#poking so many hornets nests but oh well

[dragynkeep]

just to clear this up, liking abusive characters is not a moral failing. some of my favourites have been varying levels of abusive & some of them are not interested in redemption.

denying that a character is clearly abusive because they're your fave is what sets my teeth on edge. especially when the most is done to make them a perpetual victim at the expense of ignoring this abuse or even victim blaming their canon victim. that shits weird.

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: APPLICATION ANXIETY (SEASON 3, EPISODE 3, PART 4)

I didn't think I'd be going into four chapters+ for this filler/completely lacking in boy drama episode, but here we are.

Shady Taylor Business as per uzh. He’s committed so many white collar crimes that he’s in over his head trying to keep track of them all. Does ayone else just think of Taylor as the Mayor? He’s technically “town selectman", which is a real thing, and after many years I've finally looked up what a selectman does. I won't bore you with the details, but somehow Taylor got put into a position of authority that involves a heavy responsibility for other people's money. I know we have seen the actual mayor of The Hollow before, but only twice so far, I think. Taylor is treading into the shark infested waters of airing private grievances with Luke Danes publicly, again. Has Taylor learned nothing from the last time he tried this stunt at the emergency meeting he called about Jess and his sidewalk drawing? He really loves poking that hornet's nest. It's not going to be pretty.

Miss Patty waving at Rory and Lorelai. She is such a treasure. A horny, horny treasure. She must be protected at all costs.

Taylor calls his malt shop a "necessary service", which immediately calls me back to our comedian friend who predicted Taylor would classify his malt shop as a "necessary service" in order to stay open during the pandemic. How was that guy so spot on about everything?

That's real slimy, Taylor. Taylor Doose is slime. And not the fun kind of slime, either. According to Slimy Doose, If a 3/4ths majority of the town decide Taylor should have that building then he gets that building. It's just that simple! Check the towns bylaws! Which were probably written by Taylor! Why does Taylor want to run Luke out of town so badly? His diner is literally the only attraction in town that keeps the town economy churning (well, not Rory and Lorelai's money, but everyone else's). Taylor spends 7 years trying to find the money to fix a small wooden bridge. Like Tumblr, behind the scenes, The Hollow is being held together with paperclips and fairy dust. If tourists ever find out that Luke's special coffee is nothing more than ordinary Folgers, it's all over.

No, Salty is NOT going to research the nitty gritty details of eminent domain for you to determine if Luke is correct. You're on your own, people. I'm here to make the masturbation jokes.

Now things are real getting real loopy doopy as Taylor stands his ground that his proposed soda shop is even more necessary than a hospital. DId someone vote this guy in? According to Google, yes. A town selectman is an elected position. The people who voted for Taylor may even be voting in larger elections, which is a scary thought. Ya'll voted for this putz, you live with him.

KICK HIS ASS!

RORY YOU ARE NOT HELPING. Sit down! Oh, you already are. Well, keep sitting. And stop talking. The town decides they love their beloved coffee proprietor Luke so much that they refuse to side with him and don't give a flying cupcake if he gets screwed into next week. If this were my unrated Gilmore Girls spinoff, The Hollow, which explores the gritty realism of small tourist town life, the Malt shop goes under in a few years because the economies of these towns are very shaky. Someone is going to turn around and Eminent Domain Taylor's ass and bulldoze his businesses to build luxury townhomes.

If looks could kill, man. Someone PLEASE edit a cartoon bloody axe or hatchet into this screen shot for me. I'm going to use this face on the promo posters for my horror movie series, "Blood In The Hollow." Luke's Revenge.

Rory saying "Ice cream soda, yum" and a couple of elderly people nodding is enough to count as a majority vote. I know they worship Rory in the Hollow for some reason but how does she have that much power? Can't we get some kind of auditor in here to examine the electoral process in The Hollow? Then an accountant to audit Taylor's financial books.

Yay! We hate you Luke! Go get fucked! But keep the free coffee coming.

Even after what she just did, you know she’s going to shamelessly march right over to the diner where she won’t pay him for her food and coffee. I saw Lane unaccompained at the meeting, and started thinking since Mrs Kim apparently lets Lane go to town meetings unsupervised, they're a perfect opportunity for her to get out from the watchful eye of her mother and get up to some teenage rebellion/shenanigans. I still say she should have hooked up with Jess to give her mother a coronary.

Welcome, Shenanigans. We get an introductory story about Rygalski's musical interests, which Lane finds rather keen. Keen is like my new favorite word. It's old fashioned sounding so it just works with these old fashioned teenagers.

Get a hold of yourself woman!

Don't underestimate this geek in a dorky sweater. He's smooth.

Could she be any dorkier? Sheesh.

Don't tell me Lorelai doesn't looks jealous watching Rory kiss Dean. Dean actually listens patiently while Rory updates him about her life, and this behavior continues to feel highly suspicious. Is it because he was at home jerking off while everyone else was at the meeting and now he's not so cranky?

Don't worry Deano, you won't be lonely. There are other fish in the Hollow. Maybe you'll even manage to trap some poor innocent teenage girl and brainwash her into marrying you. I'm still not sure how he pulled that off.

I saw these oven mitts on Amazon yesterday and thought of Lindsey Lister. Whenever she's cooking one of Dean's meatloaves, she's quietly side eyeing the box of rat poison under the sink. Rory is mildly irritated because his question is "blunt and out of nowhere." and a discussion About Our Future is underway.

I'm going to keep a scoring system for this discussion: +1 point to Rory because Dean's question was really "out of nowhere" and dropped on suddenly her late at night. +1 point to Dean because his question wasn't totally unreasonable. Minus 1 point for Dean because Rory hasn't even been accepted to Harvard, no less any college, yet. + half point for Dean doing the bare minimum and believing in the idea that Rory will get into Harvard later. Minus 1 point for Dean because even if she did get into college she isn't going to start for another year, so he could have waited like, at least another 6 months before it would matter. Minus 1 point for Dean because there's no guarantee they will even be together a year from now (and they won't be).

Minus 1 point for Rory even entertaining the silly notion that she could have a "Weekends only" relationship with Dean when he is a controlling maniac who tracks her schedule and gets angry if she does not spend every minute of her free time with him. MInus 1 point for Rory engaging in more "I promise I will spend every spare minute of every day that I'm not studying with you" and "we can talk on the phone constantly during the week" negotiations. Enough with the negotiations!! Minus a kajillion points for Dean just because he's rotten hamburger meat. What is he going to do Monday-Friday after he graduates hgh school, without Rory to kick around like his personal hacky sack? Reversing the roles for fun: Dean: What are you going to do when I leave for college? Rory:

"Christianne Amanpour spends of a third of her life in foxholes in third world countries! She was on C-Span last week getting an award! And she has a family!" Girl?! Rory Gilmore is comparing her life to that of an award winning, world renowned field journalist, someone who travels the world and risks her life on a regular basis, to her life as a boring high school student dating another boring high school student, some illiterate 17 year old softball playing clown from Stars Hollow Connecticut whose own mother is still trying to abandon him at a gas station, hoping that a pack of wild dogs will find and adopt him as one of their own instead. If Christianne Amanpour can survive being blown up in a war torn country and go home to her husband and family at the end of the day, then surely Dean Forrester and Rory Gilmore can make it work. Rory, pleaase. Settle down. Minus -2 points for that sheer ridiculousness. I'm not sure Dean even knows who Christianne Amanpour is, anyway. This goes on WAY too long so I will summarize so I can get on with my life and finally finish out this episode. R: Dean you should to go to college in Boston D: I'm going to junior college R: Junior college in Boston?! D: No dorm rooms R: Rent an apartment! D: With what money? R:Why are you being like this? D: Realistic? R: Stop being so serious D: Forget it Jackson: What happens to Rory's room when she moves out, can i rent it out to put my tools in it? Lorelai: Idk (panic sweats at the thought of losing her codependent relationship with Rory if she moved out) Springsteen (Harvard Dinner Guy) on answering machine: I looked at Rory's records and even though I'm just some rich guy who graduated decades ago and I don't actually attend Harvard anymore or work at Harvard and I only met her once over an awkward dinner where she barely said anything, she's definitely a shoo in for Harvard, she may as well just pack her bags and move in right now. like she should find a dorm room that's already occupied and kick out whoever's living there already and take over their room. I'm going to tell everyone I know that Rory is definitely for sure going to Harvard there has never been a more Harvardy student that has ever ever Harvarded before. The end. Things Googled While Watching GIlmore Girls: Selectman, is a selectman elected, codependent relationship Things Not Googled: Eminent domain

[wowbright]

Fic: Begging the Question

Klaine Advent 2021: silence

Words: ~2150 words

Rating: General audience/Teen and Up

Bringing back the vignettes from my Mormon!Klaine universe for Klaine Advent 2021 This vignette takes place a few weeks into their companionship, immediately before Splits (and involves a teensy amount of retconning, please forgive me).

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost.

Notes: Elder Clarington is based off evil Warbler Clarington. And since introducing his character last Advent, I’ve decided he’s the zone leader, not the assistant to the president, which … is probably a detail only I care about. And thanks to @redheadgleek for coming to my rescue!

If you have any questions about cultural and religious references, feel free to use my ask box!

--------

Blaine wasn’t sure how many doors they’d knocked on so far today, but he knew it was a lot.

He also knew that Elder Clarington knew the exact number they’d knocked on, because he had one of those handheld plastic clickers with the little numbers on it that went up by one every time you pressed the little metal tab at the top with your thumb, and he clicked it every time they approached a new door.

Because to Elder Clarington, measurement was next to godliness. Something about how, because “God’s house is a house of order” and the Book of Mormon gives the exact number of Nephites who were slaughtered at Cumorah, and the Bible gives the exact measurements of the temple and how many animals should be sacrificed for each sin, missionaries should take numbers as seriously as they take anything else.

But Blaine was not going to ask Elder Clarington how many doors they had knocked, even though he was curious. It felt like 8 million, but maybe it wasn’t any more doors than Blaine usually knocked on with Elder Hummel. Only with Elder Hummel, the work was easy and light because Elder Hummel was, well, Elder Hummel. He made the world a lovely place to be, even when doors were getting slammed in their faces.

Elder Clarington, on the other hand, was exhausting. He was like a wind-up toy whose winder never ran down. And boy, did he talk. Not in the cute chatterbox way Elder Hummel had when he got excited about something, but in this overbearing, bulldozery way that conveyed Elder Clarington was God’s gift to the world and everyone should appreciate each pearl of wisdom that dropped from his lips.

Only, for the last 20 steps of their walk, Elder Clarington had managed to keep his mouth blissfully shut. So no matter how curious Blaine was about the numbers, he wasn’t going to poke the hornet’s nest of Elder Clarington’s mouth if he didn’t have to.

At least Blaine would be back to working with Elder Hummel tomorrow. This trial would not last forever.

“I have a feeling about this next one,” Elder Clarington said. Oh, well, so much for preventing the hornets. “I think it’s going to be incredible. I think we’re gonna blow some freaking minds.” He swung his hip into the waist-high garden gate that stood between them and the next house, clicking his plastic counter and slipping it back into his pocket as he slid through.

Blaine looked up at the front window and saw someone moving around toward the back of the house. at least someone was home.

Elder Clarington banged on the door like it was the gate to a castle and his fist was a battering ram. Blaine heard footsteps scurrying toward the door, then coming to a sudden halt on the other side. He waved at a peephole that was level with his pomade, and through which the footstep owner was no doubt looking at this very moment.

“it's the missionaries!” a voice said in crisp, clear, American English. From further back in the house, another voice called out something indiscernible. The voice by the door hollered back, “Don’t worry. I won’t let them in!”

The door swung open to a white woman several inches shorter and a couple decades older than Blaine. “Hello, Elders!” She glanced at their name tags. “Clarington, Anderson—I assume one of you is American, right? Sorry, we just moved here. My German ist Scheiß.”

Elder Clarington cleared his throat. “Yes, we’re both American. You’re familiar with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?”

“Oh yeah. I've read the Book of Mormon two or three times now. I’ve read the Doctrine & Covenants too, and the Pearl of Great Price, but those only once if you don't count hopping around in there every once in a while. I mean, D&C 132, right?” She let out a low whistle. “That one’s a doozy. Poor Emma.”

Blaine stifled a laugh. Doctrine & Covenants 132 wasn’t exactly his favorite, either. He loved the part about marriage being an everlasting covenant, and how experiencing this intimate relationship with another person—where you loved them more than you loved yourself and you made sacrifices for them and they would just as willingly sacrifice for you, but of course you wouldn’t let them because you love them too much—how all of that brought you closer to being like God. But the part about the prophet Joseph Smith getting to marry as many women as he liked and Emma, his only legal wife, better suck it up or an angel would destroy her … well, that part never really rang of Christ to Blaine.

Elder Clarington coughed again. “So what ward did you move out of?”

“Oh, I’m not a member. Never have been. Just taken the lessons,” the woman said.

“Oh, so your …” Elder Clarington gestured vaguely past the door. “The other person who lives here is a member? Or was?”

She laughed. “Oh, God, no. My husband is just antisocial and really bored by theological discussions. I’m Jennifer, by the way.” She held out her hand and they both shook it. “But if you can’t come inside, at least I can get you some Coke. Or bottled water. It’s getting warm out there.”

They accepted the offer, and she disappeared back into the house.  Elder Clarington gave Blaine a meaningful look. “What did I tell you? She's taken the lessons. She's read the Book of Mormon. The only thing missing is she’s never prayed about it with a sincere heart and real intent, obviously.”

“Obviously,” echoed Blaine, because Elder Clarington was staring at him with this expectant look and he felt like he had to say something.

“What losers her previous missionaries must’ve been. Didn’t even tell her the right way to pray about it. I’ll bet you they were sisters.”

“That’s sexist, Elder Clarington,” Blaine said matter-of-factly.

Elder Clarington shrugged. “If sexist means I know that Heavenly Father made men and women differently, then yeah, I’m sexist.”

“He didn’t do it alone.”

Elder Clarington rolled his eyes. “You just proved my point. It took Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother to make all of us, and yet Heavenly Father is the only one who has authority over us. Because men and women are different.”

The door swung back open, putting an end to this awful conversation. Jennifer came out with a bottle caddy and plopped down on the stoop with it. “Make yourselves comfortable,” she said, gesturing to the bottles of water and Coke.

One of the blessings of wearing dark pants, even on warm days, was that you could sit on a stoop and not worry about ending up with dirt stains on your butt. So Blaine did, grabbing a mineral water on his way down.

But Elder Clarington was more interested in talking than in making himself—or anyone else—comfortable. He always was. “So what’s keeping you from praying about the Book of Mormon and receiving an answer?”

Wow, Elder Clarington. You really know how to start out soft.

Jennifer didn’t seem fazed. “Well, given that I already have and received an answer, it would be a little disingenuous of me to keep praying just to pressure God into giving me a different answer that would make the missionaries happy.” She pointed toward a little step stool tucked beneath the rose bush next to the door. “Pull up a chair if you don’t want to sit on the stoop. Unless you have some injury that prevents you from sitting, I’m not having a conversation with you towering over me like that.”

Too bad Jennifer was so much older than Blaine and married to the disembodied voice indoors. He was kind of in love with her. She reminded him of Elder Hummel—feisty and no B.S.

“I don’t have an injury,” Elder Clarington mumbled, grabbing the stool and setting it directly across from Jennifer. He leaned forward so that his face was only a couple feet from hers. “With a sincere heart and real intent, with faith in Christ that he will manifest the truth unto you?”

Jennifer scrunched up her face. “Yeah, so … Have you heard of begging the question?”

“Of course,” Elder Clarington said, with an air of being offended—though Blaine wouldn't have been surprised if his zone leader didn't know what the phrase meant. Blaine wasn't sure he did himself.

“OK. So when you beg the question, you ask a question in a way that assumes a certain answer. Like, if I say, ‘Why is German such a hideous language?’, I’m making the assumption that German is hideous. I close off any arguments that it's poetic and lyrical. Which means I’m not really asking a question.”

“That’s very interesting. But we were talking about the Book of Mormon.”

“Right. And the Book of Mormon says that if you ask God with a sincere heart and real intent whether it’s true, God will tell you it is.”

“He will.”

“Only, if I’ve already decided what the answer is going to be, I can’t ask with a sincere heart and real intent. Because asking a question sincerely means being open to any possible answer. There’s good stuff in the Book of Mormon, but that formula for prayer … if it works for you, great. I’m not here to diminish your faith. But for me—it feels like holding something back from God. Trying to stay in power over the process.”

Well, Elder Clarington’s prediction about minds being blown was at least half right. Only it wasn’t Jennifer’s mind being blown. It was Blaine’s. He’d never looked at Moroni’s promise that way. It wouldn’t have occurred to him that a person couldread it that way. But the way Jennifer put it, it seems so obvious and … maybe even a little manipulative?

But Elder Clarington was unfazed. He bulldozed ahead. “See, that’s why the Restoration of the Gospel that Joseph Smith started is so important. People have all these ideas about who God is and what religion is supposed to be like. But Scriptures tell us that prayer is not this thing where you just show up and wait for an answer. You’re supposed to figure it out using logic, and then pray to God to confirm what you’ve figured out. See, let’s look at D&C 9, which gives us God’s instructions on how to pray.” Elder Clarington had already whipped his Scriptures out from his satchel and plopped them in Jennifer’s lap, and continued speaking before she had a chance to get in a word edgewise. “See? Verse 8—” he pointed to the text and made sure that Jennifer was looking at it, “—‘But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right.’ So that’s how you need to pray about The Book of Mormon. Logically, you know it’s true, and that’s okay. It’s perfectly fine to come to God with an assumption that you know what the answer is. If you do that about the Book of Mormon, you’ll feel that warmth, and you’ll know it’s true. I promise you. And I can promise that because it happened to me. When I was deciding whether to go on a mission …”

Elder Clarington launched ahead like a jackrabbit on speed. His eyes were locked on Jennifer’s, but he didn’t seem to see her. He was telling his story, his testimony of Christ—except aren’t you supposed to show your testimony too? Aren’t you supposed to be like Christ, to see people as they are, their hurt and their love and their fear, to listen to them and love them the way Jesus loves the prostitutes and lepers?

But here Elder Clarington was, not listening at all, making assumption after assumption—that ‘logically,’ she knew it was true, but she hadn’t tried hard enough to confirm it, she hadn’t done things the right way, and her relationship to God was inferior to theirs.

What Blaine wouldn’t do for just a little bit of silence. For just a few brief moments in which Elder Clarington blissfully, sagely, and in the gentle manner of Christ, decided to shut the fudge up and listen for two seconds.

Because Blaine wanted to.

“… and the Holy Spirit gave me the answer I was seeking. I know that this Gospel is true, and that’s why I came on a mission, to show people the truth—”

You’re still making it about you, Elder.

“—and guide people like you who are still looking for the answers.” Elder Clarington leaned back and took a deep breath—he certainly needed it after all that talking—but even while breathing somehow managed to have a smug grin on his face.

“Jennifer,” Blaine said, taking what might be his only chance, “are you looking for answers?”

[pandoraimperatrix]

Sneak Peek time darlings!

"Troy? You alright in there?"

"Oh, great, Kory, hand me the bottle of wine will you?"

Kory snickered when she saw the scene Donna was starring. She was naked, covered only by bubbles, feet up, ankles crossed over the bathtub rim, gel mask around her eyes and hair pinned on the top of her head, lips stained by chocolate and many french bombons wrapping scattered on the floor. The picture of decadence.

"Having a good time are we?" Said Kory sitting on the bathtub rim.

Donna pulled one side of the mask up, reveling one very suspicious brown eye.

Kory smiled and took a swing of the wine.

"I am," she snorted and let go of the mask, letting it snap back in place. "Now I know Diana let our mother and aunties do the child rearing. Some people are just not cut to the job."

"But the kids said nothing happened while we were in Metropolis..."

Kory inserted her free hand inside the water, it wasn't cold yet, but it would be soon, and she knew how Donna enjoyed her bathwater simmering. Kory conscentrated on heating the water, moving her hand around to spread the heat faster, her hand brushing against Donna's body until Donna held her hand.

Kory looked up through her lashes, Donna pulled the mask out fully.

Kory smiled, took another swing of the bottle and offered ot wordlessly to Donna who took it and sighed.

"Pricess you know I'd do you in a heartbeat wasn't for the bro code..."

Kory groaned and rolled her eyes, pulling her hand out of Donna's.

"Bro code... Earthens... He's not even the same one that made the code with you!"

Donna just shrugged her shoulders and poped another chocolate in her mouth, watching Kory squirm with sadistic pleasure. They had that discussion a couple times before, when they were living together. And it was true, Donna stated before that they could have been lovers in another reality on which Dick didn't exist, but in this one, parallel Dick or not, Donna was poking that particular hornet's nest. She had seen the mess made between Dawn and Hank, and as attractive as Kory was, as horny as they got, some things are worth the sacrifice.

"Well, nothing is stopping you from asking himself to scratch your itch."

"He doesn't want me."

Donna laughed so loudly that scared Kory and as the laughter continued, Kory started to seriously contemplate sending Donna back to land of the dead by closing her hands around her neck anss drowning he on expensive bathbomb water.

[decks-writing-blog]

Mute Buddies

This is a Dead Cells and Hollow Knight Crossover fic.

All the crossover art, especially the two pieces I drew, got me thinking about Ghost and Beheaded interacting and how they would be friends. And then I started thinking about ways they might've met and this fic is a result of those thoughts.

Also, because this is pre-game for Ghost they don't go by 'Ghost' since they're dubbed that by Hornet. They don't actually have a name at all in this fic because I wasn't sure what they would think of themself as.

~

By the time they spotted the island it was almost too late despite how close it was. Their sailboat, not ever meant to be out in the open ocean for so long, wasn’t faring well in the seemingly ceaseless storm. It had been battered and tossed around by the waves and wind until it had sprung a leak. And while dealing with that might’ve been easy under different circumstances the flood of rain pouring down complicated things quite a bit. Their one single bucket, despite being almost half their size was barely enough to bail out the water fast enough to keep the boat afloat. It was a losing battle though, they were only one little bug after all. So the island was a blessed sight indeed. All they had to do was get the boat to it, easier said than done of course but there was hope now at least and they had a goal.

As they drew closer it became ever more apparent that their vessel wasn’t the only one to suffer in these waters. Seems it was actually pretty common if the wrecked ships littering the bay were anything to go by. Only intermittently visible between flashes of lighting and waves pulling back to reveal bits and pieces of them, how many there were was impossible to guess. Not that it mattered beyond steering the sailboat through as safely as possible.

It was tough work; they couldn’t bail and hold the rudder at the same time and thus just had to hope that the boat would be able to reach shore before it sunk. Luckily there seemed to be a current pulling them towards the island. And the water filling the bottom of the boat now served to weigh it down, stopping the waves from pushing it around as much; another blessing even if initially it hadn’t been.

And thus after only a few minor collisions, the hull was grinding up onto the rocky shore with a scraping sound that couldn’t mean good things. Hopefully it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Not that they actually cared a whole lot right now regardless because they were on land. No getting tossed around helplessly in the ocean for them today.

Putting one hand on the boat’s railing, they vaulted over the edge and onto firm land for the first time in fartoo long. The world seemed to sway and rock around them as if they were still aboard the boat and being pushed around by waves. They’d been stuck on it for a very, very long time indeed. Far longer than they’d thought would be the case. Word around the port town they’d acquired it at was that there was nothing out here, just lots and lots of ocean before the edge of the world. They’d wanted to see that supposed edge of the world but instead they’d found this island. Given how sick and tired they’d grown of sitting in the boat with nothing to see or do, that was perfectly fine. The edge of the world probably wasn’t all that exciting anyway, certainly not worth such a voyage to get to it.

Now even with the rain still pouring down on them they could’ve easily just laid down and fallen asleep right then and there. But it wouldn’t be wise and… They turned back towards their vessel. Its sail was old and tattered, held to the mast with a fraying rope that doubtless wouldn’t last much longer and its creaky hull had a minimum of at least one hole in it. Overall, in even worse shape than they’d acquired it in. But it should be repairable, right? And thus they grabbed hold of its edge and pulled it up further up onto the rocky shore. The thought of getting back onto it and heading out into the ocean once more was thoroughly unpleasant but there was no way they’d want to stay forever on this island so preserving their most likely way off was a must. As soon as it was well out of even the highest waves’ reach, they turned away. Leaving it there, they went in search of a place to rest.

The shore was wide and rocky. Off to one side was a large building, visible in between flashes of lightning. Closer by was a large cliff face. It wasn’t sheer though. There were many holes of various sized cut into its face and further up what look like whole caves. It didn’t take them long to find a little nook not too high up that would serve as a good enough hiding spot. They wouldn’t be completely hidden within it, anyone really looking would probably be able to spot them. Not ideal but they were too tired to search for something better. And it would get them out of the rain and that’s what mattered most right now. Though how much did that really matter when their cloak was so thoroughly soaked through already?

They pulled themself up into it and curled up, pressing back against the rear wall. … They ought to be more wary and should probably patrol the area for potential danger before letting themself rest. It would be the smart thing to do but… they were far too tired to bother, especially since they’d already laid down. It’d probably be fine though, few bugs would care to be out in such weather regardless.

***

Beheaded started for the beached sailboat as soon as they spotted it shortly after reaching the bottom of the Undying Shore’s cliff. While the island seemed to be in constant flux – something to do with the time loop probably – rare was the day something that different popped up.

Off to the side and just out of the ocean’s reach, getting to it was easy. After a quick glance around to ensure no monsters were around, they leaned in to examine it.

A small sailboat, nothing all that exciting really other than the fact that despite its visibly battered state it was still the most intact vessel they’d seen anywhere on the island. Left out in the rain without a tarp its hull overflowed with rainwater. Barely seaworthy for sure. Where had it come from though? Had someone dragged it out here thinking to escape the island in it? … No. Even as small as it was, there was no way anyone carried it out here, down the cliff, over the rocky terrain and past all the blood thirsty monsters even if they had had help. And given the way its bow was pointed away from the ocean – if even Beheaded knew what the front of a boat looked like then surely anyone experienced enough with traversing the sea to even consider risking such a voyage would’ve pointed the boat towards the water – it seemed to have come from the ocean. Hmmm… curious.

Well, most often where there was one interesting thing to examine there were more. So, turning away for now, Beheaded set to looking for other clues.

It didn’t take long to determined that there wasn’t much of anything within the sailboat’s immediate vicinity so they expanded their search along the shore a bit. Still nothing but the usual bit of boat rubble that occasionally made its way to shore before being pulled back into the sea. Quite lame but… still just the sailboat alone was an interesting find. So oh well, they had monsters to get back to killing. Perhaps they’d find something more about the boat and its occupant later.

They paused halfway in their turn back towards the way they’d being going before. There was something in one of the cliffside’s crevices. Tucked up deep inside only a small flap of dark fabric was visible poking out and flapping in the wind. Ever wary of all the different hidey holes those dang exploding bats liked to nest in, Beheaded crept closer for a better look.

It wasn’t a bat, exploding or otherwise – thank all that was still good in this world – but instead a… creature? No, a doll. Its head looked like it might’ve been made of porcelain and was clearly hollow. Or at least, whatever was inside was tucked in far enough that it couldn’t be seen through its large eye-like holes from this angle. And it had to be a trick of the light, or lack thereof, but underneath a tattered blue-gray cloak was the darkest black material Beheaded had ever seen. So yeah, no way was it a living creature but instead a large weird doll. It wasn’t even breathing.

They put a hand into the crevice to poke it. The instant their finger made contact with its body through its cloak, it moved. Its head snapped to look directly at them with its empty eyes.

Beheaded sprang back, scrambling to draw their dagger. They fumbled and almost dropped it but had a firm grasp on it by the time the creature had finished sliding out of the crevice silent grace. It had a weapon drawn now too. Pointed at Beheaded and vaguely swordlike it was visibly dull, nicked and scratched, showing signs of frequent and hard use. Given that, the fact that it was dull meant little; Beheaded was no stranger to being utterly destroyed by unsharpened blades. Same with small things; the fact that it was only half their size if one was counting its horns didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous and couldn’t ‘kill’ them in an instant.

Despite all that it didn’t attack immediately, implying that whatever it was, it wasn’t animated by the Malaise. It would’ve attacked mindlessly and without hesitation otherwise. That didn’t mean it was friendly though even if it seemed to be waiting for them to make the first move. Which they weren’t going to do against something they’d never seen before; they’d made that mistake far too many times already and their pride still bore the resulting scars. So for once they were going to be patient and let it make the dumb impulsive move for them to take advantage of. The perfect plan!

Except it wasn’t moving, not even to breathe. Which was just plain creepy. Despite that it was kind of cute even if its eyes did look like big gaping black holes in its face. Assuming that was its face, could be a helmet. …. Beheaded was starting to get reallybored of this waiting for it to attack first thing.

They relaxed their battle-ready pose, though they didn’t sheath their dagger and remained alert as they took a step closer. It lowered its weapon but otherwise didn’t move, only titling its head a little further to keep looking at them as they stepped right up in front of it. Still didn’t attack though so they sheathed their dagger and crouched down in front of it, remaining poised to leap back in an instant if need be. This was similar to how they’d befriended Mushroom Boi though so it’d probably be fine.

But unlike Mushroom Boi when they reached out a hand to poke it on the top of its indeed quite hard head, it didn’t make a sound. Instead it lifted its own little pitch black hand to poke back, first their hand and then forearm and then, stepping closer further up their arm. Its hand was cold and somehow seemingly without texture or so little texture Beheaded couldn’t feel it through the rain. A very odd being indeed but seemingly not dangerous for now even as it stepped close enough to allow it to lift its hand up and put it into the magic fog that took the place of where the Beheaded’s head would’ve been if their body still had one. No one had ever done that to them before so it was hard to say if the resulting cold and unpleasant tingly sensation it created was just what it felt like to be touched in that way or specifically because of the strange being.

Regardless they quickly pulled away, straightening. The being didn’t seem to mind though. It continued staring up at them with its large expressionless eyes. It didn’t have a mouth and still didn’t look like it was breathing but there was what felt like intelligence in its… no, their gaze. … Or perhaps Beheaded was just so lonely they wanted to read this creature as another being similar to themself in that they both lacked a voice and ability to communicate via facial expressions like every other sapient creature Beheaded knew. So this was either a neat find or a depressing wakeup call about how lonely they’d become. … They were going to believe the former until given reason to do otherwise.

They stepped to the side to point back towards the battered sailboat. Then, looking back down at their horned being, they pointed at them before lifting their arms in as shrug, making it a question. Had they come on the boat?

The being looked over and then back up at Beheaded before nodding. Just a single small nod but still undoubtedly a confirmation that not only were they from the boat but also that they intelligent. That also meant they were from off the island!

Beheaded hadn’t ever stopped to consider what might be beyond the seas surrounding this place but if they had they certainly wouldn’t have ever thought something or someone from out there would ever end up here. Oh, the things they would’ve asked if either of them were capable of speech.

Though this was probably bad for the being, huh? With the whole Malaise being such a prevalent thing. If they weren’t already infected then they would probably be soon. … Unless they were immune like Collector and some of the others seemed to be and Beheaded for sure was. That wasn’t super likely though, was it? So… what an unlucky fellow to end up on this island of all places. But, alas, there was nothing that could be done about it now.

The being turned their gaze away to glance around. They looked up at the cliff for a bit and then over at the Mausoleum before looking back up at the Beheaded again. Only for a few seconds though before with a slight shrug in started in the direction of the Mausoleum.

Well, with no way to talk to each other and nothing else to do, they might as well move on. And since Beheaded had already been heading in that direction anyway, they followed. They could hang out with their new mute buddy for a while. Even if said buddy was unfortunately not likely to last long on the island.

[ffxiv-angora]

Day 11: Preaching to the Choir

Wyra’to wasn’t quite sure which of the Twelve he’d managed to anger but it seemed he had some sort of curse. He was never allowed to enjoy some quiet by himself without something coming up. It seemed today wasn’t going to be any different. The older miqo’te was enjoying his afternoon with one of his usual naps between chores in the tavern. He’d even stolen one of the prime spots on a couch upstairs. Wyra’to had just managed to start to doze off when he jolts awake from the sound of heavy tomes being slammed down on the table beside him. A cloud of dust has him hacking and coughing, waving the damn stuff away from his face. What he saw before him were the tomes he’d heard along with an extremely irate white-haired miqo’te pacing along the length of the couch.

“Angora, what in the blasted he-”

“How many times, Wyra’to?!” Angora shouts, throwing her arms up. “How many times must both the guild and I have the same talk with people. Over and over and over!”

Wyra’to just groans, slowly hauling himself up into a sitting position. So much for that nap. “What in the world are you going on about?” He slides his glasses on before squinting at her. “Wait, how did you even get in here? We locked the door-”

Angora dismisses him with a wave of her hand. “The window of course.”

“Wh-” Wyra’to cuts himself off to instead just give the woman a wholly unamused look.

“Oh don’t act like this is anything new, idiot. We’ve worked together how many cycles? A locked door isn’t going to stop me.”

“It’s called boundaries, Angora.”

“Yes, and?” She cracks a smug smile before plopping down on the couch beside him. Wyra’to just drags his hands down his face.

“Are you actually going to tell me what all of this is about?”

“Oh! Right. As I was saying...” Angora reaches for one of the smaller books she’d brought with her. This one was her journal. Wyra’to could tell just from the handwriting on the front. He’d seen it plenty of times before. She continues once it was open to a newer page covered in various sketches and frantic notes. “No matter how many times I have the ‘Void is bad’ talk with people, it doesn’t get through their heads! It is dangerous if you are not trained in how to deal with it! Yet idiots still go and poke the hornet nest.”

Wyra’to rolls his eyes. “You’re preaching to the choir here, Khilo.” he signs, earning him a sharp look from his work partner as she bristles. “You going on and on about how these people have dipped their toes into the occult doesn’t tell me why you are here and what you want me to do about it.”

A growl rumbles deep in Angora’s chest. Toto was lucky that she knew him so well.

“I need help. Extra hands. This job I’m on is…” she frowns, “it can’t be handled on my own. As much as I’d like to say I’d have no trouble with it. There are cultists involved, missing guards, clueless locals…” The fur on her tail stands on end and her ears pin flat against her head.

“There is also the possibility of a necromancer,” Angora hisses.

“What in the gods names have you gotten involved in this time?”

“A stupidly complicated job!” she snaps. “One that I have already backed away from once to demand more pay and hands.”

Wyra’to sighs, sagging down on the couch with his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “So you want my help.”

“Yes. Per usual.” Angora seems to relax a bit and gives him a nod. “You and whoever else I can recruit.”

“...Fine. But I want double what my usual cut is for this void nonsense.”

“Of course~”

[izzyliker]

Bro I am genuinely curious, what are the stupidest tma discourse opinions you have seen on this website. You seem to have encountered so many brainless takes already, is there anything that really shocked you?

oh god uh... heres some off the top of my head,

1. gerrymichael is bad because eric who was trying to escape the institute couldve brought his baby to work, for some reason, where michael couldve met him. 

1b. or he couldve seen gerrys baby pictures

2. inane squabbling over who has systemic power over whom between the fucking fear avatars and determining that mike/jon is fine but like, peter/jon isnt because... mike only choked jon out for a little bit while peter existed near him while being upsettingly older than jon

3. jonmartin is abusive bc martin slapped jon twice in s5 to jolt him out of a statement discourse 

4. the distortion cannot be shipped with anyone because michael is 20+yrs older than everyone else, which makes it problematic

5. that whole thing about how jonny hates his fans for making helen a tory and how he shouldnt have done that bc the fandom liked her 

6. “mike crew is morally gray bc i like him” as earnest meta 

7. this is poking a hornets nest but “its bad to imagine desolation tim because i hc him to have bpd real hard and reducing a character i hc to have bpd simply to being angry and violent is ableist”

8. jontim/martim being fine, unless ppl hc tim to be (canon compliantly) ~5-10 yrs older than martin and jon, in which case its problematic and morally corrupt to ship them. actually every single age gap discourse goes here because everyone is like. in their fucking 30s at the youngest

9. this is not niche but the whole thing where people were tripping over themselves to pat each other on the back for Knowing that jonny shouldnt talk abt addiction in that web statement, and every other discourse where people suddenly forgot that tma has literally always included real life horrors as well as supernatural ones 

10. “if you dont understand why daisy [as written in canon] is a harmful lesbophobic butch coded stereotype you hate lesbians” as a take 

theres more. but. these are the ones i thought abt immediately

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

The Dragon and the Angel

Sephiroth was in his room, reading a book about the history of Eos and the nations of Lucis, Accordo, Tenebrae and Niflheim and sipping more of his favorite drink, Jenova Fruitjuice Tea with a few droplets of Lifestream extract for a minty aftertaste. His room was set up to be a study and adorned with paintings of memories back home like when he burned down Cloud’s home, though most of the paintings of his dear mom, Jenova. 

He was interrupted from his reading when there was a knock at his door, sensing it wasn’t his favorite buddy Cloud, he chose to ignore it, not bothering to waste time on lesser beings. The person on the other side knocked again, this time a bit harder as the wood of the door creaked a bit. A third knocking made Sephiroth snap his book shut in annoyance and respond.

“Im not in the mood for company, woman.” He figured it was Rhea again after her little failed attempt at wooing him and still wanting him. He wasnt one for connections, after all he was a superior being and didn’t bother wasting his time with lesser lifeforms, unless their name was Cloud Strife. He knew the woman would return as he sensed her draconic aura behind the door. However he was surprised when black mist began seeping through the door and condensing before him, the mist coming together and forming the crimson and black cloaked figure of the resident Vampire Overlord, no not Mathias Cronqvist, Gabriel Belmont, and going off of his demeanor and gaze, he wasn’t in the mood for being denied an audience with the One-Winged Angel. “Evening, i hope you don’t mind me stopping by and desiring a chat with you, Sephiroth.” The vampire politely greeted Sephiroth who was smiling to his guest as he reached for his tea cup. “To what do i owe the pleasure for the visit, Gabriel, is this about your little grandchild, Rhea, i believe her name was? Quite the beauty i’ll admit, but not my type, too human…” sipping his tea as Gabriel just raised a brow at the silverette’s words.  “Quite funny you should mention that, and ironic, considering your own concievment and upbringing.” Gabriel replied with his hands behind his back, not moving an inch as his words registered with the Ex-SOLDIER. Serpiroth set down his tea and his full attention was on the vampire now. 

“Oh i can assure you, my mother is much more than a simple human, she-"  "Your mother and father were both humans, both brilliant in their fields of work, though from what i gather, Professer Hojo is a bit of a nutcase and Ms. Crescent is imprsoned on her own terms and suffering major guilt for her actions over many things, including you. Like them you are human, your not even a Cetra like Ms. Gainsborough-Fair, human blood runs through your veins as much as the blood of the alien parasite you cling to so desperately for validation and approval, which was injected into you at such an early time that you suffer from it quite clearly. Your blind to the truth, your ‘dear mother’ only sees you as a means to an end, to consume this world and move on. Course thats not to be as she’s currently a useless corpse who'se entire presence has been wiped clean thanks to Mr. Strife and his companions, they also dealt with your machinations if im right on the details.” Gabriel brought his right hand up to cup his bearded chin as if in thought, sensing he struck a chord within Sephiroth as he felt the slow rise of power. “Is there a point to your visit, vampire, or have you come to mock my mother and hope for a slow death?” Sephiroth asked with a light frown, saw what you will about him and his true parentage, he had no care for them, but insult mommy Jenova in his presence, then it gets personal. Gabriel just shrugged and spoke up after glancing around to all the paintings in the room.

“Mocking? Oh no, you see i prefer to give truths and complete honesty when it comes to chatting about matters such as this. I understand your rejection to my dear Rhea and respect your decision, not everyone desires for companionship, be it platonic or sexual in nature. But would it really kill you again to at least open up that black heart of yours a little bit and make an aquaintance or two, or do you have a bit more of Hojo in you than you like to admit?” Gabriel asked as he heard all about the legendary Sephiroth, as the library in the Smash Mansion hosted a variety of knowledge from fighters to the small details of even the most mundane things. He also knew of his defeat and death, multiple deaths, at the hands of Cloud and his friends. Sephiroth folded his arms over his chest and while a bit annoyed by Gabriel poking the hornet’s nest in regards to Jenova, he asked anyway, “And why should I, I seem to recall you yourself are of higher status than others, but you were once human as well, don’t prattle to me about opening up and befriending others when you yourself keep within your castle and avoid mostly everyone like the plague, hypocrite.” he shot back as Gabriel just gave a light chuckle, not even denying that Sephiroth’s words were false. 

“You’re right, I was at first, but I confess, Palutena is very tenacious and managed to open me up again, Ganondorf is always pleasant to hang out with and Cereza is just a treat to be around, all in all, i quite enjoy my group of friends. Im sure if you try you could make some surprising friends around here, while sure they can’t replace dear Genesis and Angeal, it wouldn’t hurt to form new friendships, how do you think Mr. Strife and his team were so equipped to stop you and your goals? If you ask me, you might be the better swordsman, but Cloud clearly is the better fighter, perhaps Jenova should have chosen him to be her son, he clearly is much more capable than you are, Mr. Best-Soldier-Ever~” Gabriel smirked with the jab as Masamune was summoned in Sephiroth’s hand and speared through Gabriel’s chest, through his heart and out his back.  Sephiroth blinked as he didn’t hear the cry of agony that he was so accustomed to when cutting people down with his weapon, instead he was greeted with a smiling Gabriel, blade run through his torso as he wasn’t even bothered by it, he just took a step closer as the blade went further through and Sephiroth found himself close to Gabriel, Masamune about to be yanked free by its owner, but stopped when Gabriel’s cold hand clasped around Sephiroth’s wrist. “You’re angry, that good, shows that you haven’t completely discarded your humanity, and nice shot, you cut through my heart in an angle that severed the veins and arteries. But as you can clearly see, im a lot harder to kill. Now put away your washing pole and we can turn this little chat into something more appealing.” Gabriel yanked Masamune out of his body and his blood returned into him as his wound ehaled away, Sephiroth setting his weapon aside as Gabriel summoned a chair and sat down across from Sephiroth now. “Seeing as you made your grand entrance by killing off Galeem, i figure we can start by getting to know each other, from one god slayer to another.” Gabriel offered as he summoned a goblet of blood for himself. Sephiroth thought for a bit then shrugged, why not entertain this idea and see what becomes of it. -Later-

Rhea was carrying a few books she wanted to check out from the library and bring into Garreg Mach, both to help Byleth and Bylethe with their teacher duties and also for herself as she was an avid book reader in her spare time and having access to the many books about various realms and more intrigued her greatly. As she turned the corner of an isle, she bumped into someone she didn’t expect to see again, Sephiroth.

“Excuse me, didn’t see you there, here allow me.” Sephiroth greeted and knelt down as he collected her scattered books and then offered a hand to help Rhea up, she was a bit unsure but took his hand anyway and dusted herself off.

“No worries, i was more focused on my books, what brings you here, Mr. Sephiroth, you enjoy literature as well?” She asked

“I do, i read often when not participating in fights. I actually came here looking for you, Lady Rhea.” At her slightly puzzled look, he explained, “I wish to apologize for how rudely i replied to your advancements earlier. Its not that i think your repulsive or anything, its just that form where I'm from and what I’ve lived through, I’ve not the time or interests for such relationships.” He said as Rhea took that in and looked down, while yes she did manage to get over the heartbreak of rejection, she still found him interesting and couldn’t help but want to know the elusive and scary individual that as Sephiroth. “However, I am not opposed to the suggestion of making acquaintances, or friends if you would prefer.” He said as this had Rhea look back to him with surprise, studying him for any false pretenses as he held a rather calm smile that wasn’t mean. She smiled and looped an arm around his as she guided the black clad man around and started asking some questions on what type of stuff he liked to read. Needless to say, this was the start of an odd but blooming friendship.

-With Gabriel-

“Wow, thats new, here i thought he was a giant asshole for the sake of being one.” Sothis remarked as Palutena’s party were all having lunch and Sothis had tagged along at Palutena’s insistience and the group was watching Rhea and Sephiroth pick out books and go over what interests them in reading. Trevor was there too as he figured to spend more time with dad and the goddess who clearly helped him love again, that and Ganon’s kids were rubbing off on him. 

“Looks like the mamasboy had a change of heart and decided to stop being a prick, i wonder if that had anything to do with you, darling?” Bayonetta asked as her eyes shifted from the crystalball on Palutena’s staff showing them the new friends to Gabriel as he was enjoying his burger. 

“It did, we had a nice heart to heart and i convinced him that it wouldn’t hurt to make some friends around. Besides, im sure Mr. Strife would enjoy not being constantly followed around by his rival.” He said before taking another bite of his food. Alucard just chuckled and quipped.

“Surprised you didn’t threaten to tear out his wing, father. you usually resort to violence when people get stubborn and don’t want to change.” the vampire son snarked out as Gabriel just rolled his eyes.

Come now, my boy, i can be civil and persuasive when i want to be. Besides, i also promised him a good fight if he made friends with your niece.“ He added as this got Ganondorf thinking of how he could promote this and make money, The Dragon vs the One Winged Angel, sounds enticing.

[gaygryffindorgal]

hphm fic: 'til tonight do us part

fandom: harry potter: hogwarts mystery

pairing: mc/merula snyde

word count: 2.2K

summary:

A party in the Slytherin common room leads both Verna and Merula to confront some things about themselves...

“You don’t know shit,” was what Merula spat back at her and Verna didn’t know what she said wrong this time. “You prance around like you own this school and think you’re so damn special!”

“That’s fucking rich, coming from you,” Verna arched an eyebrow at her nemesis. “You’re the one proclaiming to anyone who will listen that you’re the most powerful witch at Hogwarts.”

warnings: underage drinking, swearing, merula being mean

author’s note: no proof-reading, we die like men! aka i wrote this thing at 3am in my notes app and english isn’t my native language.

hphm fic: 'til tonight do us part

“I’m not sure about this,” Ben Copper said and caught up to Verna. He had been tailing behind her and Charlie for the past several staircases. “Maybe I should’ve stayed in the common room studying with Rowan…”

“Cheer up Ben, this is gonna be fun,” Charlie attempted but Ben still didn’t look convinced. He had been trying hard to step out of his comfort zone with varying degrees of success.

“Hush the both of you, we’re almost there.”

The three of them were approaching the Slytherin common room entrance in the dungeons and the utmost care was needed. Parties in Hogwarts were notoriously difficult to organize if you wanted anyone but your own house members to attend. This one had coordinated times at which someone from Slytherin would let students belonging to other houses in. Barnaby had agreed to open the door for Verna, Charlie, and Ben at 9.30.

“Why are we even going to a Slytherin party…?” Ben asked as they reached the entrance.

“Because Barnaby invited us and I can’t say no to him, it’d feel like kicking a puppy,” Verna answered and glanced around to make sure no one else was in the corridor. “Besides, I think all of us need to let out a little bit of steam.”

“You are aware that most Slytherins think we’re the worst?”

“Yeah, that’s part of the fun,” Charlie said as the door to the Slytherin common room swung open.

“Verna! You guys made it!” Barnaby greeted them with open arms, spilling a bit of the contents of his pint.

“Well Ben almost stayed behind to study but I’m very persuasive!” Verna announced and dragged both of her friends inside past Barnaby.

“Don’t say the S-word Verna, it’s forbidden,” he said with a grimace.

“Oh shit, sorry.”

They had all been extremely tied up with studying for their O.W.L.s for the past weeks and it did sound appealing to just forget the exams for the night. The common room was dark and illuminated by a green glow. Verna wasn’t sure what its source was, but it did create certain menacing flair for the party. The music was loud, and many of the attendees were dancing to its beat.

“So, where’s the fire whiskey?” asked Charlie and Barnaby pointed them to the direction of the drink selection before going off to talk to some of his friends.

“See, Ben, no worries, there are plenty of people from other houses in here,” Verna said observing Tulip and Tonks chatting with some 6th year Slytherins, as well as Penny and André sitting on a couch, heads close together, obviously deep in conversation.

“Is that… a thing now?” asked Charlie.

“Last week I asked André if he was seeing Penny and he said no,” Verna muttered.

“So, you think it’s a new thing? Or is André just full of shit?”

“Guys… I hate to interrupt your gossip club but…” Ben yanked Verna’s sleeve to get her attention. She turned to look where Ben was glancing. Merula Snyde was walking towards them, looking like a storm cloud.

“Oh, here we go…” Charlie whispered, and Verna gently punched him in the arm.

Merula stopped short in front of Verna and glared at her. She seemed taller somehow and Verna noticed she was wearing platform shoes. “What the fuck are you doing here, Malinda?”

“I came to party.”

“Nobody wants you and your loser friends here.”

“Barnaby invited us,” Verna said simply and waved at Barnaby, who waved back, smiling.

“Lee couldn’t read a room if it punched him in the face with a book made for toddlers.”

“Don’t be rude Merula, we’re just here to get drunk and hang out with our friends.”

Charlie saw this as an ample opportunity to poke the hornet’s nest and added: “At least we have some of those.”

Merula snapped her death glare to Charlie. “Shut up Weasley.”

“Anyway! We were just about to go talk to Penny, so I’ll be seeing you Merula!” Verna interjected, handed Ben and Charlie drinks, and ushered them towards Penny and André. “Just pretend I don’t exist, if you can,” she added with a wink, grabbed a drink for herself and followed her friends. When she glanced back, Merula was still standing there, staring daggers at her back. Verna couldn’t help but be amused.

~

It turned out both André and Penny still vehemently denied being involved with each other romantically in any shape or form, so Verna let it slide. They spent a good couple of hours drinking, talking, and dancing. Verna hadn’t realized how much she needed a night off until she finally got one. Between her studies, detention, and trying to find the Portrait vault, her free time was sparse.

“Vernaaaa… can you bring me a glass of water?”

She was called out of her thought by Penny, who had, to be fair, downed quite a few drinks by then.

“Sure, sit tight,” Verna got up and navigated to the table filled with various drinks. Penny had not been herself ever since her sister got trapped in the portrait and Verna knew she was frustrated by how long it was taking to break the curse.

~

As she was filling a cup with water, she heard a familiar voice behind her: “Water? That’s weak.”

“Hi Merula…”

“Don’t tell me you can’t hold your liquor,” Merula mocked as Verna turned to face her. Her makeup had smeared just a little in the corners of her eyes.

“It’s not for me,” Verna tried to move past Merula. The latter stepped in front of her to block her path.

“Maybe you should take Haywood to sleep, she looks like she’s about to pass out any second now.”

“Maybe you should mind your own damn business,” Verna suggested and started to feel annoyed.

“What? I’m just worried about my fellow students.”

“You’ve literally tried to kill me.”

“Bygones,” Merula smirked and took a sip of her drink.

“Maybe after you apologize.”

Merula had the audacity to laugh, she truly was infuriating. “Don’t hold your breath, Malinda.”

Verna had had enough and pushed her way past Merula, ignoring her grunt of protest. She was beginning to think Merula enjoyed pissing her off.

~

“Did Merula give you trouble?” asked André once she got back.

“No more than usual.”

“Maybe we could curse her hair to fall off or something,” suggested Charlie lazily, having taken up most of the couch for himself, leaving just a small spot for Penny to sit in and sip her water.

“Chaz, as much as I would love to do that, I think we’re better off just keeping away from her tonight. After all, I’m actually supposed to get along with her for professor Rakepick’s sake.”

“Aren’t the both of you prefects…?” André asked, amused.

“Well yes, but that doesn’t really mean anything, I mean Merula is a prefect too!” Charlie protested.

André shook his head and returned to his conversation with Ben. Something about his gobstone collection.

“Guys… I feel a little sick…” came a quiet voice from Penny’s direction.

“Shit, don’t throw up on me,” Charlie quickly sat up and pulled away from Penny’s immediate vicinity.

“Okay, maybe you should call it a night,” Verna said and set her drink down on one of the tables. “C’mon, I’ll walk you back to your common room.”

“Oh… you don’t have to…”

“Shush, it’s no trouble… c’mon,” Verna took Penny’s hand and pulled her up. She swung on her feet for a second or two but seemed to be able to walk at least a little bit. “Charlie, can you tell Barnaby to let me back in in like… 10 minutes?”

Charlie saluted her and said: “Sure thing.”

That meant there was approximately 50% chance he’d forget and Verna would have to miss the rest of the party.

~

Getting Penny to walk in a straight line was a bit more difficult than Verna originally thought, but they managed to get out of the Slytherin common room and headed towards Hufflepuffs’.

“I don’t think I should have gone to that stupid party…” Penny mumbled. “I feel guilty enough as it is doing anything other than researching the vaults…”

“We’re doing everything we can, Rakepick is trying to find a way to break the curse right now,” Verna said, trying to sound confident but honestly, she wasn’t sure which one she was trying to comfort, herself or Penny.

“You don’t understand, Bea is all alone…”

Verna bit her lip. She knew Penny was taking this hard. “Penny, I get it. My brother is missing, I want to find the Portrait vault just as much as you.”

Penny let out a stifled sob. “Merlin, Verna I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”

“I know, I know it’s okay…”

~

Verna managed to get her friend safely to the Hufflepuff common room and started to make her way back to the party. She felt a little bit drunk and, being absolutely honest with herself, she would’ve preferred to feel a lot drunk. Before she could make it halfway back, she heard another pair of footsteps in the silent hallway. She was expecting to see other people heading to bed from the party, but instead it was Merula Snyde, who rounded the corner.

“Are you following me, Snyde?” Verna asked.

Merula’s face transformed into a scowl. “Stop flattering yourself, Malinda.”

“Well, I just think that you mysteriously run into me a lot these days…”

“Shut up.”

Verna lifted her hands in the air as a sign of surrender. “Suit yourself, can you let me back into the party since you’re out here?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I despise you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Is that what you have to say?” Merula asked and her hands balled into fists.

“I don’t really care, honestly. You’ve been on my case for four and a half years, I know you hate me,” Verna explained. She was fed up with Merula’s constant provoking.

“You don’t know shit,” was what Merula spat back at her and Verna didn’t know what she said wrong this time. “You prance around like you own this school and think you’re so damn special!”

“That’s fucking rich, coming from you,” Verna arched an eyebrow at her nemesis. “You’re the one proclaiming to anyone who will listen that you’re the most powerful witch at Hogwarts.”

Merula blushed and that made her even angrier. “I don’t do that anymore!”

“Sure, but you used to, while I’ve always just wanted to mind my own business.”

Merula took a few quick steps closer to Verna. “You think you’re better than me, huh?”

“That’s so not the point.”

“Then what is the point? Please enlighten me, illustrious Verna Malinda.”

“The point is, that you’re mean. And arrogant. You go out of your way to make people feel bad,” Verna made sure to stress each point, so they’d maybe sink in. “I’ve tried to be your friend more than once.”

Merula let out a mocking laugh. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

“The what the devil do you want?”

Something blazed in the purple of Merula’s eyes at the question, and before Verna could react, the other girl had pushed her against the wall. Vaguely, Verna thought about how easily she could free herself from the grasp, but she found herself not really wanting to. Oh.

“Merula what- “

“Shut up,” Merula grumbled. “Just shut up, you’re ruining everything!”

Confused, Verna studied Merula’s features. The colovaria-spell keeping her eyes purple had started to fade out the littlest bit and if you looked closely, you could see specks of brown. Merula had tiny little freckles dotted across her cheeks and nose that Verna had never noticed before (If her gaze also dropped down to Merula’s lips, then that was neither here nor there).

“I don’t want to fight,” she told the shorter girl. Merula’s expression remained unchanged. Verna sighed. “Just let me back into the party, I promise I won’t bother you.”

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll go to bed then, this isn’t worth it.”

That seemed to change something for Merula again, because she moved, grabbing Verna’s shirt to pull her closer. Verna tried to ignore the excitement in the bottom of her stomach, but it turned out she didn’t have to, because Merula didn’t hiss out any more thinly veiled threats or insults. Instead, she kissed her. There was something ferocious and hungry about the kiss that made everything inside Verna twist into knots. She pulled Merula closer by her waist and found herself not giving a damn if someone happened to walk by right then. For a blissful moment, Merula had her hands in Verna’s hair and was kissing her like she actually wanted to be there with her, and then just as quickly as it started, she pulled back again. The girls stared at each other in the silence of the corridor. Verna’s heart was beating its way out of her chest.

“Barnaby’s gonna open the door for you,” Merula only said and then turned her back to Verna, hurrying to the opposite direction along the corridor. Verna stood there for several seconds, dumbfounded. She raised her fingers to her lips and wondered whether she’d just imagined that. Slowly she forced her jelly-like legs to walk back to the Slytherin common room.

 ~

Like Merula had said, Barnaby was there to let her in, as cheerful as ever. Verna went back to her friends who had migrated to talk to Tonks, Tulip, and Liz. Charlie handed her abandoned drink back and assured her no one had messed with it. Verna wasn’t feeling particularly up for the party anymore. Her mind kept wondering to the dark corridor, messy mascara, and hot, fire whiskey-laced breath on her skin.

fin.

if you read the whole thing i’d love to hear what you think! this is the first time i’m actually publishing any of my fics, despite having written them for years so this is kind of like a moment for me, personally :’)

[hq--fics]

How The Captains Started Dating An Athletic/Sporty Fem!S/O

A/N: This is my first time doing this so decided to pick something at random. Feel free to request scenarios/head canons and I’ll do my best!

Characters: Daichi Sawamura, Kuroo Tetsuro, Bokuto Koutaro, Oikawa Toru, Ushijima Wakatoshi 

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Daichi

Sport of choice: Football/Soccer 

- You first met in the summer before starting middle school. You’d just moved into the house next to his. Naturally he came over with his parents to welcome you to the neighbourhood.

-Became friends almost right away when you appeared with a ball in your arms and asked if he wanted to play in the garden (anything to break up the boredom of unpacking) and got to know each other more, both finding your mutual love of sports an easy connection along with your open and friendly personalities.

- Your nervousness about starting school in a new area eased after finding out Daichi was going to be going to the same school as he was. At least you’d know one face in the sea of strangers. It was an even bigger relief when you were in the same class as him. Both of you swiftly becoming inseparable and best friends, though many classmates immediately assumed you were both a couple within your first month of school. Who could blame them with the way you both looked at each other? 

-The gossiping was only intensified when they saw you walk to and from school together every day, both in your own little happy bubble. It wasn’t your fault that football and volleyball practice ended at the same time, even when you guys got home you both found yourselves in one of your back gardens talking about anything and everything while passing a ball around.

-A confession occurred naturally in your final year. You were both walking home and talking high schools. Daichi became nervous, worrying how a different school might change things but you surprised him by laughing softly and putting your hand in his stating and ‘Isn’t it obvious by now? Where you go, I go.’

-Both of you are a power couple at Karasuno, excellent captains of your teams and cheer for the other at all matches. He is very vocal and worries immensely when you and another player come into contact over the ball. He’s the one to help patch you up and soothe your bruises after a particularly intense match. 

Kuroo

Sport of choice: Tennis

-You both met in second year of high school after being partnered together for a large science project. Up until then you barely had any interaction. Of course you had both looked at the other idly at times, you noticing his hands while he took an interest in your legs.

-After you were partnered you spoke briefly at lunch to work out what days and times would be best to get together and work on the project. He suggested the school library after school but you immediately declined stating firmly that you had practice, which caught his interest that only grew when you said it was tennis. 

-‘Oh? You mean like the short white sports skirt and suggestive grunting?’ he asked showing you his trademark grin. ‘Can I come watch?’ He expected you to blush but instead you wrote your number on a slip of paper and slipped it into his shirt pocket. 

‘Well if you’re as sharp with biology as you are with sports, we may actually pass.’ You told him with a smirk before throwing him a sly wink and left to have lunch with your friends and he couldn’t help but watch you go with a growing grin.

- On your first session together you both split the work evenly and begin on your respective sections and he wastes no time and immediately starts flirting with you in the hopes of getting some sort of reaction. You give him a witty remark in response most of the time or smirk. It’s entertaining and helps fill in the time you’re both researching through textbooks and notes.

-After your first session he insists on walking you home, managing to make you laugh out loud as he tells you about the antics he’s gotten up to at the training camps with the other schools. He could listen to that sound all day but his smile lessens when you sigh.

-‘Must be nice. Compared to volleyball, tennis is a lonely sport. I’m jealous.’ After that Kuro stops by during your practices, working on his side of the project and keeping you company. It works out well that your practice days don’t conflict with his so you can return the favour. Although both of you find it incredibly difficult to focus on the work in front of you, not when the other looks so good.   

-You confess mutually to each other after school when you celebrate passing your project, both going into a tight hug after the bell rang gaining a lot of attention from the rest of the class.

Bokuto

Sport of choice: Gymnastics

-You both met as a result of his overly enthusiastic and energetic afterschool practice. He had spiked the ball so hard it shot out of the gymnasium and across the walkway, rolling to a stop outside the gymnasium you were in. 

-‘You’re the one who hit it, you go get it.’ Akaashi had instructed him, refusing to throw another set to him until he went to retrieve the ball. Bokuto rushed out immediately and grabbed it, pausing when he heard music playing. Noticing the door was opened he peeked in.

-His eyes widened and his mouth hung open as he watched you twist and leap on the balance beam, moving in ways he never thought possible but it was so hypnotic he all but forgot about the sport he was meant to be playing which is saying a lot. 

-At one point it looked like you were about to slip and fall he felt his own stomach lurch but let out a sigh when you arced and continued with steely determination and grace he realised you were okay. When you leapt from the beam and onto the mat he let out a cheer that made you jump watching with wide eyes as he ran toward you already praising you. 

-However he was quickly stopped when Akaashi appeared from behind him and took a firm hold of his captain’s shirt. He apologised to you making Bokuto stop and watch the exchange with lessening enthusiasm. Why did he already know your name and he couldn’t even introduce himself? He was beginning to pout heavily.

-‘We’ll let you get back to your practice, come on Bokuto.’ He lets himself get dragged away but he’s looking over his shoulder at you until you’re out of view. It isn’t until he’s back in his own gym that he interrogates Akaashi, finding out your name and that you’re in his setter’s class.

-Your poor classmate somehow becomes the middleman between the two of you. Bokuto begs him relentlessly to ask if he can have your number and is shocked when you approach him at lunch to sheepishly ask him for Bokuto’s. Blushing you said it was flattering that the ace had complimented you so much.

-After numbers are exchanged you’re both texting non-stop and poor Akaashi has to listen to you both gush about the other constantly. 

Oikawa

Sport of choice: Volleyball

-You both know each other since middle school through reputation and watching each other play in tournaments and you’ve both hated each other since the first meeting. No one really knows how it came about it’s just always been there.

-He’s the Grand King that the girls scream and swoon over? You’re titled the Goddess of the Court by the boys. (It annoys him so much that your nickname is a rank higher than his but would never say it out loud.) 

-You’re both the same year and spent your entire first year doing all you could to avoid the other. Class projects, trips, tournaments, festivals? You both point blank refused to be in the same group at all costs. 

-When you do interact it’s snide comments and intense staring contests with Iwaizumi watching the two of you like it’s his favourite soap opera. He can feel the tension between the two of you and knows not all of it is fuelled by negative emotions. Far from it. While it’s his favourite thing to watch he can’t help himself but poke the hornet’s nest one day when both teams are at a tournament. 

- ‘We should go watch.’ He suggests lightly tapping the roster and Oikawa clicks his tongue so sharply the first years flinch. ‘Our match isn’t for a while yet. You got a better idea to pass the time before we have to warm up?’ Some of the others speak up, eager to just look at the girls in general but won’t pass up a chance to see the Goddess play as a bonus. 

- He joins the others regardless and when he takes his seat he realises he hasn’t seen you on the court since you were kids and now he’s taking notice of everything. The way you move, your presence on court, your silent but powerful dominance of the opponents that makes them lose hope with every point your team takes under your wordless command. You’re amazing. 

-He finds you when your match is concluded and he’s on his way to his match and asks to speak to you in private. Iwaizumi has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his smug grin as he passes. 

-You’re curious about the sudden change in him when he begins to apologise for his previous behaviour towards you and asks would you consider spending time together outside of the tournament. You agree on the condition he wins his next match, which he does that starts the beginning of your unstoppable relationship.

Ushijima

Sport of choice: Kickboxing

- Probably the most unexpected and unintentional of meetings for you two as dating was never really on either of your radars, both minds set on your ambitions and nothing else. Both of you were in the same year and knew of the other’s standing in their sport and respected that but there was no other interaction.

-That was however changed on one of his runs, his teammates far behind him as usual. Then he heard the muffled sound of music behind him and saw you pass by him with headphones on. Given the weather was starting to get colder he was surprised you were just wearing a tanktop and shorts but it did let him notice your toned body. (he may be stoic but he’d definitely notice the results of hard work and dedication.)

-He also notices the suspicious looks some people on the street throw his way and then he sees it; a guy his size running behind a young girl who doesn’t realise his there? Yeah that’d send warning bells ringing anywhere so he speeds up to overtake you. Last thing he needs is for the police to be called. Then he blinks to see you out of the corner of his eye taking the lead again which he does his best to avoid you in succeeding at.

- It goes back and forth until you both have to stop at the traffic lights. That’s when you pull your headphones out to throw him an incredulous look. ‘There a problem?’ you ask wondering were the sudden racing competition came from.

-‘I don’t want people to think I’m chasing you like a pervert.’ he answers so matter-of-factly you blink and let out a laugh. You can’t argue with that and when the light turns green you lightly punch his arm. 

- ‘You’re welcome to run beside me…if you can keep up.’ You challenge playfully and start running again. It takes him a moment to register your words and feels where you hit him as his lips quirk into a brief smirk and sets off after you catching up in no time. 

-This ritual of running together starts after that day and after a while Ushijima notices you’ve stopped listening to music completely on your runs and notes his observation aloud one day. 

-‘Why would I when I’m spending time with you?’ you answer before throwing him a teasing grin. ‘Besides I need to listen out for potential perverts chasing me.’ ‘Not while I’m here.’ He answers simply and you smile, sensing the deeper meaning to his words. You both fall into a relationship easily after that. While you both can’t attend all of the other’s events you both support each other fiercely and loyally, knowing you’re both more than capable of keeping up with the competition. 

[ragingbookdragon]

The Bursting of Sunsets

Vasco x De Sardet

Word Count: 1.5K Warnings: None

Author’s Note: And we’re back at it again with my bullshit. Enjoy! -Thorne

           Vasco wasn’t particularly fond of nobility. They made him uncomfortable—and that was putting it lightly. More so, they enjoyed staring and poking at him as if he were a mythical creature instead of a normal human being. In fact, they buzzed around on the Naut ships like flies on honey. So, the idea that Vasco had to transport, not one, but two nobles, gave him the urge to have someone slam his head between his cabin door and the doorframe until he stopped twitching.

           That being said, his first impression of the Legate he was giving passage to had already intrigued him. He’d known the man all but an hour, and even then, he could see that De Sardet wasn’t cut from the usual, “I’m-a-prick-noble” cloth. De Sardet was polite, extremely so. Kind, if Vasco was feeling generous with adjectives. He’d never seen a noble smile so much as if he were genuinely happy, and yet, the Legate’s face looked as though it was going to split in two—it confused Vasco to no end.

           What also confused Vasco was how someone so obviously self-assured was also incredibly awkward. De Sardet had to be about six-foot-two, taller than the Prince and Vasco, and just barely taller than the Master-At-Arms who was with them. He was fit too, unlike the new governor who was at best, coltish. No, the Legate was solidly built, the type of build that drove men and women wild with lust-filled fantasies that kept them up all night, and Vasco could see it, even over the man’s clothing. But God, the man was so awkward—and for someone that strong, it didn’t seem reasonable. And it only got worse when it came time for them to board the Seahorse.

***

           De Sardet had certainly broken a sweat during the fight with the colossal creature, enough that he’d shirked his jacket and undone the first few buttons of his shirt to cool off faster. Constantin had taken his coat for him, still congratulating De Sardet over his phenomenal fight. However, De Sardet didn’t feel as overwhelmed with amazement as his cousin was. He felt troubled, deeply troubled. The look in the creature’s eye before he put it down stirred something in his chest. It wasn’t a look of hatred the being had given him—it was one pleading for mercy, and it made him sick to his stomach. Still, he did what he had to do, and that was push on, which was seemingly simple until he was at the brow, then the sick feeling in his stomach morphed into an even more troubling feeling.

           Constantin had run up the brow as soon as Vasco got the welcome out of his mouth, and the captain turned his attention to the other two.

           “Your cousin’s enthusiasm is most…impressive,” he observed, turning his golden gaze to De Sardet and the Master-At-Arms.

           The Legate nodded. “This journey is his long-awaited chance to prove his worth.” Something soured in the man’s face. “His father is a very demanding man.”

           “More likely he’s just happy to be free of this hornet’s nest,” Kurt scoffed, turning his attention to De Sardet. “So Green Blood, ready to get your sea legs?”

           When no response came from the man save a choked noise, Vasco couldn’t help but stare at him, watching as his face dropped and anxiety took hold.

           “I—uh…perhaps it would be best if I were to…wait,” De Sardet muttered.

           “Nonsense Green Blood. You heard the captain. The next ship will leave in months. You’re needed on Teer Fradee by then.” De Sardet gaped at Kurt, but before he could speak, the Master-At-Arms said, “One step. That’s all it’ll take.”

           The Legate let out a heavy sigh and looked down at the brow before lifting his foot. He held it there for a moment, hesitating, then he shook his head and stepped back.

           “I—I can’t do it, Kurt. I can’t,” he all but whimpered.

           Vasco glanced between them as Kurt started to sigh. “Is there something wrong?”

           Kurt met his gaze. “Green Blood’s got an irrational fear of being off solid ground.”

           De Sardet’s head shot up indignantly and he hissed, “It is not irrational! Boats—” he saw Vasco’s face pinch, quickly correcting to, “Ships sink all the time! I do not want to drown in the middle of the ocean!”

           “Your excellency, I assure you, I’ve made many voyages across the seas. I’m young, I will admit, but you’re in good hands.” Vasco encouraged and De Sardet turned his hissing onto him.

           “I’m not doubting your ability! I’m just not getting on this ship! I can’t!”

           Kurt sighed and gestured to De Sardet. “Oi, Green Blood, can I see your rapier?”

           Albeit confused, the Legate obliged. “Yes? Is there something wrong?”

           The Master-At-Arms shook his head. “Not yet.” He handed the blade to Vasco. “Hold that for a moment, would you?”

           Vasco took it and was just about to ask when Kurt motioned for De Sardet to come.

           “Come ‘ere.”

           De Sardet did, and before he could even understand what Kurt was planning, the soldier sunk his curled fist straight up into the Legate’s abdomen. He heaved forward, letting out a woosh of air, cheek brushing down Kurt’s arm as his consciousness faded and Kurt looked to Vasco.

           “If you would, give that to Constantin while I take Green Blood to his quarters.”

           Vasco could only nod, shocked that a commoner would dare strike a noble in such a fashion.

           As they ascended onto the deck, he asked, “I assume he’s not going to be happy when he wakes?”

           Kurt snorted. “He’ll be stuck in the middle of the ocean. If I’m lucky, I’ve knocked him out for at least a week.”

           “And you’re not afraid of the repercussions?” Vasco inquired.

           “I’ve known this dainty since he was twelve. If I was afraid of repercussions, I’d’ve been gone the first time I knocked him sideways.” Kurt gave him a knowing stare. “Contrary to your belief that nobles are all arsewipes, Green Blood’s a good one.”

           Vasco all but recoiled. “I never said—”

           “You didn’t have to,” Kurt interrupted, adding, “It’s all in the expressions.”

           That was all he offered before carrying the unconscious noble below deck, slung over his shoulder, and Vasco felt like he’d been verbally slapped across the face.

***

           Evening had rolled over the water, and after the fifth gasp from Constantin over the sunset on the water, Vasco was ready to shove him overboard—though he did share the sentiment. There was nothing quite like watching the sun bathe the ocean in a glow of orange as far as the eye could see. It was ethereal, and he was glad that he could witness it every day, because it always felt like the first time he saw it. Six years old and standing on the deck of Cabral’s ship, heart bursting in his chest with every changing second as the colors danced across his face. It was—

           A howl shattered the memory and every man and woman’s attention turned to the hatch and they watched in surprise as a very disheveled and shirtless Lord De Sardet, stumbled up the stairs and onto the deck. Kurt though, found it absolutely hilarious as he was wearing a shit-eating grin.

           “Green Blood!” he greeted. “Enjoy your nap?”

           The Legate spun on him, fury in his eyes and tone as he yelled, “You kidnapped me!”

           “I did no such thing. I merely manipulated your journey and arrival onto Captain Vasco’s ship.”

           “That. Involved. KIDNAPPING. ME.” He put his hands on his head, eyes directed to the open water. “Oh my god, I’m in the middle of the ocean. I’m gonna die.”

           “Dear cousin, you’re not going to die. We’ll be there as soon as you know it,” Constantin soothed and De Sardet glared at him.

           “I’m going to kill Kurt first and then you, I hope you know that.”

           His cousin smiled. “Relax. It’s not that bad. We’ll be fine.” He glanced at Vasco who’d started down the stairs from the quarterdeck. “Won’t we captain?”

           Vasco nodded. “Your cousin is correct, excellency. I swear we’ll reach Teer Fradee safe and sound.” De Sardet opened his mouth to make a retort, but Vasco added, “Your excellency, please, trust me.”

           De Sardet’s mouth snapped shut and suddenly he looked rather embarrassed with himself.

           “I—” he started before clearing his throat and nodding. “Of course.” He turned, starting to make his way back towards the hatch. “I’m going…to retire for the evening. Perhaps…sleep off this ridiculous mentality.”

           When he disappeared, no one dared laugh, yet, and Kurt looked at Vasco with astonishment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fluster Green Blood that quickly” he pulled a look that gave off an impressed feel. “Well done, Captain Vasco.”

           There was one more thing that Vasco knew about De Sardet, his feathers were easy to ruffle—and Vasco seemed to enjoy it.

[aiimaginesbts]

Of Two Hearts: Chapter 7

Seokjin x Reader x Taehyung (ft. Jimin and Namjoon)

Genres: Royalty AU, angst

Word count: 4,729 words

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Read the First Part: What You Never Had

Disclaimer/Copyright

The sun was scorching the ground, burning you and Taehyung along with it, but you took it in stride. No one would have time to worry about something this trivial in the heat of battle. Resisting the urge to glance at Jungkook, who was standing some distance away under the merciful shade of the cluster of trees, you urged your horse along, readying yourself to shoot once again. Gathering your focus with one deep breath, you got into position, then let loose an arrow. A satisfying thunk greeted your ears, but you didn’t follow the sound with your eyes. Instead you drew another arrow from your quiver, swiftly moving to repeat the feat. Taehyung’s instructions repeated in your mind over and over, like a mantra. Keep your shoulders and arms still. Pressing your right thigh against the saddle, you rested the bulk of your weight against the stirrups, drawing the nocked arrow and quickly releasing it.

After repeating this until you ran out of arrows, you turned your mare around, directing it towards Taehyung, who was waiting just outside the range of the trees you were aiming at. He walked towards you as you approached, but your eyes were eagerly zoned in on the trees. Anxious to find out how you did. It was getting late, and this would probably be the last round for the day. Since you were training in a remote field a little way away from the main castle building, you needed to allow some time to return home before it got dark. With the preparations for the war in its final stages, Jungkook, your Royal Guard, was the only man that could be afforded to spare to guard you, but you actually preferred it this way. If the trees didn’t obstruct your view, the walls of the castle would still close enough to be seen, so you shouldn’t be in any real danger. Of course, on occasions Taehyung joined you as well, such as today. He was your teacher, after all. At first, the lessons were frequent, but he’d had to focus on his actual duties once you’d gotten the basics down. Thankfully, you’d managed to learn quickly, sparing yourself the guilt of bothering the important man so much, as well as the confusion of being close to him for extended periods of time.

“You’re doing much better than I thought,” Taehyung commented once he was within hearing range. “It shouldn’t be surprising, I suppose, although I sorely wish that this excuse for me to spend more time with you could have lasted a little longer.”

His roundabout statement, coupled with your awkward position of looking down at him from atop your horse, made you shift uncomfortably in the leather saddle. There were many reasons for you not to question him – your cowardice being on the top of the list – but in these instances, he had you dying to ask. And this time, you gave in to your urges. “Forgive me for asking, but why would you want to spend any more time with me than necessary? Considering what Ji – what my lady-in-waiting told you, why are you still going through with all of this?”

It wasn’t wise to ask. Doing so was just poking the hornet’s nest. You knew that. However, you just couldn’t go on any longer without knowing. Letting Taehyung treat you like this; like he’d never known about another man’s existence in your life, was unbearable. However, instead of answering, he reached his arms up towards you; an offer to help you get down from your chestnut mare. Holding back your frustration at having your question go unanswered after you’d plucked up the courage to voice it, you acquiesced into getting off and into his arms. Once he lowered you to the ground, you started to back away, but Taehyung’s arms grew firmer around you, making your breath catch. It wasn’t like he’d never touched you before, but it had all been necessary contact. Even when he taught you how to dance, he’d held you almost as closely as he had you now, but it was always been for the purpose of teaching you something. There was something different in this embrace. A tighter grip. Something more purposeful than mere instruction, you could tell. That dark look you’d never seen in his eyes. Your senses were prickling, telling you that you needed to get away for your own good. Yet you couldn’t escape even if you could muster the strength to pull away. For some reason, you were frozen in place.

“Please don’t blame her. She told me in the hopes that I would offer you release from your predicament. Sadly, it did not achieve the effect she had intended.” His words had your mind reeling. Ji Eun really told him about Jin so he would cancel your engagement. She had told you as much, but his admittance to it still had you stunned. It did not achieve the effect she had intended. What did he mean by that? Were you right in your assumption that he didn’t break the engagement agreement just to spite you? You looked into his brown eyes, desperate to find the truth within its depths. No, that couldn’t be right. Your instincts told you that he wasn’t that kind of person. He might not be perfect, but he wasn’t mean or vindictive. However, before you could try to ask for a clarification, he’d cut you off with a query of his own. “Does your hand hurt?”

Again, he didn’t give you a chance to form words, instead reaching out for your drawing hand and to inspect it himself. Self-consciousness overtook you immediately — given the time spent on less than typical womanly pursuits, you were afraid that your hands weren’t as soft and smooth as a princess’s should be. You wanted to start saying that it was completely fine and draw your hand away from his gaze, but he abruptly steered the conversation towards the unexpected once more. “Do you know how sensitive hands and fingers can be?”

“Eh?”

Rather than providing a verbal response, Taehyung answered you by bringing your hand towards his mouth. A wicked grin grew from the ends of his lips right before they parted, and his tongue darted out. The tip of it flicked the end of your little finger, drawing a startled gasp from you. He proceeded to run his tongue from the heel of your palm up to your fingertips, showering each digit with thorough attention. And your traitorous body was reacting to it! Never would you have thought that the nerves embedded within your hands would shoot off such sparks, sending jolts all the way through your whole body. It was just your hand! Why was it reacting so strongly?!

“Tae—aah!” Your gasp bordered on a pleasured whine when he lightly nipped the tip of your index finger. He wasn’t even gripping your wrist that tightly, yet you found that you couldn’t pull away.

“Mm, yes, I like it when you call me that.” Taehyung’s voice has always been deep, but this impossibly sensual quality to it was new to you, reverberating within your body like lightning trapped within a box, shaking you to your core. Then he pulled your thumb ring off, so he could engulf your thumb in his warm mouth and suck on it, and your knees threatened to buckle.

By some miracle, the last bit of your mind that retained the tiny piece of its sanity reminded you that you weren’t alone. “Oh!” Shocked into awareness by your own realisation, your head whipped to the left in Jungkook’s direction. Your Royal Guard had been leaning against a tree trunk some distance away so he could keep an eye on you. Although he still stood in the same spot, he’d turned his body away — giving the privacy he thought you needed. It informed you that he’d seen the whole thing, and this time you managed to yank your hand away, completely mortified.

Taehyung released it easily, but in return, his arm around your waist suddenly jerked you forward, causing you to topple against his chest. With a yelp, you tried to regain your balance, and he took your brief moment of helplessness to lean down and whisper in your ear, “perhaps not all hope is lost for me, after all.”

This time you had no intention to stick around so you could ask him what he meant. Feet desperately shuffling to find even ground, you retreated clumsily from his embrace, and he let you go easily, his arms falling to his sides. “I—it’s getting late,” you stammered, still panicked by your own response to his advances. “I’ll be returning, if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course,” he agreed amicably with a slight dip of his head, assuming the air of a gentleman contradictory to his behaviour just a moment ago. “I will follow suit, after I’ve cleared this up.”

In any other circumstances, you would have insisted that you should be picking up after yourself. It was you who were practicing, after all. But you simply nodded, eager to flee his intense gaze. Ignoring the guilt over making him do so for you, you started to hurry towards Jungkook, barely able to keep yourself from breaking into a full run away from the Crown Prince.

“By the way, when I said that you’re doing well, I meant it,” Taehyung called after you, making you pause and turn back in curiosity. “You may not be able to kill, but you have enough accuracy to slow your enemy down. And that may save your life.”

Normally you’d be elated to hear that he’d deemed your skills good enough to be of use, but at the moment you couldn’t think of anything else other than his heat and saliva still lingering all over your hand. It was still tingling even as you held it protectively over your chest, as if afraid that Taehyung would suddenly run over and claim it once more. With a simple nod of acknowledgement, you turned away and all but sprinted towards Jungkook. You didn’t even spare the trees that you’d aimed at a glance to see how you’d really done.

By the time you’d approached Jungkook, the guard had long heard you coming and had dutifully faced you once more, ready for whatever instruction you might have. “We should return now,” you told him breathily, heart still racing. Whether it was caused by the speed with which you’d scurried towards him, or because of what happened with Taehyung, you weren’t sure. The synchronised throbbing of your hand with the thudding of your heart suggested that it was the latter, but you couldn’t think about that right now. Your head felt horribly messy, yet strangely you couldn’t identify a single clear thought. All you wanted was to make an escape. You’d leave analysing the situation for later. Maybe never.

“Of course,” Jungkook murmured obediently, but his brow was furrowed. “Are you planning to go back on foot?”

Darn it all! In your haste to put as much distance between yourself and Taehyung as quickly as possible, you’d left your mount behind. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Taehyung must be laughing to himself right now.

Seeing your flustered expression, Jungkook kindly offered; “I will retrieve it for you, if you do not mind.”

“Yes, please,” you exhaled in relief. Just the thought of the face that Taehyung would make if you’d turned around to take her back was beyond mortifying. “Thank you.”

While Jungkook got your horse for you, you stood still, as if the trees were more worthy of watching compared to the two handsome men, or like you were a sulking child. In truth, you were just willing your heartbeat to slow down to a normal pace, and your face to return to normal body temperature. By the time Jungkook reached your side again, you’d achieved neither, so you were glad that you were going back to the castle, at the very least. Hopefully once you were out of Taehyung’s vicinity, you’d be able to actually use your brain again.

Jungkook rode next to you, going along with your slow, pensive pace. At first, you hardly urged your horse forward, barely leading her in the right direction, even. Just riding in a daze. However, after a while, you noticed that Jungkook seemed uneasy from the corner of your eye. Was it because he was bored and wished to arrive sooner? You couldn’t blame him — there were probably other things he needed to do back at the castle instead of just babysitting you — but he was still fidgeting after you’d started going faster. Considering that Jungkook seemed to be a rather private person, you decided to focus on the path ahead instead of saying anything, but after a while, your patience was unexpectedly rewarded.

“Your Highness.”

“Hmm?” Mind quickly wandered towards Taehyung again, you were surprised at the sudden call.

“If I may...”

You turned to flash an encouraging smile at him. Even though he was reserved, sometimes you’d wondered if he was being polite because of your status. Every time he’d broached any subject or conversation with you, he’d always been so hesitant and sweet. “Do go ahead.”

“Whenever you need to get out of a situation, or if you need any help, do not hesitate to call out to me,” Jungkook said firmly. “Regardless of who is involved. My responsibility is to protect you, first and foremost.”

“Oh.” You replied simply, letting the words sink in. Once they did, you went, “Oh!” He must be referring to what had happened with Taehyung just now. Blood rushed to your cheek once again, and your head felt overheated. “Th—thank you, Jungkook. I will keep that in mind.” Yes, you should have been aware that you could have called on him to get you away from Taehyung. But you didn’t. The easy explanation was that you were too overwhelmed to think about doing so, but... would you have wanted to, if you’d remembered that you had a way out? Suddenly the memories of the sensations you’d felt earlier came rushing back to you, and your hand started prickling once more. It was as if Taehyung’s tongue was sliding all over it again, making you shiver. Since when had you become so sensitive?! Unconsciously, you shook it hard, as if by doing so, you could rid of the thoughts now associated with it.

It didn’t work, of course. In fact, you couldn’t stop thinking about it, all the way to your engagement ball. As expected, that night you were a bundle of nerves. However, the reason behind your anxiousness and worries were completely different that the you before that day of practice would expect. Before what happened with Taehyung at that archery practice, you’d thought that having your engagement announced would make it real. That there would be no turning back. Of course, you’d known for a long time now that there was already no way that your engagement would be cancelled, but no amount of time could prepare you for it. Not completely.

However, now that the night had finally come, the thoughts on your mind were running in a completely different direction. You were going to marry Taehyung, Crown Prince of Delphina. That was a fact that was now official. Yet all you could think about was your turbulent feelings towards your fiancé. From the first time you’d met him, Taehyung had been someone you admired. No, you’d looked up to him even before you were introduced, just based off of the stories you’d heard about him. He was well-known for his leadership, his looks, his charm. It seemed like he was perfect. When you’d met him, you’d discovered that he was nowhere near as unapproachable or as intimidating as you’d expected him to be. Still, he didn’t seem to possess any flaws. Anyone should feel fortunate to be betrothed to a man as perfect as Taehyung was. Anyone except you. Rather than a man who was perfect in every way, you’d wanted a man who was perfect for you. And that was Jin. It would be a miserable existence without Jin, but you’d thought you could come to terms with being married to Taehyung someday, somehow, because you were under the impression that your husband-to-be viewed the marriage as one of convenience, like you did. You’d be trapped with each other, for the sake of your countries.

However, now you could barely look at the man standing right next to you. Once, you’d thought that your hands would be connected on this night, but not your hearts. When had you started noticing that Taehyung wasn’t without his faults? That he was capable of falling in love? And that afternoon at archery practice... why weren’t you impervious to him? The hand that he’d showered with such surprising affection started to feel hot from the memories of days past. You tried to rationalise the clammy feeling by telling yourself that the two of you had been greeting people for hours, thanking them for their well-wishes while holding hands. If you hadn’t been doing that, you’d danced with him, while he still held your hand. You were conflicted between wanting to yank your hand away and asking him to do it again. Why were you feeling like this, when you still couldn’t let Jin go? These emotions only fed your self-hatred. You felt like the most selfish, greediest person in the world.

“Are you tired?” Taehyung’s voice cut through the loud, incessant thoughts in your head.

He’d correctly guessed one of the reasons behind your weary look. It was to be expected; you’d been on your feet for hours, entertaining guests almost non-stop. Anyone would have been exhausted. However, Taehyung had been going through the same motions, so you pushed his concern away. “I’m fine.” You couldn’t complain when he had to be at least as tired as you were, if not more.

Unexpectedly, your answer made him turn away from the direction of one of the guests from a neighbouring country, who was walking towards the two of you, to give you his full attention. “You look a little pale.” His large, calloused hand caressed your cheek, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you stared back up at him, eyes wide with surprise. “You should rest a little.”

“Yes,” you said unthinkingly, lost in his big, kind eyes. A second later, once you realised what you’d agreed to, you asked, “but what about you?”

“I’ll be fine. You don’t think I’m used to handling dignitaries by now?” For the first time that night, he grinned at you. Nothing like those polite smiles he’d been flashing all evening. You couldn’t help but think that it was especially for you. “In fact, why don’t you take a breather on the balcony beyond the doors next to the angel sculpture over there? I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”

You glanced towards the direction he was looking at. It was barely visible from your vantage point, tucked in a corner the guests were sure to miss. Vowing to yourself to only get a brief respite, you agreed to make yourself scarce before the guest could get close enough to engage you in a conversation. “Thank you,” you whispered to Taehyung gratefully.

“Take your time,” he reminded you, in his constantly reassuring manner.

It was amazing that Taehyung already knew where to direct you to, considering his short time in the castle, most of which was spent in meeting rooms, joining one council after another. You yourself knew that most people weren’t aware of this little hideaway, and half or even a full hour in private was guaranteed, at the very least. Still, you didn’t want to leave him to fend for himself for too long. The two of you were the stars of the engagement ball, and your absence would surely be missed. You just needed to catch a breath, anyway.

Or so you thought, until you opened the doors to the balcony.

“Jin?”

After blinking your eyes several times, you could verify that it really was Jin standing by the balcony. He was dressed sharply in his uniform, as you’d always seen him nowadays. However, shrouded in the cloak of the night, bathed only in the pale moonlight, he looked like an ethereal being not of this world. For a few moments, you stood there, transfixed in your surprise and awe at the sight of him. Then reality returned to you, and you turned back to look at the door of the balcony that you’d managed to close behind you earlier. Did anyone know that Jin was here? As happy as you were to see him, the last thing you wanted was for him to get into trouble.

“Ji Eun told me that no one would disturb us,” Jin provided an explanation to clear your confusion.

“Ji Eun?”

He nodded. “She led me here, so I could see you.”

Did Taehyung put her up to this? The Crown Prince was the one who directed you here, after all. But then Jin extended his hand; a silent invitation for you to join him, and you decided to stop thinking about the events that had led you to Jin’s side and simply enjoy the time you had with him. Who knew if there will be any more opportunities such as this in the future. You hated your weak heart, even as you stepped beside Jin. Time with him was something that you never should wish for, now that you were another man’s fiancé. Taehyung had been magnanimous beyond words in allowing you to meet Jin like this, despite his own feelings for you. Yet here you were, ridiculously elated, wishing that this was a dream that would never end.

Watching Jin’s face in profile, you couldn’t help but admire his looks once more. But it wasn’t just his handsomeness that had you falling for him over and over again. It was his beautiful, kind heart that always reached towards yours, no matter the distance. The strength that he displayed, regardless of the hardships before him. This was the toughest trial for him yet, and for you as well. Outwardly, he seemed calm and collected, but the pain was clear in his eyes, raw and fresh, like the reality that the two of you could never be together hit just yesterday. You tore your gaze away, towards the direction he was facing, taking in the crescent moon. If you hadn’t, you just knew that you’d burst into tears.

“I saw you inside earlier,” Jin broke the silence after a few minutes. “You look absolutely breathtaking.”

So he saw you. It wasn’t surprising, but all you could think about was that he must have seen you next to Taehyung, where you’d been all evening as you’d greeted the guests, both local and foreign. “I’m sorry.”

Jin didn’t question your apology. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Doing your part for the country is something to be proud of. It’s something that I strive to do myself.”

Trust Jin to spin this around into something noble, while you’d been struggling with your selfish feelings about the whole thing. “I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

From the edge of your vision, you could see his hand reaching towards you. But before he could make contact, he changed his mind with a grimace, drawing it back towards himself. At that instant, your entire being craved for his touch. You missed him so much. And so you initiated it yourself — pulling at his clothes and crashing yourself against him. His chest was as firm and comforting as ever, and you buried your head in it, taking small comfort in his never-forgotten scent. Somehow you managed not to cry. At first, you could feel him stiffen at the sudden movement, then a pause as he sorted through the thoughts in his head. Then, at long last, as if he’d been defeated by your nearness, he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you with a force that relayed how much he loved you, conveying just how much he’d missed you. You could barely breathe, but you cherished the unspoken feelings of doomed love. You’d stay like this for eternity if you could so choose.

Jin probably felt the same way, because even as his hold relaxed, he didn’t seem inclined on letting you out of his embrace. So the two of you remained like that for a while, letting precious moments pass as you savoured each other’s presence. Another chance like this might never come again. It shouldn’t, now that you were someone else’s fiancée. This should be goodbye, but you never wanted it to come. With all your heart, you wished that time would stop right here. Even with Taehyung’s charm and kindness threatening to wear down your defences, when you were with Jin, you were reminded that the Crown Prince couldn’t compare to the knight in your heart. You were so immersed in taking in Jin’s warmth, his scent, the way his arms curled around you, that it was a while before you realised that the world was still revolving. Life was still going on around you. And the guests, so close by, were just beyond the door, enjoying your engagement ball. The soft music floating through the door eventually reminded you of reality.

But it didn’t mean that you were ready to return to it just yet. Aching to be with him for a little longer, you tightened your own arms just above his waist. Unconsciously, you started moving, leaning slowly towards the right, then the left, prompting Jin to take small steps in this direction then that with you. At first he followed out of pure surprise, but then he stiffened. “Wait, uh... I don’t know how to dance.”

There was a tinge of pain in his voice. He didn’t know because a man of his station didn’t need such skills. But it didn’t matter to you what Jin couldn’t do. He was always dependable where it mattered, and that was all you cared for. “It’s fine. We can just move like this, right?” There was nothing complicated with just swaying to and fro in each other’s arms in time with the music, dancing round and round a small, invisible circle that was your own, private space. “You don’t have to be perfect. Let’s stay like this. You’re not a Royal Guard now. You’re just Jin. And not a princess. I’m just me. Just for now. Please.”

You lifted your chin up, longing expression beseeching him to grant you this small request. His eyes shimmered under the pale moonlight, but before you could look closer, he crushed you even more tightly than before. “If I could give you the world, I would,” he whispered words of longing instead of empty promises that he could never keep.

Shaking your head adamantly against his chest, you gently protested. “You’ve already given me the world, Jin. You’re the world to me.” No reply came. None was needed. You knew that you meant as much to him as he did to you. It was all in the way he squeezed you with love and gratitude. Drops of hot liquid fell on your hair like gentle summer rain, surprising you. “Jin?”

You started to look up once more, but Jin moved his arm to press your head against his chest, a desperate plea not to see him at his weakest. “Please, just... don’t look at me right now.” His broken, hoarse imploration tore at your heart. If that was all you could give him, then you would do so readily. “It may be treason for me to say this, but, no matter who you are with, I will always love you. I could never stop myself from loving you, right from the beginning.”

Burying your head deeper against his sturdy chest, you told him, “I love you, Jin.” It didn’t need to be said, but this could be the final time these words would fall from your lips. And all of a sudden, you could no longer keep your own tears at bay. “No matter who I marry, you will always have my heart.”

___

A/N: Since I’ve started my new job, I will need to move across the country. Due to the time that adjustment and heavy workload will take, I can’t guarantee that Chapter 8 will come out by end of next month. But I will still try to bring it to you guys as soon as possible. I hope you’ll be kind enough to understand and wait :)

[silver-wield]

On Edge

As the city of Edge expanded out and around them, Cloud and Tifa spend their days building up both Seventh Heaven and Strife Delivery Service. It was hard work and an occasional thankless task, but they persisted because it was also a labour of love.

After Barret left on his quest to find purpose in his life, leaving Marlene in their care, things quietened down for the longest time, until Cloud brought home a young boy called Denzel he'd found wandering around the ruins of Aerith's church. He'd contracted Geostigma, a fatal and highly contagious disease, but that didn't stop Tifa from welcoming him into their home.

A few nights after Denzel's arrival during a slow point in service, Tifa overheard a few locals talking about a shady network, a black market, that seemed to appear from nowhere. The person pulling the strings had everyone at their beck and call and no one could explain how. Standing at the far end of the bar, pretending to rinse a glass out, Tifa's eyes widened as she heard a name she thought she'd never hear again. Don Corneo? She glanced at the two barflies from the corner of her eye. Labourers, the pair, they came in at the end of every week to celebrate a job well done. Reliable sorts, so she knew she could trust what they said. Wonder if Cloud knows? She looked at the clock. He'll be back soon. With a nod to herself that it could wait until she saw him in person, Tifa turned back to serve her customers with a warm smile and cold drinks.

~*~*~

“Hey, Cloud! You're back!” Denzel beamed up at him, as Cloud came through the doors.

Tifa came out from behind the bar carrying four plates. “Just in time for dinner,” she said to him. “Everybody wash up first.” She looked from Cloud to Denzel and then Marlene, who nodded. As Cloud passed her, she added, “There's something we need to talk about, but not with the kids around.”

Cloud paused and frowned. “Okay...”

Head tilting as she watched him go, Tifa also frowned. He sounded worried. Does he know about Corneo already? Maybe I shouldn't bring it up. I'm sure Cloud can handle it. Deciding not to poke a hornet's nest when she didn't need to, Tifa put the dinner down and went to grab cutlery.

Dinner passed in a haze of pleasant chatter about everyone's day. Denzel asked Cloud as many questions about work as he could think of, but often his one word answers weren't enough so Tifa filled in the blanks. Marlene showed Cloud her arithmetic book and bragged about becoming an accounts clerk for the bar.

“You've got a patient teacher,” he said to her, looking at Tifa.

“Only sometimes,” she replied in a teasing tone.

Cloud ducked his head a little and said, “Hoo boy.”

After dinner, Denzel felt well enough to play outside for a while, so he and Marlene went out with strict instructions to return before the street lights came on.

Cloud gathered up the empty plates and took them over to the sink where Tifa already had the water running. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Lost in thought, it took a moment for Tifa to hear his question. Then, she glanced up at him. “Hmm? Oh, it's nothing now.”

Cloud's brow creased as he began to pout. “Right...” He put the plates in the sink and turned away. “Guess I'll be in the office.”

Is he upset? “Cloud?” Tifa put her hand on his upper arm, stopping him from leaving. “Is something wrong?”

Cloud shook his head. “No. It's just I thought you wanted to talk and now you don't. It's fine.”

It doesn't sound fine. Sighing, Tifa took a step closer to him and laid her forehead against his back. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.”

Cloud placed his hand over Tifa's. “It's fine. I'm not upset.” He fell silent for a long moment, then drew in a deeper breath before saying, “If something's wrong you can rely on me. You're not in this alone.”

Tifa smiled and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I know.”

“Then, tell me what's the matter?”

Chuckling, she realised some wires crossed in their conversation. We can work on that. Moving around to face him, Tifa said, “It wasn't anything the matter with me. I heard Don Corneo's still alive and I was going to ask you about it, but then I thought what if you were already handling it?” She bowed her head, adding, “I didn't want to assume you hadn't heard. You're out in the world more than I am.” Waiting in silence to see what Cloud would say, Tifa was surprised when he put both hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him. “Huh? You're smiling?”

“Doesn't matter,” he replied, pulling her into his arms and holding her close. “I hadn't heard about Corneo,” he continued, speaking in a low voice, “but I can deal him if you want.”

Would he eventually bother them? Tifa wasn't sure. He only came after Avalanche because Shinra posted a reward. If the rumours were true, only the Turks and a few loyal administrative staff remained. Reeve reappropriated much of the company and turned it into the WRO: the World Regenesis Organisation, dedicated to protecting and preserving the planet and its people. But what about the regular people down on the ground? The WRO's focus is rebuilding. Should we really leave a threat like Corneo running around without check? “I don't know,” she murmured. “What do you think?”

“You're always saying we should get to know the neighbours.”

Tifa giggled. “That's not exactly what I had in mind when I said that, but it works.” She looked at him and smiled. “Want some help?”

Cloud nodded. “Sure, why not?”

~*~*~

It wasn't hard to run Corneo to ground in a newer part of Edge than where Cloud and Tifa lived. His tastes were just as overblown and ridiculous as Tifa remembered. “How did he even find all these materials?” she wondered, as Cloud rang a doorbell.

“I can guess, but you won't like it,” he replied, scowling.

Tifa shuddered. “Reeve would be impressed with his procurement skills, but not his methods.”

“Hmm.”

The door opened and a man with a scar running down his face poked his head out. “What?”

“Here to see Corneo,” Cloud said, placing one hand on the hilt of his sword. “We don't have an appointment.”

“Get lost.” As the door began to close, Cloud drew his sword and jammed it into the gap.

“Ah! Get lost!”

“Tifa.”

“On it.” Tifa grabbed the door with both hands and pulled. The man lost his grip and it swung fully open.

“Like I said,” Cloud repeated, taking a step forward, “we're here to see Corneo.” He continued to advance, forcing the bigger man to back up until both he and Tifa made it inside.

“We're old acquaintances,” Tifa said from behind Cloud.

“Yeah, do whatever,” the man replied, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Thank you very much!” Tifa passed Cloud, then beckoned him after checking the coast was clear. “Corneo spent all his money on trappings, huh? No lackeys anywhere.”

“Hmm...” Cloud's eyes darted around, keeping a look out for sudden attacks.

They made it all the way to Corneo's inner sanctum without seeing another person.

“Guess you were right,” Cloud said to Tifa, as he pushed open the double doors and walked into Corneo's office.

“Then, how is controlling everyone?” Tifa shook her head. “It doesn't make sense.”

“Maybe—watch out!” Cloud grabbed Tifa's wrist and tugged her to safety as a hidden goon leapt from the shadows brandishing a knife.

“Surprise!” Several more appeared.

Pulling her behind him, Cloud drew his sword. “Good to go?”

“Always!”

After making short work of Corneo's thugs, Cloud and Tifa moved past the office and into the back room.

Tifa sighed and shook her head. “I must be seeing things. This looks just like his room at Wall Market.”

“With a couple new additions,” Cloud replied, crossing to the far wall and examining a collection of photos lining it. “Asshole.” He ripped one down and shoved it in his pocket.

“Cloud?” Who's the photo of?

“No biggie.” He looked around. “Where's Corneo?”

“That scumbag. Did he escape like last time?” Tifa balled her fists.

The sound of a toilet flushing came from behind another door.

Cloud glanced at Tifa, seeming to deliberate something, then shook his head. “We'll wait 'till he comes out.”

Tifa's eyes crinkled at the corners as she ducked her head and smothered a laugh. “Thanks.”

By the time Corneo emerged from the bathroom, Tifa had taken a seat at Corneo's desk with Cloud leaning against it beside her. Both smothered their surprise as a thin, pasty man wearing a faded red velvet dressing gown appeared. Most shocking about the change in his appearance was the wheelchair.

“Guess he didn't weasel out it totally after all,” Cloud commented. “You look like shit.”

Corneo stopped and looked up. “Oho, my little Avalanche kittens. Come for a visit, have you? Well, I expected you sooner, but I heard you'd gotten caught up in your little business venture.” Corneo continued wheeling himself around the room until he reached his bed. “Little help? I take it you've incapacitated my men?” When Cloud took a step in his direction, Corneo sneered. “Not you, her.” He pointed at Tifa.

Cloud blocked the way with his sword as Tifa got up from the chair. “Forget it.”

“Oh, I wasn't going to help,” she said, as she placed a hand on his arm and gently urged him to lower his sword. “I was going to kick him and see if he's faking.” She gave Corneo a bright and very false smile.

“Be still my beating heart!” Corneo put both hands to his chest. “How could you think I'd lie about something this serious?”

“Because you're a snake,” Cloud replied. “What are you up to in Edge?” he added, coming straight to the point.

“Up to? Me? Why nothing.” Corneo smiled. “I'm just a businessman seeking new opportunities in the new metropolis.”

Tifa could feel the lies permeating the room. “And what kind of opportunities would those be?”

“What's it to you? I'm not hurting anyone. I'm just going about my day. You're the ones who ruined me so I have to start over, remember?” A vicious look crossed his face as he fidgeted in the wheelchair.

Crossing her arms, Tifa said, “You brought that on yourself, and you'll bring worse if you don't behave.”

Corneo got a saucy look in his eye. “Oh, will you punish me?” he asked, voice dropping an octave.

Tifa repressed a shudder. “Sure,” she said in a bland voice. “Cloud, you still have that bat with all the nails in it, right? That'd make a perfect paddle.”

Corneo's shudder was clearly one of pleasure. “Promises, promises.”

Cloud bared his teeth at Corneo and took a step forward. “Now look—”

“All right, all right.” Corneo put his hands up in surrender. “I'll behave. Wouldn't want your boyfriend getting jealous, am I right?”

Tifa nodded, as Cloud said, “Right.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He'd never admitted he was her boyfriend before. It made her feel strangely shy. She noticed his cheeks turning red as he glared at Corneo, so she ducked her head and tried to focus on the task at hand.

“Oh, you two are cute. Once I build a new coliseum you'll compete, huh? Really bring in the crowds, especially when they hear former champion Cloud has a new lady on his arm.”

“Not new,” Cloud snapped.

What's this? Tifa looked at Cloud again and this time he seemed embarrassed. Who is Corneo talking about?

“We don't have time for your bullshit. Stay out of trouble or I'll finish the job the Turks started.” Cloud was already sheathing his sword and turning to go.

Tifa took one last look at Corneo and followed.

~*~*~

Back at Seventh Heaven, Tifa trailed Cloud into his office and noted his desk needed tidying again. She frowned at the medical text book littered with notes. Is he looking for a cure for Denzel? Her gaze softened as it tracked to him. “Cloud?”

“I wasn't with anyone else in Wall Market,” he said, keeping his back to her. “They misunderstood. They thought that Aerith and I...”

So, it was Aerith with him. “Aerith fought in the coliseum?”

Cloud nodded as he turned around. “We needed money for that dress she wore to the audition.”

She'd never asked about the series of events that led to Cloud appearing in Corneo's dungeon in a gothic style dress. She hadn't ever pictured him like that, so it was a huge surprise when she realised it was him under all the makeup and trappings. Why did he come, anyway? “I know we said we'd drop it,” she began in a hesitant voice, taking a step towards him, “but, you never told me why you went through all that.”

Cloud glanced at her, then ducked his head and smiled. “How else was I supposed to rescue you?”

“Rescue me?” Maybe she suspected that was the reason. She hadn't really thought it through at the time. She'd been so focused on getting info out of Corneo that Cloud's purpose sneaking in eluded her. “Is that why you came?”

“Of course it was.” He chuckled and shook his head. “You think I'd go through that much for anyone else?” He dug his hand in his pocket and withdrew the picture he'd swiped from Corneo's earlier. “Souvenir.”

Tifa stepped closer and looked at the picture. “He took photos?” She looked into Cloud's face with dismay. “Then, that wall...”

“Is how he controls people,” Cloud finished with a nod. “Monsters like that always have an angle.”

“Shouldn't we do something?” She took the photo from him and replaced it with her hand.

“Corneo's the type to step in his own shit. He'll slip up sooner or later.” He squeezed Tifa's hand and  shrugged.

“I guess so. It just feels wrong to let him run around all over town when things are just starting to settle down.” She sighed, posture sinking.

“Hey,” Cloud wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “if you let it get to you, then he's already won. You think I'll let that happen?”

That's right. Cloud will take care of things. Corneo won't ruin what we're working so hard to rebuild. “Mm, thanks.” She leaned her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I always know I can rely on you.” She peered at the photo in her hand. “So, how did you end up in a dress?”

Cloud chuckled shortly. “Aerith and Andrea Rhodea's doing.”

That was enough information for her to make a guess at how things went. She'd gone through similar at the Gold Saucer. “Thought you didn't dance?”

“I only dance with you,” he replied, kissing the top of her head.

She giggled, feeling her cheeks heating at the memory. He'd come so close to kissing her during their performance, it still sent tingles through her whenever she thought of it. “Shame we can't get Andrea to come take over from Corneo; he'd be the better choice,” she said, trying to deflect from how flustered she'd become. Her eyes drifted towards the cot Cloud set up in the office for those late hours when he returned and didn't want to risk waking her. It's the middle of the day. The kids could come home at any time. We really shouldn't. She snuggled closer and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Tifa?” Cloud tucked her hair behind her ear as he whispered her name. “Wanna dance?”

Tifa giggled again and answered with a shy nod.

[patriciahaefeli]

Eight Things I’ve Really Learned in 2020

    Perhaps these will not be new ideas for some of you reading this. That’s okay. I can be a slow learner at times, and there are just some common sense things that are “slippery” concepts for me. Writing them down gives them some teeth!

1. Pretty early in 2020, the phrase, “This is not who I am” started creeping into my thoughts while I was doing/saying/accepting something. I knew this was a clear sign that things needed to change, but it was big, and scary and I didn’t know if I could go through with it (see #3). But here’s what I’ve learned: Do it sooner rather than later. Be true to yourself. There may be consequences, but even poking the hornet’s nest is better than living a lie. It’s not selfish, or too late. You’re not too young, too old, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. You deserve to live a life of which you are proud.

2. Sometimes, working hard and working a lot is fulfilling and important, and necessary. However, one thing I’ve learned this year is that arranging a life that is continuously busy can be a coping mechanism for dealing with unhappiness and avoiding feelings. Take a day off. Tear up the “To Do” list. Cancel the appointments. Go outside if possible, and Just. Be. Still. If this makes you uncomfortable and squirmy and anxious as hell, maybe try to listen to what the discomfort is telling you.

3. I shot a gun for the first time this year and the truth is, I don’t know if I’ll ever do it again, but it offered a nice metaphor for another lesson learned: When shooting a gun, the scariest part is holding it in your hands, just before you pull the trigger. This is true of mostly everything. It is in the weeks/months/moments just prior to taking action that will irreversibly change things that is most terrifying. And yet I’ve learned that even if the things that I’m afraid of actually do happen, not only is the day-to-day-ness of it more manageable than I thought it would be, it generally turns out okay in the end. Maybe not great, maybe not the way I wanted it to, but nowhere near as catastrophic as I had imagined. Oh - and don’t forget to be open to trying new things!

4. Please do not interpret what I’m about to say as insensitive. I fully understand that COVID is a terrible, terrible disease that has taken the lives of many too soon. Still, I have to admit that I’ve found that I don’t mind quarantine that much. I’ve always needed a certain amount of time alone, and at different times in my life I’ve had to fight for that, or justify it, or hope that those I care about will understand it. Turns out, quarantine conditions are very conducive to those of us who covet periodic isolation and the space with which to reflect.

5. Counting things I’m grateful for helps me fall asleep. I’m not a great sleeper overall. It often takes me a long time to fall asleep and once I’m there, the term “light sleeper” applies. One of the reasons I find it hard to fall asleep is that racing mind of mine. I review. I regret. I fret. I have conversations that haven’t happened yet. I think of everything I have to do (see #2), and I plan out the most efficient approach to getting it done. In short, I’m a bit nuts. So, for a few months now, I’ve decided that when this happens, I’m going to count my blessings instead. So simple, right? And it WORKS. Apparently, not only do I have a long list of things to be grateful for, but that list lulls me to sleep faster than anything. Hmn…does that mean I’m not grateful enough? (see what I mean? My head is a squirrely place…)

6. Many, many years ago, a friend told me one of her favorite quotes. Originally written by Goethe, her version was simple: “Make bold moves, and unseen forces will come to your aid.” While the notion of taking the leap of faith is addressed in #’s 1 & 3, I also learned some really important stuff about how truly pointless it is to be a martyr, as well as how critical it is to reach out to those who are suffering. When faced with tough times, send up a prayer, take the action, and for the love of God, ask for help – and take it when it’s offered.  It is nothing short of astounding the number of family and friends who rallied around me this year, clearing my path and lifting me up in ways both big and small. Every single thing I was able to accomplish “in spite of” a series of calamitous events was because someone helped me in some way to get stuff done. Some were so generous and loving I can barely think of it without tearing up. Sometimes it took the form of talking me off a ledge of sorts, or letting me talk, or even just sending a quick text or a note in the “chat” section of a Zoom meeting. Many will never know how much it meant to me to get those notes, how their timing was such that it allowed me to face the next thing instead of wallowing in self-pity. From this, I hope I’ve learned once and for all that whenever I get the chance – I’ll send the card, message the “hug”, use the heart Emogee and say, “I’m thinking of you.” Sometimes it’s more than enough. Sometimes, it’s everything.  

7. My sister once told me that the word “No,” is “a complete sentence.” In the spirit of that, here’s another fact I’ve learned about  explaining yourself to others:

No response is a clear response.

Keep it simple. Mind your business. Stay on your own side of the street and move on.

8. A friend for nearly 40 years sent me this Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis quote recently: “The river of sludge will continue to flow. It has nothing to do with me.”  It’s a great quote and it came at the perfect time, but the fact that she reached out at all reminds me that the biggest lessons of all this year for me involve striving to love as fearlessly as I can, and really just cherishing the relationships with friends and family whose humor, loyalty and perspectives I value. Focus on the positive and let the rest go. It is, after all, a choice.

Here’s to a better 2021 friends! Sending all of you a great big hug and in case no one told you today, I appreciate you, and things are going to be okay!!!

[back-and-totheleft]

Oliver Stone thinks Hollywood is crazy

Beginning in 1986 with the release of his films “Salvador” and “Platoon,” Oliver Stone kicked off a decade-long run of remarkable success. Many of the controversial and stylistically brash films that he made during this era were box-office hits and established Stone, who twice won the Academy Award for best director, as a bold generational voice. While films like “Wall Street” and “Natural Born Killers” didn’t have a particularly nuanced take on the rotten amorality at our society’s core, and the treatment of the country’s self-deceptions in “Born on the Fourth of July” and “J.F.K.” wasn’t especially subtle, no one could deny that Stone’s work spoke directly to America’s dreams and nightmares. Since then, though, the director’s standing as a finger-on-the-pulse filmmaker has been gradually subsumed by the image of him as a political provocateur, thanks to his documentaries about the likes of Fidel Castro and Vladimir Putin. But it’s the long lead-up to that golden year of 1986 that is the focus of Stone’s upcoming memoir, “Chasing the Light,” in which all his questionable bravado and self-admitted insecurity are on full display. “I never wanted arguments,” Stone says. “I never wanted to provoke. I was just seeking the truth.” You’ve made a lot of movies and documentaries based on other people’s lives. Did that experience help you tell the story of your own? 

Well, I thought of the book as having the structure of a novel. You set up a problem in the first chapter: The protagonist is in a box. He’s in New York City, 1976. He’s broke. He feels like a failure and has to take his whole life into account. Then the novel winds its way into the 1986 period. It’s a picaresque. It’s a bit like a Thackeray novel. Should I be reading into the fact that you’re calling your memoir a novel and referring to yourself in the third person? 

You can read what you want. It is “me,” but you have to distance yourself from yourself. That’s not to say you’re fictionalizing. If I write another book, which I hope to do, it’d be nice to get closer to where I am now. I’m not there yet. Making a film to close out your life? I don’t know. There might be a way. There have been some very nice farewell films. Mr. Kurosawa did “Rhapsody in August” — a very nice and gentle film. Would you close out your life with a nice and gentle film? 

You think I’m so ungentle? I don’t know if gentle is how I’d describe your sensibility. 

Fair enough. But even in “Natural Born Killers,” if you look closely there’s a tenderness there between Juliette and Woody. Or the Bush movie that I did, “W.”— at the end, it’s very tender with him and Laura. I know you’ve felt marginalized by Hollywood in the past. Do you still? 

I don’t think they think about me. I don’t feel bitter about it. “Savages” was my last movie in the mainstream, so to speak. I thought it was mainstream, and Universal did too, up until they distributed it. They decided to move it at the last second from fall to summer. So they put us in the middle of a schedule that was pretty tough. “Ted” was there. Remember that movie? It was hilarious. You don’t want to open against “Ted.” I do still get offered stuff, but I’m not inspired to make a movie. I don’t feel anything inside me, fire for going through that pain and misery. The last film I did was “Snowden.” It was so difficult to make. We struggled to get financing — I believe — because of the subject matter. But I’m still keeping my hand in with documentaries. I am working on two right now. One is on J.F.K. Since the film came out in 1991, there’s been quite a bit of new material revealed that people have basically ignored. It’s a hell of a story. “J.F.K.: Destiny Betrayed” is what we call it. Then I’m starting “A Bright Future,” which is about the benefits of clean energy, which includes nuclear energy. These are documentary subjects and aren’t necessarily going to be popular, but they’re important to me. Are you poking the hornet’s nest by going back to J.F.K.?

I’m not scared of that. I’m past that age. I don’t need to make a Hollywood movie. I don’t need to get the approval of the bosses.

Do you think you’ve made your last Hollywood film? 

I would have no problem doing another one, but I don’t feel it right now. Frankly, I did 20, and I got worn out. You had about a 10-year period, starting with “Salvador” and “Platoon” and going up to “Natural Born Killers” or “Nixon,” when your films felt like these major statements on the country and the culture. When that zeitgeist-y period ended, which it inevitably does for artists, did it change how you approached your work? 

I recognize the impact I had, but at the same time I enjoyed doing the films I did afterward. In 1999 I did “Any Given Sunday.” I get so much attention for that. “World Trade Center” was one of my most successful films financially. So the parade continued. The problem is in Hollywood. It’s just so expensive — the marketing. Everything has become too fragile, too sensitive. Hollywood now — you can’t make a film without a Covid adviser. You can’t make a film without a sensitivity counselor. It’s ridiculous. Why is that ridiculous? 

The Academy changes its mind every five, 10, two months about what it’s trying to keep up with. It’s politically correct [expletive], and it’s not a world I’m anxious to run out into. I’ve never seen it quite mad like this. It’s like an “Alice in Wonderland” tea party. In what respect? 

Oh, David, don’t go there. That’s going to be your headline. You know, I just read something about how films are going to be very expensive to make now, because you need to take all these precautions, and a 50-day shoot becomes a 60-day shoot, and social distancing for actors. That’s what I’m talking about.

Tell me more about your J.F.K. documentary. Is there a big revelation in it that you can share? 

I would be doing an injustice to say there’s one big one. There’s no smoking gun. It’s accretion of detail, David. Please watch the film when it’s out, and write me an email when you see it, and tell me if there’s cogency in it. Does it turn out that the bullet went back and to the right? 

We can make fun, but let me give you some quick points about what is in the documentary: There’s no chain of custody on the magic bullet, which is called CE-399. There’s also no chain of custody on this damn rifle, the Mannlicher-Carcano, which Lee Harvey Oswald was accused of shooting. I don’t want to go into the details, but we can’t account for who was in possession of the bullets and the rifle at various times. It’s a mess. Then we got more detail than ever showing that there was a huge back-of-the-head wound in Kennedy, which clearly indicates a shot from the front. It’s also clear that the autopsy from Bethesda, Md., was completely fraudulent. And there’s Vietnam. No historian can now honestly say that the Vietnam War was Kennedy’s child. That’s crucial. The last thing is the C.I.A. connection to Oswald. We have a stronger case, not only for post-Russia but also for pre-Russia. In other words, he was working with the C.I.A. before he went and when he came back. Those are the main points. I don’t want to criticize your paper, but if it was honest, it would be doing this work instead of just saying, “It’s all settled.”

But on some level you must know that we’ll never be able to tie up all the loose ends of the Kennedy assassination. So what do you want people to take away from your new work on this? 

Those who are interested will find it’s pretty clear that J.F.K. was murdered by forces that were powerful in our government. We point the finger at a couple of individuals. But I don’t want to get into that here. Now, why do I have to do this? I’m doing the documentary for the record so that you can see for yourself what the evidence is. That’s all. We’re just finishing it and beginning to show it. It will be out. Even if it’s on YouTube. Or in Transylvania.

So many of your movies, “J.F.K.” in particular, are about presenting counterevidence to the sort of officially sanctioned grand narratives that America tells about itself. Can you think of any areas where your belief in the importance of counternarratives might have been detrimental to your own political thinking? I’m thinking here about your series of interviews with Vladimir Putin, where it seemed that you were more interested in letting him lay out contrary perspectives to the popular American view of him rather than really challenging him on anything. 

I don’t think President Putin’s views from the 1999 period to the 2016 election period were ever presented honestly to the American public. The documentary is a great work of scholarship. It can be studied because he’s saying a tremendous amount that was fluffed off: “Oh, Oliver Stone is an apologist.” I’m not an apologist. I’m always probing, and that’s why he liked me to the degree that he did. He didn’t think I was a patsy. He was a very patient man. He reads. He prepares. He’s not like so many of our fool politicians, and that’s why he has lasted for 20 years. But the American press has demonized him. Even though he benefits from American destabilization and therefore tries to foment it? 

I don’t think he thinks that way. I think he sees American destabilization as a dangerous thing because he thinks about the safety of the world. If anything, he would like a balance of power to exist and he would like to have a nuclear treaty with us. It’s very difficult to talk when America doesn’t talk. It hasn’t been dealing honestly with him in a long time. Putin is obviously a canny politician. What do you suspect he believed he had to gain by talking with you? 

I think his intention, as he forthrightly says again and again in the documentary, was: Let’s talk. Let’s be mature. Let’s be adults in the room.

Could it have been something else maybe? There’s that term “the useful idiot.”

First of all, you should just look at the documentary.

I’ve seen it. 

Where is it clear that I’m an idiot? I think it’s a very articulate dialogue. I would also point out that when we started, which was in 2014 roughly, the relationship with the United States was not as bad as it would become. Things got much worse. In 2017, we went back to him, and you have on the record what he says about Donald Trump and the American election. I don’t think Russia has the desire or the money to spend on “destabilizing” an entire election. And how can you even compare it to what we’ve done in other countries? But two evils don’t have to be equal for them to both be evil. 

We’re getting too much onto Putin. That’s not in this book.

This is mostly related to the book: How present in your life is your experience in Vietnam? Is it still with you from day to day? 

It doesn’t disturb me. In the book I talk about everything that I felt over there and how strange it was. Vietnam influenced my work because of my feelings about war and peace in this country and militarization and where we are now. If I can do any good in this world, it would be to pass some of that message on to younger people so that they recognize where we’re going with continued militarization. But, no, the war doesn’t personally disturb me. I’ve reached an age of acceptance. I have a meta question for you: It seems, at least at this point in time, as though your political opinions have almost overshadowed your achievements as an artist. Does it bother you to think that your willingness to get into it about politics might ultimately obscure or distort your legacy as a filmmaker? 

I’ve negotiated my way, sometimes with great controversy, through life. My domain is wide. I enjoy give-and-take. I learn from people. I will continue not to run away from who I am. I’m going to own who I am.

-David Marchese, "Oliver Stone thinks Hollywood has gone crazy," The New York Times Magazine, July 10 2020 [x]

[thenarator]

Speak of the Devil

a little thing i wrote for my motw game group. idk i was bored and i thought if y’all are also bored you might like it.

It was getting close to Christmas, and Daniel was getting close to desperate.

These were perhaps not perfectly honest assessments of the state of affairs. Christmas was still a few weeks off, though judging by the state of the town’s decorations it might as well have been tomorrow. The Excellence Holiday Planning Committee had done their work well, and there were lights or wreaths or tinsel on every street light, road sign and traffic signal. There was a general sense of cheer in the air, so Christmas seemed to be just around the corner.

Daniel, for his part, had passed desperate some time ago. He existed in a general state of extreme anxiety, and Father Constantine had been his rock since coming to town. As long as Constantine was alright, Daniel felt a little bit more like he could be alright. Currently, Constantine was not alright, and it set Daniel so on edge it felt like at any moment he could jump out of his own skin.

Constantine had been distant since the battle against Father Birch’s coven. He’d cloistered himself in the back rooms of the church, mostly emerging to do his duty as a priest, but had spent most of the rest of his time in silent contemplation. Daniel didn’t blame him for that, discovering that one was technically the Antichrist had to be taxing on one’s relationship with God, but on the rare occasions when he saw Constantine the man seemed deeply listless. He barely ate, by Daniel’s estimation, and rarely slept through the night. He stared off into space as though not really seeing what was in front of him.

He had also -- Daniel noted with a deep, gnawing sense of guilt for even thinking of it -- not offered his blood to Daniel since that fight. Daniel knew he had no right to ask for or expect such a thing, but its absence was almost as unbearable as the thought of inquiring after it.

In short, Daniel was growing more uncomfortable by the day, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

It was at this point, a few weeks from Christmas and after an unbearable, interminable length of time since things had been normal, that Constantine stopped eating. It was after a visit from Lucifer -- and wasn’t it strange to be considering visits from Lucifer so casually -- which had left burning hoofprints on the church floor, the devil in good spirits, and Constantine pale and drawn and deeply morose. It was Friday, two days before a sermon needed to be given, so when Constantine locked himself in his office and refused to come out it had seemed at the time as though there was a natural endpoint to his isolation. Then Saturday came and went, and when it came time for the Sunday service Constantine still refused to make an appearance.

“Please,” Daniel pleaded quietly at the office door, “please come out and get ready. People will be here soon!”

“Go away,” came Constantine’s gruff voice, tired but insistent.

“What am I supposed to tell them?” Daniel begged, nearly whispering through the door as though he were afraid of being overheard. He did not know who he thought might overhear. Perhaps God, or the devil, or both.

“Tell them their sins could not possibly damn them any more than listening to me defile the name of God,” Constantine replied, and Daniel didn’t know what to say to that.

Daniel did his best to cover. He had locked the church doors before anyone arrived, unsure whether it was a good idea to have people inside when Constantine’s state was unknown, and now he poked his head out a window and explained that they were having problems with the heat. Some penitents turned right around to go home, but a few of the old ladies stood stalwartly outside and many of the town followed their example. No matter how Daniel insisted that it wasn’t fit for man or beast inside the church, they still were unmoved, until he hit upon the idea of telling them that the heat was too high, rather than too low, and had made the church an ideal nesting ground for an entirely fictitious species of notoriously aggressive wasps. That thankfully sent the remainder of the congregation grumbling for their cars, and allowed Daniel to draw himself back inside to consider what to do next.

After nearly an hour’s contemplation had produce no solution, Daniel’s thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing.

“Hello?” he asked cautiously. The number had flashed up as Unknown on his caller ID, so he hoped it wasn’t one of the church ladies Constantine had for some reason given his number to.

“A little birdie told me services got cancelled today,” said Lizzie-Jean’s voice, sounding unconvincingly bored and disaffected. “I was totally going to come. I got all dressed up and everything.”

“Yes,” Daniel admitted, curling in on himself from where he’d been sitting against the wall a few yards from Constantine’s door. “Father Constantine is, uh, in silent contemplation of-”

“It’s me Daniel,” Lizzie-Jean cut him off flatly. “You don’t have to lie.”

Daniel let out an undignified little whine. “He’s locked himself in his office, and he won’t come out!”

“What hornet’s crawled up his shorts?” Lizzie-Jean asked, with her usual brazen lack of respect. “Get a visit from daddy dearest from down below?”

“Yes,” Daniel admitted quietly. He knew his voice must sound very small.

“You seem upset,” Lizzie-Jean realized, a note of seriousness creeping into her tone. “What’s standard procedure for this? Is it not working?”

“There is no standard procedure!” Daniel protested wildly. “He’s not usually . . . I’m not the one who . . .”

I’m not the one who fixes things, Daniel thought. Constantine is the one who makes everything alright again.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, then Lizzie-Jean said, “Hang tight, I’m coming to you,” and hung up.

Daniel wasn’t sure what ‘hang tight’ was supposed to mean in this scenario, but if Lizzie-Jean was coming to the church then it seemed prudent to unlock the door. The girl had a habit of barreling through any obstacles placed in her way. This proved to be the correct decision when Daniel noticed out of one of the high windows that Lizzie-Jean was cresting the hill not far from the church on her bike, and then a few minutes later the heavy double doors flew open and banged against the front wall.

“Oh Father Constantine!” Lizzie-Jean shouted, marching into the church with long, confident strides as the doors creaked closed behind her. Her voice echoed off the high ceiling, giving the impression that her small body somehow filled the whole room.

“He’s still in his office,” Daniel said uselessly, locking the doors behind Lizzie-Jean and falling into step behind her.

Lizzie-Jean reached the part of the floor where the old stone entryway met the less-old dark green carpet of the rest of the church and paused, looking down at the dark hoofprints down the center aisle.

“How long has he been in there?” she asked, transferring her weight to one foot and giving a little hop until she was standing one-legged on the first hoofprint, her worn leather boot completely covering it.

“Since Friday,” Daniel replied, watching nervously as Lizzie-Jean continued to play hopscotch with Lucifer’s hoofprints, muttering indistinctly to herself.

Curiously, when she took her foot off a burnt patch of floor it suddenly looked exactly like the floor around it, and it took Daniel several of her steps to realize that the burn marks were being overgrown by moss, the exact same color as the carpet. He stepped experimentally onto a patch of moss to find that he barely noticed the slight rise in the floor where it bloomed, and it released a fresh, clean scent when he lifted his foot. It was quite impressive, actually.

Eventually Lizzie-Jean reached the last of the hoofprints and resumed her dauntless stride into the back rooms of the church.

“What are you going to do?” Daniel asked as she approached the office door.

“I’m going to get him out,” Lizzie-Jean said simply, then raised a fist to pound loudly on the door.

Daniel winced at the noise, but there was no immediate answer.

“DAD!” she screamed through the heavy wood. “YOUR WIFE AND CHILD REQUIRE ATTENTION! COME OUT OF THE GARAGE AND SPEND SOME TIME WITH THE FAMILY!”

Before Daniel could parse out what in Heaven’s name she meant by that, Constantine’s voice growled, “Go away!” through the door.

“I will smoke you out, you old devil, don’t think I won’t,” Lizzie-Jean threatened good naturedly.

“Poor choice of words, child,” Constantine said, but there was something of his old bite to it now. “And if you set fire to this church I will end you.”

“You think you can kill me?” Lizzie-Jean asked, amused.

“No,” Constantine admitted, “but I can tell your Aunt.”

“Firstly don’t think i can’t make smoke without fire,” Lizzie-Jean argued, “and secondly don’t think all smoke is literal.” She smiled, showing teeth, though only Daniel could see the threat display and be suitably intimidated by it. “Through God and my magic all things are possible.”

“God doesn’t live here,” Constantine said grimly.

“Well I do,” Lizzie-Jean said, apparently choosing to interpret ‘here’ as Excellence, Michigan. “Its cold and boring and dangerous at night, so come teach me how to fight with a sword.”

“You can already fight with a sword,” Constantine countered sourly.

“Not as well as you,” Lizzie-Jean said, and Daniel might have wondered how her pride let her admit to such a thing, if he didn’t know her need to be contrary far outstripped it.

“I am not fit for-” Constantine began.

“Speak!” Lizzie-Jean shouted over him, and suddenly she was holding an antique sword. “Don’t make me pry this door open Connie.”

There was a pause where Constantine said nothing, and Lizzie-Jean stood with sword poised to dig into the space between door and doorframe. Then there came a rustling of movement, the sound of footsteps, and a loud scrapping as though a piece of furniture were being shifted away from the door. Then the door opened to reveal Constantine, looking grumpy and disordered and a bit like a bird with its feathers ruffled, but at the very least alive, upright and glaring at Lizzie-Jean with a very un-apathetic vitriol.

He also, Daniel was horrified to note, had stubble. Constantine was usually not one to neglect shaving, but he didn’t grow much facial hair even if given the chance. The three days growth on his face had, however, taken on a most unfortunate shape.

“You’ve got a satan goatee!” Lizzie-Jean howled, her sword point falling to the floor as she nearly doubled over in laughter.

“Silence brat,” Constanine grumbled, which did nothing to stem the tide of Lizzie-Jean’s joyful giggling.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” Daniel said consoling, and quavered when Constantine turned his glaring eyes on him.

Daniel hunched his shoulders, curling up small under Constantine’s piercing gaze, and Constantine’s face softened. “Thank you, Daniel,” he said, quiet enough that Lizzie-Jean likely couldn’t hear over her own mirth.

“Ok, ok,” Lizzie-Jean said, leaning on her sword as she wiped tears from her eyes, “go get cleaned up. You look ridiculous, and I’m not taking sword fighting lessons from Mephistopheles.”

Half an hour later Constantine was showered, shaven and dressed warm enough for the cold December day. Daniel had stayed close at hand while he groomed himself, not wanting to be alone with Lizzie-Jean any longer than he could help it, and he helped Constantine into his winter coat before the two of them traipsed outside. Behind the church was the old cemetery, the headstones aged and crumbling, many of them crooked as they stuck up from the ground. Lizzie Jean had somehow managed to use her red chalk to make a circle on the dry grass, the outside of which was lined with symbols in her strange, arcane language.

“Summoning something?” Constantine asked, leaning heavily upon his cane as he stood just outside the circle.

“Just creating a space,” Lizzie-Jean said nonchalantly, smacking her hands together to get chalk dust off them.

She stepped into the circle, seeming to step through some invisible barrier that resisted her movements, like she were walking through molasses, or something behind her was pulling her back. It seemed to take a lot out of her, as when she was finally standing inside the bounds of the chalk her breathing what somewhat labored, and there was a light sheen of sweat upon her brow. As Daniel looked at her he couldn’t shake the impression that she was reduced somehow, like some of her boundless energy had deserted her.

Nevertheless, she smiled brightly at Constantine and Daniel. “Magically sealed off,” she said cheerfully. “No magic can get in, so no one has an unfair advantage.”

“You certainly do use your magic to compensate for your lack of experience most of the time,” Constantine said, and stepped into the circle. He did not seem to have any trouble crossing the boundary, but once he was inside Daniel thought he too looked somewhat reduced, like he had lost something as well.

Daniel tried not to think of what that something might be.

Lizzie-Jean walked toward the middle of the circle and pulled Speak from where she had driven it into the hard packed earth. “Have at you then!” she crowed, swinging it playfully. Daniel was surprise to note that, however she used her magic to assist in combat, it certainly wasn’t helping her lift the heavy sword. She must have shoulders like pythons under that coat.

“Your stance is atrocious,” Constantine began, walking around behind Lizzie-Jean and kicking her legs further apart.

Lizzie-Jean accepted the correction without complaint, and let Constantine adjust her grip without even commenting on the brief moment when his side was pressed against hers. Then Constantine took up position opposite her and drew his sword, tossing aside the rest of his cane for the moment. Then Lizzie-Jean ran at him, screaming in mock fury, and he easily parried her swings and had his sword at her throat in a matter of seconds.

“Not so wide,” he said simply, and they began again.

After a few rounds of this had gone by without requiring anything from outside the circle Daniel perched himself awkwardly on a headstone to watch. Within the half hour, as though drawn by their congregation, Theodore showed up in full pillow-stuffed tuxedo and skull mask splendor. He was thankfully alone, without any of the vampires that lived in his house, and he didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised to find the three of them out back. He stood on the sidelines, shouting bits of advice to Lizzie-Jean that Daniel doubted the wisdom of but didn’t know enough about sword fighting to contradict. After a while Richard turned up, wandering around the church with a bug sprayer in hand, having come ready to combat the fictitious wasps. Once he had been briefed on the situation he went back to his car and returned with a golf club, declaring himself ready to take Constantine’s place if the priest needed a breather.

They stayed like that for most of the day, Richard and Constantine trading off when one of them got too tired to continue, Lizzie-Jean’s youthful exuberance never flagging no matter how many times she was knocked to the ground. When Richard took over Constantine took to calling advice to both of them, and in this way Richard somehow became even deadlier with a golf club. Theodore seemed to have nothing better to do, and was apparently perfectly content to spectate as long as they practiced. Despite the cold ground beneath and the freezing stone at his back, Daniel too found himself growing oddly comfortable with watching.

By the time Lizzie-Jean finally grew tired the sun was beginning to set, bathing the cemetery in golden light. Constantine dragged his foot over the chalk circle as he left it, and Lizzie-Jean gasped as for a moment she seemed to be buffeted about by a high wind, nearly lifted off her feet by the forces vying for position in and around her. She glared at Constantine once she had righted herself, and he laughed sharply at her expense.

“Bastard,” Lizzie-Jean growled.

For a moment Constantine stiffened, his features hardening like ice, and Daniel wondered if a single word could undo all the day’s work. Then Constantine smirked in a manner the untrained eye might have thought cruel, and chuckled menacingly at Lizzie-Jean.

“No more so than you, brat,” he said viciously.

Lizzie-Jean stuck her tongue out at him in apology.

Daniel followed Lizzie-Jean out front to where she had left her bike, and stood shuffling from foot to foot as she picked it up from where she’d abandoned it to lie on its side on the grass outside the church. She swung her leg over it, standing balanced on her toes with her center of gravity poised over the seat, then looked back at him.

“What?” she asked, sounding perfectly unconcerned.

“Um,” said Daniel, wondering what to say, before he realized there was only one thing to say. “Uh, thank you. For that. For today.”

Lizzie-Jean rolled her eyes and sat down on her bike. “Whatever,” she said dismissively, and began pedaling leisurely back toward home.