lowers you onto the sand with care as he kneels down. “Give me a minute and I’ll do it again.”

“You really do want to kill me,” you groan, resting your face against Wade’s shoulder with a sigh.

“No,” Wade rumbles in reply, gurgling softly with pleasure. “But I do really want to marry you. You can carry my eggs and we can have little bubblers nipping at our heels.”

“I can what?!”

“I was joking. Surrealist comedy. Have you ever heard of it?”

“I take it back. I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” you sigh, feeling Wade smile against the top of your head. “Gods help me, I do.”

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Same Path Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Gavin’s Qixi Collection: Date / Call 1 ♡ / Call 2 / Records / Event / Special Call

Legend has it that the Qilin is a lucky beast. If you can obtain a Qilin, all bad luck will be eliminated. 

MC: Does the Qilin really exist...

Before me is a towering mountain. I’ve walked for four days and four nights in order to get here. 

The elder of the temple had pointed to this mountain on a map and told me that if I crossed this path, I’d be able to see a Qilin.

MC: May the gods bless me, that I may find the Qilin soon. Otherwise...

I take a deep breath, entering this legendary mystical mountain. 

The mountain is incredibly quiet and deep, and it looks as though no one has ever visited. 

After exerting much strength, I only manage to climb halfway. I lean against a tree and gasp for breath, patting my grumbling stomach. 

MC: So hungry... and I’ve finished the food I brought...

When I raise my head, I see something gleaming not too far away. Curious, I walk over. 

MC: It’s a pond!

Schools of red carp swim unhurriedly in the clear water. 

MC: Great! I wouldn’t have to worry about being hungry now!

I carefully bunch up my skirt, stepping barefoot into the stream. 

There used to be a small stream in the village where I would often fish. My skills can finally come in handy.

Sunlight wisps down the shadows of trees. In the cool water, I hold my breath and bend down, stealthily approaching a fish which is swimming slowly. 

Plong--

A small stone flies through the air and pelts into the water. The fish disappears in an instant. 

MC: ! 

MC: Where did that stone come from?

I scan my surroundings, but fail to find anything out of the ordinary.

Not giving much thought to it, I once again focus on my grand undertaking of catching a fish.

Another red carp swims over to my feet lazily. Perhaps due to the sparse number of visitors, these fish aren’t very wary of humans. 

MC: Since you bumped into me yourself, you can’t blame me.

I stretch out my hands joyfully, the tip of my nose almost smelling the scent of grilled fish. 

Plong--

With another soft sound, a stone accurately plops near my feet, channelling a wave of ripples. 

The red carp immediately swims away.

MC: Who is it?!

I turn around angrily, certain that someone is causing trouble for me. 

The trees in the mountain are lush, and everything is so calm and quiet that even the sound of a falling leaf can be heard clearly.

MC: You better show yourself obediently. When I catch you, you’re doomed!

I roll up my sleeves fiercely, preparing to return to the shore. However, I end up stepping into mud.

MC: !

My body lurches forward. In the middle of my panic, I see a white figure flashing across the green mountains and forests. 

The bamboo forest sways, and a soft robe brushes across my cheek. My waist is held firmly by a pair of arms. 

At this moment, my five senses are amplified. Water flows underneath my feet, and I smell a clear and cold breath. I blink, shifting the sleeves away from my face.

And I meet a pair of amber eyes.

The wind coursing through the South Mountain, the leaves falling into the pond, and thousands of sceneries all pause before him, becoming accompaniments to his wilful eyes.

MC: ...who are you?

??: The person you were looking for just now.

He places me on the shore before looking me up and down.After verifying that I’m harmless, he turns around to leave. 

MC: Hey, young gentleman.

[Trivia] MC calls him 公子 (“gong zi”), which typically refers to a pampered son of a wealthy family.

I stop him.

MC: Thank you for just now!

??: It was no trouble. There’s no need for thanks. 

MC: Are you looking for the Qilin too?

??: No.

His response is short, but he suddenly pauses in his steps after brushing past me.

??: You're injured.

MC: Hm?

Following his line of sight, I discover that the sole of my foot had been cut by something at some point, and is currently bleeding. 

MC: It hurts!

??: ...you didn’t seem to feel it just now. 

MC: It suddenly started hurting once you mentioned it. 

??: ...

He squats down, signalling that I should show him my calf. 

MC: Young gentleman, you-

While checking my wound, he interrupts me. 

??: My name is Gavin. 

He applies some medicinal herbs. When he lifts his head to look at me, the gold coloured ornament used to tie his hair glints with a brilliant light. 

Gavin: I’m not called “young gentleman”.

-

Once my wound has been wrapped, Gavin stands and casts me a glance.

Gavin: The water here has poison in it. If you aren’t careful, the poison will spread even further. Even though your wound isn’t serious, it’s better to rest for a while before moving again. 

MC: All right... um... Gavin.

Gavin: What’s wrong? 

MC: Why didn’t you let me catch the fish here? 

Gavin: All the living creatures on this mountain have a certain spirituality. It’s best not to disturb them.

MC: But...

I can’t help but swallow my saliva, rubbing my stomach which has been starving since this morning. I raise my head and toss Gavin a pitiful glance.

MC: You can’t bear to see these spiritual fish get eaten, but you can bear to see an innocent young lady starve to death on this deep mountain?

Gavin: ...

Gavin: You can choose to leave this place.

Rays of light break free from the dense leaves, illuminating Gavin’s face.

Gavin: There’s a village not far from the bottom of the mountain. Head down the mountain now, and you should make it in time for dinner. 

Gavin’s indifferent expression tells me that I wouldn’t get to eat grilled fish today.

MC: Sigh, I guess there’s no other choice then. 

I scan my surroundings, then bend down to pluck a dandelion. I eat the dandelion puff, and a faint sweet scent of greenery diffuses in the air.

Gavin’s eyebrows arch upwards involuntarily, and shock flashes in his eyes. 

Gavin: Human... [coughs], why do you eat everything?

MC: It’s nothing to fuss about. You don’t allow me to catch fish, so I have no choice but to pluck these dandelions to eat. This much is allowed, right?

There are many dandelions in the area behind Gavin. Perhaps this mountain is truly filled with aura. They are much bigger than normal dandelions. 

MC: It’s not convenient for me to move with my leg in this state. Could you help me pluck a few? They’re just behind you.

I lean over to point, but Gavin suddenly turns his head, finally looking at me seriously for the first time. 

Gavin: Are you sure you want to stay here? 

MC: Of course. I already said that I'm here to look for the Qilin. I won’t leave until I find it.

Gavin lowers his eyes slightly and looks at me, a few strands of hair falling on the side of his face. 

Gavin: These are not the only edible things on the mountain. Once your leg recovers, I’ll take you to find other kinds of food. By then, if you still want to search for the Qilin, I’ll bring you there.

-

MC: Are the fruits on this tree green plums?

Looking at the tree filled with green plums, I turn around excitedly and ask.

[Trivia] Plums symbolise perseverance, hope, and beauty thriving in adversity. As plum trees blossom between two seasons, it is also seen as a symbol of spring - bringing warmth, transition, and the promise of fruitfulness.

Slight hesitation flashes across Gavin’s eyes.  

Gavin: They should be. 

He reaches out, plucks a few, and hands them to me. 

Gavin: Try it. 

Not putting much thought into it, I take the fruit from his hand. After wiping it on my sleeve, I take a bite. 

MC: Oo!

Gavin: How is it? 

MC: It’s so sour!

I cover my face to hide my expression, which I’ve lost control of due to the sourness of the fruit. I splutter, making “pooh, pooh” sounds. 

MC: This fruit is obviously not ripe yet!

A smile flashes in Gavin’s eyes, but he conceals it with a cough. 

Gavin: Is it very sour? 

He holds up a fruit and gives it a bite. Then, he nods. 

Gavin: It is pretty sour. 

MC: ...

My eyes trail from the silver coloured patterns on his clothes to the expensive-looking jade ring on his waist. I sigh knowingly.

MC: So you’re truly a son from a noble family. Just from a glance, I can already tell you haven’t gone through many troubles in life. 

I mutter softly, and Gavin casts a glance at me. 

Gavin: What did you say? 

MC: Ah, nothing much. 

He looks exquisite - probably a noble son from a family near the mountain, which explains why he doesn’t have experience differentiating sweet and sour fruits.

I raise the green fruit in front of Gavin, and speak in a serious tone. 

MC: These types of green, hard fruits are not ripe. You can’t eat them. Next time, don’t eat them by mistake. They’re really sour. 

With an exaggerated expression, I spend a long time explaining this to Gavin.

Gavin watches me. Sunlight pours down on us, illuminating his smiling side profile.

Gavin: Mm, I got it. 

His eyes seem to contain the entire amber of summer. Even if he simply looks at me with a glance as light as the wind and clouds, it’s enough for me to get lost in them. 

MC: Gavin, why did you agree to look for the Qilin? 

Gavin: You’re very persistent. 

Gavin: I’ve never met someone who would put so much effort into a legend, so... persistent. 

For some reason, Gavin’s face turns a faint red when he says this. 

MC: Your face seems to have turned red? 

Gavin: You misperceived.

He coughs, then turns his head slightly. 

Gavin: I remember that in the legend, only people who have crossed the Southern Border at the top of the mountain can find the Qilin.

MC: Mm, that’s right. But this legend is only found in the ancient books of the temple. How did you know about this?

Gavin doesn’t respond, walking in front of me. 

Gavin: I’m the only one who is familiar with this terrain. Let’s go, I’ll take you to the top of the mountain.

-

MC: We should be reaching soon, right? We've been walking for so long. 

Gavin: It will be in front after we cross this mountain stream. 

With the tips of his toes, Gavin flies across the river surface, leaving me stunned at the other side of the river. 

Gavin: What’s wrong? 

MC: ...have you ever considered that not everybody has your skills. For example, me.

Separated by the swift current and steep rocks, Gavin and I look at each other. 

Finally, Gavin reaches out his hand to me. 

Gavin: I’ll catch you from here. You just have to take the first step. 

MC: Y-you said it. You definitely have to catch me. 

Trembling, I take the first step. My toes touch a stone in the water. 

Gavin stands on the other side of the river, maintaining his posture of reaching out to me. Separated by the water, his gaze gives me an incomparable peace of mind.

At this moment, the stone underneath my foot starts to loosen.

MC: Ah-

I frantically attempt to stabilise myself, but lose my balance and am about to fall into the water. 

Gavin: [in the gentlest of gentle voices] Don’t panic.

Along with his voice, he stands on the stone in the middle of the river, wrapping me entirely in his arms.

MC: Phew... that scared me. 

Gavin: Are you very frightened?

I look up from his arms, and see an almost-smirk on his face. 

MC: Such a deep river - it’d be strange if I wasn’t frightened. 

Gavin: I see.

MC: Huh? 

Gavin: You have been pulling on my clothes. And you haven’t loosened your grip even till now. 

Only now do I realise that both my hands are gripping onto Gavin’s clothes tightly. Because of the amount of force exerted, his clothes have gotten ruffled, revealing his nice chest. 

I hurriedly avert my eyes, my face turning red. 

MC: [coughs] That is... I’m sorry.

I hurriedly retract my hands, following Gavin as we step onto the final path.

-

Gavin: We’re here. This is the other side of the mountain. 

Gavin turns around. The look in his eyes carry a certain peace and quiet, as though he has known the answer from the start. 

Gavin: Looking at this, are you disappointed? 

At the other side of the mountain, there isn’t a Qilin beast. There isn’t even a pathway.

What’s in front of me is a cliff of ten thousand feet. An ancient wind brushes past my dress, as though mocking humans for overestimating their strength.

MC: So, a legend is just a legend...

While I speak, a sudden wave of dizziness overcomes me. My vision becomes blurry, and even Gavin turns into several shadows. 

I try to stabilise myself, but countless images of dandelions appear in front of my eyes. I suddenly recall the dandelion I ate in the afternoon.

MC: Gavin... I think the dandelions here are poisonous...

Before I can finish speaking, I feel like a bow snapped into two. Suddenly, I fall off the side of the cliff.

The howling wind sweeps past my ears. My arms hit the sharp rocks, drawing long streaks of blood. 

The sky grows increasingly distant, and there’s a burgeoning fear in my heart.

Gavin: Hold onto me tightly!

Suddenly, a white figure steps off the cliff, catching me while I’m in the abyss.

MC: Gavin...

Under the Baizhang Cliff, the hand Gavin holds mine with is searing and powerful.

But my eyes involuntarily fall onto the horns that have appeared on his forehead. 

They are golden coloured, and have an ornamentation I have never seen before. 

I clearly remember what was written in the ancient books of the temple--

In the South Mountain, the Qilin appears from the cliffs. The Qilin has horns on its forehead. It circles the clouds, and the world is peaceful.

It turns out I had already found the Qilin from the very start.

Gavin: It’s okay now. I’ll bring you up.

Gavin carries me up into the clouds. I feel the poison spreading in my body, and I'm unable to make a sound. I lean into Gavin’s arms and lose consciousness. 

-

By the time I wake up, the moon is already at its peak. I open my eyes, and what I see is clothing with silver patterns.

MC: !!!

I’m sleeping in Gavin’s arms!

Gavin is leaning against a rock, his large clothes wrapping me in his arms. 

I turn my head slightly. His hand is supporting the back of my head, and he looks to be in a light sleep. 

My movements cause him to stir. A pair of brilliant eyes, which opened suddenly, look into mine. 

Gavin: Don’t move. Your poison has just been detoxified. 

His voice sounds a little weak. 

I touch his hand, and it’s extremely cold. 

MC: Gavin, were you the one who detoxified the poison?

Gavin: It happened too suddenly. I gave you my blood to drink.

His right hand is hidden under his large sleeve, and I can only see some traces of blood. 

His face is as pale as snow, and I feel worried. 

MC: How... much blood did you let me drink? Why is your face so pale? 

Gavin looks at me, revealing a slightly resigned smile in his eyes.

Gavin: Not much. I have a unique physical state, so my wounds don’t heal easily. It’s difficult to stop the bleeding.

So what’s written in the ancient books is true. While the Qilin is a harbinger of auspiciousness, it also bears the consequence - the slightest wound would lead to unstoppable bleeding. 

Even though he already knew this would happen, he still helped me detoxify the poison, even though we simply met by chance. 

Noise resounds from beneath the mountain, and several flaming torches gather on the mountain path.

??: There was a sudden golden light on this mountain today. The Qilin must have appeared! This time, we must definitely find it. Only then can we save our village!

Hearing this, I’m shocked.

The people from the temple arrived so quickly...

As the lights linger, Gavin straightens up, his eyes cold.

Looking at his pale complexion and the traces of blood on his sleeve, I block his path.

Gavin: What’s wrong? 

MC: I know that you’re the Qilin.

I stare straight at Gavin. 

Gavin: So? 

Several images flash across my mind--

The moment he flew down and carried me in his arms. The seriousness on his face when he squatted down and tended to my wound. The cold wind under the steep cliff...

MC: So, let me help you.

Gavin lowers his eyes slightly and looks at me, a complex emotion in his eyes. 

Gavin: I don’t need your help. Those mortals at the foot of the mountain were sent by the temple. They have always been searching for the Qilin. The scent on your body is the same as theirs. You’re from the temple too, aren’t you.

The trees are silent. The cold moon makes no sound. The god I’ve been searching for is standing before me, robes stained with the heavy night. 

Right now, I have so many things to say. But under Gavin’s penetrating gaze, I only convey one thought.

MC: When you rescued me, I decided to stop looking for the Qilin. I... I never wanted to hurt you.

There’s a subtle movement in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Something occurs to me then, and I can’t help but ask softly.

MC: So from the moment I stepped into this mountain, you already knew who I was... Then why did you still help me find the Qilin? And why did you rescue me? And reveal your real identity in front of me... Weren’t you afraid that I’d be conspiring with them...

Gavin: I wasn’t afraid.

He stares at me. His pale face doesn’t hide his sarcasm. 

Gavin: For thousands of years, you weren’t the only one to climb the mountain in search of the Qilin. But no one ever found it. Why do you think this is so?

His eyes cut through the night and pause on my face. His tone is calm. 

Gavin: Taking you to look for the Qilin was merely to let you lose hope early and return home. Revealing my true identity in front of you later on... that was something I didn’t expect. 

In that moment, I understand everything. 

As long as he doesn’t take the initiative to get close to humans, even if thousands and ten thousands of years pass, no one will be able to find the Qilin.

A god who could have chosen to hide away had rescued me multiple times. He saved me - someone who was looking for him as well. 

The thoughts in my heart become increasingly resolute. I meet Gavin’s eyes and say firmly.

MC: Since that’s the case, let me help make the Qilin remain a legend forever.

Gavin is slightly shocked, but he quickly turns his head, rejecting me.

Gavin: No. If you help me, the people from the temple will make things difficult for you.

MC: That wouldn’t happen. I’m the temple elder’s only direct disciple. I have a pretty high position, so no one will make things difficult for me. As long as I say that I couldn’t find the Qilin, they will leave.

I pat my shoulder, pretending that it would be an easy feat. 

With my slightly anxious expression, Gavin finally agrees. 

Gavin: All right. I trust you. But you have to guarantee your own safety.

I nod vigorously.

He takes off the jade ring on his waist and places the warm and clean jade ornament into my hand. 

Gavin: No matter what, this time, you’re the one saving me. If there are any wishes you want fulfilled, just shatter it, and I will appear.

Gavin’s eyes are searing, and his tone is serious.

Gavin: Trials and hardships are inevitable.

I keep the jade ornament. As the noises draw closer, I take a few steps forward, but can’t help tossing a final glance at Gavin.

He looks at me from afar under the moonlight. The bamboo leaves are flying, softening his outline. 

[Trivia] In ancient China, jade was worth more than gold. It’s more a symbol of virtue than a mere accessory. Jade is believed to bring people good luck, and protect its owner.

-

I walk out of the forested area and see the people from the temple. 

People from the temple: MC! How was it? Have you been to the top of the mountain? Did you see the Qilin?

Hidden under my sleeve, I grip the jade ring tightly. I pretend to look extremely disappointed. 

MC: I didn’t... there’s only a cliff at the top of the mountain, and nothing else. 

People from the temple: A cliff! The records in the ancient books were actually wrong?

I never tell lies, so they accept this information easily. However, the person standing at the forefront suddenly turns to me, his tone serious.

Person: MC, the elder already said that if we can’t find the Qilin, you will have to be the Guardian of the temple. You will have to bless the village day and night in the temple. Do you remember that?

I nod slowly.

MC: I remember.

When we leave, I turn back towards the mountain. 

MC: In the future, in this lifetime, we will probably not have the chance to meet again. Take care, Gavin.

-

Once we return, I’m locked in the temple. 

A long time passed after that, and I got used to being accompanied by ancient books from the temple every day.

Outside the window, the moonlight is slightly cool. I retrieve the jade ornament, looking at it closely under the moonlight. 

MC: I wonder how Gavin is doing now...

There is a sudden gust of wind. I hurry to close the window, and the jade ornament I left at the side gets blown to the ground, shattering into two halves.

MC: Why is it broken!

I hastily reach out to pick up the jade ring, but the wind has become so strong that I can no longer move. 

The wind grows increasingly louder, causing leaves to rustle. Before my eyes, a gigantic golden mark suddenly appears. 

It appears one stroke at a time, and looks very ostentatious. 

The wind chimes under the eaves make a final sound, bringing with it the faraway echo from the distant valley. 

Gavin: It’s finally broken.

I lift my head in shock.

The crescent moon hangs in the sky. The wide leaves on the ancient trees sway with a cold shadow. 

A youth dressed in white leans against the eaves, a wine flask casually placed on his curved leg. His head tilts as he looks at me. 

His other hand holds onto the shattered jade ring. 

Gavin: Have you thought of a wish? 

Stunned, my head looks towards the man underneath the moon.

MC: Gavin...

With a soft laugh, Gavin tilts his head upwards and finishes the wine in his hand. Then, he flies down in front of me. 

Gavin: Mm, it’s me. 

He looks me up and down, then furrows his brows slightly. 

Gavin: You’ve been locked in? 

MC: Mm... not really. There was a flood disaster. I failed to bring the Qilin back to eliminate bad luck, so I have to be in the temple to use my power and pray for the village. 

Gavin: Back then, on the mountain, you didn’t tell me that you’d be confined once you came back.

MC: That’s because I was worried you wouldn’t let me help if I mentioned it...

Gavin watches me silently. Moonlight, like a light summer breeze, falls on the corners of his eyes and brows.

Gavin: Why would you help me when you would be locked up? Simply because I rescued you? 

MC: Isn’t such a reason enough?

Gavin: It’s not enough. You sacrificed your freedom. It’s too heavy a price to pay.

Gavin’s eyes are incomparably clear and bright. The gaze of his lowered eyes appear as though he’s looking at me for the very first time. 

Gavin: Why would you do it? 

Gavin’s face is illuminated by the candlelight. His gaze brings with it persistence, and also warmth.

The wind flips through pages of a book on the table. A little panicked, I hold up the book to cover my face, wanting to conceal the inexplicable emotions in my heart.

MC: T-there’s no reason. I just didn’t want you to be discovered by them. 

With his line of sight blocked by the book, Gavin doesn’t speak. After a long time, his voice sounds in the quietness. 

Gavin: “A handful of firewood is tied together, and the stars in the sky are shining. What kind of night is tonight? Can I see my beloved?”

[Trivia] I provided a very loose translation of what Gavin says, which is: 绸缪束薪, 三星在天, 今夕何夕, 见此良人.

It’s part of a poem from 诗经 (”shi jing” - “the book of songs”)

There are split views on what this poem means, but many scholars believe this poem celebrates a wedding, where both parties are teasing each other in the bridal chamber.

MC: !

I hurriedly set down the book, and realise Gavin is slowly reciting the poem on the page I accidentally flipped open. 

MC: ...if you know the meaning of it, then read it to somebody else. 

Gavin leans against the window, his eyes shifting from the book to me. 

The night is beautiful, and the galaxy seems to be within reach. 

Gavin: Of course I do. But you moved too quickly, and I didn’t get to see the next line. What is the next line?

He has a serious expression on his face, as though he genuinely wants to know what the next line is, and nothing more.

It was just a random poetry collection I had read when I was bored. To think the wind would blow the pages to this particular one...

This is a poem written for a lover. And I’ve never read it to anyone before. 

A corner of my heart feels a slight tug. I don’t dare to look at Gavin’s face. With my eyes lowered, I recite softly--

MC: "I want to ask you - how does one kiss this beloved person?”

[Trivia] This is very loose translation of what MC says, which is: 子兮子兮，如此良人何?

As mentioned earlier, this poem is meant to convey the warm, sweet love between newlyweds.

I feel a sudden, gentle touch on my forehead. Widening my eyes, I lift my head and watch as Gavin takes the book and looks at me with a bright smile.

Gavin: Your wish - I have heard it clearly. Wait for me. 

-

It has been several days since Gavin left. 

I heard that an oracle spoke to the elder of the temple one night, and he released me.  

As such, I am no longer locked up in the temple, and only have to make blessings at the temple from time to time. 

But one thing has been out of the ordinary.

MC: No way, I just wanted to plant some flowers. Why did I dig out gold? 

Weakly, I pick up the gold piece. This has happened numerous times. 

Ever since Gavin and I parted, I tend to meet with “good luck”.

While I’m looking at the gold piece in distress, I hear a commotion from afar.

??: The flood has subsided! The flood has subsided! 

The elderly woman from next door is walking back from the field, her face filled with unparalleled joy. 

MC: Granny Tian, what happened? 

Granny Tian: MC, the flood has subsided! 

MC: What?!

Granny Tian: It must be the protection from the gods. Last night, a gigantic rock suddenly fell from the South Mountain, forcing the river to change course. Because of this, the flood is gone!

MC: South Mountain... the river changing course... could it be Gavin? 

Granny Tian: What? Who’s Gavin?

I immediately find an excuse as a cover. 

Not long after, the village hosted a grand festival to commemorate the resolution of the flood.

-

I walk into the crowd wearing a white curtain hat, and I can see joyful faces and blooming fresh flowers. 

The weather is fine, and dandelion flowers are floating in the wind. 

On the altar of the temple, the elders have completed the sacrificial ceremony. A few young women wearing curtain hats are rushing to the altar. After placing all kinds of personal items on it, they pray devoutly. 

This is a very ancient custom. It is said that on this day of the festival, the gods will hear the voices from mortals.

Which is why females like praying to the gods on this day in hopes of obtaining their beloved.

Young lady: With blessings from the gods, may I meet the husband I am longing for...

After observing for a while on a lower platform, I’m just about to turn around and leave when a young lady calls out to me from the altar.

Young lady: Sister MC! You’re from the temple, so your prayers will definitely be effective. This is a rare festival - why not give it a try as well?

MC: I...

Although I initially want to refuse, the encouragement from the women nearby leaves me no choice but to step up to the altar in resignation. 

I place the shattered jade ring on the altar, close my eyes, and make a pious prayer. 

MC: May my homeland experience good weather from now onwards, and may my loved ones be together. May... my beloved person live a safe and smooth, worry-free life. 

Suddenly, a faraway wind courses past, stirring my heart.

The wind pauses before me, then envelops me, lifting me up gently.

A huge, golden coloured mark appears in the air. This time, I can see the pattern clearly. 

It’s a Qilin, surrounded by auspicious clouds. 

At some point in time, Gavin has appeared in the air, his white clothes making a rustling sound, like a god descending from the heavens.

The young women standing near the altar look towards Gavin, utterly flabbergasted. Then, they hastily kneel on the ground, trembling while asking with excitement.

Young lady: Great god, have you graced our mortal realm after hearing our calls? 

Gavin’s eyebrows arch upwards, and his lips curl into a smile. 

Gavin: I am not a god. And I didn’t come because I heard a call.

His clothes drift in the air, his hair ornament reflecting a brilliant light. 

Gavin: I hurried across the mountains and rivers over a thousand miles, just for one person.

Flowers fall out of my basket, scattering all around. 

I fall into Gavin’s embrace. He holds onto me firmly, and I am encased by his clean and cool breath, which brings with it an ancient wind from the mountains.

My curtain hat is blown up by the wind. I frantically reach out for it. When I turn my head, I see Gavin’s smile. 

Gavin: The flood has been resolved. Your mission is completed. 

I nod my head nervously. Gavin sees this and lets out a laugh.

Gavin: Do you still remember the wish you made that night? 

I look into Gavin’s charming eyes, my heart beating like a drum.

MC: I remember. I want to see the views you see, and experience the world you experience. I want... to be by your side. 

I once thought my life’s desire was to find the Qilin.

But when I was about to give up, he suddenly fell into my life, carrying the light-filled sky.

At that moment, I was certain that he was a legend belonging only to me. 

Gavin stares at me. He suddenly laughs, tapping my forehead gently.

In that instant, golden light weaves around. The auspicious clouds gather, and all the flowers bloom.

Dandelion petals dance in the air. The auspicious clouds accumulate under our feet, and the sound of wind chimes drift from somewhere. 

Gavin’s voice dissipates in the air, drifting towards the people on the ground.

Gavin: I helped your village resolve the flood. In return, I will take the most beautiful lady on the altar. 

The wind surrounding us causes flower petals to swirl in the air. When the flowers fall and the wind has scattered, two people have vanished from the sky.

-

A very long time later, a beautiful legend arose in this land. 

Legend says that on this big altar, a young lady’s devout prayer drew a god who rode the wind.

The god took the young lady away. In exchange, the land received many years of peace. 

Nobody knows what happened to the god and the young lady after that. 

But dandelions bloomed and filled the entire mountain. 

- End -

...did the dandelions end up outside a certain grandmother’s house in Gavin’s Old Haunt Date? 👀

Phone call: First // Second

[jebbysaysrandomstuff]

I wanted to try creating a fanfic, but I don't have an A03 account yet, so I'm doing it on here instead.

Hello! Im aware I have been away for a while, I have had lots of school work to catch up on, but I just finished S1 of Demon Slayer on Netflix (If you havent watched it I highly suggest you do before reading this) And decided to create an MCYT X KNY/DS Fanfic, and the ones I see on A03 usually consist of Tommy taking Tanjiro Kamado’s place and Techno taking Nezuko’s (Tanjiros sister) And leaving whoever else is left to be other demon slayers or hashira.

Im going to upload this fanfic, only 1 chapter so far as Im not sure Im too confident in this AU, as my grammar sucks. Without further ado though, Enjoy chapter one. (Warning, Gore?- I mean theres dead bodies, And me being terrible at creating chapter names.)

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Wilbur was fairly well known in the village that resided not too far away from his home. He was the oldest brother to two other siblings. Though that number quickly dwindled down to one after his father and slightly younger brother (It’s by a year in this AU) left for some training of some sort. Luckily, Wilbur was able to make a stable income for himself and his younger brother Tommy, who is only 10. Tommy was a special kid in Wilbur’s eyes. After all, it had been 4 years since his other family members left and Tommy was the only family around, so he may treasure him more that he did Techno or his father Phil.

 12/02/1920

 Wilbur was getting ready to leave to the village, he was going to sell coal to the people residing there and see if they needed any assistance in doing anything. He trusted Tommy to stay home, not alone of course, he had a distant relative in town for a while, so they offered to look after the 10 year old while Wilbur was selling his coal. But as he said his goodbyes and left, he couldn’t help but feel that he has somehow made a big mistake. Shaking his head, he pushed the feeling down, he trusts that his family will remain safe in the house they live on up by the mountain.  

 When Wilbur arrived into town, he was immediately bombarded with people wanting to buy coal or asking for his assistance in return for some money. By the time that Wilbur was actually done with selling coal and helping people out, he had filled more than half the basket with money. Unfortunately it was getting late and he had no way of getting home in the dark unless he wanted to get lost, he also couldn’t find a way to tell the others at the house that he would be late…

 “Hey Wilbur!” A familiar voice called to him, “you need a place to stay tonight, there’s no way you’ll make it back to the house in time.” Wilbur turned around and saw a familiar face, it was the baker of the village, Niki. She was always so kind to those who lived for visited the village (Her baking is also great too!) Smiling, Wilbur started walking towards the baker’s home. “Thank you Niki, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

 “Of course!” She smiled kindly, “After all, we can’t have you going out at night, there may be demons lurking around!”

Wilbur made a confused face at that. ‘Demons?’ He thought, ‘I’m sure it’s just a myth, I’m sure parents just use that to keep kids in check.’ Niki laughed at the confused face Wilbur pulled when he mentioned demons, but soon stopped laughing when realizing he really didn’t know what demons were. “Wait, you’re being serious?” She asked while setting up a bed for Wilbur to sleep in for the night, “You really don’t know what demons are, Wil?” Wilbur shook his head at her question, getting up to follow her into her kitchen where she started getting ready to prepare a meal for him eat before going to bed. “No, Should I know what ‘Demons’ are, Niki?” He asked, he was really confused as to why she had looked so shocked at the question. She sighed. “Why don’t we talk about this while you’re eating?” As she said that the noodles she was boiling were finished and she put them into a bowl with some broth in.

  A few minutes later, the two are sat down opposite each other. “So... are you going to tell me about these ‘demons’?” Wilbur asked, while eating. Niki nodded and started to explain. “Demons are these man-eating creatures that only come out at night or when the sun is away, as the sun can kill them.” She said quietly, Wilbur wondered whether Niki had experience with these demons to know that they eat humans. “My father was eaten by a demon a couple years ago.” Niki said sadly, “So in order to keep demons away I use this wisteria plants to keep them away, as its poisonous to demons.” Niki soon ended the convocation after that, seeing as she quickly said her goodnights and took away Wilbur’s empty bowl, he can only assume she doesn’t like talking about them.

 Going to bed half an hour later, the uneasy feeling had increased, after hearing the story about demons, he could only worry for those around the area, and Tommy and that distant relative he could never remember the name of. He fell into an uneasy sleep, only dreaming of what these demons are like.

 When Wilbur woke up the next morning, he thanked Niki for the hospitality and promises to bring more coal the next time he visits the village. And with that he took his basket of money and started making his way up the mountain.

 Wilbur figured that he was only 5 minutes from the house now, but he couldn’t help but slow down, usually increasing in speed to go see his brother, but the uneasy feeling had returned and only grew worse when making his way up the mountain.

 Then that’s when it hit him. He didn’t need a great sense of smell to tell that there was a strong scent or blood and decaying bodies somewhere around the mountain. Worried for his family, he ran up the mountain once the house came into view. He was met with a bloody path leading into the house. He followed the path and was met with the decaying body of the family member he trusted to look after Tommy, he really regrets not learning their name, but they showed up so suddenly and it’s was them three for a while. Speaking of bodies, Wilbur took a step into the house and saw Tommy laying on his back, a small wound on his head. But he was still breathing, his baby brother wasn’t dead, despite the amount of blood leaving his wound. Quickly thinking, Wilbur picked up his brother, putting him comfortably so it looked like Wilbur was giving him a piggy-back ride, and dashed out the house into the village. Hoping he could find some medical assistance to help the brother he raised. Halfway down the mountain, Tommy had started shifting a lot, and groaning, this confused Wilbur as he tried to get Tommy to calm down, but Tommys constant struggling ended up with them falling down a slope. Tommy was quick to get up and lean against a tree. “Tommy!” Wilbur yelled out, his voice full of worry for his baby brother, “Toms, you don’t need to walk, I can carry you to the village, don’t worry!” Wilbur started moving towards the 10 year old until he was suddenly attacked by said 10 year old. “Tommy, What are you doing?!” Wilbur yelled out in fear, he wrestled Tommy while thinking of what to do until he saw a distant shadow coming closer….

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That was it! I do take feedback, constructive feedback that is, not hate.

Also give me some ideas as to what breathing forms the other MCYT characters can do, as I'm wanting to make this original in my own way, basically using the least amount of canon breathing forms,

[as8bakwthesage]

Reconciliation

Fundy and Wilbur reconcile after years of pain...

Fundy had been spending a lot of time with Philza, his grandfather, who was bent on adopting him. Not that Fundy was complaining, he was glad to reconnect with more of his family. His own father was so much of a disappointment in terms of family. His own uncles didn’t care about him, despite Phil reassuring him that they all did. 

“What about dad?” Fundy asked, sitting next to Phil on the dock, fishing poles in hand. There was no response from Phil for a moment before the Elohime exhaled heavily.

“You dad was… complicated, Fundy.” Phil replied honestly. “I know it may seem like he didn’t care, but truthfully, he cared so much that it hurt.”

At that Fundy raised an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes and scoffed. At Philza’s questioning look, Fundy groaned. “He hurt me, he never really did anything for me. He expected me to do everything for him. Fight his wars, settle his battles, but did I ever get anything for caring about him? No, Phil, I never did.”

Phil was quiet for several seconds. Fundy could have sworn the Elohime had left but looking to his right confirmed that his grandfather was indeed there. Grandfather? What a strange term for someone who didn’t even look to be in his 40ties. Fundy had always assumed it was the Elohime aspect of his grandfather’s biology.

“I know your dad rejected you. And I know why.” Phil said softly yet sadly. Fundy’s eyes widened at that. What? Answers? After all of these years, he would have answers? Was this actually happening?! “But I can’t tell you.” At that, Fundy deflated and his hopes were dashed away immediately. “Though I think someone else can.”

Phil looked over his shoulder at something behind him. Confused, Fundy followed his gaze and his eyes widened in shock. There was Ghostbur, the remnants of his father, standing before them. The usually quite cheerful ghost looked sad and unsure of whether or not he wanted to be there. 

“Ghostbur. Thank you for coming.” Phil said genuinely. Fundy looked at his grandfather indignantly. 

“YOU invited him?!” Fundy demanded. “You know I don’t want anything to do with him!”

“Fundy, I-” Phil started but was interrupted by Wilbur.

“Dad, it’s okay.” Ghostbur said genuinely but the sadness lingered. He turned to Fundy with acceptance. “Please don’t blame Phil for this, Fundy. I wanted to talk to you about… things…”

Fundy paused, not sure how to respond to this. He settled for looking away and avoiding his dead father’s gaze. “You have answers?”

“I do, but I don’t know if you will like them.” Ghostbur said honestly yet worried. Fundy exhaled heavily, feeling his body go tense and stiff. He quickly composed himself. 

“I can take it.”

“I’ll give you two some space.” Phil said gingerly as he stood up and walked off, hands in his pockets. Fundy heard Phil pause as he passed by Wilbur before continuing. Footsteps cracked down the dock as Ghostbur closed the distance. Fundy refused to look at him still. Ghostbur sat down next to him and grabbed onto the fishing pole that Phil left behind. Fundy still would not look at him.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for several long seconds. Fundy actually didn’t mind silences, in fact, he preferred them as he worked long hours on his engineering projects and magic practice. But here it was so palpable that he could cut through it with a knife. He hated being in this situation with the person who neglected him for so long. 

“How are you feeling, Fundy?” Ghostbur asked, innocently yet genuinely. At that, Fundy’s head snapped towards Ghostbur, who looked at Fundy with honest concern and worry. Fundy scoffed at it all. 

“Don’t pretend you care, Wilbur.” Fundy growled. “You never saw me as your son.”

“I…” Ghostbur paused. “I did, Fundy… I really did… and…”

“Then why?!” Fundy yelled, which alarmed the easily spooked ghost. Fundy had tears in his eyes as he glared at his dead father hatefully. “Why did you leave me behind?! Why did you ignore me?! Why was everything I ever did for you not enough?! Why did you hate me so much?!”

Ghostbur looked to be processing all of this information with guilt and sorrow. At the ghost’s own tears, Fundy lowered his voice as he lowered his head with despair. “Why, dad..? Why..?”

“The memory…” Ghostbur admitted. “...is hard to think about.” At that, Fundy bristled as he stood up and nearly stormed off. “But I will tell you.”

That made Fundy stop and hesitate. He looked at his father with unease but also hope. He could not pass this chance up. He sat back down. Ghostbur took a deep breath before he spoke again.

“It was Sally.” He said gently. Fundy looked at him before rolling his eyes.

“Are you gonna tell me that mom was a salmon who swam away when I was born? Because I don’t really believe that anymore.” Fundy said deadpanned. Ghostbur laughed before he shook his head and smiled sadly.

“No, I know you are older now. And I know you wouldn’t believe that story as time went on.” Ghostbur said. “No, I’m going to tell you what really happened to Sally.” Fundy’s eyes went wide as saucers but he said nothing, focusing hard on Wilbur.

“Alivebur loved her so much. I… I loved her so much, Fundy. We were so happy together. She made me so happy and I made her happy. She was my world. My starlight. She was a Kitsune, a shape shifting fox creature that could take the form of a fox or human. She loved fish, you see. Salmon was her favorite.” Ghostbur explained. “We were both so happy when we learned that she was pregnant, it was as if the Gods themselves blessed us with the world... We would have given you the world.”

The Ghost paused and Fundy saw that Wilbur had started to cry. Whether they were tears of joy or sadness was yet to be determined. Fundy remained silent as Ghostbur continued.

“After you were born. She told me that you being born in a half fox and half human form was normal and that she would have trained you how to shapeshift properly…” Ghostbur’s tears were now starting to affect how he spoke. “S-She… S-She went out to the m-market one n-night to get food… S-She never c-came b-b-back…”

At this point, Ghostbur had begun to sob heavily. Per instinct, Fundy immediately hugged his father as Wilbur clutched him tightly and just sobbed into his son’s shoulder. It took several moments for Ghostbur to calm down enough to speak again as he pulled away to look Fundy in the eyes, even though it pained him so much. And Fundy could see it so clearly.

“W-We buried y-your mom under the t-tree… The L’Manberg tree before it w-was even the L’Manberg t-t-tree…” Ghostbur muttered through tears. His pale and translucent skin burned slightly at the tears running down his face. “A-After that… Alivebur couldn’t stand the pain. He only took care of you as much as he needed to… looking at you reminded him of h-her… b-but there was nobody there for him at the time… And as soon as he could… he sent you away… h-he never… I never… It hurt him so much… It hurt so much… i-it still h-hurts…” 

Ghostbur was losing his composure now and Fundy sat in disbelief and anger and sorrow and pity and understanding but yet with so much untouched sadness. He hadn’t even noticed the tears running down his face until he too was crying alongside his father. He finally understood his father, he finally understood why. But it still hurt regardless. It never would stop hurting.

“Wil…” Fundy finally spoke as Ghostbur looked ready to fall over from overexpressing himself. It definitely got the ghost’s attention when he spoke. “I understand. And it hurts me too. It has been and probably will always be hurting. I’m in pain too. You neglected me, barely showed me any affection. And I won’t forgive you for that.”

Ghostbur looked ready to cry again, and Fundy started to cry some more.

“I-I hated you, dad… I don’t know if I still do but I don’t want to! I’m tired of feeling so angry and unhappy! I’m tired of being alone. You always cared about L’Manberg more than me… But I don’t care about L’Manberg… I just want… I w-want us to be a f-family! No more blood, no more death… I want my uncles back, I want a dad who loves me and shows it!” Fundy sobbed as he shook his head and hugged Ghostbur so tightly that it might have hurt any ordinary person. 

“I know…” Ghostbur admitted, fresh tears streaming down his face as well. “And… you don’t have to forgive me… I will never ask that you do so, son.”

At that, Fundy burst into even more tears, which caused Ghostbur to cry as well. Both men sat in each other’s arms, clutching each other desperately as they cried out their emotions for the first time in a very long time. When they did calm down, they simply sat in beside each other, smiling slightly and Fundy acknowledged to himself how well it felt to cry and admit his feelings.

“We have a long way to go before either of us are ever going to be a proper family…” Ghostbur admitted as he reached a hand out for Fundy to take. “But… I’m willing to do my best to be a better dad. To be a real dad to you. The kind that I never was.”

Fundy smiled as tears welled in his eyes. 

“I’d like that very much… dad.”

He took Ghostbur’s hand. 

“Dad..?” Fundy asked. Ghostbur looked at him curiously and nodded for him to continue. “What was mom like?”

Wilbur froze before he chuckled warmly. He couldn’t help the smile that formed on his pale face. His hazy eyes glazed over with recognition and affection.

“She was like you, Fundy. Her heart was just as big as yours…”

And maybe, as the two spoke, if you were paying attention, and you swore it wasn’t some kind of hallucination, you would have seen her standing several blocks behind them.

She looked over them and missed them both dearly.

But it was probably just a trick of the light.

[inkribbon796]

It’s Not Rabies, It’s . . . Ch. 2

Summary: With yet another demon on the loose in Egoton, King gets a lucky break when Dark finds them first.

A/N: This was a suggestion-request from the anon Nightfall on AO3. Which resulted in this story and since this one was getting a bit long it inspired a bit for the Visitation Day on Sunday which will be a lot less angsty.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Chapter 2: Airing Out Grievances

Lunky was following a specific trail now, the densest aura trail in all of Egoton: the Entity’s.

Fortunately for the entire city Dark was having an early morning. He’d been woken up early by the Host. The seer had warned him that he should be on the lookout for something coming to attack him. So he was braced in his warehouse.

Green noticed something first. His scans picked up something but he couldn’t see it. So Dark came to his location and saw that there was a new aura trail in the center of his territory. It was a new demon.

At first he was furious, the audacity of this vile creature! When Dark found them he would show them no—

Why was Kay’s aura here?

Anger turned to trepidation. At first he thought — was afraid— that Kay had been violently attacked because his aura was all over the place, meshed in a weird way with a new demon aura. He almost attacked it outright before realizing it was an infantile demon, and Kay aura wasn’t on it because it had attacked the young man. Kay’s aura was a part of this demon. Just like Wil’s aura existed inside all of his children’s aura.

In fact there was still a minute trace of Wil’s aura in the mix.

This was Kay’s child!

Dark felt a myriad of emotions. Confusion about how this had happened. When it had happened? Fear for the fact that this spawnling was wandering around a town crawling with demon hunters. And—

The Entity’s racing thoughts were cut off when the spawnling bit down on his aura.

“Hey!” Dark shouted, pinning the spawnling down.

Or at least he tried to. The spawnling had seen Dark teleport in and lunged out to bite his aura. But because Lunky wasn’t three-dimensional, Dark’s hands contacted with nothing. He had to use his aura to do it.

And no sooner did Dark’s aura come into contact with Lunky, did something in Dark recoil. Not because Lunky could do any real damage to him or was repugnant in some way.

But Dark aura naturally stuck to things. Kay would know Dark had been in contact with his child. And Dark couldn’t get his aura on the spawnling . . . he knew how furious that would make Kay.

The young man wanted nothing to do with him, hadn’t for years. Surely this would just be another part of Kay’s life Dark was not allowed to touch.

The Entity’s blue soul was already screaming in frustration and fury. Dark had to get the spawnling back to Kay before his blue soul threw another fit. Those were never fun to manage.

So with a quick spell Dark trapped Lunky into a small area without having to use his aura. He was trying to think of something. He couldn’t just leave the spawnling to their own devices, they were too new, too juvenile to survive in this city on their own.

Fortunately for Dark Illinois came running out and after a sharp order from Dark, Illinois grabbed a piece of printer paper and they trapped the enraged, screaming demon onto the paper.

Illinois cheered in triumph, chuckling, “So this is the new demon in town that everyone’s freaking out about? Seems harmless to me.”

“No, this is Kay’s spawnling,” Dark corrected. “I don’t think this one’s existed long enough. They don’t even have their own independent aura yet.”

“Wait, his what?” Illinois shouted in shock. “How did— When did Kay have a kid?”

“Less than a week ago,” Dark said, looking at the spawnling for a bit.

“Did he tell you he was having a kid?” Illinois demanded, wounded. “He didn’t tell me.”

“No,” Dark told him.

“Why wouldn’t he tell us? Is he seeing someone? There is some partner out there we need to threaten.” Illinois became more resolute by the second.

Dark tried to keep his face emotionless, ordering his red soul to keep her brother from acting out. A slow realization dawning on Dark: Wil’s children were even less human than he suspected. “Demons don’t need a partner to have a spawnling. Kay could have had this child with no outside help if the conditions were right.”

“Oh,” Illinois managed. Then his head started to spin and turn with the implications of that. “What would having other people’s aura in the mix do? Would that work or make something new?”

“Providing the aura was in significant amounts, I would think it would make something new, why?” Dark asked.

Illinois went beet red, “Uhhh, I . . . uh.”

Thankfully Illinois was saved when King came around the warehouses. He was in a warm jacket and gloves, slipping a bit on the ice. Yancy hot in his heels and the Host following at a bit slower pace.

“Hey Kay,” Illinois smiled, holding up the paper. “Lose something?”

King looked relieved when he saw that very familiar image. “You guys did find them.”

Illinois’s smile got more devious, “What happened to being responsible and adult, huh? Maybe you should have worn a condom when you let the forces of nature fuck you over?”

“Hey!” King dove in to take Lunky back. “Don’t teach them those words yet!”

“They got a name?” Illinois asked.

“Lunky,” King said, uncertain. “That’s what the Host told me anyway. They respond to it, which is good because they don’t know how to communicate with me yet.”

Illinois snickered, “Lunky, what kind of name is that?”

“Shut up, it’s their name,” King defended heatedly. “Your name is Illinois, we could stand here and make fun of each other’s names all day.”

Illinois held up his hands in surrender, “Fine, fine.”

Dark had internally balked at the name, but he kept quiet. Whatever the spawnling’s name was, wasn’t really any of his business. Or it shouldn’t have been.

“Is the little fella okay?” Yancy asked concern, before smiling sweetly at the spawnling. “Youse gave us the run around all o’er town, didn’t youse?”[1]

Lunky let out a chittering hiss that Yancy didn’t know how to understand.

“Uhh, Squirrel Whisperer, youse got a word ‘a that?”[2] Yancy asked.

“Yancy should allow the Host to help,” the Host offered, walking forward.

“Sure, why’s[3] the hell not?” Yancy shrugged.

The Host took the paper and with a couple words shook the paper and what appeared to be a human child shot out. King lunged to catch the child, they were heavier than he expected. They looked like an almost exact copy of King when he was about three-years-old. And they were screaming and hissing in rage.

“And voila,” the Host announced, making sure a little bit of his aura extended out so that Lunky could start nibbling at it, calming the spawnling down. “The Host has solved their problem now that Lunky is three dimensional.”

“This solves nothing,” King reminded him. “I have a kid. I haven’t got anything for them. Don’t people usually have like nine months to prepare for one of these?”

“Hey youse[4] got me,” Yancy smiled.

King managed a smile, and a nervous chuckle, “This kid is doomed, you know that though, right?”

“Hey, I’d be a great uncle,” Yancy defended heatedly.

“I know, that’s not what I meant,” King smiled.

While the three adults were talking the spawnling was looking at Dark, and the Entity was staring back at him. The two demons weren’t breaking eye contact; the contact wasn’t hostile, it just wasn’t breaking.

Dark tried to memorize the spawnling’s image, hoping that the next time he saw Kay’s child he would still recognize the aura. His blue soul’s screams were echoing off the inside of his skull, trying to claw his way to Kay’s child. But Dark had made sure that his echo stayed very close by.

King quickly noticed that Dark was staring at Lunky. He felt very defensive. When his and Dark’s eyes met that snapped something inside the animal magnet.

“We need to talk,” King told Dark, the Entity’s eyes slowly rising to meet his son’s eyes.

“Very well,” the Entity sounded disinterested.

“Is there a way we can have this “discussion” without screaming in front of the kid?” King asked the Host sharply.

“Yes the Host, Yancy, and Illinois can take King’s child for a bit,” the Host allowed. “The Entity and the King of the Squirrels should take their discussion inside.”

The Host’s eyes bled a bit and suddenly King and Dark were in Dark’s office, standing on either side of the Entity’s desk.

King finally hit the end of a long fuse that had been burning for a very long time.

“You were elated when you saw them, weren’t you?” King tried to keep his tone civil. “I’m a demon just like the rest of you.”

“Don’t be absurd, I didn’t feel anything,” Dark denied.

That just got King angrier. “I was always too human for you, your little white sheep you couldn’t get to do what you wanted.”

“Why would what you were matter to me?” Dark dismissed. “I didn’t bring you into the Manor to make a demon out of you. I did it because Bim needed siblings. I didn’t have any expectations for any of you except to stay alive.”

The last moment Dark had seen Arthur lingering haunting in his mind. A child he had failed to care for.

“I won’t involve myself,” Dark told King, eager to have the discussion over with. It would take forever to calm his blue soul down. Then he added when he saw the slight confusion on King’s face, “with . . . with Lunky. Besides it’s obvious that you don’t want me in either of your lives.”

“Why wouldn’t I let you near Lunky?” King demanded, angry but not furious enough to not catch what Dark was actually saying. “You’re his grandfather.”

That word punched right through all of Dark’s mental and emotional walls. He had to leave! He should have made himself scarce when Kaylor arrived. But he was too greedy and eager to see the boy again.

“Wil is his grandfather,” Dark bit back, stepping to the side of his desk and throwing open a portal. “Should you need anything, you know where I am.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” King demanded, his anger stoked again. “You always run off when I try to have a real conversation.”

“What else is there to talk about?” Dark demanded, his own frustration getting the better of him. He needed to leave. “You hate me, you don’t want me anywhere near you or your child. There is little to negotiate on the matter. I’ll tell Wil about them, unless you wish to do that yourself, and stay out of the way.”

It’s not fair! It’s not fair! He’s mine! It’s not fair! His blue soul was frantic and furious.

We need to leave! His red soul was no less desperate to be heard but pulling him in the opposite direction.

I know! What do you think I’m trying to do? And Dark was stuck somewhere in the middle of the two of them.

“I don’t hate you,” King snapped in frustration. “You always fucking make this about you. Do I think you’re an egotistical narcissist who would sooner kill himself than be a decent person? Hell yes. But I don’t hate you. I don’t regret being adopted by you, and I know the others don’t regret it either.”

“Don’t patronize me, Kaylor,” Dark scoffed, his tone was calm but the fact that his aura was pitching up and down betrayed the fact that he was furious. “I know the Host still needs me to cooperate with his plans. I’m not going to go back on that. You were always the smart one between all your siblings, you always knew what I was and you left the first chance you got.”

Then Dark felt it, his blue soul trying to shatter off a bit so he could reach out for Kay. Not to hurt him, never to hurt the boy. It had been years since Dark had set his hand on King and his blue soul wanted to hold the boy again and Dark snapped, grabbing his blue aura and slamming him back against the wall behind him.

While King couldn’t see anything he saw Dark’s shadowy aura lash out at something a couple feet in front of him and objects on the far wall rattle a bit when something hit the wall. He instinctively jumped.

I said no! Dark reminded his blue soul.

Dark was quick to subsume Damien’s blue soul back in. Something his soul did kicking and screaming, Dark couldn’t silence all the splintering and echoes, but when it was over Dark turned to King, “Ignore him, he’s been out of sorts all day.”

“What was that?” King asked, his anger cooled significantly.

“Nothing you need to worry about, I have it under control,” Dark told him.

“No, no,” King insisted. “We’re talking about this, were you about to attack me?”

“Don’t be absurd, if I haven’t attacked you even as a threat in almost twenty years I’m not going to start now. Sometimes my aura gets a bit presumptuous and I have to put it back in its place.”

“So what was it going to do?” King demanded.

That clearly got Dark defensive. “Why do you care? It wasn’t going to hurt or attack you?”

“I care because it concerns me,” King told him. “Why is it so bad that you can’t tell me?”

Dark considered just leaving. This wasn’t Kay’s problem, it was his. And he couldn’t just . . . he wasn’t allowed to . . .

With a deep exhale, Dark gave himself another second or two. Then his left hand had more of his light blue aura than his red and he reached out for King’s closest hand. He had his hand in a very loose half-hold where only the pads of his fingers were touching him, giving King more than enough opportunity to take his hand away.

King didn’t take his hand away, watching Dark in confusion a bit before he felt overcome by an emotion. It beckoned a memory in King’s mind, when Dark would hold the young man back when he was still a child. Whenever Kay was spooked or had woken up from a nap . . . but the feeling was reversed. The feeling of warm body heat against his skin and someone who needed him in that moment.

Kay felt his cheeks grow wet and Dark pulled his hand away, no longer looking King in the eye.

“There,” Dark said. “Like I said, I have it under control. I know you don’t like it when you’re touched without permission.”

“You asshole, you were going to hug me,” King told Dark and flew forward to wrap his arms around his chest.

Dark stiffened up completely. His red soul became less frantic and Dark was left alone to fight against his blue soul from returning the touch. But there was no one else to distract either of them and Kay was so warm.

Slowly, as if cautious — afraid — that Kay would push him away, Dark began to move his arms down until they were gently wrapped around King.

The young man’s embrace became a little tighter, a sad chuckle coming from his mouth, “See, you just should have asked.”

His chuckle turned into a sad laugh, “Our whole family is fucked up if neither of us knew you wanted a hug.”

“I didn’t—” Dark started to deny but was cut off. His blue soul was finally silenced, suddenly calm again. Even his red soul felt like she was in a better mood.

Sooner than Dark or his blue soul wanted, Kay slowly began to pull away, and Dark could feel Damien was getting unhappy again but there was little they could do. Kay was done indulging their momentary lapse of control and Dark swore to himself that it would not happen again.

“I’m not going to keep Lunky from seeing you, if I’ve got anything to say on the matter they won’t be joining the network, but I don’t want them not to know who you are.”

“If that’s what you want, they are your child,” Dark tried to act as chill and nonchalant as he always did, desperately trying to regain his composure.

“I meant what I said earlier,” King told him. “Both about not hating you and you being an egotistical narcissist. Both those things are true.”

“Anyways,” Dark ignored the barb. “We should find the Host.”

“Already done,” Yancy was standing at the door with the Host and Illinois. Lunky was in the ex-prisoner’s arms. None of which had been there a couple seconds ago.

Lunky was hissing at them but froze when he saw Dark. They began making some odd sounds as they reached out for Dark, clearly frustrated they couldn’t normally stretch.

King walked over and took Lunky, “Hey buddy, you okay.”

“They’s been cryin’ the whole time fer youse,”[5] Yancy told him. “Set ‘a[6] pipes on this kid.”

Lunky, the second they were placed in King’s arms calmed down for a second or two, before reaching for Dark.

“Oh is that how it is?” King chuckled, and walked back over to Dark. “You want Gramps, huh.”

“I’m going to get my aura all over him,” Dark tried to warn.

“I don’t see a problem with that,” King shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to hold him?”

“No, I can hold him,” Dark allowed, hesitantly taking the spawnling into his arms.

The instant Dark had them in his arms his aura instinctively latched on and the spawnling started just devouring his aura again, their eyes little more than round black circles.

Dark just let his aura wash over the kid, placing clear warning markers that despite not being his direct spawnling, Lunky was his and other demons and mages better not touch them.

“할아버지”[7] King told Lunky, having them look up at Dark. “That’s gonna be one of the first ones we learn, right?”

Dark rolled his eyes, but just soaked in the fact that he got to hold the spawnling. They stayed in the office for a bit until Lunky let themself be passed back to King and Dark opened up a portal right in front the heroes’ base.

It took a long, lengthy discussion to explain how King round up with what looked like a three-year-old but the heroes accepted Lunky into their group. Mini peeked around Bing, cautious as the two children looked at each other.

Before Dark could vanish off without Lunky realizing he was leaving, Silver walked over to him.

“Demon grandkid, huh?” Silver asked with a smile.

“You and your heroes allow the hunters to even come within sight of them, I will murder all of you,” Dark warned.

“Got it, got it,” Silver promised. “We’ll make sure they stay fed and everything.”

“Will you now?” Dark chuckled dryly. “You don’t even know what they eat.”

“It’s not another cannibal is it?” Silver groaned seriously.

“Don’t let them taste human flesh and we’ll see,” Dark suggested. “That’s how Bim started out. I took my eyes off him for five seconds and he started licking dead bodies.”

“You’re joking right?” Silver deadpanned.

Dark flashed him a sadistic smile and walked through a portal.

“Dark! Dark!” Silver called after him. “You’re joking right?”

With Dark gone all the heroes took their new edition inside and King proclaimed that the next time he saw either of the Jims he was going to stab them in return for stabbing him in the heart. Then he went to go and take Lunky to his park to show them what would become the spawnling’s second home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. You gave us the run around all over town, didn’t you?

2. Uhh, Squirrel Whisperer, you got a word of that?

3. why

4. you

5. They’ve been crying for you the whole time

6. of

7. “Grandfather”; Korean. Specifically the informal way to address your paternal grandfather. Phonically read as halabeoji.

[alchemist-shizun]

Do cats exist? Debate.

Or: The Welcome To Night Vale au nobody asked for

Word count: 1,823

Taglist: @bookwormscififan @suffering-is-my-comfort-zone @pistachio-lan @pushussmollworld @be-more-chaotic @quietlypondering

Warnings: None that I can think of, there are references to the 4/9/16 episodes.

Characters: Virgil, Deceit, Logan(Mentioned)

Relationship(s): Implied Loceit (we have Dee pining a lot)

Summary: The town has a new favorite mascotte! That's right everybody, give it up for Virgil the black cat, about to charm his way to the conquering of the entire solar system. But, for now, he's sleeping and eating all day and giving out occasional love advice.

A/n: Me? Still refusing to give Deceit a name and just rolling with that? More likely than you think. Just so you know, at some point I wrote "Carlos" instead of "Logan". Another funny thing: I sent the first paragraph to a friend (Hi Gaia if you're reading!) that knows nothing about ts nor wtnv and demanded I absolutely sent her the fic when finished so, peak weirdness everybody. I had a lot of fun writing this, I kinda got in the vibe and just went for it, I could even say I'm somehow proud of how it turned out! But enough of me, I hope you enjoy this little piece 💖

✾

What was a perfectly ordinary day for Night Vale, with its wondrous citizens conducting their quotidian tasks and duties, the sun setting down maybe a slight bit later than the other days and the occasional pet kidnapped by ancient forgotten underground tribes that none should know about and that don't actually exist, couldn't end in anything but a perfectly ordinary night.

Deceit closed the door behind himself with a satisfied sigh; another eventful working day for the radio station had just passed and he let himself wander around the building in search of the bathrooms. Because, you know, sometimes they liked to change places.

Of course, his mere intentions were freshening up a bit and going home once and for all for the night, only that a looming figure above him darkened the room by covering the single source of light on the ceiling and caught his attention immediately.

When he looked up, he was met with a sleeping cat seemingly suspended in the air right next to the sink, which was his destination. Now, don't get him wrong, he wasn't exactly a cat person, but he wasn't a monster either and, well, he was going to wake the poor tired creature if he were to make too much noise!

Walking softly, Deceit made his way to the sink, eyeing carefully the floating creature.

Thoughts of the latest ongoing events traveled through his mind every so often mixing up with other inexplicable ones and just as much frequently going back to that amazingly stunning scientist.

Wasn't it remarkable how washing your face pulled you into an ineffable stream of thoughts in a matter of miserable seconds? Truly one of the quirks of the existence of life.

Deceit started walking back to the door when he heard shuffling in the air and low growling. He turned back to see the black cat on his back, still hovering above the ground, then rolling to get a good view of who had dared to intrude in his new territory.

He had to admit, he didn't realize it at first, but he would've gone back to that moment in the future and he would've labeled it as the exact instant he got raptured by those fascinating different coloured eyes, two little sparkly and attentive irises in the middle of ashen fur. The left one looked like a glacier, not that he had ever seen one close enough to determine its existence, but he could sense a chilly breeze at the sole thought; the right one, though, he wasn't sure. At first glance, it seemed green, only for it to then change to a light brown and, eventually, the more Deceit forced his sight, the more he thought he was seeing them at the same time in a weird yellowish combination. He decided to stop staring, as it wasn't polite.

Nothing of the animal's aura felt threatening, or alarmed at all. It was simply there, bouncing in the nothingness of the room, waiting for Deceit to make any kind of move with no particular expectation.

So he paced forward and gently reached for the cat with one hand: it didn't move, except for the slow calculated heaving of its chest with every breath. Deceit's hand reached the top of its head and, as soon as they shared contact through little caresses, the cat began to purr in contempt and closed its eyes, rubbing its head against his fingers as it decided it could trust him. A half-smile appeared on his lips.

« Oh my! » one of Deceit's coworkers stormed into the bathroom as soon as they saw the scene. « This is the most adorable being I've ever seen! »

Soon enough, a small pack of people was huddled around the cat as he (one of them stated he was, in fact, male) solely licked his paws and was offered food and water.

Now that was good news for the radio; Deceit was aware of the little classification of information that had been going on for millennia, thanks to Erodotus. First priority was a witnessed action, second place was for the action that a person heard from a witness and third came the determining of which could be categorized as potentially true events and which were definitely made up.

Sometimes there was a thin line between the two.

So, yes, as a witness, as soon as he got the chance, he was definitely going to update the town on their new claimed pet.

In a matter of weeks, he had become everybody's best friend and the town's listeners were always more than eager to be informed of how the adorable chubby boy of the radio station's bathroom was doing! Deceit himself couldn't stop sneaking out at times to give him a couple of treats.

I mean, come on, who could even resist those cute demanding eyes? Khoshekh's glare was too much to bear, he kept on getting what he wanted every single time. Gee, what an intelligent and charming cat he was. Who were humans against him? He could have ruled the world if he wanted. Was he going to? You could perceive a certain sparkle in his eyes ...

Maybe.

One day.

But at that time, he only cared for his precious treats and he was fine that way.

Five weeks had passed from the last update on the wonderful feline, when Deceit shut the door of the bathroom behind himself in a movement that reminded him much about the first time he saw Khoshekh.

His face fell in his hands.

« You need to know this. » Deceit's half-muffled voiced traveled through his fingers and reached the cat's ears. Something shifted in the air, but he was too busy pacing around the room and looking at the pavement tiles to realize what had happened.

The light of the room just a bit darker, the shade of the cat just a bit bigger.

Deceit trailed off, gushing about how Logan had called him and how he had acted like a total dumbass, but hey, if that was the price he had to pay to talk to him, he was more than willing to embarrass himself even more.

« For real, though. Can you believe I just said "neat"? Who even says it anymore? » he pinched the bridge of his nose as he heard a humming noise, a little too human to be coming from a cat.

Then again, Deceit was too lost in auto-commiseration to notice.

« Why don't you just ask him out? »

Wait, what?

He had been sure to close the door earlier, he hadn't heard none coming in at all, was he that lost in thought that he-

When his eyes turned to the door, there was none standing in its place, or coming either in or out.

Oh gosh, oh no.

Deceit sighed deeply. Did someone really turn invisible again?

« Over here. » the voice came back from behind him, which caused him to turn to the actual source.

Or not.

In front of him there was a boy definitely younger than him, completely dressed in black clothing and purple patches on his too big but definitely comfortable hoodie, which matched his hair color.

Now, where did he come from?

« Where's the cat? »

« What cat? There's never been a cat. »

Deceit notices the boy was floating mid-air and he had heterochromia. A blue eye and a greenish-brown one.

« You're absolutely right, my mistake. »

The boy crossed his legs and shrinked in his baggy clothing, letting his body be comforted by the softness of the materials.

« So, why don't you do it? » he repeated, looking down on him with a seemingly sleeping expression. Where those his dark circles right under his eyes?

« Oh, I don't think I could ever muster up the courage. »

« And yet, you're able to talk to the entire town at once. »

As much as that was true, Deceit felt deep down that there was no way one could compare Logan's stupendous existence with the one of an ordinary Night Vale citizen. There was really no way.

« He said he didn't need to meet me. » he retorted, clearly just making up excuses at that point.

« He did call you, of all people, though. »

Deceit's eyes widened at the realization. « Oh my god you're right. »

His head fell back in his hands as he replayed the entire conversation in his head for the billionth time, a quiet snicker from the boy filled the silence that was left.

The boy watched him talk to himself about infinite possibilities of where that was probably going.

Then, as if on cue, as if some kind of deity was watching down on them and deciding that was the best moment to strike with a train of coincidences, with a smile on their face so wide it might have fallen from the sky at any time, Deceit's phone rang again.

« It's him! » he exclaimed, surprise in his eyes. Another call? Was it Easter? Christmas came early?

« Go, have you privacy, it's almost time to go back to your room anyway. » how the boy knew that he didn't know, but he complied and excused himself, only to find his working place right next to the bathroom door.

It seemed that day was starting to favor him.

The boy in the bathroom waited.

He floated around the room, mostly by the sink, occasionally changing position. No other worker came by, apart from that lover boy.

He remembered him as the one to give him the most food and care, which would have explained his willingness to change form in his presence.

He had just started to drift back off to sleep, his head barely brushing the wall, when Deceit stormed back in with a huge grin on his face. Was that even a normal facial expression?

« I may have a date. »

« See? What did I tell you? »

He had barely time to speak as Deceit started explaining with a painstakingly accuracy every detail of the phone call and how Logan's voice sounded, so much that the boy could have perfectly imagined it and believed to have already heard it once.

« I need to get ready. » the man started making his way toward the exit.

« Isn't it tomorrow? »

« Yes, but I don't think I'm going to handle it if I don't mentally prepare myself for this. »

« Touché. »

After exchanging their goodbyes (and some food), Deceit was halfway through the door when the boy called out.

« And please, for the love of the glow cloud, tell them my name is Virgil! »

And Virgil hoped he had heard him, despite being lost in his own thoughts and scenarios.

He truly did hope.

[obsidiancreates]

Don’t mean to bother, just a fanfic request, CBF coming to bother Murder trio and Dark, and Jimmy is livid. Take care of yourself, goodnight!

(It’s no bother! :D I’m afraid I failed at that first request... wrote this at sunrise, lol. I hope that didn’t effect the quality too much!)

(I only put the w’s in a few words because I personally find it hard to read when all of CBF’s dialogue is written as it sounds..)

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

“Okay, fire!”

Wilford shot the mini canon at Jimmy. Jimmy flew across the room and very nearly slammed into the wall, stopped only by Dark catching him with a shadow. “Wil, I thought I told you to do these kinds of things outside.”

“Oops! Sorry Darky, I forgot.” Wilford checked the inside of the canon. “Would filling it with cotton candy be any better?”

“No, that would make the whole room sticky.” Dark watched as Wilford started doing it anyway. “Wil, please-”

“Awww, please?”

Dark remained straight-faced as Wilford gave him puppy eyes. “No.”

“K̸illj̡o̕y̶.” Anti said, throwing his knife at Dark’s head. Dark’s aura caught it and sent it right back. 

Jimmy respawned and threw his arm around Dark. “In more ways than one, right?” He grinned. “Where’s your My Chem shirts?”

Dark pushed Jimmy’s arm off of him. “Oh, how clever.”

Jimmy and Dark continued to bicker, Jimmy cackling and screeching while Dark deadpanned and scoffed. Anti watched, highly amused. “I ͟ca͟n't ̢tell̶ if an͜no҉ying ͏Daŕk͘ ̴or̸ wat̴c͜hi͟ǹg s̛o̴m̧e͘one e͜ĺs͘e͘ an͞ǹoy̨ h͟i̕m ́i̶s ͢mor̡e ́fu̷n̸.“ He turned to Wilford, about to ask for some show snacks. But the pink ego was gone.

Anti looked back over at the fight. It wasn’t quite at the violence stage yet, in fact Dark shell hadn’t even begun cracking. He looked back at the empty spot next to him. 

It didn’t feel right, watching a fight without Wilford.

Anti scowled, groaned, and glitched away to go find his friend.

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

Wilford scratched his head. He wasn’t sure how he got outside. He’d only gotten up to shout encouragement to Dark and Jimmy, and then found himself standing in the forest at the edge of the house.

He shrugged. It wasn’t unusual. At least he was nearby and not in another town. Or state. Or country. Or dimension. All were quite possible outcomes.

“Hello?” a voice said from behind him. 

He turned around and was met by a cardboard box with a face drawn on. It had two large black circles for eyes, and a tiny triangle for a mouth. It had a body also made of cardboard boxes, which seemed to be held together by... nothing, really. There was no visible way it stayed together.

“Well, hello there!” Wilford said, unfazed. “What brings you to our yard?”

“I’m looking for my bwother,” the box thing said. “Can you help me find him?”

“I’m afraid I have other matters to attend to,” Wilford said, putting emphasis on ‘others’ for no real reason at all.

“Please? I think he’s in there, but I can’t get in.” It lifted one of it’s rectangle arms and pointed at the house.

“I doubt he’s in there. That’s where I and my pals live.”

“He’s in there. I know he is. But there’s too many refwections.”

Wilford squinted his eyes and tilted his head with confusion. “Huh?”

“Refwections are bad. And there’s so many in the windows!” The box thing looked Wilford in the eyes. “I need to find him. He’s my family. I miss him.”

Wilford pouted. He... actually felt a little bad for it. He sighed dramatically. “O-kay, fine.” He took out his gun and-

“W̶h̷a̵t t̢hè ̧fu͠c̴k ͘i͘s t̷hąt̵?̴”

Anti glitched into existence beside the box thing. It’s triangle mouth turned upside down.

“That’s mean!”

“Ye͠àh̸, n̢o shi҉t.̀ ̕Do͘ ̨I l͡ook͝ ̸n͞i͝ce͘?" Anti looked at Wilford. “G҉et ba̸c͟k i̶nsi̸d̴e,͞ màn.͞ T͢hey'́ll̸ ͡s͝t̷a͏r̵t ͝b͜e͜at̡i̸n̛g҉ ͠each o͠th͏ér̵ ̕up͝ an͠y̵ m͡o̕mén̸t!”

“Oh, right!” Wilford turned to the box thing. “Sorry, little cardboard thing! Goodbye!”

“No!” It stamped it’s foot. “You’re going to help me find Gwegowy!” it screamed.

“Who҉ t̀ḩe fu͢c͏k ̀i҉s-͘”

Before Anti could finish his sentence a knife embedded itself into the box making the body. The cardboard thing screamed, in both rage and pain. Anti looked over at the house. Jimmy stood, arm still outstretched from the throw, fuming. His eyes were a brighter red than Anti had ever seen them. “MY NAME IS NOT GREGORY!”

The box thing pulled the knife out of it’s chest. “Yes it is silly!” It looked between Anti and Wilford. “Did you find us a new family?”

“Get away from them!” Jimmy summoned Knifey back to his hand. 

“I like the pink one!” It put it’s arms around Wilford.

“I SAID GET AWAY!”

“But where’s the mama?”

“There’s no mama! There’s no family! Wil, Anti, get away from it! It’s evil!” Jimmy kept his eyes locked on the box creature.

“S͝o ar҉e͟ ̷ẃe͜.” Even as he said it Anti was backing away from the thing. Wilford was trying to pry it’s arms off of him, but they wouldn’t budge.

“It’s a different kind!”

“I’m not evil, Gwegowy! I’m your fwiend!” It’s hold on Wilford tightened. “I’m your Cardboard Fwiend!”

“SHUT UP!” Jimmy threw Knifey, again and again and again, but never moved closer. “JUST! GO! AWAY!”

“I don’t mean to interrupt this fascinating interaction,” Wilford said breathlessly, “But I can’t feel my body anymore.”

Cardboard Friend pat Wilford on the head. “Just relax new bwother!”

“What’s happening out here?! Who are you idiots-” Dark walked out of the house, ready to scold the trio, but stopped. “What is that?” he demanded, his shell cracking a bit. “Wil, are you alright?”

“I’m dandy! And also passing out, but I’ve been through worse!” Wilford chuckled, and then wheezed. He coughed and tried to catch his breath. 

Dark walked towards Cardboard Friend, his shell seconds from shattering. “Let. Him. Go.”

Cardboard Friend looked at Dark, still holding Wilford. “No.” It tilted it’s head. “Are you the mama?”

Anti burst out laughing, but the look of horror on Jimmy’s face quickly silenced him.

Dark scowled. His aura wrapped around Cardboard Friend’s arms and forced them apart. Wilford dropped, gasping. Anti glitched over and then glitched them both away, to Jimmy. 

Cardboard Friend’s mouth turned upside-down again, and the centers of it’s eyes began glowing red. “You’re a bad mama! Give him back!”

“I’m not your mama, and if you don’t leave right now, you’re going to wish you never met me,” he growled.

“Show it it’s reflection!” Jimmy shouted. “It’ll have to banish itself!” He gripped Knifey so hard his knuckles had gone beyond turning white and had started to go red again because of the cut off circulation.

Dark grabbed Cardboard Friend and brought it to the windows. It screeched and flung it’s arms in front of it’s eyes to it couldn’t look. Dark forced it’s arms down with his aura. It screamed again and struggled in Dark’s grasp, turning it’s head away.

Jimmy looked at Knifey, and then grinned. He ran over and, as Dark struggled to keep hold of the thrashing entity, grabbed Cardboard Friend’s head. He held it still and put Knifey up in front of it’s face. 

“NOOO!” It’s final scream echoed off of the trees as it sank into the ground, banished.

Jimmy giggled. “Oh, that felt good! Ha, I didn’t even lose my mind when I got near it! Ha ha!”

“What was that thing?” Dark demanded, his shell still cracking.

“Part of my backstory. It’s... really complicated. And vague. Even I’m still not entirely sure what that thing is. Just that it’s creepy, and it’s always after... well, it’s always after Ghost, but right now I’m possessing Ghost, so it came after me this time, and it has an effect on me too-”

“Don’t.” Dark held up his hand. “Don’t try to explain your lore. I get a migraine every time I have to hear about it.”

“We͘ ͟wo̷n̢'t͟ ͡hav҉e̷ to͞ ̢deál͝ ͏w̡i҉th ͢it҉ a̵g̴ąi͏n̛,҉ ̢ri͠gh͢t?̨ E̷v̸en I̴ ͢thǫught t͜ha̵t͞ ̵t̀h͝i͜ng ̧ẁas͏ ͘c̴reeṕy.” Anti stared at the spot on the ground it had sunk into. The grass had died almost instantly, leaving it the same color as the cardboard.

“I don’t know,” Jimmy said.

“Well if we do, I’m going to leave,” Wilford said, still wheezing a bit. “You’re all perfectly capable of handling it, so I wouldn’t be needed. Or wanted. And by that I mean I won’t want to be there.”

(And that’s where it ends because I’m about to pass out lol.)

[din-skywalker]

State Fair

(Requested by anon to write some of the egos at the fair! This one was really fun to write ^^ I’ll probably post another spooky fic later):

It was the Texan BBQ all over again. Except now, it was Marvin’s idea and somehow they all got dragged into. Even the Mark egos. Probably because Marvin asked Google to bring them with. Dark found it strange that Google wanted to go after Marvin merely asked. Sure that was his programming, but Google normally only followed direct orders instead of mannerful asking. Luckily, however, Marvin didn’t randomly leave them like Ed had. He stayed, leading them around the large area for a while before wandering off with Google, the Host and Schneeple.

Dark was left stuck with Wilford, Anti and Chase. A strange group, in all honesty, and Dark knew it. He was itching to escape from Anti, at least, but the fellow demon seemed to be sticking near him on purpose. Probably to annoy him. Wilford is running ahead to get a look at all of the games and rides before they actually get to them, nagging Dark to let him go ride and play them.

“Wil, you are a full grown man,” Dark pointed out, eye twitching and annoyance clear in his voice. He side steps closer to Chase, hoping that that would maybe dissuade Anti from following him. It doesn’t. “You don’t have to ask me to go on every damn ride you see.”

Wilford’s eyes widen as if what Dark said was a large and holy realization and a huge grin breaks across his face. He reaches out and grabs both Chase’s and Dark’s hands and drags them after him towards a rather large looking roller coaster. They enter the line just as Anti races to catch up, glitching to move quicker across the ground.  “Wil!” Dark exclaimed quite loudly and his shell trembles with his annoyance, gaining the attention of a few of the other fair goers. Dark forces himself to calm down, brushing his suit. “I am not riding anything.”

“Why not?” Wilford asked with a frown, lips turning down almost comically. Chase is shaking his head, as if still shocked after being dragged so suddenly by the other ego. He looks at Wilford and then grins, throwing an arm around his shoulder. Wilford bends and adjusts slightly to allow the smaller man to do this. “It’ll be lots of fun!”

“Yeah, dude, totally!” Chase said in agreement, winking at both of the demons before him and Wilford. Anti throws a glare at him.

“Don’t act like you were planning this,” Anti spat, clearly annoyed by the other Jack ego. Chase glares in return to him, sticking his tongue out at him. Anti grits his teeth, growling softly.

“Like I said: I am not riding anything,” Dark repeated, pulling at the collar of his sweater that Miss Peggy had knitted him. He loves the damn sweater. Besides, it’s cold so it’s okay to wear it currently. “It is a childish feat.”

“Says the one wearing a cat sweater,” Wilford points out with a wriggle of his eyebrows and oh if he were anyone else he’d be on the ground writhing in pain. But Wilford is not anyone else and so Dark refrains himself hissing in annoyance. “Come on, just one ride?” he bats his eyelashes as though this would help get what he wanted.

Anti snickers beside Dark like some kind of child, covering his mouth with the tips of his fingers. “As if Dark would ever be caught on a ride,” the demon said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest as his entire body glitches terribly. It will do that randomly. Anti can keep up a normal physical form out in public for a time but it will still flicker and glitch in and out of existence at random.

Dark glares down at the shorter demon and then steps forward as the line thins out. “I am going on the ride,” he declared, wanting to prove Anti wrong. Wilford holds out a ticket towards him and he swipes it into his own, handing it to the staff at the entrance and walking to a car.

Chase’s eyes are wide because he hadn’t believed Dark would ever be caught on a ride. Anti chuckles and leans in close ton Chase to whisper:  “Reverse psychology; always works.” Then he walks past and sits down in the car beside Dark. Chase shakes himself before following, sitting beside Wilford. He briefly wonders what the other group of egos are currently doing.

On the other side of the park the Host, Schneeple, Google and Marvin are walking beside a large building in the middle of everything. They had found out that most of the indoor activites of the fair could be found on the inside of this building, including new cars that would be coming out the following year, different, smaller exhibits and the thing Marvin and the Host wants to see most: the petting zoo. It’s a bit farther from the car area, however, and they have to walk through it for a shortcut.

Google stops occasionally to inspect the new car models, pointing out every single flaw in the plans until Marvin has to force him to continue walking.

Though, they do pause in their walk to the petting zoo to crawl into one of the models. The Host hops into the driver’s seat, grabbing onto the wheel. Marvin beats Schneeple to the passenger’s seat(though they had wrestled over it for a few seconds) and so the doctor had to sulkily sit in the back with Google. The Host makes a few mock car sounds as though they’re actually driving and they do this for a few minutes until Marvin suddenly jokingly screams about how “they’re going to crash because Hosty can’t see!”. They get out only when a guard comes over and tells them that they were hogging the model for too long.

Who knew four terrifyingly powered adults could have fun pretending to drive?

They set back on their quest of getting to the petting zoo, only pausing again when the smell of baked goods catches the attention of Schneeple. The doctor had been walking beside the Host, holding his hand when he suddenly started to drift away from the group, dragging the Host after him. Marvin and Google soon notice that the other two are no longer with them and find them at a food stand, Schneeple asking the Host what he wants to eat.

They have some of the best funnel cake Marvin had ever eaten then.

They finally reach the petting zoo after getting filled up on greasy and diabetes filled foods, finding it not more than five feet from where they had been sitting.

Marvin grins as they enter, loving the diverse number of normally wild animals they find inside. But then he hears a faint sound and anyone else would have missed it. In fact, Google and Schneeple are still walking inside. The Host, however, had paused as well and is walking back out of the zoo and Marvin knows he’s following the same sound.

They find kittens in a rather large cage beside the entrance to the petting zoo. Marvin gasps, clapping his hands on his cheeks at the sight of the adorable little creatures tumbling around the cage, tumbling over one another and tumbling down some of the shelves. He presses his hands on the edge of the cage, leaning in as much as he can. The Host is crouched beside him, doing his best to stick a finger between the chain wall to try and pet the kittens. They swarm towards the two people giving them attention, rubbing against the Host’s fingertip and mewing up at Marvin.

The magician’s heart melts. He wanted all of them.

A few minutes later and the other two they had been with find them. “There you are!” Schneeple exclaimed and then notices what the other two are crouched in front of. Great. They’re never going to leave the fair now. “Oh no no no, come on, Hosty, let’s go look at the animals inside.”

“But, Henry,” the Host said in his soft voice and Schneeple has to strain to hear him over the loudness of the crowds around them. He’s running his fingertip across the top of a rather bright orange kitten and it seems to be relishing his touch. A few of the other kittens are trying to push their sibling out of the way to also be pet and the Host can’t even move because they’re so soft and have such adorable mews. He may not be able to see them as well anymore but he can definitely still hear and feel them and he loves both sensations. “Kittens.”

“Yes, Hosty, I can see that but-” he’s cut off as Google pushes past him, crouching beside Marvin to also try and pet some of the kittens. His mouth falls open in disbelief. “Oh not you too, Google!”

Marvin glances over his shoulder for a moment, eyes wide. “Join us, Schneep, join us,” he said in a low and normally creepy voice if it weren’t for the situation diffusing it.

Schneeple shakes his head and sighs heavily. But, he does give in. He walks over and kneels beside the Host, reaching down to try and pet the excitedly mewing kittens.

They didn’t move for hours after that.

Dark is grinning as he steps out of the coaster car, brushing his fingers through his to try and calm it after being buffeted by high speed winds. This was his third ride and he still doesn’t want to stop yet. He had never realized how fun and exhilarating they could be; the wind rushing past you, the screams of fear of your fellow passengers, the sharp drops and spins and turns that could occur. Wilford is laughing as he comes off after Dark, hand locked around Chase’s wrist as he drags him along once more. Dark knows to follow Wilford now. He seems to know where the best rides are by instinct.

Anti has to jog to catch up with Dark as he follows the pink mustached man. In fact, he was going to just continue following the other three, but his eyes drifted, landed on a scene occurring nearby and his heart skips a beat in anger at what he sees. He snarls and uses his power to glitch to the spot where the terrible crime is being committed, dropping down on a man and clawing at him, killing him quickly.

The mini pony which the man had been beating and whipping neighs fearfully, cowering away from Anti into a small corner of the breaking stand they are in. Anti drops the dead man, ignoring the thud to turn his full attention on the hurt pony, heart seizing at the sight of the injured animal. Hurt and tortured people he can handle. But as soon as an animal is bleeding Anti can’t stand it.

“Hey hey hey,” Anti said softly, holding his hands up in a placating manner. The pony snorts and paws at the ground, head bobbing up and down as it backs as far as it can in the small area. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you, I swear.” His words seem to be translating properly because the pony’s ears flick upwards, listening to his words. It lets out a sharp breath and lowers its head. He takes as an invitation, slowly walking towards it. Its head flies back and he pauses but then its ears flatten and it lowers once more. As he nears it fully he lightly placed a hand on its muzzle; one of the only areas to not have been whipped. It snorts again, this time more tiredly and he uses his other hand to carefully pet its back, being sure to avoid any of its wounds.

“I can’t believe he would do this to you,” Anti muttered, scratching its muzzle gently. It snorts once more, brings its head up and further into the demon’s touch. Anti can’t help but smile at the small gesture, looking the pony’s body over more thoroughly. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of ya now…?” he says the last part questioningly and the pony finally speaks to him.

“Called Tiny,” she told him and he can’t believe how adorable her  voice is. He can’t wait to take her home and clean her up, for her wounds to heal and for her white fur to be completely white again. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Anti said with a grin and scratches the area behind her ear. “Now, let’s get you out of here.”

It’s when Anti has gotten Tiny out of the small stand and when they’re about to hop onto their fifth ride when Chase notices the absence of Anti’s bitchy presence. He stops in his tracks, also stopping Wilford’s quick process. Dark nearly crashes into them. “Why’d we stop?” Wilford asked before Dark could say anything.

“Where’s Anti?” Chase asked, glancing around and he can see both Dark’s and Wilford’s eyes widen. They run now to find the missing demon.

They find him when he’s almost somehow reached the exit, mini pony in tow. They all stop and stare at one another, Tiny snorting as she looks at a person that looks a lot like the nice man helping her. Except she wears one of those weird things on his head that the humans call hats, she thinks.

“Anti,” Dark began and his eyes flicker from the pony to the demon’s face. Anti steps in front of the pony, as though that could somehow hide it from their sights and make them forget about it. “What the hell are you doing?”

Anti chuckles sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head before his eyes narrow. “Why should it matter to you?” he asked instead of answering, defiantly crossing his arms over his chest like an indigent child. Tiny huffs, smelling at his elbow and he can’t help but giggle at the ticklish feeling it causes. He clears his throat and glares once more at Dark.

“You're rescuing a pony!” Chase and Wilford exclaimed in unison, gasping insync as they stare at the battered pony.

“Stay away from her she's hurt!” Anti yelled at them as they try approaching. He places his hands on his hips. “Yes. I am saving her. Now scurry on I can handle her.”

Chase draws his lips together and sighs, already turning, grabbing Wilford’s hand. “Come on, Wil. Let's go on the mega drop,” he said and Wilford follows after. But they don't have the same vigor as before.

Dark stays, watching as Anti once more begins to lead the small pony towards the exit. “Why are you helping it?” He inquired, curious of the other demon’s nature. He never seems to care when others hurt. Why does this pony matter?

“None of your business,” Anti growled, opening the back gate of the fair. No guards are around and so he leads Tiny through it, out into the open. “Just go away and leave me be.”

Dark rolls his eyes before shrugging, turning and walking away without another word. Anti nods sharply as he does, patting Tiny’s ear.

Anti somehow sneaks Tiny all the way back o his house. Which is a very big surprise for Marvin to come home to hours after the demon had already left.

But then again, he has five kittens in his arms. Google has two more for him. The Host had taken three and Schneeple adopted one of the nearby puppies. Wilford won Chase a large, raccoon animal from a game and Dark had cotton a huge bag of candy which he silently hands to Wilford(for Carnival Game).

All in all, they had a good day.

___

hope ya’ll enjoy ;)

@magic-marvin-protection-patrol

@chase-brody-protection-squad

@thanxolotl

[missmungoe]

If you're still doing the flower prompts, would you consider Kingcup (youth, innocence, dawn) for Garp and the Shanks/Makino family? I was taken with the image of a long retired Garp handling baby Ace in 'A New Tide In An Old Bottle'. And mildly amused once I considered that a retired Shanks can longer avoid Garp whenever he visits Foosha village.

A PORT AND FOUR WALLS // shanks x makino // kingcup; youth, innocence, dawn (I love writing this family, anon, bless you for requesting this)

It’s a commonly held belief that retirement brings peace – the chance to sit back and relax, a legacy sowed and reaped, and little of the sea to contend with other than the occasional tide, and news from abroad.

Of course, sometimes the tide brings more than just news and sea foam.

“Garp called,” Makino announces one morning, before he’s even finished walking down the stairs. “He’s coming for a visit.”

Sleep deprived with a six-day beard and baby sling in place, Shanks just looks at her – notes her cheerful smile and perky, up-with-the-sun-even-with-a-screaming-infant-at-the-breast disposition, and tries to remember the many horrors he’s lived through on the sea that have had worse odds than this. He comes up short.

“Is it too late for me to un-retire and go back to pirating?” he asks, and spares an idle thought to how far he could get by rowboat with one arm. “We could bring the kids.”

Her smile tells him plainly how good his chances are, and so he relents with a sigh he carries with him down the last remaining steps.

The sun having just crept above the treetops, not yet high enough to make it through the bat-wing doors, there isn’t a soul in their bar save the two of them, and the little one sleeping against his chest. Their son has, thankfully, started to keep more regular hours, although Shanks knows it won’t be long until he’ll be up, too. Of course, only three hands between them has never been much of an issue, with a whole village to assist (and it takes one, he’s heard, and has never found it to be more true, with two children under the age of five).

Taking a seat at the bar, he’s careful not to jar the baby, snug in her sling, and spends a quiet minute watching Makino moving about, an impressive performance of multitasking; a tray under one arm and her inventory list tucked between her teeth, and quick hands busy tying her apron around her waist.

And there’s a particular sort of quiet to mornings like this, with just the two of them. The windows thrown open and the sea coming in, along with the first shafts of sunlight, glinting off the bottles on the shelf, greens and golds and browns; a kaleidoscope of coloured glass and liquor from across the blues. It’s peace, the quiet prelude to a busy day, no sea underfoot pitching a creaking deck and no sails spread white against the sky overhead, but it’s not regret he finds in considering it – the clean, sturdy floorboards and the heavy ceiling beams. The silver sea beyond the windows, lit by the sun; no longer steering his course, but always within reach.

It’s probably fitting, Shanks thinks, with wry amusement, lone hand curved around the sleeping baby – that his particular retirement should come with a bar.

“Are you falling asleep in your seat?”

He blinks, and when he lifts his gaze it’s to find his wife grinning at him from across the counter, brown-gold eyes gleaming like one of the bottles on the shelf behind her. “It’s a good thing it’s my turn to do inventory,” Makino muses. “From the look of you, I’m surprised you remembered to put on a shirt when you got out of bed.”

“Hey,” Shanks laughs. Then, looking down at himself, just to check, “No. I did.”

When he looks at her again, her expression has changed, and his cheeky smile eases into something softer at her concern, shown without pretence. She might have been up before him this morning, but he’d spent most of the night trying to sing their screaming daughter to sleep.

“I could take her for a few hours, if you want to get some sleep,” Makino says, stepping out from behind the bar to where he’s sitting. “It’s a little while yet before business picks up. And I could ask Ben for help with Ace, when he stops by.”

Shanks glances at the tray still tucked under her arm and the inventory list in her hand, her apron in place and not a wrinkle in it. Knowing her, it wouldn’t hinder her much to have a baby at the breast; like it had barely slowed her down conducting her business when she was pregnant, maneuvering between her tables with a straining stomach, and no patience for the hands tugging her down into a chair, to take breaks.

That old fondness that’s hers fills his gut, climbs up his stomach to his heart like the spreading warmth of a good drink, and his smile doesn’t feel as tired as he does. “You say that,” Shanks tells her, “but you already know she screams the minute I put her down. I already tried. Three times.”

“She likes it when you carry her,” Makino says, smiling eyes dropping to their daughter, fast asleep now. A deceptive picture of delicate sweetness, for how much noise can come out of such a tiny creature.

Shanks sighs a laugh, smoothing his hand over the shape of her; the cup of his palm fitting around the curve of her back. Still so small, at three months; her hair still dark, like the eyes behind those tiny, closed lids. She doesn’t stir, seeming wholly content to demonstrate an answer to her mother’s remark. “Yeah,” he says. “Wilful little thing, isn’t she?”

“Says the man she gets it from.”

“I’m sorry,” he laughs, mock-affronted. “The most wilful creature on the five seas said what?”

She flicks his nose for that, but draws her fingers back before he can kiss them, curving them over his cheek, before a tug at his beard follows; a small, favourite gesture that comes without thinking. They have their share of those; their little intimacies, wrought from so much time spent apart, as though they’re always seeking physical assurances now, of each other’s presence.

“You know, this is the most decently dressed I’ve seen you in years,” Makino tells him, smoothing her palm over the sling where it’s wrapped around his shoulder, eyes lingering on the scars climbing over his collar, healed but still slightly pink. He’s flashing a lot less chest than usual, although it’s not for lack of trying, no matter what she says. “Fatherhood has changed you.”

Oh he’ll forgo the shirt entirely next time, just for that comment, and he sees that she’s caught onto his line of thinking by the fond roll she gives of her eyes, although the gleam in them stays, like the hand lingering on his shoulder.

“I see you making bedroom eyes at me, wife, but I’m warning you, the minute my head hits anything even resembling a pillow, I’m going to be snoring on the spot.” He sighs, and with a touch more drama than he really needs, although that’s never stopped him. “It pains me just to say it. You’d have to have your way with me.”

She tries to stifle her smile, but when he angles his head to claim a kiss it fleets, quick across her face into something silly and laughing. Leaning close, she takes care not to wake the baby, palm tucked to his cheek and her returning kiss unbearably soft, and there’s a suggestion on its way off his tongue that maybe a fourth attempt to put their daughter down will do it, and they can get in a quickie in the storeroom before they open, when Makino pulls back.

“If you’re thinking of escaping by rowboat,” she says with a firm kiss to his mouth, “you should start rowing now. Garp will be here in two days.”

Shanks sticks his tongue out. “You joke, but I just might.”

Looking down at their daughter, that little red mouth pursed with the kind of innocence that makes him forgive and forget all the times she’s kept him up with her screaming, “So what about it, swallow? Will it be a pirate’s life for us?” he murmurs. “Even your grandpa would have trouble arresting someone so adorable. It would be the perfect distraction.”

“He’s not going to be arresting anyone,” Makino says. The look she gives him tries to be pointed, but she looks far too amused for it to be even remotely convincing. “You’re family now.”

“God,” Shanks sighs. “Don’t let Garp hear you say that. I’m pretty sure he’s still considering having me tossed in Impel Down for marrying you.”

“Hmm,” she hums, tapping the pencil against her cheek, fingertips worrying one corner of the inventory list, as though in contemplation. “Which level would that kind of crime warrant?”

“Your concern for my wellbeing is touching, dear heart.”

“I’ll write you,” she says, with a pat to his cheek. Then with a last, adoring glance at their daughter, sets off towards the storeroom. “But if you’re really worried, there are lots of dinghies at the docks,” she tosses over her shoulder, and with a laugh that chases after her along with his reaching fingers.

Shaking his head, Shanks looks at the baby and muses, “Maybe when you’re older, huh? You take the oars, I’ll navigate.”

“Better take Ben with you,” Makino calls from within the storeroom. “If I’m to believe what I’ve heard about your navigation skills.”

“Mommy teases, but we won’t be bringing her, will we?” Shanks asks the sleeping baby. “She’d spend the whole voyage throwing up over the side of the boat. Can’t have that if we’re going to claim the sea for ourselves.”

He speaks the words with ease, and there’s little of that old longing he once felt at the thought of setting sail. Instead, the anticipation he feels finds its heart in the little one beating gently against his own, wanting to know what she’ll be like, when she grows up – if she’ll desire the sea, or something else entirely. He wonders if her hair will stay dark, and if she’ll grow up with her feet planted on solid land, or seeking unsteady footing on an ocean that never stops moving.

He considers it for a moment, that new longing; the one that burrowed deep when he wasn’t looking, one sunny afternoon well over a decade ago, stepping through the doors at his back for the very first time and finding a reprimand for dawdling in them too long. He hadn’t left Fuschia the same man who’d stepped onto the docks, a part of him having settled down to stay, years before he finally followed suit.

When he looks up it’s to find Makino in the storeroom doorway, mouth pursed with that knowing smile that has too much patience for his dramatics, and, “No,” Shanks says quietly, looking at her, and their bar. It’s not an island, like he’d promised her once, but it’s theirs, still. This life, this home. “I don’t think I could leave her, for all the sea in the world.”

Dark eyes curving, he finds her laugh-lines, not etched as deep as his, but soft and delicate. Lines from a life spent smiling, and often. “Who knows?” Makino asks. “Maybe I’d endure the seasickness.”

Shanks grins. “Yeah? If we leave now, we’ll be in the next port before Garp gets here. We can even bring Ben.”

She laughs, and turns back to the storeroom. “With how well his new tobacco enterprise is doing, I doubt he’d appreciate being uprooted.”

“You say that like he has a choice in the matter.”

“You say that like you have,” Makino counters, before slipping smoothly through the doorway.

Shanks shakes his head, but it’s hard to stop smiling, with her laughter filling the quiet, and the little body sleeping against his chest, small breaths and that still-new heart. The sun has started stretching languidly across the floorboards, and it’s not long before there’s an echo of footsteps on their porch, before the first creak of the doors sings through the morning.

But even with their first customers making themselves comfortable, the clink of glasses and plates joining the familiar cacophony, their daughter sleeps on. And home is home, solid and safe; four walls and a roof and the sea beyond the port, and not likely to be shaken by a little familial upheaval.

Even if it is Garp.

—

He arrives two days later, as announced. A ship pulls into port while Shanks is reading the morning paper, and word of his arrival reaches them even before the man himself strides inside, the doors swinging wildly and dragging every set of eyes in the room to the doorway.

Coming to a stop, a broad-shouldered mountain of grizzled whiskers and garish floral print that makes even Shanks’ best efforts seem half-hearted, Garp’s gaze seizes upon him, standing behind the bar with the newspaper spread across the countertop – then takes in the apron slung around his hips, and the kitchen towel tossed haphazardly over his shoulder.

Shanks thinks he makes for a damn good-looking barkeep, but he’s not surprised it’s not agreement that he finds on Garp’s face.

“Don’t tell me you’re running this place now,” Garp says, the remark a muted thunder of derision that flings out like a punch.

Shanks grins, and chirps, “Can I get you a drink, Garp?”

Those hard eyes make a broad sweep of the bar, taking in the fully seated tables with a furrow growing deep between his brows, the frown pulling at the scar on his temple. More than just the regulars he’s used to seeing, going by the telling downturn of his mouth, but before he can comment on the fact there are footsteps on the stairs, and then Makino is there, the baby snuggled in her arms.

“Garp,” she greets warmly, coming to a stop beside Shanks, and the furrow between Garp’s brows smoothens out – disappears, leaving something curiously unreadable. She hasn’t had time to tie her hair up this morning, and it falls loose around her shoulders, a handful claimed by the little girl being gently rocked in her arms. “How was the voyage over?”

Their daughter is awake, and Shanks reaches out to touch a fingertip to her nose, finding her eyes seeking his, wide and dark in her small face. Sticking his tongue out tempts a toothless smile, and his own, an even wider thing. 

Garp’s attention seems to have momentarily been stolen by the baby, but, “Can’t complain,” he says gruffly. Then with another glance at the room, “Your whole damn crew is here,” he says to Shanks. He’s not surprised it comes off sounding like an accusation rather than an observation.

He doubts the fact that they’re all grinning is helping.

“Crew?” Shanks asks, innocently. His daughter makes a noise, soft and gurgly, stealing his gaze, before he’s lifted it back to the old marine, who seems stubbornly intent on holding onto his glare with his bare hands. “I’m not a pirate anymore, Garp. I don’t have a crew.”

The look he gets for that makes it hard to keep his grin from stretching into something that will no doubt be taken as insufferable cheek, and, “Once a pirate, always a pirate,” Garp drawls, and spares another cutting glance at the people seated around the room. “And what the hell would you call these guys, if they’re not?”

“I’m a humble farmer!” someone calls from across the room, followed by a chorusing assent, although their widening grins render their professed innocence a little redundant.

“We plough, we don’t plunder!”

“No pirates hereabouts, Garp!”

Garp’s expression doesn’t twitch from its wholly deadpan slant, and Shanks doesn’t even bother tempering his grin now. “I don’t know what to tell you, but you’ll have a lot of work on your hands, arresting them all. Although if you do you can start with Ben, for his tobacco prices. They’re criminal.”

“You don’t even smoke,” Ben speaks up from where he’s sitting, reading the newspaper, his godson in his lap. A firm and decisive Ben-ben rises into the quiet, and Ben pats his head, obediently flipping the page, to the growing elation of the little hands reaching to mimic the gesture, flipping it back. Shanks doubts Ben has gotten past the first article, but there’s little but patient amusement to be found on his face.

Garp snorts, and gives Shanks another once-over. “You take up farming, too?”

“You don’t have to sound so dubious.”

Garp just looks at him, and Shanks grins, adding, “But since you ask, I haven’t. Barkeeping proved the greater calling, and I thought I’d give my wife a hand. Only one, mind you.” His raised brows earn him a laughing sigh from his wife, and more than one groan from across the room. Someone threatens to toss a fork at his head.

Tossing a vulgar gesture at them all, Shanks looks back at Garp. “But since you obviously don’t think I could, now I’m tempted to reevaluate my new career just to prove you wrong. I have lots of of hidden skills, horticultural and otherwise.”

Slender fingers settling on his shoulder with tender warning, “If you make that crop fertilising joke in front of the man who is essentially my father, you will be changing her diapers alone until she is out of them,” Makino murmurs under her breath, sweet smile in place as she tucks the baby into the crook of his arm, and she’s breezed by him before Shanks can quip that he has an even better joke at hand, about their bountiful harvest so far.

He tucks it under his tongue for later, and turns his gaze back to Garp, wearing an enduring expression that makes Shanks wonder if he wasn’t expecting a joke of the sort, but before he can decide whether or not to risk his life attempting one, Garp’s gaze drops to the baby.

His expression shifts again, into that unreadable thing that beckons some old, long-buried feeling. The occupants in the room are keeping up a convincing show of going about their own business, while shamelessly observing the exchange.

“Emmy,” Shanks says at length, rocking her a little. She makes that small sound he loves; that soft little humming thing that never fails to make him smile like an idiot.

He’s surprised to see Garp’s features slacken, before something like a laugh drags out of him; a sharp gust of breath, sounding almost startled. Then, dryly, “Good thing the old girl’s dead, or she would have pitched a fit hearing that,” he says.

The tightly strung tension loosens like a sigh, and the grins in the room turn back to their plates and glasses.

Shanks smiles. “Makino said something similar.”

“Didn’t stop her,” Garp says, with a snort too soft to be convincingly derisive. “Probably shouldn’t be surprised. Always did make her own decisions.”

The look he gives Shanks lingers, but the glare doesn’t cut with the same sharpness this time.

Garp looks at the baby then, still cooing softly, her little arms reaching, but Shanks’ hair isn’t as long as her mother’s, and there’s nothing to offer purchase for her wilful curiosity.

“She’s quiet,” Garp observes. Then, a grey brow arching, “You sure she’s yours?”

Shanks looks to Makino, having come back with a tray full of empty plates. “That joke is less funny coming from other people.” Then to Garp, “But don’t be fooled, she screams like a banshee. A very cute banshee, but still.”

A fleeting smile touches Garp’s hard features, before it’s gone. His eyes are still on the baby, and Shanks recognises that look – has felt the same feeling, like a snare curling, tender and damning around the roots of his heart. Her mother’s legacy, that; just as deceptively innocent, with that beckoning smile and song-like laughter.

“Want to hold her?” Shanks asks Garp then, and that hard gaze lifts sharply back to his. “I should probably do some work, before the missus decides I’m not worth what she’s paying me for my hard labour.”

“Which would be nothing,” Makino gets in, slipping by him to put two plates of food down on the counter.

“You referring to what you’re paying him, or the hard labour he’s supposedly doing?” Yasopp asks, stopping by the bar to pick up the plates.

“Both,” she quips, before making a face at their daughter as she moves past, prompting a wide little smile that steals Shanks’ focus away from coming up with a clever comeback.

When he finally drags his eyes back up, Garp is still watching, hesitation writ across his face with a severe frown, and for a moment Shanks wonders if he might decline the offer, but then he grumbles something that sounds like wary assent.

Stepping around the bar, Shanks moves to hand over the baby, and wonders if that twinge of reluctance will ever let go, or if it’s just the fate of every new and enamoured parent.

For his size and rough-around-the-edges manners, Garp handles the transition with surprising ease, the small shape of her tucked into a broad arm that makes the contrast look almost comical. She makes a noise when Shanks draws back, but then her eyes lock onto the face looking down at her, and stay, quietly enraptured.

“She’s a wee thing,” Garp says then, roughly, carefully shifting his grip on the baby. Something like a smile lingers at the corner of his mouth, seeming to come almost despite himself.

“She’s sturdier than she looks,” Shanks says, with a glance at Makino, busy moving between the tables, collecting plates and glasses. “A lot like her mother, that way.”

A low sound of agreement, but Garp hasn’t lifted his eyes from the baby, fussing a little in the blanket wrapped around her, arching her back, but his grip remains steady. For a moment, his eyes seem far away; years and seas.

“You know,” Garp says, after a lull. He plucks at the blanket, and doesn’t look at Shanks. “The only other times I’ve held a baby in this bar, I’ve been handing one over.”

The remark holds more tenderness than a man like Garp should readily manage, and enough old grief that it turns his voice low and grating. But the baby doesn’t flinch at the sound, only gives a tiny little gurgle and smacks her lips, and Garp’s whole expression caves.

“Times change,” Shanks says, and feel the truth of that in his bones. Their bar, choked-full of retired pirates, and the bright, buttery light spilling unhindered in through the windows, along with the sea.

Their daughter smiles then – that small, enchantingly gummy thing that has no care for the past, and what used to be in it. And with a glance at Shanks, there’s none of the old accusation in Garp’s gaze, the one that’s been trained on the cabin boy, the pirate captain, the mischief-maker that had interfered in so many lives connected to his own; his grandson’s, his almost-daughter’s. And it’s not accusation that takes in the little girl that came of it – who belongs here, between these walls; a pirate’s daughter, maybe, but this world will not so readily condemn her for it, as it once would.

And, “Yeah,” Garp says with a rough, affectionate laugh. It prompts a giggle, and the laugh rises, louder, pushing up under the ceiling, and for a brief moment, Shanks hears Roger in the sound; that effortless ease that had never flinched at shifting currents, only revelled in them, as Garp adds with a rumbling sigh,

“They have that.”

—

Garp makes a point of stopping by, after that.

He always calls in advance, and Shanks always counters with the suggestion that he’s doing it to give them the chance to wrap up whatever illegal business they’re all running out of Fuschia’s port (Garp never really laughs at that joke, and Shanks is almost inclined to believe that it’s exactly what he’s doing). But there’s little in the way of illegal business, at least not counting Ben’s tobacco prices, which are about as ridiculous as his burgeoning reputation, but at least now there’s more than melons and windmills to Fuschia’s once-humble renown.

There are also more ships coming into port than there used to be, and although there are few of East Blue’s residents who’ll bat an eye at the one-armed barkeep serving the drinks at the local tavern, there are those who take one step inside and look ready to turn back; usually those from abroad who’ve heard the rumours and who’ve come looking despite their better judgement. Because a former Emperor putting down roots might not lift a lot of brows in Dawn Island’s immediate vicinity, but there are those who’ll see it before they believe it (and still keep a wary distance, even after Shanks offers to pour them a strong one to better swallow their disbelief).

Garp believes it readily enough, although he gives Shanks about as much grief as Ben does for his barkeeping skills (“okay, but I’d like to see either of you polish a glass one-handed, then we’ll talk,” Shanks counters, “and I look hot in this apron, don’t even try convincing me that I don’t”), and it’s a truce that grows easier with every visit, any lingering awkwardness smoothened by the little boy running to greet him at the docks, searching his pockets for gifts, and the girl who is nothing but smiles and laughter in his arms (“at least this one didn’t get the hair,” Garp says dryly, even as he sighs, “but the laugh, god help me…”)

It takes a while before Shanks stops suggesting they take to the sea whenever there’s a phone call, a gurgling laugh from the girl on his arm rising in accompaniment, always ready to indulge his schemes. And when their daughter is old enough to vocally declare her desires for the sea and the swashbuckling lifestyle to her long-suffering grandfather, Shanks can only grin and profess his poorly feigned innocence.

Of course, Garp doesn’t believe him for a second, but then he’s probably right not to. Because it’s true what they say, long-retired or not – 

once a pirate, always a pirate.

[rhetoricandlogic]

“Truth is Their Weapon.” – A Review of Under the Pendulum Sun by Jeannette Ng

Some time ago, there was an article on Lithub titled “The Greatest Goths in Literary History”: something fun and light that poked gentle fun at some notable writers. Since I have some friends who are fascinated by goth culture and even participate in it, I posted the link on my Facebook and tagged the friends in question. One of them pointed out that Arthur Conan Doyle’s belief in fairies is actually very much goth – especially if one believes in “old-school” fairies: by which she means the Fae of European folklore.

That is an idea I very much agree with. After all, if “gothic” can be broadly defined as “dark, eerie, and slightly macabre”, then the Fae very much fit into that definition. It takes some digging, since so much of the older stories has been obscured by more recent interpretations of fairies, but a quick reading of the older stories shows that the Fae are not the bright, happy, cherubic creatures so often portrayed in children’s literature and media. They are harbingers of death, or givers of blessings. They are impish pranksters who mean little to no harm, or wilful deceivers who lead mortals into harm’s way. They steal men, women, and babies; sometimes they return them, but always with caveats. Oftentimes, they are all those things, all at once. The Fae occupy a space in the imagination that seems limned with light, but if the reader looks close enough, looks hard enough, he or she realises that all that light actually hides – or creates – some very deep, very dark shadows.

This is the vision of the Fae that Jeannette Ng presents in her novel Under the Pendulum Sun. Set in an alternate history of the 1800s, the narrator is Catherine Helstone, who journeys to Arcadia, the land of the Fae, in search of her brother Laon. Upon arrival, however, she is brought to Gethsemane: an old mansion where she is told to await her brother’s return from whatever journey he has gone on. But Gethsemane hides secrets within its walls, and as Catherine starts piecing those secrets together, truths are gradually revealed that could alter her perspective of Arcadia, the Fae, her brother – and herself.

One of the first and most important things readers need to know about this book is that it is multilayered, and those layers go pretty deep. On the surface, it looks like the standard gothic novel with some fairytale elements, but if the reader digs deeper then he or she begins to find threads that point to other sources. The literary references are fairly obvious: traces of Spenser’s The Faerie Queene, Shakespeare’s The Tempest, and Keats’ La Belle Dame sans Merci can all be found quite easily, and likely spring to mind easily as well, given the references to the Fae.

But less obvious are the theological references: callbacks to Milton, Dante, Calvin, and other theological authors and philosophers are littered throughout the text. Then there are other, far less obvious references that I cannot tease out due to my lack of knowledge of said texts. On one hand, this makes sense, since Catherine and Laon are meant to be missionaries converting the Fae to Christianity, but on the other the references go deeper than that. They all tie into the themes: questions about the nature of God, faith and the soul are obvious, of course, but there are also more philosophical questions buried in there, questions about how to define truth, and how stories and storytelling play into the creation of truth.

Of course, all of this means that this is a rather complicated, multilayered read. Indeed, reading this novel reminded me of Ada Palmer’s Too Like the Lightning. In Too Like the Lightning, Palmer uses Enlightenment philosophy as the primary underpinning for the novel; similarly, Ng uses theology and medieval and Renaissance literature as the primary underpinning for Under the Pendulum Sun. If the reader does not have the same level of knowledge that the author does, then he or she is likely going to miss something, or have a reference go over his or her head.

Personally, I do not think this is a bad thing; part of the reason why I read books in the first place is to learn new things, and if a book exposes gaps in my knowledge then that’s quite fine with me. It just means there is more to discover out there, more things to learn, and I am one of those people who is always happy to know that the horizon of my knowledge has not yet come so close that I am running out of new things to know.

I am aware, however, that all of this subtlety is not to other readers’ tastes. That is understandable, since some readers just do not have the patience for untangling all the small references that the author has layered into this book. In some novels, this might be a make-or-break kind of deal, but fortunately in this one, that is not the case. This novel does not require a degree in theology, or one in medieval and Renaissance literature, to enjoy – though of course, such knowledge certainly adds to the enjoyment. Readers are free to read this purely as a gothic horror story, but if they have the kind of background knowledge to understand all the references included in the story, then they will derive that much more enjoyment from it.

And speaking of plot, this novel has an amazingly well-crafted one. I like it when I cannot always predict which way a plot will turn, and this novel had quite a few twists and turns that I rarely saw coming. I encounter such books fairly rarely, so when I do read one it is always a genuine pleasure for me.

I must note here, however, that one of those twists makes use of a trope that I am not sure other readers will enjoy. I shall not mention it, since to do so would be to give away a particularly large spoiler, but I would like to reassure readers that the author manages to handle it fairly well, all things considered – especially given how other creators have handled this particular trope. Still, it is there, and if readers of this review are concerned about it, I would be willing to inform them of it in the comments.

Overall, Under the Pendulum Sun is what I call a “Chinese puzzle ball” story: beautifully crafted and structured, but containing a deeper, hidden heart that takes patience to reach. As is often the case with many puzzles, the pleasure is not in solving the puzzle, but in the journey to that solution: the many possibilities and options the mind considers as it tries to get to the heart of the matter. That is very much the case with this novel, and while some readers might not enjoy its intricacies, I am certain there are plenty more out there who will derive great pleasure from this rich, multilayered read.

[inkribbon796]

Where’s the Logic in Feeling?

Summary: Living together has been difficult. Whether it’s Remus pranking Roman 24/7, or Patton and Janus having silent standoffs in the kitchen after an argument, but all of them would rather take those little wars of attrition than the elephant in the room. Logan isn’t doing well and no one knows how to help.

A/N: This is a follow-up to several other fics starting with Little Wonders and was touched on in Rules of the Game. This fic touches on the effects of PTSD, mainly Logan almost died and he’s not doing well.

It was late at the Sides’ two-floor apartment, and the day had been relatively uneventful. Except for a small argument in the morning where both Roman and Remus argued about who got to use the bathroom first.

But at this point that had become the new routine in the morning and Virgil had taken to applying his own eye shadow in his bedroom with a mirror that had been stolen from Roman room to avoid using the same bathroom as the two bickering brothers.

Tonight Janus, Remus, Roman, and Patton were playing poker. Virgil was watching them from the couch, watching something on his phone. The cards were a Disney card set that Roman had made, the chips matched the fairytale theme of the cards.

Janus smiled as he pushed all his chips in.

“There’s no way,” Roman spat at the partially-serpentine Side, clutching his cards a bit too tightly. “You’re not winning another game.”

“I have full confidence in my cards,” Janus smiled as Remus pushed all of his remaining chips in with an overeager grin on his face.

“I fold,” Patton sighed, tossing his cards down. “My cards are terrible this round.”

“There’s no way you have better cards than me,” Roman decided competitively, pushing his chips in, and throwing down his cards which were an ace and a jack. “Two of a kind, there.”

Remus held up his two cards which were a six and a nine respectively. “I think I’ve done pretty nice for myself.”

“Remus, sweetheart,” Janus reminded gently. “Poker isn’t won with memes.”

“Well it should be,” Remus corrected firmly.

“Show me the cards, you filthy snake,” Roman demanded, his voice starting to get louder.

“Now, kiddo, we shouldn’t call other people names,” Patton reminded.

Janus and Roman ignored him, and he tossed down a king and a queen. “Royal flush.”

“What?!” Roman shouted angrily.

“That means I win,” Janus smiled, sprouting his other arms and started to pull the chips towards him.

“You dirty, rotten scoundrel!” Roman shouted, grabbing for the chips as well. “You cheated!”

“Kiddo, keep your voice down,” Patton tried to quiet him, glancing towards the stairs.

Janus scoffed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m an angel.”

“A kinky angel,” Remus leaned in.

Deceit pushed him away with one of his arms.

“Sweet Frank Iero,” Virgil grumbled, “it’s like living in the apartment again.”

There was a distinct slamming of a door from upstairs, everyone downstairs froze, and after a couple seconds Logan came down. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and in his pajamas instead of his typical button up shirt and tie that he wore in his down time.

“Lo, did I wake you up?” Roman looked especially apologetic.

At first Logan pointedly ignored him, opening up the fridge to grab some Crofters and a spoon, “No, I was already up.”

Janus winced at the lie, but didn’t call Logan out on it. They’d all been woken up at one point or another by Logan screaming himself awake in the middle of the night.

Quietly, Logan walked back up the stairs, already opening the jar back up and just spooning jam into his mouth.

Roman jumped over the table, almost stepping on Remus’s kidney, the rest of the argument with Janus forgotten as Roman scrambled to follow Logan, making sure he made noise so that the logical Side knew that Roman was following him.

Logan walked into their bedroom, closing the door behind him. Roman stood outside, unsure how to help Logan. Declarations of love, poetic ballads, and an always faithful sword couldn’t really protect from the thoughts in your own head.

Logan was usually the person to help people cope with their problems, so Roman found himself at a complete loss.

Taking a deep breath, Roman knocked on the door lightly before walking in. “Lolo?”

He opened the door to find Logan at his desk again, an old WWI era camera sitting on Logan’s desk. It was the same camera that Joan had brought into their first apartment and Thomas had been violently split apart into his Sides. The pink mustache sprayed on it was still visible.

“Hey, brainiac, I see you dusted out that old relic,” Roman tried to cheer him up.

“I was able to do some minor research on this object while I was undercover,” Logan commented, and Roman walked over to sit on the bed, tossing Patton’s old cardigan into their hamper. “Apparently Wil was trying to get rid of some objects without Dark’s notice, and it exchanged hands for a bit until it got into Joan’s possession.”

“So why didn’t it activate sooner?” Roman asked.

“For all we know it might have, but I have no records of a severe reaction like Thomas’s,” Logan answered. “However my attempts to replicate the incident have resulted in failure.”

“Why would you want that? Roman asked, confused.

“There is too much I don’t understand about the effects,” Logan answered. “How does the object work? What caused it to activate? Why did it split us into pieces? All I know about the camera is that Wilford sold it to avoid Dark finding out about a lover he was seeing at the time, it didn’t work and I don’t even know if giving it back to Dark and having someone ask would just answer my questions faster.”

“Well it probably doesn’t matter,” Roman decided, Logan sighed and gave him a drained, defeated look on his face. “Even if understanding it could reverse it, fusion already does the trick.”

Logan seemed to get frustrated, “That answers even fewer of my questions. How can we fuse in the first place? Why fusion in particular and not literally anything else? I am Thomas’s logic but yet I feel things. I feel joy, and anger . . .”

The Side trailed off a bit, clearly frustrated, “I feel things, and I don’t like it.”

“Isn’t that why being human is all about?” Roman proclaimed proudly. “Hearing, feeling, experiencing. That’s life!”

“I just!” Logan started loudly before his hands flew to his eyes. He took off his glasses. “I am supposed to be Thomas’s logic, but emotions are such metaphorically sticky and confusing things. But I am human now, I feel and hunger, and want things. It confuses me, and I don’t know how to process it anymore.”

Roman frowned, “If only your demons were so easy to vanquish, my dear. My sword would draw first blood.”

“I’ve been asking Dr. Iplier for assistance,” Logan admitted, cleaning his glasses. “I am, very clearly, out of my area of expertise when it comes to my own emotional state. But finding an impartial psychologist or a therapist is challenging, especially one who will not be at risk of Dark finding them and getting information out of them through theft or bribery.”

“I could grab Patton and you could talk to Emile,” Roman offered.

Logan chuckled a bit, putting his glasses back on, “I appreciate your willingness to help, but it would not be ethical for Emile to treat me, he would be considered family. Besides, Emile is not an actually licensed therapist.”

“Something we should have fixed years ago,” Roman reminded.

“I barely had the time to finish Thomas’s schooling,” Logic reminded. “Switching majors so late would have been an ill-thought through decision on my part.”

“Sorry I woke you up, I know you need the sleep,” Roman apologized again.

“I would have woken up at some other point in the night,” Logan dismissed, and that only made Roman feel worse.

“I hope this therapist works out for you,” Roman told him.

“In time,” Logan sighed. “The wound has healed and it’s now all in the mind, and my mind is being far from logical.”

“That’s not your fault,” Roman reassured, both of them turning when a knock at the door startled Logan, Patton and Virgil walked in.

“I know, I have faced viler creatures, been stabbed, shot, poisoned,” Logan sighed. Virgil sat by his feet, silently leaning his head against Logan’s leg supportively.

When Logan lowered his arm, Virgil grabbed his hand without hesitation. “I have just been telling Roman that I have plans on seeing a therapist.”

Virgil gripped Logan’s hand a bit tighter but didn’t immediately say anything.

“Gosh, if there’s anything we can do to help with that, we will,” Patton volunteered.

“It got worse?” Virgil asked Logan.

“My lack of sleep is hindering my productivity, and it’s damaging my health, exacerbating the situation,” Logan reluctantly admitted. “My research can only take me so far, I just . . . wish it probably wouldn’t involve those pesky emotions.”

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Patton told Logan. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you.”

“Trust me, I would not have wished such odds upon anyone,” Logan reassured. “Not knowing where Orange is concerns me.”

“When I find him, I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine,” Virgil promised.

Logan considered telling them more about his most recent nightmares, about the knife and the blurry darkness that he was trapped in. He’d been trying to be open about his nightmares, if only so it felt like he wasn’t trapped in his own mind. But it was the same nightmares, the distress and monotony was eating him from the inside-out. Logan felt like he was going with circles every night, his sleep broken into shorter bursts and he felt guilty for waking the others up, but knowing that it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t control his dreams . . . but knowing that didn’t make them go away. It didn’t keep him from waking up in the middle of the night.

Patton let out a surprise little gasp, startling Logan out of his spiraling thoughts. The emotional Side was already walking towards a tray that had been set about two feet from the door was a tray of steaming hot tea mugs full of tea. Each one of their personal mugs, sat on a tray in front of them. Logan could have sworn that Patton and Virgil had not come in with them.

“Oh, Roman, how thoughtful,” Patton commented as he walked over to the tray. Virgil was already eyeing the cups suspiciously.

“Yeah, no problem,” Roman answered, uncertain.

Patton was bringing the tray over and picked up his own mug, taking a sip and instantly going starry eyed. “It’s so delicious, Ro, what flavor is it?”

“Uh,” Roman walked over and grabbed his cup, “oh you know, just one I found in the cupboard, looked new.”

Virgil let go, grabbing Logan’s cup. He discreetly took a cautious whiff of the tea first, immediately discerning the ingredients and who had made it in seconds, before he took a small sip. His eyes narrowed suspiciously before he said, “It’s lavender.”

Patton made a little gasp, drinking down more of the tea, “I’ve never had it before.”

Logan frowned at Virgil as the anxious Side grabbed his own mug as well and passed Logan his own mug.

“It’s actually pretty good,” Virgil told him.

Normally Logan was inclined to believe Virgil’s non anxiety-induced claims, but he was tired, and the strange way Virgil regarded the tea had him on edge. Besides, Logan fancied himself as a pro-tea-and-coffee connoisseur and this, while he couldn’t place the smell, was not lavender. It had an earthy smell that someone had attempted to mask with lemon and peppermint. A sip told him the same, someone had taken a bitter taste and tried to bury the tea in lemon and peppermint, and a bit of sugar.

A bit more sugar than Logan preferred.

The after affects of the tea led all of them to curl up on the bed, Roman and Patton already asleep, curled up together. Logan and Virgil side-by-side, Logan felt considerably more drowsy than he had been thirty minutes ago.

“What actually was in the tea?” Logan yawned.

Virgil let out a massive, full yawn. His eyes were closed. “Dee calls it his Knockout Brew: valerian root, lemon, peppermint, and a—”

He let out another huge yawn, and curled into Logan’s side, “—spoonful of sugar, or something, yah know? Really . . . helps . . . me . . .”

Virgil trailed off, Logan not too far behind him, his tea in particular mixed with something a little extra to make it a bit stronger. They were leftovers from Virgil’s old prescription the anxious Side hadn’t taken with him when he switched teams.

The logical Side’s sleep tonight would be mercifully dreamless.

Slowly the opened door was softly pulled further open so Janus could sneak in. He started tidying up the room a bit, using his other arms to pick the cups and trays, but stopped when he saw the camera on the table.

The deceitful Side hadn’t seen the object in years, and felt the urge to smash the object against the closest hard surface for all the pain and misery it had caused. But a look at Logan sleeping soundly for once, he stopped. Janus didn’t want to chance Logan waking up. So he took the tray and left, his magic ensuring that all four of the “Light Sides” were tucked in.

Tomorrow would be another stressful day, but at least for tonight everyone would get a good night’s sleep.

[inkribbon796]

Eye of the Beholder

Summary: Anti hates Dark, so he figured that the best way to get back at Dark is to target something Dark actually cares about. Things don’t quiet work out as planned.

This was a non-superhero fic I wanted to write. Pre-relationship.

Other parts of this series:

Part 2: Trouble in Paradise

Part 3: Antagonistic Acquaintances

    Anti was pissed.

    Scratch that, he was furious with Dark. He was so angry, he wanted to not just attack Dark. He wanted to hurt him. Which was a problem, because Dark couldn’t die. He rolled off attacks and pain like it couldn’t latch onto him. Anti could stab him and slit his throat, but Dark always rebounded back.

    Fortunately, Anti knew Dark was a creature of certain indulgences, like his little motley crew of egos . . . and more importantly: a crazed reporter that had as much of a penchant for murder and bloodshed as Anti did.

    It was comical, Anti had watched Dark tug Wilford around by his blood-soaked bowtie, chewing him out for dirtying his rug. The glitch demon knew that if one of Dark’s cronies had tried that, they would have ended as a bloody puddle on the ground and not a smiling mess of bad jokes and poor decisions.

    So Anti’s target was painfully obvious. After all, if Dark wanted a secret boyfriend, then he should do a better job at hiding him. It was finding Wilford that was the tricky part, but he found him in a disco club. Drinking and partying, not something uncommon from the madman.

    Anti smiled, immediately spotting him in the crowd. “Hey, Wilfy, Dark let ye off yer leash?”

    Wilford whirled around, a martini in hand and a wide, toothy grin on his face. “Ahh, Anti, how have you been? What are you up to, you rabscallion?”

    “Bored,” Anti smiled. “Wanted to join someone who knew how ta have a little bit of fun.”

    “Well,” Wil drawled, leaning in a bit. “You came to the right place.”

    Wil pulled Anti over to the bar and immediately started ordering something for him. The place wasn’t the best place for booze that Anti had ever been to, but he had to admit the place more than made up for it in charm.

    Anti got Wil talking, and after that he didn’t stop. Barely slowing down to breathe. He didn’t really seem to get too drunk either, just crazier. As if his madness was just consuming the alcohol for him.

    Despite Anti’s best efforts, the conversation inevitably turned back to Dark.

    Wilford shrugged, still smiling, “I just get a feeling sometimes, but hell if I know what it means. Dark makes things so clear.”

    Anti wanted to kick the guy. Even here, and half into a mad delirium he couldn’t stop talking about that pretentious asshole. It made Anti want to vomit with how disgusting it was. The glitch was pretty sure he was wasting his time with this. Yeah Wil had been flirty all night but he was flirty with anything that moved.

    So to shut the madman up, Anti kissed him, mostly because nothing else seemed to work. Wil kissed him back, holding Anti close as if they’d both planned for the night to go like this. Anti broke away, almost throwing Wil against a bar table.

    To the glitch the night was going great. All Anti needed to do was get Wil into bed, and then gloat about it to Dark’s face that his boyfriend as a piece of shit. There was just one problem: it was too easy. It shouldn’t be this easy. Wilford should be putting up some kind of resistance. Anti was Dark’s worst enemy. Wilford shouldn’t be flirting with him.

    As it turned out, the rest of the hour was spent in a physical fight, more than a metaphorical one. Anti’s plan changing more because of suspicion and because he needed more time to take Wil apart.

    The two left the bar, the place surprisingly intact thanks to Wilford’s abilities. But Anti stopped short as soon as the doors were open. There was someone standing about ten feet from the entrance. It was Dark.

    The Entity was right outside the bar, just looking at both of them as if they’d spilled wine on his suit, and Anti almost felt . . . he wasn’t sure how he felt. Or if he should try and put a name to it and make it real by extension.

    “Darkling,” Wilford smiled widely, walking up to him. Anti wasn’t sure if the madman was an idiot, or just even crazier than Anti thought he was.

    “Don’t, Dark slapped his hand away when he tried to reach out for him. “Just go, I’m sure you haven’t finished up half of the things you need to do at the station.”

    Wil pouted, rubbing at his hand even though Dark had barely tapped it. Then he smiled and walked past him, “Don’t stay up too late.”

    There seemed to be some context there that Anti was missing. But he had a bigger problem. Namely that Wilford had left him alone with Dark. Something that Anti was sure was about to turn ugly.

    Dark straightened out his suit, as if it had some invisible wrinkle or smudge to it. “I hope you’ve worked whatever grievance you have out of your system. Wil tends to have that effect on people.”

    “E’cuse yah?” Anti scoffed.

    “Don’t be a moron, Anti,” Dark snapped. “I’m not blind. Wilford is many things, great at self-control is not one of them.”

    “You think I slept with the fooker?” Anti scoffed, honestly feeling a little bit . . . he wasn’t going to say guilty because there was no way he could possibly feel that about Dark. But he felt something because he had been about to do that. Although, Anti would rather die than admit that he felt bad about it, even if he was just admitting it to himself.

    “I’m not an idiot,” Dark scoffed. “You pick a fight with me, and then I find you and Wilford together, both of you looking like you were rolling around on the ground. Why else would you track him down?”

    “Maybe ‘cause I didn’t want ta see yah,” Anti answered defensively. “Come on, I don’t care about ye or that bubblegum maniac. “Why would anyone want ta sleep with him?”

    Dark just stared at him, looking tired, “Who hasn’t he slept with?”

    That seemed almost like a slap in the face, he realized how old and tired Dark looked. As if Dark had watched Wil go off with his enemies before, and yet . . . Dark had still cleaned up his wounds and messes.

    “Ye just let him go?” Anti reminded.

    Dark’s back straightened. “I don’t need your pity. Wilford is an adult, and makes his own choices. He lives at the Manor, he’s not my husband. I’m not some weeping flower waiting for him to come home every night.”

    “Could he ‘a been?” Anti asked.

    Dark frowned, clearly getting defensive. “That is none of your business. My dealing with Wilford are matters of stress relief and because he is a nightmare if left to his own devices. I don’t care if you’re sleeping around with Wil, I only care if you’re going to waste my time being insufferable about it.”

    “Like I want yer toy,” Anti scoffed, immediately defensive, “I just wanted ta know why the hell Smiles wants anything ta do with yer sorry ass. Yer personality’s shit, an’ yer face looks like garbage.”

    “You’re a petulant child, and I’ve wasted enough time,” Dark sighed, and ripped a hole into the Void.

    Before Anti could respond or do anything other than glare at him, Dark left. He went back to his office, determined to get something done before he had to clean up after Wilford. He wasn’t in the mood to watch the reporter practice “interior decorating” again.

    Dark’s cat, the black kitten had been gift from Wilford he’d gotten his previous birthday walked in. Jumping on Dark’s desk and laying down on a clean space so Dark was less inclined to brush the feline off his work surface.

    Privately, Dark was glad for the silent company. It helped take his mind off what Wilford was probably doing.  As it turned out, no one died tonight, not that he caught wind of. Wilford did come back late, a huge smile on his face as he walked into the office.

    “Darky,” Wilford smiled, picking up the black cat up. The cat used to the rather rough but loving treatment Wil tended to give him. “There you are.”

    “Not in the mood, Wil,” Dark told him, trying to concentrate on the paperwork in front of him.

    Wilford sat on Dark’s desk, not moving when Dark glared at him. The crazed reporter just sat there, petting and talking to the cat. “Who’s a good boy Damien? Keeping ol’ Darky in line?”

    Dark felt his blue half chuckle a bit, and felt a bit of indignation from it.

    “Wil,” Dark growled.

    “You never come out drinking with me anymore,” Wil goaded, Damien the cat jumping out of his lap and walking towards Dark. “I miss you.”

    I don’t miss you kissing strangers in front of me! Dark growled internally, the urge to kill boiling inside of him. Calming himself down a bit by petting the cat on his desk. “I’m too busy, Wil, and I have no interest in getting my suit dirty when you get bored of the scenery.”

    “Nonsense,” Wil dismissed, brushing some papers out of the way to inch himself closer to Dark, playing a hand on top of Dark’s. “The night is still young, we could go somewhere. Do something?”

    “If you’re bored go find someone to occupy your time,” Dark knocked Wil’s hand away from him. “I am busy. I’m certain Anti would be more than willing to help.”

    With that, Dark turned his attention back to his papers. Wilford would leave and Dark would go back to normal. Even though the tattered remains of his heart wouldn’t stop. That cloying feeling that Wilford would realize what he was, that it would finally stick. That Damien and Celine were never coming back. And then Wil would be gone, disgusted and infuriated with Dark, and then he’d go off to be with someone more fun . . . someone who had a bit more chaos in his soul. He could almost see Wilford with Anti and his very being boiled from the mental image.

    Even Anti’s words had too much bite to them. “Yer personality’s shite, an’ yer face looks like garbage” and it ate at Dark in his worst and most possessive moments. After all:

    It wasn’t like Dark could hold Wil’s attention anyways.

    There was nothing Dark could offer the reporter to make him stay. His broken body often felt — to Dark at least — more like a consolation prize rather than a dashing gent or a stunningly, clever woman. Dark was an amalgam of the two, stitched together like a monster with their voices echoing around in his head. Half of the time Dark didn’t know if it was pity or boredom that made Wil come back and it—

    “Dark?” Wilford called out, brushing Dark’s hair back. “You still in there?”

    Dark startled, he hadn’t even realized Wil was still there. “Oh, Wil, you’re still here.”

    Wil’s smile slipped for a bit, then he smiled again, “Of course I am, where else would I go?”

    A name curdled on Dark’s tongue, a snide face stuck in his mind. He looked away. “I really have to get back to work.”

    The reporter smiled, “Try and take care of yourself, I’ll be back to check on you.”

    Dark tried to hide how touched he felt, how Wilford always made some part of the chimeric being feel better, even if it was a different part each time. He was an eye to the storm in Dark’s life.

    “Thank you, Wil,” Dark told him.

    With that the reporter left, leaving Dark a little calmer than when he’d walked in.

    Anti was wandering around rooftops, draining power from anything he could touch and generally being a nuisance.

    Still Wilford coming to find him was a surprise.

    “Anti,” Wilford called out.

    “Hey dipshit, how’s the boyfriend?” Anti goaded. But when he looked at Wilford there was something different about him. Something less crazy.

    And that terrified Anti a bit more than it should have.

    Wil shrugged, closing the gap between them. Anti held his ground. “Darky won’t admit it, but he doesn’t want me playing with you. Shame.”

    Rolling his eyes, Anti tore some wires out of an electrical box, “Dark’s annoyin’ and I don’t get how you can stand to be around him.”

    “He’s quite the charmer when he wants to be,” Wilford defended.

    “Yeah, well ye an’ Prince Eyestrain can go be adorable an’ pathetic away from me, an’ maybe make him less annoying,” Anti rebutted.

    “Dark is quite dashing,” Wilford agreed.

    Looking away, Anti remember Dark confronting him in the bar. “Hey, maybe ye shouldn’t go around with every shumck that comes askin’, just sayin’. Maybe that might put ‘im in a better mood.”

    Anti wasn’t sure if it was because Wilford was less crazy at the moment, or if by some horrid twist of fate he was the only one who said anything about it, but there was a flash of recognition in Wil’s eyes.

    “Huh, Dark never seemed to have a problem with it before,” Wil mused, twitching his mustache a little. Then he was gone.

    Anti groaned. Knowing that the two of them were going to be the death of him.