#still! here! my art! look! i drew a bug i found on the ground

[batsabat]

drawings so far

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH26

Ahhh! If you’ve read the original, this chapter reads the same up until the end. Lila has a few more tricks up her sleeve this time ;) You can see Emerald Shell in all of his glory here!

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Chapter 26: Skyscraper

Ladybug raced up the hall, colliding with Chat Noir as she rounded the corner. They blinked at each other, rubbing the sore spots on their heads.

“There’s an akuma loose in the museum,” Chat Noir said.

“I know. Let’s find it before it can akumatize someone.” Ladybug nodded.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!” Eliott waved from the end of the hall. “I think my friend Marinette is in trouble. She’s had a rough day, and I just saw an akuma floating toward the Greek and Roman hall.”

“Don’t worry about your friend. We’ll take care of it, just get to safety.” Ladybug ordered.

Civilians fled across the lobby, piling out of the entrance as cherubs darted from the ceiling.

“We’re too late,” Ladybug said, yanking Chat Noir to the ground as a headless figure with wings flew at them.

“Looks like Nike is taking a victory lap.” Chat Noir commented.

“Diana too.” Ladybug pointed to the young woman petting a deer. “The akuma must be bringing the art to life. We better hurry and capture it before Paris gets flooded with monsters.”

“And naked people.” Chat Noir shuddered at the thought.

They raced past men and women in period clothes, men and women hardly wearing any clothes. Most were seemingly harmless until they reached Gericault’s Charging Chasseur, and Ladybug stopped Chat Noir just short of his sword. Behind him were several archangels with spears flanked by other monsters.

“How many can you take?” Ladybug asked, brandishing her yoyo.

Chat Noir readied his staff with a wince. “Five, maybe ten.”

Strikes came from all directions, and any attempts to dodge into the air were thwarted by flying creatures and projectiles. They were outnumbered, and there was no sign of the akuma anywhere. Ladybug flipped back several paces until she found herself back-to-back with Chat Noir.

“Lucky Charm!” She caught a ceramic turtle as it materialized.

“Oh great, maybe we can find the akuma, and he can bring your new pet to life.” Chat Noir grunted.

“I think it wants me to go to Master Fu,” she said, palming the figurine. “Can you manage alone for a bit?”

“I can try to give them the runaround, but don’t take your time.” Chat Noir vaulted over the horde, landing on the other side of the hall. “Is that all you chumps got? I’m falling asleep.”

Ladybug slipped out as they took the bait, swinging to Master Fu’s as fast as her yoyo would carry her.

“Master, there’s an akuma at the Louvre that’s bringing all of the artwork to life, and the lucky charm told me to come here.” She explained in a rush.

“Very well.” Master Fu stood to retrieve the Miracle Box, but Ladybug held up a hand.

“Actually, Master, I was thinking we could use yours—if that’s okay!” She pressed her palms together.

Master Fu smiled, removing his bracelet. “Do you have someone you can trust?”

“I have someone in mind.” She nodded. She only hoped she could find him.

“Good luck.”

Back at the museum, Nino bravely tussled with an Egyptian mummy, and her heart sank. Griping the box in her hand a little tighter, she started up the hall in search of another boy. Of course, it was possible that he’d already evacuated, but if luck was on her side, she’d find him.

A high-pitched scream drew Ladybug around the corner. Macy cowered on the floor while Martin shielded her from an angel with his textbook.

“Run, Macy!”

“Not without you!” she cried.

“I’ll hold him off. Go find Marinette; I’m right behind you!” He ordered.

Macy eyed him hesitantly before scrambling from the exhibit.

Ladybug held up the box in her hand, flicking her gaze between it and the boy fighting with a textbook. Her friends came to look for her after she left. Even with a museum filled with monsters and gods, they weren’t abandoning her. Maybe the Miraculous wasn’t intended for who she originally thought.

With a flick of her wrist, she hooked her yoyo around Martin’s chest and pulled him out of the way of a lethal strike just in time.

“Ladybug!” he gasped. “Have you seen my friend Marinette? We’re worried that she might have been akumatized.”

“Your friend is safe, but I need your help,” she said.

“My help?” Martin’s eyebrows raised.

“Martin Michel, this is the Miraculous of the turtle which grants the power of protection. You will use it for the greater good and return it to me at the end of the mission.” She held out the box to him, and he stared with wide eyes.

“You’re giving me a Miraculous? But I’m not really built to be a hero.” He flexed his scrawny arms.

“It takes more than muscles to be a hero, and you’ve already proven your strength in here.” Ladybug tapped his chest. “You are the perfect fit.”

Martin took the box with a gulp, wincing against the flashing light as he opened it.

“Whoa!”

“Greetings! My name is Wayzz, and I am your kwami.” The small turtle held his arms out.

“So, do all Miraculouses come with a magical fairy creature?” Martin tilted his head to the side.

“The kwamis power the Miraculous. The turtle can create a shelter for a brief period of time, but once you activate your power, you only have a few minutes before you change back.” Ladybug explained.

“To transform, all you have to say is, ‘Wayzz, transform me!’”

“Okay.” Martin slipped on the bracelet. “Wayzz, transform me!”

When his transformation finished, Ladybug ushered him along.

“Come on. Chat Noir needs our help.”

Across the museum, Chat Noir raced down the hall pursued by several horses. He turned the corner into another room, but after shrieks from several women, he turned tail and ran the other way, covering his eyes and spouting apologies. When he lowered them, Ladybug and their new ally fell in line beside him.

“Been keeping them busy?” Ladybug asked.

“I thought angels were supposed to be good guys,” Chat Noir said.

“We need to find the akuma,” Ladybug said. They turned the next hall to find a woman sitting calmly on a bench.

“No way!” Chat Noir gasped.

“Mona Lisa?” Martin blinked.

“Have you seen the person who did this to you?” Ladybug asked. Mona Lisa smiled politely, pointing to the other end of the hall. “Thanks!”

“So, who is our new friend?” Chat Noir gestured to Martin as they ran.

“Uh,” he drawled. “You can call me Emerald Shell.”

“Welcome to the team,” Chat Noir said, offering him a hand to shake, but they skidded to a stop in the main lobby where Macy cowered beneath a sword-wielding warrior.

“Macy!” Emerald Shell gasped. He rushed in to block a hit with his shield.

Chat Noir’s stampede caught up to them, blocking all possible exits.

“You got a plan?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug summoned another lucky charm.

“Rubber cement?” She pursed her lips, surveying the scene. “Emerald Shell, get Macy out of here. Chat Noir, with me.”

Emerald Shell scooped Macy up and carried her to safety as Ladybug formulated a plan. Rubber cement. What was she supposed to do against an army of paintings with rubber cement? A camera bulb flashed and a pack of dogs raced by. A pale figure with a photo lens covering one eye, surveyed the chaos with a smirk.

“There! I’m betting the akuma is in the camera lens.” Ladybug pointed.

“You’re too late, Ladybug. I am Flash Photo, and soon I’ll have brought all of the artwork to life! You’re outnumbered.”

Ladybug flicked her gaze between the akuma, the rubber cement, Chat Noir, and Emerald Shell as he landed to her left.

“Cover me, and get ready to use your powers when I tell you.” She crouched down, slathering a tile with the glue as Chat Noir fenced two swordsmen. “Help me drive him back.”

“Got it!” Emerald Shell nodded.

He and Ladybug charged at Flash Photo, taking turns throwing kicks and punches. Emerald Shell deflected spears from other paintings with his shield until Ladybug got Flash Photo right where they wanted.

“No!” Flash Photo gasped, tugging his stuck feet in horror.

“Chat Noir!” Ladybug called. He vaulted over to join them, deflecting another spear. “Now, Emerald!”

“Shelter!”

A green barrier encased them, blocking the chaos outside and leaving Flash Photo stuck and alone. Chat Noir paced over with his Cataclysm, touching the camera lens lightly. It crumbled to dust, revealing the black butterfly inside. Ladybug captured the akuma, tossing her lucky charm to send all of the art back to their rightful homes. Emerald Shell lowered his shield, and the barrier faded.

Ladybug knelt beside the man, offering his camera with a smile. “There’s a lot of cool art here, but museum rules say no flash photography,” she said. “Besides, art is best appreciated through your own eyes, not through the lens of a camera.”

“Thanks, Ladybug…” He rubbed the back of his neck with a guilty wince before standing up and slumping off.

“Pound it!” The three heroes said in unison.

“See you later, Bug, new turtle friend.” Chat Noir waved before vaulting off.

Emerald Shell examined his suit with a smile. “I wish Marinette could see me. She’d be really proud.”

“Your identity must remain a secret, even from your friends.” Ladybug reminded him. “But I’m sure she’s proud of you anyway. Superpowers or not.”

He smiled at that, letting his transformation drop and removing the bracelet. “Thanks, Ladybug.”

“I’m sure you’ll find her. She’s probably around here somewhere,” Ladybug said. She tossed her yoyo and gave a small wave. “Bug out!”

♪��♪ 1000 Doves ♪♫♪

Martin walked the halls, hands in his pockets. Marinette was still nowhere in sight, and he hadn’t run into Eliott or Lisette either. Ladybug’s magic restored everything, so they were probably still searching a different part of the museum. He was just relieved that Marinette wasn’t the victim this time, but it did beg the question that if she wasn’t the akuma, where was she?

“Martin!” His heart skipped as Macy trotted after him. She pulled him into a crushing hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay! I was worried that monster got you.”

“Can’t breathe,” he croaked, and Macy let go. “I’m fine. Ladybug saved me.”

“Ladybug and her new partner! He saved me by the entrance,” Macy said with a giddy grin. “He’s kind of cute. I hope she uses him again.”

Martin faltered, cheeks burning hot. Even if he told Macy the truth, she probably wouldn’t believe him. Still, if she thought Emerald Shell was cute, there was hope she’d think the same about him someday.

“Uh, let’s keep looking for Marinette,” he said.

“You’re right, sorry! Let’s go.” Macy linked her arm through his, and they continued on together.

Maybe someday she’d see him as more than a friend. He could hope anyway.

♪♫♪ I Did Something Bad ♪♫♪

“Marinette!”

Her friends slammed into her side, squishing her between their bodies.

“We were so worried!” Macy said.

“Yeah, when we saw there was an akuma, we thought that it was you.” Eliott nuzzled her hair.

“Well, it almost was me.” Marinette admitted, lowering her gaze. “Adrien talked me out of it.”

“Oh, Marinette.” Macy frowned. “You know you can always talk to us if you’re feeling stressed.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to face everything alone. We’re here to help you.” Martin offered her neatly repacked lunch bag.

“You’ve helped all of us in so many ways, Marinette. If you ever need us, we’re right here.” Lisette added.

“Thank you. I needed that reminder today.” Marinette rubbed her cheek as a tear slid down it, snuggling into their embrace.

“Oh! Speaking of Adrien!” Macy shot up. “His school is about to leave, but he said he would wait at the bottom of the stairs in the lobby for you.”

“Oh, uh.” Marinette winced guiltily, but they all nudged her on.

“Go, Cinderella, before the clock strikes midnight. We’ll meet you at the bus.” Eliott urged, wrapping his arm around Lisette.

Marinette smiled before jogging up the hall. Adrien might not have been the partner she needed to defeat the akuma, but he was the partner Marinette needed to overcome her own demons. Confessing her love while fighting off akumatization wasn’t how she pictured telling Adrien, but now that her feelings were out there, a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Adrien would always be by her side, and Lila would never come between them.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she caught sight of that signature silky, blond hair, a smile curling over her lips. She always thought that once they started dating, she’d get over how dreamy he was, but he really was more handsome than any of the Greek gods depicted in the museum. He turned to her as she skipped down the stairs, eyes softening in the way that made her heart melt.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, touching her lips to his. He lifted her up, spinning around in a circle with a laugh. Setting her down, he nuzzled her cheek with his nose.

“Well, aren’t you two sweet?”

They stopped cold in their tracks. A set of green eyes taunted them from the top of the stairs, sinister and calculating. Adrien pulled Marinette closer.

“Ya know, you two could have just gone along quietly, but you had to do things the hard way,” Lila said, descending the stairs slowly. “Your efforts to expose me have been cute, but I’m going to put an end to this little charade once-and-for-all.”

“Look, Adrien and I don’t care anymore, Lila. Just leave us alone, and we’ll leave you alone,” Marinette said.

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Marinette. You started this war, now I’m going to end it. No one will ever talk to you again when I’m through with you.” Lila paused on the last step. “I warned you not to mess with me, and now you get to pay the price.”

In one fluid motion, she twirled around on one foot and collapsed onto the floor. Her wails echoed through the lobby, every head turning toward them. Lila clutched her ankle as their classmates circled in.

“What happened?” Alya pushed to the front of the group.

“Marinette pushed me down the stairs!” Lila screeched, clutching her foot. “Ow!”

“What?” Marinette, Adrien, and Alya said in unison.

All eyes turned to Marinette mixed with confusion and anger. Marinette glared at Lila, grinding her teeth until they hurt. That stupid, evil wench! There was no way everyone believed her this time.

“That’s not what happened,” Adrien said. “Marinette never touched Lila.”

Alya turned to Marinette, crossing her arms over her chest. “Care to explain?”

“She’s lying. I was at the bottom of the stairs with Adrien. She fell down on purpose,” Marinette said.

“Oh really?” Alya asked.

“Yes!” Marinette shot back. “Why would I push her?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Alya shrugged.

She and Marinette glared through each other until Nino stepped in, holding up defensive hands.

“Let’s not get carried away. Lila is hurt. We should get her to the bus,” he said.

“Please, she’s fine.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “The only thing wrong with her is her habit of bending the truth.”

“I dunno. She seems really hurt,” Rose said as Lila let out a pathetic whimper.

“Why would she pretend to fall down the stairs?” Max asked.

“Because she’s crazy!” Marinette blurted before she could think better of it.

Her old classmates eyed her with puzzled gapes, and Marinette’s world rocked beneath her feet. Lila was doing it all over again. The trust her old friends once had for her was shattering, and the skeptical whispers were already starting.

Marinette’s hands balled into fists at her sides. How could they be so blind? This was exactly why she left in the first place! If she had stayed at Franscoise-Dupont, Lila would have pulled a scheme like this on her eventually. Marinette should have exposed her when she had the chance!

Kim pursed his lips and turned to Alix. “Isn’t there a security camera or something we can check?”

“Not for this stairwell.” Alix shook her head. “Trust me, I grind down these rails all the time because my dad can’t see me. It’s a total blind spot.”

“So, it’s Lila’s word versus yours, Marinette,” Alya said her name with a vitriol that made her skin crawl. “What do you have to say?”

“I-” Marinette glanced at each of their faces, stomach churning in knots.

“Why would you do this to me, Marinette?” Lila whimpered. “What have I ever done to you?”

Marinette bit her tongue hard, so Adrien spoke up.

“If you won’t believe Marinette, then believe me. She didn’t touch Lila,” he said.

“Of course you’re going to side with Marinette. That doesn’t prove anything.” Alya rolled her eyes.

“But it’s the truth!” Adrien shot back.

“I’m not really sure you two know what that word means anymore,” Alya said.

“Al.” Nino stepped in. “Enough. Let’s just get Lila back to the bus, okay? We can figure out what happened later.”

Alya shot Marinette and Adrien one final glare before stooping to help Lila up. Kim and Ivan helped her hobble to the main entrance, the rest of their classmates trailing slowly behind. Alix hung back, casting Marinette an apologetic wince.

“Sorry. I wish there was a way we could prove what really happened,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I know you never would.”

“Thanks, Alix,” Marinette said.

Alix flashed her a quick smile, then retreated after the rest of the class.

Adrien gave her hand a squeeze. “I better go too. We’ll deal with all of this later. I won’t let her get away with this, I promise.” He planted a quick kiss on her cheek and followed after Alix.

Marinette stood at the base of the stairs, nails digging into her palms until they broke the skin.

If you leave her like this, she’ll never stop.

But why did Marinette have to be the one to stop her?

She’s using all of the people you care about. Doesn’t that make your blood boil?

Of course, it did! Lila didn’t even care about them. All she wanted was attention! These were her friends, the people she loved and fought for. The ones who lifted her up when she was down. The people she grew up with, and Lila was taking them all away!

So, what’s our plan to destroy her?

Marinette made her way across town, her face a stoic mask concealing the rage burning underneath. Lila wanted her to fight back? Well, she was about to get a full storm.

“Dupain-Cheng?” Chloe quirked a brow when she opened the door to her suite.

“I changed my mind. I want to help you take down Lila.”

[twstlotus]

Hi there! 👋 Nice to see our fandom growing, more writers joining and trying their pens out with twst boy~ I'm here to wish you a nice day and leave a request, if I may. How would Epel, Malleus, Trey and Rook react to their s/o being well versed in a sword fighting? Seeing her(or them, I don't mind) in an act, maybe even protecting the boys? The s/o haven't disclosed it to them before and took a stance only because she had no other choice. Thank you very much💓

Before we begin, I apologize if I had written Epel a bit ‘off’, for lack of a better word. I have not played through Pomefiore’s chapter thoroughly let alone get to the important bits of said chapter (I’m only on 5-9..)

If I did mischaracterize Epel, please inform me! I will try to perfect how I write him as soon as possible.

Now, onto the headcanons.

Epel Felmier

Epel is astounded to see you swordfight. Perhaps his amazement is a bit inappropriate considering the context being that you were fighting off a few Savanaclaw boys for teasing and mocking Epel about the rumors that he wanted to join the Savanaclaw dormitory—but they did it right in front of your face. Saying how “a pretty boy soft as he is could never join Savanaclaw!” and continued.

You didn’t find violence necessary in the situation, but you weren’t opposed against it either. So when the Savanaclaw members began taunting both you and Epel, you quickly drew your sword and began fighting them, all while Epel walked in at the perfect moment and hid behind a wall and watched you.

The beastmen tucked their tails between their legs and ran off soon after you had your sword pointed to them on the ground. Once they were gone, Epel quietly walked out of his hiding spot and asked if you were okay, to which you hesitantly replied with a “yes”.

Quickly after, Epel began to somewhat gush about your sword fighting abilities and how great you were. Yet, he’s also curious about why you never told him about your skill in such. You explain to him that you never thought of a reason to why you should inform anyone of it, but you were also a bit afraid that he might find your talent in it ‘weird’.

He shoots your suspicions as completely incorrect. You were amazing out there! Epel has never seen sword fighting up-close and done so well! It makes him stagger through his words. He also states that you don’t need to hide anything from him and that he’ll accept you whole as a person and as a lover. The reason why he even fell in love with you was because of how free-willed you are, you know?

“Well, I think your sword fighting is great, (Y/N). I don’t think it matters what other people see you as, especially the negative ones—you’re great and that’s all there is to it!”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus first saw you sword fighting a handful of the Savanaclaw boys, or, well—it looked more like you were deflecting and inflicting minor wounds on the beastmen until they eventually ran off out of cowardice.

The fae was completely stunned. He had never known you were so skilled in sword fighting, and you fight with such gracefulness and elegance, too! The only other time he had seen sword fighting up close was when he and Lilia trained Silver as Malleus’ knight. Even so, his fighting style was merely that of a normal knight’s—but you, you looked like you were dancing with the sword.

When he snaps out of his amazement, he quickly comes out of the shadows to your aid and checks if you have any wounds. Humans are very fragile, after all. You reassure him that you’re fine and he eventually brings up your talent in swordsmanship, to which you bashfully deny ever being skilled in such a thing.

Malleus can obviously see through your lies, and after a while, you admit that you do. You kept it a secret because you were afraid that he might see you as improper or ‘strange’ and the only reason you even fought those Savanaclaw boys were because they were ridiculing your beloved fae.

He’s visibly surprised by the notion. Fighting...for him? Of course, he has literal knights who fight for him, but he always considered it as the two merely doing their jobs. You, on the other hand; you didn’t need to do such a thing for him, yet still, you did it anyway. He’s touched, to say the least. Afterwards, he comforts you regarding your talent and says to not be shameful of it, for it is a talent one could only look up to and that he’s always welcome to talk about anything.

“You’re not required to put yourself in dangerous situations, Child of Man. Trust that I can fight my own battles, so please, do not burden yourself with mine. Though I must say...you did well.”

Trey Clover

‘Surprised’ would be a bit of an understatement to describe what Trey felt when he saw you sword fighting with a fellow Heartslabyul member. Just a little bit.

The way you made your sword swings seem effortless renders him speechless. Just when did you learn to swordfight? And how will Riddle react when he sees you, battling a Heartslabyul member, with a sword!? The consequences may be severe… (and even so, when did Heartslabyul C-kun learn to swordfight!?)

Trey quickly steps in and stops the duel between you and the other dorm member. Heartslabyul C-kun leaves with a scoff while small wounds decorate his otherwise clean skin. Meanwhile, you seemed completely fine. There were only a few cuts from C-kun’s sword but it wasn’t at all serious. Still, Trey treats your wounds so they don’t get infected.

The entire time, Trey is almost quiet as he tends to your wounds until he releases a sigh of defeat, for lack of a better word. He tells you that fighting by yourself isn’t safe, you know? That would just end up in both you and him getting your heads chopped off by Riddle (thank goodness he brought you out of the scene of the crime).

You explain to him that the only reason you had done it was because C-kun recently found out about your talent in sword fighting and wouldn’t stop bugging you until you agreed to duel with him, knowing it was against the rules, so you denied his every demand. However, he brought Trey into the story by mocking him and that was the last straw.

Quite honestly, Trey doesn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, he’s afraid and a bit worried for you and what could have happened. And on the other...he’s grateful and rather enamoured about the fact that you tried to defend him. Still, he shows appreciation for what you did in his name but reminds you to be careful next time.

“Don’t run off fighting other people, okay? I really appreciate what you did for me but I don’t want you getting hurt. Plus, I can’t have my favorite cupcake get in trouble with Riddle!”

Rook Hunt

Saw you sword fighting another Pomefiore member, but it didn’t look intense if at all. From afar, it did look like you and Pomefiore B-kun were simply practice-duelling—and from afar, it stayed as such. Rook continued to watch you from the bushes with a keen eye and a smile tugging on his face.

However, B-kun just had to do it. During your duel, he began taunting you about Rook, your Hunter of Love. It started small; calling him a weirdo and other nicknames Rook had likely grown accustomed to. But B-kun just went on and on, his small taunts grew to harsh insults, and you weren’t having any of it.

You swiftly defeat B-kun in the duel. His sword flying out of his hands and landing on soft grass, piercing the surface. You quickly tell him to scram and he leaves without a word, not even to retrieve his sword.

You let out a sigh before turning to the bushes, where you know Rook is. You call out his name and after a few rustles from the bushes, he walks out with a large smile on his face and claps for your performance, stating that it was marvelous! ....However, this does spark curiosity in him—curiosity on why you never informed him of your talent in the art of sword fighting.

You say that you never found the reason to tell him of it, though you weren’t exactly ashamed, it was just what it was also because you knew Rook wouldn’t stop pestering you about it once he found out that you were skilled in sword fighting.

Non, non! This is wonderful news to him! He’s happy to know that you’re confident in something you’re skilled in and he would be all the more glad if you wanted to speak to him about sword fighting, should you ever wish to do so.

“Your swordsmanship is fantastique, mon cherie! Though, I must ask…,” The self-proclaimed hunter steps towards C-kun’s sword and picks it up. “May I request a few sword fighting lessons from you?”

[narwalbby]

assassination classroom babies dealing with quarantine headcanons ✨

Lizzie You’re literally my favorite person on this Platform, Thank you so much for all your support, I don’t deserve this 🤧💕

——————————

AssClass Quarantine Headcanons:

Class E:

This is the worst that could possibly happen to Nagisa. Poor boy has to stay with his damn Psycho Mom and she won’t let him go out ever. Korosensei secretly Checks on him every two days tho, just to make sure she doesn’t do anything too bad

Kirara secretly misses her Classmates (mostly the Terasaka Squad), but she uses her free time to learn new spells and to explore her hobbies a little deeper

since Itona only owns that Garage of his dad Terasaka has offered him to stay at his house

The Terasaka Squad does Videochats per Zoom every now and then, but it‘s so chaotic Kirara sometimes just leaves shhshs

Karma uses his time to either study, play Videogames or think of new ways to kill Korosensei

He never sleeps. Karma doesn’t know sleep

Now that his parents also have to stay home, he finally talks about them and how he feels neglected by them. It was a heartwarming Conversation and everything‘s a little better now

The Girls have an own Groupchat and have weekly Zoom Meetings, where they talk about how they’ve been doing and stuff

Sumire opened up a YouTube channel, where she shows people how she cooks all kinds of food! She‘s semi popular! (All thanks to Mimura and his Filming Skills)

Sugaya tries out new stuff with art. He made a sculpture, he drew with oil paint, tried out many cartoon styles and also pointed with Acrylic paint

His mom thinks about selling some of his pictures but he refuses (Never steal my mans art 😤)

Kayano feels very lonely without her Classmates and her Sister. She eats tons of Ice Cream and eventually gets over Nagisa!

She also watches a lot of Netflix in that Time, she stays up till 4AM Binge watching her favorite Series all over again

Takebayashi and Fuwa accidentally called each other but ended up talking for over two hours about Anime and Manga

They eventually bonded over this and now recommend each other the newest Manga and Animes (I love these two sm shshsh✨)

Okuda gets much more confident

She stopped braiding her hair and eventually even dyed it in a different color

When Karma and her had a Videochat with Nagisa both of them almost choked to death

Yoshida is so bored that he just rides on their private ground with his motorcycle, but after some time he just looses the fun in it

Muramatsu is tired of cooking Ramen and tries out some of Sumire‘s recipes! He‘s not a perfect cook, but he improves day to day! (Underrated Characters are superior, change my mind🍜💞)

Megu and Isogai Check on the others daily, like the responsible Class Preps they are! They make sure no one is sick and everyone is comfortable at home

Well, you see, Okajima would just watch Porn. I wish I could go deeper, but everytime I think about him it’s just... Porn.

Oh, but he misses his Classmates a lot. He looks at some photographs he made, and probably cries about it later

Maehara is bored to death since he can’t date any girls, but he and Isogai chat almost every day and he plays some video games with the others

Sugino practices a little Baseball in his Garden and accidentally breaks his Neighbours Window

Yup. They ain’t happy about it!

Hinano excercises a lot, just like Kimura does

Kimura has some days where he takes a walk or just runs a little while listening to music, it really relaxes him a lot and helps him to deal with the whole situation

Chiba and Hayami also Videochat very often, just like everyone else

Chiba once pinned his hair back, because he was doing some of Korosensei‘s Tasks, and Hayami just stared at him and almost started to cry

(I mean can you blame her, his eyes are beautiful 🥺)

Hinano reads a lot about bugs and Animals, and she also watches a lot of documentaries!

She also saved a little squirrel that almost starved to death in her garden, and she named him Squirrel-sensei, in honor of Korosensei

Rio doesn’t known what to do, so she just Chops her hair off

But it’s fine, short hair really suits her, and she loves it either way, she was just bored

For Kanzaki... she would probably sit in her room and play videogames with the boys

She once rage quitted and yelled

Maehara was so traumatized that he didn’t play games for 3 solid days

Big 5:

Gakushu hates being Quarantined with his father, but well, what can he do?

He does a lot of unnecessary extra work, but other than that he just thinks

About Class E, about his father, about his friends and about himself

He secretly loves watching Theories and Myths, so that’s probably what he does on weekends

Ren has no idea what to do, so he just calls his friends and they talk about basically everything

He also tried out nail polish, but it just wasn’t for him, so he immediately rubbed it off

Okay this one is canon and you can’t change my mind: Natsuhiko remembers every. Single. Word. From the Shrek Series.

He was done with all of his school work and he ended up watching it all over again until he memorized everything

Teppei doesn’t do much except homework, but he mumbled to himself a lot

It was a habit before the pandemic, but it has gotten worse

He also watches Documentaries and ends up watching some about the dumbest topics, for example Otters or something

Seo is depressed, because he and his family can’t travel to LA anymore (rich kid problems 🙄)

Teachers:

Like I already said, Korosensei checks up on each one of his student, and he gives them a lot of extra work to do

Only because he cares about them and their education of course

He‘ll try to find a way to still somehow teach them, but he hasn’t found one yet

Korosensei also could travel the world, but he doesn’t do it because he says it’s a bad example for his students

None of them really care tho

Irina basically begs Karasuma to let her be quarantined with him, but he just refuses like the stern type of guy he is

Karasuma does a lot of paperwork and avoids texts or calls from Irina

Irina gets mad at Karasuma a lot and shoves chocolate up her mouth and cries over him

Other than that, she orders many new clothes and tries out different styles and aesthetics

Her favorite so far is Cottagecore

Gakuho isn’t to fond of him and his son being quarantined together

They only eat breakfast, lunch and dinner together, and that’s it. Nothing else happening here

He tries his best to care for his school of course, but he somehow also wishes to make things right with Gakushu

He knows that it’s probably too late, so he just doesn’t say anything and remains going school work and correcting exams

——————————

Ahhhh I Hope this is Fine, it’s very Long but I‘m sure you don’t mind 👀

@kaidasen

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Fifty-Six

Coriander Rule #56: Never trust someone who sits on top of a pile of popsicle sticks and obsesses over art, for such people will surely monologue.

Exhibit A, and the only exhibit to date: this Dr. Popsicle Stick Lady. Or whichever of her doctor names she gave herself. Who gives a fuck, am I right?

Now, before the rule turned out to be true, my client, Velvet, was on trial for the crime of trusting someone who had way too much fun with popsicle sticks. She didn’t know she was on trial, but she totally was. We both were, but I wanted to think I was the defense attorney. Or the prosecutor.

“I’m telling you, I’m getting bad vibes,” I tried to keep my voice low as I muttered to Velvet.

“Don’t worry. If it comes down to it, you’ve got that backpack blaster and I’ve got this gun I found.”

Tch. “Found”. More like looted off an enemy guard. Not that semantics ever helped anyone.

“Why does someone like you want to help us defeat the guys that you work for?” I called out.

She bobbed her head to and fro as if she was listening to a song. In fact, she grabbed the popsicle sticks that were in her hair and started tapping them against the pillar she sat on. “Look at all the things you can do with a little bit of arts and crafts!”

“You’re not answering my question!” I snapped.

“Oh, but I am! You see, this huge corporation claims to want what’s best for humanity, but they failed to realize that without art, Earth is just ‘eh?’ But that’s just how corporations are, aren’t they? They stifle creativity and restrict art until it’s sanitized and marketable! Just like that snappy slogan I just used! If they can’t find a use for art, they find it useless. Me? I just can’t abide. I need to show everyone all the ways art is essential to humanity!”

“But aren’t you on their side?”

“I’m on the side of art, the greatest side you can be on. As long as I’m inspired, I don’t mind where that inspiration comes from! I need to be free to explore all mediums, and even discover new ones!”

...Yep. There it was. The monologue.

I tried to look around me. I couldn’t see any form of exits besides the way we came in. Figures. If there was a way for her to have gotten out, wouldn’t she already? Considering how The Flashbulb seemed to go to great lengths to hide her existence, I had to assume that she was trapped there.

Yet another ridiculous person we just had to meet. Go-fucking-figure. Really, how could this person help us, anyway?

“Velvet, let’s just turn back and find some other way around,” I nudged her. “I don’t think we’ll find anything here.”

“Really? We found a person. That’s already one thing.”

Gah. The fu...fu...fudgetrucking nerve! Did she not notice the red flags?

Or maybe she did and she’s just confident she can use the situation to her advantage. She’s probably already thought something up. That’s just like her.

“Aaaaand...DONE!” Lord Popsicle (look, it wasn’t like anyone was going to care what I called her) announced. She held up some wooden block.

“We can’t see shit, dumbass! You’re too high!”

“Astute observation!” She dropped the wooden block down. It landed without so much as a scratch. I was hesitant to approach it, as I knew I needed to be on my guard.

“I get it, I get it! I’m a scary lady you just met who recently learned how to use popsicle sticks as chop sticks! It was hard at first, but I got the hang of it! Also, that wood block is made entirely from recycled...guess!”

“How about no?” For real, not even (if I had to guess) five minutes in and I was getting real sick of the repetition. ‘Art’ this or ‘popsicle’ that. How irritating.

“I like that! Unorthodox answer! Quite artsy!”

Velvet took a few steps forward and pointed the gun upward at our supposed helper. “I’ve got this, Corey Andy.”

“I’m going to ignore that for now,” I replied.

Why does she have to come up with the most ridiculous names? There’s no way I’m going to be referred that way.

I walked over to the wood block and picked it up. Then, my hands began to shake: it was a picture of Velvet and I, which, would have been fine. I mean, the details were amazing. Our forms were near perfect. That wasn’t the problem. No, it was that the picture was of me standing on my tiptoes and kissing Velvet’s forehead. Something that happened not all that long ago.

What started as shock and possible fear turned into anger and confusion.

“How could you…”

“How could I draw so fast? Mostly a force of habit from back when I had to finish my dad’s paintings for him.”

“No!” I shouted. My hands were balled into fists, I dropped the painting on the ground. “How could you have known? Unless…”

Beside her buzzed two little flying drones which were about the size of flies.

“Oh, that’s what you mean! I used these little bugs! They’re small enough that they can fit through the cracks within walls! It’s nice for when I need inspiration!”

“Who gave you the right?!”

Velvet turned to me. “This isn’t the time to lose your cool,” she urged me. She was right, too, and by all accounts, it must have seemed like I was making a cow out of beef jerky, but I had my reasons. I didn’t know what those reasons were yet, but they were there.

It used to be my job to spy on people. This shouldn’t bother me.

“Not only can they watch people, but they can also listen in to their conversations, and let me tell you, I’m so glad that you two found a way to get in here. I was really hoping you would. I just loved both what I heard and what I saw. The motivations, the struggles. The pain and joy. It’s all so poetic! I just had to capture your likeness.”

I dropped the painting and stepped on it. “Capture that!”

Was it petty? Sure. Would it drive home how serious I was? You betcha. No more games.

“Is it smudged?” She leaned over and looked down. “I was going to say you could keep it, as a gift, but if you want to use it in that way, that’s fine too! As long as it served some kind of purpose, I’m glad! Besides, I can always make another. The important thing is, no matter how fast or slow I am with my art, I always put effort into everything I do!”

“Look, Velvet and I don’t care!”

Velvet continued to point the gun at the art nut. “I would have phrased it better, but she’s right: we’re trying to fight an impossible battle against an entity that can’t be defeated, so if you want to help us, you’ll step aside and show us where the exit is.”

Damn. I forgot how fierce she could be when she wanted to.

“Give it up, Velvet! There’s nothing she can do to help us. Keep your aim on her and let’s walk back. If she knew where an exit was, why would she be in here?”

Velvet started to walk back, still aimed at the one atop the popsicle pillar. I pressed a button on one of the straps of the backpack and the lasers set their sights on Popsicle Lady.

“If you try anything, I swear…” I stopped myself. I sounded ridiculous. So far what had she done? Spied on us and drew a picture? In other words, a little creepy, but harmless. Velvet was right: we needed to be as efficient and free of distractions as possible. Creepy or not, if that woman wasn’t going to be our enemy, there was no need to attack her.

But as I started to walk back and try to catch up with my silk spun partner, I felt the force of something hit against me and the force thrust me against a wall.

“What the –”

I tried to move my arms, but nothing would happen. For whatever reason, I was stuck.

“What a beautiful wallflower you’ve become,” mused someone from up above.

I could hardly turn my head to face her. Whatever substance had covered me must have been pretty strong.

“What did you do?!”

“Oh, that? That’s gorilla glue! And no, in case you’re wondering, it’s not made from actual gorillas! I’m as surprised as you are, I’m sure!”

“Argh!” I tried to thrash about with the same results. No movement.

“Nothing I can do to help? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Spice!” Velvet cried out.

“Since when was that my nickname?” I groaned. Oh, it didn’t matter.

“No, I will help you two out! By drawing out your potential! True, your goal is a near-impossible one, and you were right to focus on it, but you won’t get very far without some guidance! So allow to make you my muses and become wonderful works of art!”

Ladies, gentlemen, kind folks of the jury, I rest my case.

Damn it, I really thought I was onto something. Usually I could just wing it and when an opportunity arose, I’d take it. I thought that was one such opportunity, but now look at the mess we were in.

“This is all your fault!” Coriander yelled. Whether she thought that way or was just pissed at her situation was anyone’s guess, but I didn’t blame her. “We should have never trusted this art freak!”

It’s not that I trusted her, I just thought that we had caught a lucky break. But then again, maybe I really did trust that person. Maybe I had gotten so used to finding allies recently that I believed there could have been someone in that evil lair who could help us.

You’ve gotten softer, Velvet, I scolded myself. Softer, silkier, smoother. Velvety.

I knew I’d have to take a life eventually. It went without saying that being in such a place and not expecting to have to kill was absurd. As hesitant as I may have been before, I wasn’t about to let anything happen to Coriander. So I set my sights, aimed, and…

I saw myself step forward with a pistol. She pointed it right at me. In my hand wasn’t the same heavy weapon as before, but also a pistol. We both aimed at each other, and then everything went black.

Engulfed in total darkness. Or so I thought, but there was a light somewhere. Above? A dim glow? Either way, I stood, once again.

Stop it. Stop getting distracted by this. My target is the art lady. After that, I need to free Cor...Coral? Never mind. It would come to me.

I aimed the pistol, which I somehow obtained, and shot straight ahead. I was surrounded by Velvets on all side, who also took aim, and before I knew it, confetti. Wait. Confetti? Or nothing?

That’s right. It’s all an illusion. I don’t really get it, but I just have to analyze my surroundings, focus, and then the weak point should appear in my mind.

“I know what you’re doing!” I cupped my hands and called around. “But it won’t work!”

“Cut! Cut!” The voice of the art lady boomed. “End scene! Perfect!”

“What’s going on?” I yelled in response.

“You’ve been cast in the leading role of some new blockbuster movies! But who am I, you may ask? I am the great Dr. Lynch, of course, director extraordinaire!”

I groaned. “I don’t care what you call yourself! I just want to get a move on!”

“So you’re the type of actor who gives every performance your all? Excellent! Next scene!”

I don’t think so.

I ran forward, sure that if I just broke through I would be free of the illusion, and then I could break Coriander free and together we would –

Bright, orange glow. Beat up cars. Explosions in the distance.

“Fine. I’ll bite. What kind of movie is this, anyway?”

I wasn’t sure if she’d answer, but to my surprise, she did.

“It’s an art film! Of course, all films are art, because good or bad, corporate or independent, they all have effort put into them. But, is effort the only thing that goes into art?”

I wasn’t about to answer that. I decided to wander around the city landscape a bit. Even if it was some green screen, illusion, ‘movie magic’, whatever, I didn’t see myself making much progress until I could figure out a way to exploit the situation.

Maybe I should think like a hacker, like the good old days. Only this ‘movie set’ is the software, and I’m the infection.

I went around and kicked some rubble. These “streets” were already on fire, destroyed by some unknown force that I didn’t care to know.

Off in the distance, I could see a group of people in what appeared to be superhero costumes. Jeez, what a bunch of dorks.

“Dr. Banter, I’m going to need you to get irritable!”

“That’s my secret, Admiral: I hate it when you leave the toilet seat up. I hate it when you don’t wash your hands after you use the bathroom and then wipe your dirty hands on the shower curtains. I hate when you put used paper towels in the recycling! I hate when you leave your shoes around everywhere! And when you snore!”

“Yes! More! We need you to turn into Bunk and smush Lowkey!”

I grimaced. While I didn’t know what was being referenced, it was clear this ‘movie’ was parodying something. Regardless, I wasn’t having any part of it. I picked up a brick and threw it at the group.

“Hey assholes! How do I ditch this popsicle stand?”

Everyone turned to me and looked stunned.

“It’s Black Velvet!” Admiral (I guess was his name?) pointed at me. “The secret agent who works for Condom! Why is she attacking us?!”

Condom? Really? Couldn’t they have picked a better name?

“Maybe she’s being mind controlled by Lowkey!” Someone covered in tinfoil suggested.

“You’re right, aluminum foil man! Or maybe Condom is really a front for the evil organization, Gorgon!” Some guy who looked just like a thumb suggested. Everyone looked at him in disgust. Honestly, I was too. I mean, he looked like a thumb.

“You may be the god of fungus, mighty Thumb, but you are not very bright,” Admiral replied. “Besides, that’s spoilers for the next movie! Dude, you’re not supposed to give that away.”

Are they...breaking character?!

I shook my head. It was best not to get sucked into the nonsense. What was that old saying? ‘Exit stage left’? Very well. I turned to my left and began to run.

“Smart thinking! You need to find a way to escape, don’t you?” Came the voice of ‘Dr. Lynch.’

“Gee, I didn’t know this was the director’s commentary track!” I retorted as I ran through a torn down building.

I know this isn’t real, but I don’t know how else to explain this.

“How are you doing this?”

“Should you really be asking that? That’s like asking a director ‘what’s my motivation?’ There are some things you should just know!” Her voice boomed.

She’s right. Somewhat, anyway. I didn’t know how she was doing these tricks, but I knew what my motivation was, and that was good enough.

“Mark my words, I’ll find an opening, exploit it, and break free! Then I’ll break Coriander free!”

“That’s what I like to hear! You might want to hurry, though! I hear poly...urine? Poly...uranium? Um. It’s a hard word to say, but I hear it’s quite toxic! Plus, as we speak, popsicle sticks are being dumped on her, so if you don’t hurry, she’ll suffocate to death!”

I’ll burn this whole set down if I have to. I’ll reduce every piece of “art” that she has to ash. So what if it’s true that most people don’t even “save” one person in their lifetime? As long as both Spice Bae and I are still alive, I’ll fight time and again to keep it that way.

Heh. I needed to be careful with my line of thinking; I didn’t want to be mistaken for an actual hero.

There were worse ways to die and I would have rather chosen any one of them over what was being done to me.

“So that’s just it, huh? You’re planning on confining me here until I die?!” I shouted.

“Hm? Hm?” It was like she was humming a tune. How irritating. “Oh, you can call me Dr. Bob Ross!”

“I’d rather not.”

“Very well! And to answer your question, no, I’m not just confining you. I’m confining both of you! As we speak, your little gal pal is in that little box and hallucinating up a few good movies for her to star in. I can’t wait to find out what movies she was in after she’s all done! But, if she spends too long in there, her mind will erode and wear itself out. That is, unless she finds the willpower to break free. But even if she does, that box is pretty sturdy!”

So basically I have to break myself free and break her out. Or she has to break herself free and break me out

“You two are stronger together, right? And I’m willing to bet you and her are pretty strong individually, as well. So this shouldn’t be too much of a problem, right?”

That’s right. Velvet thrives on life or death situations. As for me…

“If I could just reach the buttons on my backpack…” I muttered.

“Velvet was what you called her, right? Well then! She will become Velvet, the movie star! And you...I haven’t decided yet. But I’ll make you my muse yet. Maybe I’ll make a sculpture out of you…”

That wasn’t going to happen. No sculptures. No human arts and crafts projects. None of it.

Up another torn down building I went until I reached a floor where there were no walls and I could see the sky outstretched.

Where is there to go from here?

“If it’s all an illusion, then there isn’t very far that I can go. Theoretically,” I let out a deep breath. How hopeless. I didn’t know how to go ‘off-screen’.

“There’s no escape! I will rule all of Nude Pork City and there’s nothing you can do!” Cackled a snobby British voice.

“The...fuck city?” I jolted. Startled, I turned around and saw a skinny man in a green leotard with a horse mask on. He cackled once more.

“This movie is PG-13! You can say ‘fuck’, but only once!”

“Dude, you just said it again.”

“Fuck!” He cried out, as if he had already been defeated. The most surprising thing of the whole ordeal was that I could actually hear what he said from underneath that horse mask. “No matter! No one can defeat me, for I am Lowkey, the villain!”

I looked up. Could I find my way out by running to the highest point of the building and jumping out? But then that might just kill me. Ugh. It would really help if I had a laptop next to me right now.

“Hey! Why aren’t you paying attention to me! I am Lowkey!”

“Sorry, this just isn’t my kind of movie,” I explained.

“Heh. Heh! HEH!” He cackled once again, then pulled the horse mask off. Underneath, was an emaciated face which sported greasy black hair. Even if I swung that way, I didn’t think I’d find him all that attractive.

From his suit, he pulled out three little grenades. “You talk a big game, but you’re still human!”

“Still not my type!” I called back, then rolled over behind a pillar. He tossed the grenades my way. I thought I was a safe enough distance, but they detonated, and the explosion sent me back to the further end of the building. Not only that, but the explosion was causing the building to collapse.

I struggled to stand back up. I had to hold onto the very pillars that were crumbling.

I need to run. I need to run and tackle that guy and then get out of here.

From behind me, that same snobbish voice: “Hey cupcake!”

“What...did you call me?” I growled.

“Hey cupcake, why don’t you and I go back to my place later?” He mocked. “Velvet? Like a cupcake? Are you sweet like one too? Do you taste good like one? Hm, cupcake?”

How did that Dr. Lynch woman know that about my past? Did she really know that much about me? Just how did this movie operate?

“Shut up!” I leaped and grabbed onto his leotard, then reached into his pocket and grabbed one of his grenades. “You want to taste something? Taste this!” I shoved it in his mouth, then pulled the pin and let go.

There was little time: I needed to run down the collapsing building before it could come crashing down and reduce everything to rubble.

But isn’t that what I want? To bring it all down? To destroy the “art” that would hurt the ones I care about? Why does this building feel real, anyway? Did she create this elaborate of a set? If it’s not real, then what danger am I in? If I’m in no danger, I shouldn’t be worried about anything…

I stopped.

“Where...where did the gun go?” The one that was taken off of the guard. I had it. Then it was replaced by a pistol. Somehow.

Because it wasn’t real.

When I got to that “movie”, I had nothing. I had to use a brick. I had to use that villain’s grenades. Grenades that weren’t real.

So in other words, I have nothing. But wasn’t that par for the course? I came to The Flashbulb’s lair with nothing. I’ve had all sorts of risky endeavors, and each time, I would just acquire things as I go.

I ran anyway. For whatever reason, I ran.

No. I don’t have nothing. There’s someone I came with that I care about.

On cue, just as it came crashing down, I escaped. Not even a second after, credits started to roll.

...Wait, what?

‘The End’

Then, the list of the actors who played the characters showed up in front of me. I just couldn’t believe the whole environment was covered by text. Names I didn’t recognize to characters that didn’t matter. Then, I saw my own name. Or...my character’s name? Next to it, it listed…

“No...it can’t be…” I gulped. “Scarlett Johansson?! Really? Come on! I have more class than that!”

Then, answering my call, Scarlett Johansson’s name was crossed out, and a new name replaced it.

“ZENDAYA?!”

I shook my head. “Just stop it! Why can’t I be me?”

Thus, Zendaya’s name was crossed out as well, and finally it said:

‘Velvet as HERSELF’

I nodded my head. “Much better.”

“Stay tuned for a post-credit scene!” Boomed Dr. Lynch’s voice.

Right. There was still that matter.

“Not happening!” I shouted, then ran toward the front where the credits were and kicked forward. As I did so, I hit a wall.

Literally.

Everything turned to black. But my eyes opened once more.

There was gas all around me. I began coughing uncontrollably and it ached just to stand. I didn’t understand why, but I did my best to break free, anyway. I banged my fists against the walls.

Pounding of fists.

It seemed like I was going to lose consciousness up until that jolted me back awake. I still couldn’t turn my head. All those popsicles were growing quite heavy. But, that sound. It must have been Velvet.

If she can do that...if she’s still trying…

I had to as well. It’s not enough that she could try to break free on her own. It had be me as well.

At first, all I could manage was to twitch my fingers. With each passing second, it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

But, if I can twitch my fingers…Yes!

I balled my hands into fists and with as much pressure as I could muster, I slammed my fists against the wall. It didn’t amount to much at first, but I kept trying. After a few tries, with increased force, my arms broke free and I could move them again.

However, the pain was excruciating. I cried out. I couldn’t cover my mouth.

“Hm? Oh, hello there,” Dr. Bob Ross turned to me. I raised my arm up and pressed the button on the backpack. Lasers fired around me and broke me free from the wall. With a thud, I landed.

After I brushed off the popsicle sticks, still disgusted, I looked up toward where that mad artist was.

“I’ll break Velvet out myself, then I’ll get up there and kick your ass! Mark my fucking words, you’re dead, kiddo!”

Dr. Bob Ross burst into laughter. “Okay, okay. Congratulations are in order. But you broke free a little sooner than I expected. I’m not ready for you yet.”

I cracked my knuckles and gave a fiendish grin. “Nobody’s ready for me. I can deal so much pain.”

“I’m going to need you to stay put and wait your turn,” she didn’t seem to heed my boasts at all. I watched her spin her finger, and from the ceiling, a giant claw reached down and pried my backpack off of me.

“Hey! What gives!”

She cupped her hands together and shouted: “Popsicle house time!”

“What?!”

Something dropped in front of me. Once again, I found myself confined.

Four walls. Small, dim, with a roof that was only a little above my head. My only reprieve was one window. I looked out: the room on the outside had grown brighter. I could see the encased area where Velvet was, but I no longer heard her knocks against the walls.

She better still be alive, dammit.

I leaned my head out a little more. Next to me was another popsicle house. Someone else leaned their head out: a bearded old man with gray, curly hair.

“She locked you up too, huh?”

I wasn’t about to dignify that with a response. Instead, I walked off to the other end of the popsicle house and ran toward the wall with full force, elbow in tow. Rather than the house breaking apart, all that happened was a world of hurt.

“Ow! Ow!” I winced. “Maybe I need to try harder.” I walked back, then ran again, with even more anger and drive. Again, nothing but pain.

“God damn! Who knew popsicles could be so sturdy?”

“Welcome to Gay Baby Jail,” the old man greeted once more. That time, I peeked out of the window once again.

“What did you call me?”

“That’s the name of the cell you’re in. Once she puts you in Gay Baby Jail, you’re not getting out unless she wants you to.”

I shook my head and lowered it against the window. “This is stupid…everything is so ridiculous.”

“This is your life now. Consider yourself a gay baby.”

“Ugh…” I groaned. “I am getting out of here. I don’t care how. I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I have someone out there...we protect each other. I’m not saying I care about her, but she’s important to me and I’m going to do all that I can to make sure she’s well!”

Once again, I tried to break the walls that held me in. I wasn’t about to accept that it was useless. There had to be something I could do.

What wonderful muses I happened to acquire. Things were going so smooth that I almost felt like I needed to shake things up more. But patience. Those two were an inspiration, sure, but inspiration wasn’t instant. So while they were kept occupied, helping me along, I had to study them well.

“Now let’s see their character bios…” I pulled up a tablet. Just about everyone’s records was stored in The Flashbulb’s database. If we didn’t have a profile on them, well...I’d just have to make one, wouldn’t I? But let’s not be too hasty.

“What did they say their names were again? Velvet...and...Coriander? Is that right?”

Velvet was easy enough. Sure, there were many Velvets in most universes, but then there was matching a name to a face. Lucky for me, that also proved to be easy. Next was Coriander.

That one was a little harder. There were a few Corianders out there. More people named Cilantro, to be honest, but that was neither here nor there. But a Coriander that had some sort of relation to the Velvet whose profile was displayed in front of me? Unheard of. So instead I refined my search to all the people associated with that Velvet until I saw an image that matched “Coriander”.

My eyes lit up. Yes! YES!

“This! This right here! This is the inspiration I need!” Oh my, how interesting things were. To learn such things about those two. I could use that.

But enough about those two. They were a little preoccupied. My little muses were making me proud, reminding me of why I got into the game in the first place.

Yes: my backstory. Or more, my “midway” story. My humble origins as an intern for The Flashbulb, back when I was still among fellow artists. “But aren’t you still an intern?” The spectators might have asked, were there an audience to spectate on my thoughts. To answer those hypothetical spectators: yes. But there was an explanation for that.

It all started back in Flashbulb University (note: Flashbulb University was not an accredited university), a school where interns for The Flashbulb went, fully funded by the Education Department. We never really learned much, but the wiser of us would join clubs, otherwise we’d just get displaced and used as fodder for whatever tasks those in proper departments wanted done.

I had wandered down the halls, having gotten as lost as ever, when I pulled out my map. At the time, I developed a keen interest in the art of map making, as well as studying architecture. As it so happened to turn out, the layout of the university was...excuse my language...uncreative. If I had my way with the layout, well...I wouldn’t do anything. That wasn’t a medium I was willing to tackle just yet.

Yes. As loathe as I was to admit, there were certain arts that I would never be able to see myself doing. The art of cooking, the art of staying organized, the art of money management. Who needed any of those skills? Not me. Especially when I could just eat whatever was made at the cafeteria. My taste buds could handle anything, and not only that, I got to experience someone else’s art. Really digest it fully (most of the time).

One day in that very cafeteria, I met up with my fellow intern buddies, Dr. O’Keefe, Dr. Kahlo, Dr. Kubrick, and Dr. Méliès. Each of us were aspiring Flashbulb members as well as members of the Painting and A/V Clubs respectively.

“Every form of art will be available to you,” Dr. Louvre told me when I first joined. So naturally, the first thing I clung to was the art of film-making.

So we all sat, some of us eating tacos, others eating escargot. Me? I ate dried squid, of course.

“So what projects have you been up to?” Dr. Kubrick opened up the discussion.

“I’m studying a venus flytrap,” Dr. O’Keefe answered.

“I’ve been staring up at the moon,” it was Dr. Kubrick’s turn.

“No way! So have I!” Dr.  Méliès replied, a hint of astonishment in his voice. Then, I glanced over and noticed the two staring into each other’s eyes.

“I see the moon in your eyes,” Dr. Kubrick uttered such words.

“I see the same in yours.”

Was that really so inspiring? Yes. In much the same way I found inspiration from a burning building, Van Gogh found inspiration from the night sky. With that in mind, inspiration could come from anywhere. No, not just anywhere. Everywhere. Every little thing.

So while everyone began to chat among themselves, I began to doodle. Nothing in particular. Unlike my father, it wasn’t so much nature that inspired me, but humanity. Rather, the vague shape that humans took on.

That must be the reason I was recruited, I thought while reminiscing. Back in the memory, I recalled what happened as soon as Dr. Kubrick and Dr. Méliès left.

Dr. Pollack showed up and slammed his fists on the table.

“Hey guys!” He looked around. “Sorry, I should be more discreet.”

He sat down. “Sorry, I’m just frustrated.”

“Having an art block?” I asked as I sipped on oyster milk.

“No. It’s this...this whole thing! Day in, day out, we’re stuck as interns.”

“Well, there’s no way out of it,” Dr. O’Keefe replied. “The Flashbulb isn’t known for its upwards mobility. If they decide to put us in a department, they will, otherwise, we’re here doing their chores for them and anything else that needs to be done that they don’t want to do. Of course, if someone decides to attack the main headquarters, they keep us around so we can be their human shields.”

“Some saviors of humanity, am I right?” He slumped over.

All that time since I’ve known them and I never realized they had such ambitions.

“You know, if you want to be part of a department so bad, it’s not all that hard?” I spoke up.

“What was that?”

“Yeah, ya heard me. Easy peasy.”

“How do you figure that? It’s not like there’s an A/V Department or an Arts and Crafts Department.”

“Of course not. But there is a Fine Arts Department.”

“Those guys? Really? They’re all a bunch of snooty snobs!”

I scowled. “The answer is right in front of you, yet you refuse to see it.”

“Fine, if you’re so smart, tell us.”

“We bring the Arts and Crafts club and the Painting club and the A/V club to them. We could be the first department with its own set of sub-departments. So if you want, present them the opportunity to expand the Fine Arts Department. Those guys love the word ‘expansion’. All you have to do is say ‘expand’ and they get all hot and bothered. Try it.”

Those three looked at each other, then ran off. Not long after, the plan was a success, and Dr. Louvre as well as Dr. Cannes approached me.

“We have you to thank,” Dr. Louvre towered over me and every syllable out of his mouth boomed. “Without your help, we wouldn’t be able to,” he drew a deep breath, breathed the words between his nondescript lips. “Expand.”

He cleared his throat. It seemed that word had quite a powerful effect on him.

“But what about you?” He continued. “Isn’t there something you should want? With your artistic talent, we could make you one of the leaders of the Fine Arts Department, alongside the likes of Dr. Cannes and I.”

I shook my head. “All I want is my own studio. Food prepared for me. All the art supplies I could ever need. An assistant. That’s all.”

“Very well. It shall be done.”

Yeah, that guy sounded so big and commanding, but in actuality, he was too afraid of my artistic talents and so the Fine Arts Department left one day to a version of Earth, with no specific mission attached. While I was content to stay in my studio, I wished they would have invited me. Shame, too. They never did come back to the headquarters, and ever since, it seemed as if most people were too afraid to visit me. They gave me food, water, any art supply I needed, but that was about it.

Oh well. That was all history (in the sense that there were many gaps and the information that was known paints an incomplete picture). I had two muses now, and I would help them reach their full potential. Speaking of, it was probably about time for Velvet’s next movie to start. It should start getting good now that the movies were going to dig deeper into her consciousness.

Ah, I should’ve known by now; the walls were too thick. My movements grew weaker. It hurt just to stand.

I need to...I need to rest a bit…I’m sorry.

Right before passing out, I had just one more thought: Aha! So that’s how it works!

Then darkness once more.

Once again, I found myself leaning against the window, my only reprieve.

Then, I heard the worst thing I could hear: nothing. No more knocks against those walls.

Has she given up?

I kicked the popsicle wall that held me and screamed out. After a few huffs, I paced about.

“She better not be dead! I won’t allow it!” I growled. “She’s too good for that!”

“Relax,” the old man in the other cell called out to me. “If anything, she’s just passed out. Her second movie is probably about to start. It usually takes at least four movies to kill someone.”

Of course. She passed out before. When she first met me from a previous life, she held me at gunpoint while I held her at laserpoint. Her gun was empty. Before my lasers could fire, the power went out. Then, she passed out. It ended up being up to me to carry her and I to a locker, as I was worried about whatever danger could have lurked. Those were memories I still had, as painful as it may have been to recap.

“That...that doesn’t reassure me.” Even still, I felt too defeated to do anything other than relax. So I went back to the window.

“Maybe if I had a lighter or a flamethrower or something…” I shook my head.

“What do you need one of those for?” The old man asked.

“Are popsicle sticks flammable? I mean, they’re wood, right?”

“Those are the questions which will haunt me up to my deathbed.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” I scolded. That was something I needed to tell myself as well, huh? Why was I so worried about someone who didn’t need worrying about, anyway? She was capable. So it was fine. Ugh. No it wasn’t.

I shook my head.

“I can’t do nothing, and it’s not because I don’t think I could survive on my own. That’s not the issue. We could both probably survive on our own. But, I mean, just in case, I’d like to be there…” No, that didn’t sound right. “Well, what I mean is, even if we could both survive on our own, I’d like us to not be on our own as long as we’re alive, y’know? Gosh, maybe I’m taking this whole ‘til death do us part’ too seriously.”

“You sure do care about her, huh? So what, you two married or something?”

“What?! Why would you think that? That’s ridiculous. Anyway,” I smiled. “Yeah, I do. Even though I was supposed to hate her, it somehow ended up like this. She can get on my nerves sometimes but I know she just likes to see my reaction. If it’s something that really bothers me, she knows not to do it. She knows when to be serious, too, and she can be really supportive.”

“Sounds like the real deal.” “Oh yeah. That’s not even going into her talents. She can find the smallest details in the shortest amount of time. Hell, she’s the very definition of ‘think on your feet’. Like, sure, most of the time she’s lazy as fuck, but then when push comes to shove, she really shines. Her hacking skills are unparalleled, and she’s so resilient. Able to take on foes far stronger than her and still maneuver around whatever obstacle in her way. Being able to improvise and use anything around her to her advantage. Honestly, she inspires me, and I hope I can inspire her too.”

I lowered my head against the edge of the window and shook it. I felt like tears were about to fall out. So, at the very least, I made sure to smile.

“What’s wrong with me?” I shook my head.

“You’re a gay baby, all right,” he sounded like a fucking sage.

“Shut it, you. No one asked.”

I thought that maybe if I used my environment to my advantage, just like how I described Velvet, maybe I could have broken out. But I saw nothing that I could use.

Even if that were the case, I wouldn’t give up.

Ugh. Talk about weird dreams. Something about a fisherman’s wife and a giant squid. Being a pirate sure was a mess.

I got up from my uncomfortable cot in my captain’s quarters and stumbled out. As my accursed luck would have it, I had a headache. Like all things, I blamed it on the sea.

Yes, that very sea in which our pirate ship, the Jo-Ann’s Revenge resided.

My body ached as I swayed to and fro, as if enchanted by a sickening sea shanty.

God damn, how much rum did I have last night?

“Mornin’ Velvetbeard,” ol’ paranoid Connard greeted in ever the dull tone. “I hear the marines have taught the parrots to read our minds. We must steady our guard.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay. Jot that down or something.”

Our crew ate our share of mackerel and sardines for breakfast all while we gathered around the table and made plans for our next raid.

“So there’s a trade ship that was spotted,” Connard reported.

“Do we know its contents?”

He nodded. “Doritos, fruit snacks, top ramen. All your favorites.”

“Hot pockets?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh...but when I think of all the sodium…” I leaned over the table and rested my head on it. “Can I just, like, go back to bed? I’ve got this massive headache and I’m tired of pirating.”

“I knew it!” The Jolly Kelly Roger barged in. “You’re not really a pirate, are you? You’re a spy for the marines!”

“The fuck? Forget the plank, I’ll throw you overboard with my bare hands.”

“Go ahead! I hear there’s a pirate ship full of catgirls and I’m prepared to swim over to them!”

I looked up. “Real shit?”

“Mm-hmm! Anyways, see ya. I’m off to cat paradise.”

Jolly Kelly Roger was never seen again.

Meanwhile, three years later, and I wasn’t quite sure what all happened, but Connard went to chill in some pyramid and I lost most of my crew. All that was left was Blanka, Connard’s best and only friend. Who for some reason decided to go with me of all pirates (people).

“How did it even come to this?” I shook my head. Three years, and the headache still hadn’t gone away. It was like a coconut kept dropping on my head every morning.

“Something something gray stoner pirates,” Blanka replied, although Blanka was no longer there.

It was up to me to take on the marines and the 51st Fleet all by my lonesome. So I did. I infiltrated their ranks by punching a hole in the bottom of their vessel and jumping up. To think it was common belief that it was impossible to sneak in. Ha.

I’ve already done it once before, in fact. Like, some odd years back. When I was a wee little Velvetbeard. My first mate, Violetbeard was rumored to have been captured by the 51st fleet, so I took it upon myself to sneak in and find her, for the thought of what horrifying things they could have done to her was too much for me to bear. Unfortunate for me, I never did find her, nor a trace that she was even there. The best I could manage was stealing a pirate ship from them. That is why the Jo-Ann’s Revenge exists.

Now, onto the sneaky pirate stuff…

“There’s gotta be something I can do,” my voice grew weary in what must have been such a short amount of time.

You’re nothing without your technology.

Maybe that was true at one point in time. Even if that was still true, anything could be technology if it could be utilized…

“Isn’t the right, popsicle stick sticking out on the ceiling?” I looked up. Such a faint hope. How to get there. But wasn’t that what my whole journey was built on? Some faint hope that I took a chance with and made it far enough to find myself where I was. So being “stuck” wouldn’t register to me. Even in my past life, though others were convinced I was stuck, I still tried and fought anyway.

There were “ledges” (so many quotations, I know. Bear with me), I could use. Flimsy, easy to break, but that lent me more hope than despair. All I needed was one, maybe even a few, and I could make my attempt…

So, one foot over the other one, and just a few steps more, and I had gotten the diamond stick in the rough. The wooden needle in the needlestack. Just as my luck had turned bright, I lost my footing and fell back onto the metal floor.

“Owwww,” I groaned. There went my youthful back. Now I welcomed the embrace of my newfound elderly back. Oh, and the embrace of several popsicle sticks. One of which, I held in my hand, and when I shook the rest off of me, I got to work.

“You okay over there?” The old man called.

“The okayest,” I scoffed. Then I got to work chiseling away at the wall in front of me.

“What are you doing, anyway?” “Well, old gay baby, I don’t know about you, but this gay baby wants to leave the crib.”

“She can see you, you know.”

“Let her try and stop me.”

“How bold.”

“I’m not bold, I just happened to make the first move.”

“Bold statement.”

That guy was frustrating me. But, deep breaths, I tried to play it cool.

“What are you even in there for, anyway? I just realized I never thought to ask.”

“I was hired as her assistant after the last one got set on fire and had to be hospitalized. I told her that her paintings should have more men in them, especially men in diapers. She scowled, put me in a diaper, then kept me in here.”

“Oh jeez. I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s not all that bad once you get used to it. I actually rather enjoy it. Plus, I don’t have to go to the bathroom, because I’m always already there.”

Ew. Ew. EW.

“Okay, uh, what was your name again?”

“Dr. Michelangelo.”

That made too much sense.

“Okay, Dr. Michelangelo. You stay right there. I’m not breaking you out.” Once I was free, I hoped and prayed that I never had to meet him again.

Hold on, Velvet. This gay baby is learning to crawl.

So far, so good. The whole sneaking business was a go. Then came the inevitable.

“Jolene, I know you’re there! You stole my man!”

Shivers ran down my timbers. The unmistakable voice of Mustachebeard, the fearsome vice-admiral for the marines. For the record, yes, I did say I was Jolene when I infiltrated their ship last time, but no, I did not steal anyone’s man.

I did my best to avoid detection, knocking marines out one by one as I traversed the hallowed halls of the ship. I stole a musket off of one of the marines, which really helped once I made it above deck of the ship and found one of the vice-admiral’s lookouts. I ran up to her and before she had the chance to pull out her weapon, I pointed the musket I had looted right at her face.

“Y’arr. Name’s Velvetbeard. I’m here to steal your heart.”

“You,” she growled. “I heard you’re the worst pirate to have ever existed.”

“Nah, there’s worse. There’s gotta be, right? I mean, I can’t be that bad, can I?”

I pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. As it turned out, the musket had no ammo. That, and I didn’t know how a musket worked.

“Nice try,” she smirked. “Now men! Fire!”

Behind her was a firing squad, which meant that I was as good as dead. But instead, everything went black. Everything began to spin in place.

That girl, whatever her name was...was kind of cute.

Yes. There was the headache, in full force. My head felt ready to split itself open and all the contents would spill forth for the world to see. It all felt both so uneasy and yet so familiar. As if it was all a rehash of something that I had been a part of before. Something long gone.

It was but a small opening, but that opening was good enough for me. Like a baby, I crawled through and as soon as I was out, I ran over to the metal box that Velvet was trapped in. I kept banging my fists against it.

“I’m impressed, but at the same time, I wish you’d slow it down! She’s got at least two more movies left in her! The next one will surely dig deep into her psyche.”

“Not. Gonna. Happen,” I growled.

That same gloved metal claw came, likely to pick me up. Some artist Dr. Bob Ross was if she thought I was going to be fooled twice. I swerved to my side to avoid the reach, then I grabbed on to the metal spring and I began to hit the wall with the metal claw.

I was awoken by that same lookout, the one I thought was kinda cute. We were in the middle of a cabin. She shook me awake. As it stood, I was grape jelly.

“Come on, we gotta work together if we wanna make it out.”

“Ugh...what happened?” I rubbed my forehead.

“We were invaded by the Polo Wearing Pirates. Fearsome bandits, they are. As much as I hate to admit it, I need your help. Everyone else aboard the ship has died.”

“Oh, I see what’s going on. Some kind of enemies to lovers type thing, right?”

“Wrong. This is serious. We will never be anything more than enemies.”

“Then why did you kiss my forehead?”

I paused.

She was gone. I was somewhere else. In the clouds? Or aboard another pirate ship. Or in a room, where my former first mate was, Violet. Just Violet.

“Why hello,” Violet greeted.

“What...what are you doing here?”

“You wanted to see me. So I am here.”

“But…” It was ten years. Tears began to trickle down. “I can accept you being gone.”

I knew where I was. At a park. Close to where the school was.

“You’re still the same timid Velvet I knew.”

“How do I escape this movie?” I demanded. Was it me coming back to my senses? No. It was just something that came out.

She approached me. Between the high seas and what I thought to be the closing credits. But maybe they were cornflakes in the wind.

“You wish you knew what happened to me. But you never will. That you may have accepted, but it will still be on your mind. The thought of what became of me. Whether I lived or died, and if I lived, have I lived a good life?”

I shook my head. “Maybe I wonder from time to time. Maybe you will always be someone that I’ll miss. But you know what? So will anyone else that I meet. I’ve accepted that I’m not the type to forget people, no matter how big or small the impact. So...deal with it.”

Yes. That was what they called a flashback. Or forward. Or somewhere in between, on the side. Because I was still next to that blue haired spice.

“So you see, ten years ago there was someone who knew me as someone else. I’m still an anxious person from time to time, but I’m also much more than that. In fact, some would even go as far as to call me ‘badass’.”

“What are you talking about?” My enemy, not lover, asked.

“I...maybe you’ll find out in a later stage of our relationship,” I teased. We got up, but I fell again.

“Sorry,” I croaked. “Now I must inform you that I feel like I am dying.”

My eyes. They eclipsed.

Pounding sounds began to erupt, like my own heartbeat. I clutched my chest, but that didn’t feel right.

“Oh no!” The blue haired wonder cried out. “We have to hurry! The ship is exploding! Our ship is going down!”

I tried to get up, but I could feel the heat. Smoke rose up all around us and I started to cough. Not only was the rest of the ship on fire, but so were my lungs.

There.

At last, the box was broken. Gas leaked out and dissipated. I covered my mouth, but I could still feel the effects making me dizzy. Not to mention that I already felt weak from my previous two ordeals.

I looked around and there Velvet was, on the floor. I rushed to her.

“Hey! Hey!” I shook her.

“Our ship is sinking…” I heard her mutter.

“No it’s not! See, I’m right here!”

I held her against me. It took me a few more seconds to register that she was just asleep, but even still, I needed her awake. Then, I thought of something.

“Hey if you wake up, I’ll kiss you on the lips.”

Her eyes shot open. “Real shit?” She uttered with a groggy voice. Then she looked over and saw that it was me, “oh hey, enemies to lovers.”

I groaned. “I wish you wouldn’t remind me.”

Now, there was just one other matter to attend to...but before I could get to that, Velvet tugged at my shirt collar.

“What about the kiss?”

“Can’t it wait? We’re in the middle of a fight.”

“No.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh, then leaned in and gave her a peck.

“Really?! That’s it?! Come on!” She jolted up.

“I’ll do it for real later,” then I turned my attention to what was behind her: the gun that she had before passing out. I took it and almost dropped it, the damn thing was so heavy. Just a few more steps, though, and I would then part with it.

“Hey Popsigirl!” I yelled.

From atop the pillar, I saw a hand emerged which then proceeded to wave at me.

I growled, then threw the gun at the pillar. All the popsicle sticks began falling down, one by one, as the mad artist’s tower crumbled.

Court dismissed.

[medea10]

Medea Plays Animal Crossing New Horizons: Part I

OH DEAR GOD, THIS WORLD IS FUCKING NUTS! WHAT IS GOING ON ANYMORE?!

WE ALMOST STARTED WORLD WAR III

THE PRESIDENT IS AN EVIL, FUCKING, NARCISSIST!

AUSTRALIA NEARLY BURNED TO THE GROUND!

CORONAVIRUS IS GONNA KILL US IN OUR SLEEP!!! SERIOUSLY, WHO THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO MOVE TO WASHINGTON STATE LAST YEAR? THIS PLACE HAD A FUCK-TON OF DEATHS WITH THIS SHIT! JESUS H. FUCK! THE PRESIDENT HAS NO IDEA WHAT HE’S DOING! WHY? WHY TO EVERYTHING?

WHY IS LIFE AND WHY ARE WE SUFFERING THROUGH THIS HOLY TRINITY OF...

Oh...Thank you Arceus. I needed this game badly.

Animal Crossing is just...BLISS. The kind of bliss that I crave. I know it won’t take away all of my anxiety and depression, but it does a damn good job making me forget it all for a while as I plant trees, pick fruit, get in crippling debt, and make friends with all kinds of animal friends.

Hey, New Leaf got me through a bad break-up, suicidal thoughts, a broken ankle, and whatever else 2013 threw at me. So New Horizons is definitely gonna get me through this horrifying mess!

So let’s get this island adventure started!

I wonder who my first 2 villagers are going to be.

I’m really hoping for Papi, for one.

My boy here don’t care if you come in and he’s using the toilet. He’s alright with me!

And I’m also hoping for Olivia.

I know she’s a snooty kitty, but she was always nice to me in New Leaf and I have a soft spot for this cat.

So who do I get?

Louie and Diva.

Well...some day I’ll get Papi and Olivia.

Well after finding a place to live and help the other villagers, it’s time to name this island.

Now this could be a perfect opportunity to pick a creative name for the island I’ll be molding to...

Or not!

Yeah, I have a nasty habit naming islands, villages, and towns “Pallet”. And for you dummies that don’t know, it’s not the art term I named it after, it’s because of Pallet Town in Pokemon.

Let’s have a toast with some OJ.

Did Tom Nook put something in my OJ?

K.K.’s speaking to me vividly in my dreams?

TOM NOOK, WHAT DID YOU SLIP IN MY DRINK?

So after drugging my drink, here comes Nook-boi to give me a bill for the tent and nookphone.

You capitalist nookling.

Well...no matter!

Results may vary.

I spent the good chunk of the first day cleaning up the island, grabbing nook miles, catching fish/bugs for Blathers, and...

OH FUCK NAW!

I thought these evil fuckers only show up in summer time.

Yeah, I do not have pleasant memories with tarantulas in Animal Crossing.

Even now, my butt clinches every time I see these multi-legged fuckers roaming around.

HELL, I never even caught one in my game. I caught a scorpion somehow, but not this demented fucker.

But maybe my luck might change. Maybe if I sneak up on it...

SON OF A BITCH!

I HATE THESE EVIL, HAIRY FUCKS!

Yeah Nintendo, we seriously need to learn how to craft a blowtorch. Not to necessarily “KILL” tarantulas. Maybe just intimidate them a little when they start chasing you.

Well, since it’s the next day, time to give Blathers new insects for the museum.

Seriously, dude?

You’re scared of a baby butterfly?

Yeah, believe it or not, Blathers still despises insects. And he goes above and beyond to inform us of their worst traits (although he’s not enthusiastic with talking about insects like he is with fish and fossils).

I mean, I will agree with him when it comes to tarantulas, scorpions, and friggin’ wasps.

Well, at least this information is tame.

I have a feeling that Blathers would have a heart attack if he met those evil Japanese Hornets.

After that...

Oh goodie, a surprise visit from Gulliver.

Yeah, that’s Gulliver’s ramblings.

Whenever you see Gulliver, stay with him until he wakes up and help him find five components to his communicator that’s buried in the sand. Then he’ll send you something.

*snorts*

God, I gotta love the way these folks speak.

Well, now that the airport is functional, let’s check out a random island.

Wow...that is sadly funny.

Okay, those code names are just too fucking much. I am in tears here.

I’m still chuckling at the fact the Dodos are named Orville and Wilbur. I know it’s a take on the Wright brothers, but my old-school Disney heart will always go back to The Rescuers...

Because I’m a dumbass!

Oh hey, I found Alfonso. Let’s see if he eventually joins my island.

After your visit, Wilbur burns the evidence of this island’s existence...As Dodos do!

After that...Let’s play a little with the designs.

And yes, I designed the dress.

As for the Clefable design, that’s from my New Leaf that I transferred over.

Along with...

My pictures of Homer Simpson and the Nyan Cat.

And old clothing designs I made so I can look like Drew from Pokemon.

Or Sweet Polly Purebread from Underdog.

I don’t expect any of you to know who this is.

OH AND WHAT’S THIS?!

Because I’d be concerned if Medea didn’t do this!

Yeah, but I gotta take shit one step further!

It took me a while, but I’m quite content with the drawing I did of Tracey.

I think that’s all for now.

To be continued.

[tightropenuzlocke]

Chapter Five: Light Your Candle To My Raging Fire    

Aisling was back the next day with almost as much punch and panache as the day they met—almost because she didn’t have quite the same spring in her step, because she stopped to admire the mosaics that gave the the Jardin de Tuiles its name, because she looked wistfully after the wild Vivillon that held nothing for her the day before. But judging by the way Serena’s eyebrows loomed low on her forehead, didn’t notice these subtleties. Instead she was confounded and bemused by Aisling’s liveliness, and Xoana could practically see the remorse of last night evaporate like dew in the warm morning sun. Then any remaining sympathy vanished in a flash of red as Aisling sent out a queen Combee—apparently caught yesterday in the same gardens they were currently passing through.

The new catch wasn’t quite as rare as a shiny, but still warranted the explanation Serena demanded. Aisling offered only the predictable “I got lucky” with what might have been the slightest undertone of irony. Serena steamed but not her tongue. “So Finley,” Aisling called to her latest acquisition, “got any friends here you want to join your hive?” The Combee swiveled to attention, and her wings stopped beating for a second in shock as Bree repeated the question. Aisling laughed. “You’ll be evolving soon now that you’re with us. We can find you a mating partner if you’d rather lay your own, but I wanted to make sure we didn’t leave anyone behind if you wanted a sorority hive. We won’t be back this way for a long time.” Finley was visibly flustered considering all of this, but eventually she just shook her head. “It might be a bit much for her to think about right now,” said Serena. She couldn’t well resist all this bug-type talk no matter how jealous she might be. “Queen Combee never form the bond with their parent hive. She might not understand until she evolves.” “Well, You’ve got some time to think about it,” Aisling told her pokemon. “Just keep it in mind, yeah?” Finley nodded and went back to visiting flowers as they drew ever closer to their destination. The heights were already looming above them and the distant hum of traffic carried on the breeze. Aisling underwent yet another transformation as they all passed through the shadow and stone of Illumis’s south gate. By the time Xoana’s eyes had adjusted, light had broken over her again, and a grin parted her lips, threatening to split her face wide open. There was glee and hunger in her eyes. She’d never been to the city before. “Welcome to Illumis!” Xoana hopped into Aisling’s view to frame the vista with fluttering hands. A chuckle! “Wowee!” Somehow it wasn’t even that corny coming from her. Maybe it was just the genuine radiance of her expression that made it so charming. This light played wonderfully on her freckled skin and the cloud of natural she had wrestled into a gold hair tie. It was even better than the Gym photo somehow—so much so that it took Xoana a moment to notice Aisling was staring right back at her. “Wait until you see the center!” said Tierney. “I’m gonna see it all!” Aisling declared, releasing Xoana from her hold. But they had to report to the lab first and withdrew their pokemon to take up less space in the city streets. Serena was impatient and always a little ahead as they threaded their way west, but stopped short of hurrying them since there was plenty of time. Aisling, meanwhile, lingered at the back, pausing now and again to take it all in, but never asked them to stop for anything. Her nose lifted as they passed a cafe and she saluted a passing Gogoat shuttle, who blinked at her in return. She almost bumped into Tracie when they stopped she was so distracted, but recovered smoothly. “This is a lab?” The disbelief was justifiable. Sycamore Labs was situated in one of the only remaining distinguished hôtel particulier that once lined Boulevard Méridionale. The Professor had inherited it from his aunt through an unbroken line of nobles older than the house itself—because money couldn’t buy a building like this, not anymore. “One of the original interiors is in the Musée des Arts Décoratifs.” “Now that I believe,” said Aisling. “What a façade! That cartouche above the door is positively emblematic of Kalosienne Renaissance classicism.” Xoana’s stomach did a little flip and she swallowed dryly. Was Aisling a secret architecture nerd, or had she looked that up because Xoana had mentioned being somewhat versed in the subject exactly once? Then Aisling winked at her—winked—and Xoana’s brain short circuited. She shouldn’t be allowed to do that! It was simply unconscionable! Before Xoana could properly address the legality of the situation, Aisling had bounded up to the door. The entrance hall had been carefully maintained and restored and still boasted the incredible style of its heyday complete with parquet flooring, a coffered ceiling, mixed sculptural and painted decoration, and caryatids on either side of a far more recent but nonetheless antique elevator on the far end. Xoana knew that one of the doors must lead to the only original parlor—the grander sister of the one she had seen herself—which had been kept as a venue for the lab’s small fundraisers. She sorely wished she had time to look for it. Xoana felt there must be at least two perfectly serviceable stairwells in a building this august, but they were waved into the elevator by the woman who had met them at the door. Strictly speaking there wasn’t space enough for five, but that didn’t stop the woman from sliding in after them and pressing Xoana right up against Aisling’s chest so that she had enough elbow room to work the lever. Xoana smiled apologetically up at Aisling’s exceedingly proximate face and glimpsed what may have been the beginnings of a blush coming to her cheeks before the elevator halted and they piled back out. Prof. Sycamore’s office was on the top floor in what was once a grand bedroom, and it still retained an oddly intimate vibe post-conversion. Tall windows overlooked the lawn and gardens below and warm, late-morning light flooded the room, starkly highlighting the man sitting behind a grand sycamore desk—the distinctive ray fleck was unmistakable. Xoana stifled a giggle. The professor rose languidly from his plush office chair. “You must be the new interns for the trainer magnet program. At last we meet!” He went down the line shaking each of their hands in turn. “Such a pleasure! Are you all getting along with your starters?” He nodded at their chorus of assent. “Wonderful! My report says you all earned your first badge already, is that correct?” “Yes, Professeur!” “Please, call me Sycamore.” He waited for at least one of them to amend themselves before continuing. “That’s excellent, just fantastic! This evaluation should be nothing for you then. What say we get on with it?” Aisling’s enthusiasm buoyed up the more nervous murmurs of agreement and Sycamore led them down a flight of stairs and out into the garden, chattering all the way. The lawn beyond the flowerbeds was bordered by roses and topiary. Ancient sycamores stood at each corner and there was a sizable fountain at the middle back where some young Froakie and Squirtle played. There were a good number of pokemon sprawled out in the sun, including a hulking metallic species Xoana didn’t know the name of. The burnished silver and gold was too bright for Xoana to focus on, but Aisling stared with wide eyes. “A shiny Metagross,” Tracie murmured. “Bessemer!” Sycamore called to it. “Would you clear a little space for us?” It couldn’t be his pokemon. Xoana would have heard about it. The Metagross rose, gave them a nod, and then floated under one of the trees. Xoana gasped as a Garchomp stepped out from the shade to make room. Serena had talked about it enough for Xoana to know who she was. She was Sycamore’s starter and a pioneer of mega evolution. Xoana had watched some of her exhibition matches as a child. She surveyed them all with cold yellow eyes, then growled so low it shook the ground. Several Bulbasaur, Squirtle and Charmander came running, gathering by Sycamore to await the call to battle. The Bulbasaurs were pale with dense markings and bright bulbs, the Squitles had pointed shells and strong jaws, and the Charmanders glowed with intense color and sported a row of dots down each side. Even Xoana could tell they were no run-of-the-mill variants. “Send out your teams,” Sycamore commanded. Froabble, Bree, and Félicité greeted Sycamore’s Garchomp and she nodded to them while the others looked up at her in awe. Xoana found both her legs embraced by furry bodies. One by Tessa, who was standing in front to protect her despite being terrified. The other was Emer, who could almost reach around now and peeked out curiously. “Each of you will battle a balanced trio and can use up to three pokemon of your own. I may be a little rusty, but don’t let your guard down.” Sycamore winked, but it was far less affecting than the one Aisling had given her earlier. “Who wants to go first?” Aisling was quicker on the draw. Serena pretended to be gracious. One of the Bulbasaurs trundled forward and wiggled in readiness. To the surprise of all, Aisling sent in the Combee she’d had on her team less than twenty-four hours. Finley kept her distance and dodged the Bulbasaur’s reaching vines as best she could until her Gusts wore him down. Next was a Charmander, lean and sharp-eyed. Aisling switched for Emer—the only sensible counter at her disposal. The Charmander surveyed Aisling and her team and gave a derisive snort that blew steam from her nostrils. Her claws flashed the moment the attack order was given and Emer squeaked in surprise at her ferocity. The Marill was forced to bounce, roll, and bide her time until the Charmander became frustrated enough to use Ember. A well-timed Water Gun doused it and left the Charmander spluttering long enough to get in a double Tail Whip across her face. The Charmander knocked her away with a lunge, but another sustained Water Gun blast brought her down. A blithe Squirtle stepped up to replace her and Bree cracked her knuckles. The turtle’s Withdraw and ridged shell gave the Chespin some trouble, but she shrugged off the Tackles with her woody plates, and once she got a firm grip, it was over. The Squirtle held out for a while, but the combination of nausea from being slung around and repeated violent meetings with the ground were eventually too much for him. Bree flexed like Aisling had shown her and evolved on the spot. The burst of light and wind jolted Xoana back to herself and even drew the attention of the Metagross from across the lawn. Sycamore smiled to himself while Serena tried not to look pissed. Xoana and the others offered their congratulations to cover for her. Meanwhile, the Quilladin marveled over her her new bulk, armor, and needles. “Nice battling, Bree! You look awesome!” Her ears perked at Aisling’s words of praise and she chittered back at a lower register. They performed their now signature fist bump and Aisling made a big show of how much the Quilladin’s hardened knuckles hurt. Bree gasped but it turned into a giggle as she realized the joke. Serena went next of course and Félicité dispatched her Bulbasaur in a single fiery blaze. Justine had disguised herself as a Marill right out of her ball to intimidate the Charmander. The trick let her get close enough to land two good hits without getting singed, and Sycamore was thoroughly surprised and appreciative when the jig was up. Serena was pleased, but Justine looked to Félicité for approval and received no reaction at all. She tried her best against the Squirtle, getting up once more than she should have so that Félicité wouldn’t have to face her weakness all to no avail. The Fennekin brushed past her fallen teammate and wore the Squirtle the rest of the way down with her superior agility. Xoana didn’t mean to go last, but Tierney was jittery with nerves by the time Serena was through. Valériane, Laoch, and Aiden made fairly short work of it, but by then Spark was getting very bored and Tracie had her battle before the Pikachu fell asleep. Bulbasaur was a rough start typing-wise but Tracie and Spark had long since solved that puzzle: paralyze, weaken, spam Quick Attack. Charmander went down faster and Squirtle only took one sustained shock before keeling over. “Ready, Mme Bellamy?” Xoana jolted back to herself and sent in Tessa. Once again she needed some prompting, but the Bulbasaur they were up against was quite obliging in that department and did a quick warm-up with his vines while Tessa sized him up. He was focused and confident when they got to it though, keeping Tessa at bay with his vines until she grabbed on and reeled him in. Even then he held his own, claws shredding turf down to the last inch. But Tessa hit hard and tenaciously once committed and he surrendered when she somehow hoisted him by the bulb after a thorough pummeling. Tessa eagerly tapped out when Froabble croaked his willingness to take over. “Thanks, Froabble,” Xoana whispered to him as he hopped forward. “Use Bubble!” “Ember!” For an instant, Xoana thought it would be over right then—after all, that was how Emer had beaten her Charmander—but while Bubble had superior concussive force when it landed, there wasn’t enough actual water to power through the flames. Instead the move burst into a thick cloud of steam that the Charmander came barreling through, claws raised and ready to Scratch. “B-Bubble!” Xoana stammered. “But get behind first!” Despite her stumbling, Froabble was quick on the uptake and dodged the scratch, zig-zagging until the Charmander unbalanced himself and stumbled long enough for Froabble to get behind. The bursting bubbles sent the Charmander spiraling and he shook his head in momentary disorientation. Froabble sucked in another breath and shot out an even denser cloud of bubbles as the Charmander scrambled back to his feet. He swiped furiously, popping a few on his claws, but he couldn’t stop others from bursting on his face, and he toppled once more. Froabble returned to position, ready to face the final pokemon, but Xoana didn’t like his chances against Squirtle’s high defences and sent Tessa back in. The Teddiursa was ready this time, but her claws bounced off the Squirtle’s carapace. Tackle did almost as little since he seemed happy enough to bounce around in his shell. Grappling it proved to difficult and when Tessa paused for breath, the Squirtle slapped her across the jaw with Tail Whip. He wet the ground beneath her and tackled her with his shell. She slipped and went down in a great groaning huff. Tessa was too tired from her first battle. Xoana had no choice but to overturn her doubts with the surety Froabble displayed as he leapt back in. Speed was everything now. It was all they had since the Squirtle could take a hit that would lay Froabble out and deal almost as good. She focused on every movement, trying to stay with him as he hopped, flipped and sprinted. The Squirtle’s shell was more hazard than target, so Xoana gambled for the legs. They were short, low, and difficult to hit, but Froabble enjoyed the challenge. Despite his frankly incredible agility, the proximity necessitated by this strategy earned him two consecutive Tail Whips. The telltale shimmer of his magic defense being ripped away set Xoana’s heart hammering in her chest, and it near skipped a beat when the Squirtle dove at him, but he slid smoothly underneath across the slick grass and landed a solid kick to his intended target. For a moment, Xoana thought they might win—the Squirtle was becoming unsteady on his feet—but it was not to be. A full body Tackle with that brutal shell knocked Froabble flat on his back. She heard the wind forcibly eject from his lungs with each consecutive impact as he skidded to a stop in front of her. But she also saw what the relieved Squirtle did not: Froabble dig a hand into the grass. And she couldn’t give up on him, not after the promise she’d never even voiced. “Froabble, use Lick!” His tongue shot out and wrapped the Squirtle’s head. The pokemon was too distressed by the lavender flames to rally and Froabble used his prone but anchored position to yank the Squirtle forward. “Pound!” Froabble released his hold, flipped, and kicked the stumbling Squirtle with both legs. The force sent the Squirtle right over Sycamore’s head. Everyone’s gaze followed the arc and came to rest on his spinning shell—all but Froabble, who regathered his legs into his customary squat. “You alright, Froabble?” He nodded. “Thanks for the boost. That was a good kick.” “That was an awesome kick!” She almost laughed and gathered him up in her lap to check his chest. “You all did very well!” Sycamore congratulated them. “I’m pleased and excited to keep working with all of you. Mme Quinn, you expressed an interest in the Mega Evolution program and that battle showed me exactly what I want to see in a prospective candidate. Therefore, I’m going to move you over right away, which means you can choose one of the pokemon specially bred for the program!” “Thank you, Sycamore!” said Aisling, voice a mix of excitement and triumph. “Not at all! It is I who am grateful!” The professor waved airily, but his lips twitched, and he continued with less ease. “Now, I was rather hoping you might consider taking the Charmander you battled. She’s a prodigy but may take… confidence to handle.” “She’s just the one I wanted.” “Excellent!” Sycamore’s relief was palpable and that was concerning, but Aisling grinned from ear to ear as she shook his hand. Xoana glanced at Serena, but she was too eaten up by jealousy to notice anything amiss. He jaw was taught and Xoana could almost hear her teeth grind. As for the Charmander, she looked between the professor and her new trainer in disbelief before appealing to Sycamore’s Garchomp. The huge pokemon’s lip peeled back, revealing her saw-like teeth and she growled low. The Charmander snorted steam and sulked over to Aisling’s side, ignoring Bree’s offered paw. She certainly seemed like a handful. “And Mme Pascal, you wanted to be in the mega evolution program as well, correct?” “Yes, Professeur.” “And so you shall be!” Thank the gods. “Choose any that you want.” Xoana wasn’t surprised when she picked a Squirtle. He reached up to shake his trainer’s hand and waved at his new teammates. “Mme Bellamy.” She looked up at the professor. “You did not express interest in the mega evolution program on your application, but I would love for you to participate.” Xoana gaped at him. “I think you’d make an excellent fit.” “I—b-but we barely won that battle!” “But you did win, when by all rights you should have lost.” Now that was a backhanded compliment if she ever heard— “Your Froakie was finished, but you gave him the energy needed to continue and execute one of the best critical hits I’ve seen in a long time. That demonstrates a remarkably strong connection for a trainer so green and impressive inner power.” Viola had something similar but— “He’s right,” Froabble croaked. She looked down into his eyes. “That’s why I thanked you.” “You… really think I can?” “Of course!” Sycamore answered her warmly, though she hadn’t meant to ask him. Froabble gave her a quick nod. “Alright then—I mean, thank you! It’s such an honour! I’m very excited to—I accept—” “Very good!” Sycamore interrupted before she could spew any more nonsense. “Select your new companion.” Xoana considered carefully, but it wasn’t a difficult choice. Bulbasaur were the cutest and the one she had battled seemed mellow enough to get along with. He shuffled over when she pointed and used a vine to greet her and his new teammates. “Mme Chastain, I notice you have no additional pokemon yet, which is understandable given the nature of your research, but I believe I have a solution for you. And Mme Fitzroy, I can’t tell you how delighted I was by your idea for a project! Very thoughtful and creative! One of my graduate students may have some interesting information to impart with regards to your chosen topic.” “What did I tell you?” Aisling asked softly while Sycamore’s attention was elsewhere. She tried to smirk but it fell apart when Xoana beamed back at her. “Congratulations, Marquise.” She offered her hand and pulled Xoana in for a shoulder bump. Something like a giggle escaped Xoana and she clasped Aisling’s arm for a moment to steady herself after. Serena was right there waiting and Xoana turned expecting a handshake and was swept up in a hug instead. “That was awesome, Xo. I’m so glad,” Serena said in her ear. Moments like this had become rare—Serena had never been the touchy-feely sort and they no longer had quite the same casual intimacy as a year ago. Xoana hadn’t even realized how empty she’d been until the embrace filled her to the brim. And Serena wasn’t tense in her hold, instead squeezing with genuine fondness. She held on tightly. Maybe she couldn’t have everything, but she could have this. ... Maybe there was something there. Xoana seemed the type to hug with her entire being, but the quiet gasp and clinging fingers said more. The tension between them might be more than that of longtime friends drifting apart. Perhaps something felt but not yet spoken. “Ah, there you are!” Aisling turned to see who Sycamore was greeting and found a young man in a nice linen suit walking out of the lab towards them. His hair was silver at the root fading into light blue and tied in a neat bun at the back, leaving a few loose curls to frame his face. “Bonjour!” He greeted them with a wave and brilliant smile. “Bes told me you had some new mega evo candidates.” Aisling couldn’t place his accent other than that it was foreign. “Yes indeed! This is one of the senior program members, Steven Stone. He researches the mega stones and keystones themselves and what properties allow them to unlock a pokemon’s true potential! He and his partner Bessemer recently achieved mega evolution!” So this was the guy with the shiny Metagross. Aisling offered her hand. Steven greeted each of them with warm interest and impeccable manners. Wherever he was from, his family had money. Aisling wondered about his age. To be working here, he must have his license at the very least, but four or five years older seemed too many. “Steven’s father owns a fossil revival facility, so he may be able to connect you with the proper resources, Mme Chastain.” “I’d be delighted,” he declared. “Always happy to help out a fellow fossil enthusiast!” Tracie could only nod and Spark bounded into her arms to press up against her chest. Steven patted his Metagross’s leg to give her space and they gave him an appreciative rumble in return before they all headed back inside for the tour. Science wasn’t Aisling’s aim and she let herself fall to the back by Steven while Tracie pressed forward to listen to Sycamore’s explanations as they entered each lab room in turn. “So where are you from?” Aisling asked. “Rustboro City, Hoenn.” That explained the accent. “Forgive me for saying anything rude or strange. I’m still learning the language.” “Oh, but you speak so well!” That made him laugh. “I know I butcher my vowels! But you are very kind, thank you.” “Don’t listen to the central Kalos folk! They tell us provincials we don’t speak the language right either.” They entered a new room and she let their conversation lull for a moment while Sycamore turned to them. This place was quite an interesting mix of old and new, art and science. The humming machinery was sleek and chrome with holographic touch screens while the walls were covered in ornate wallpaper and bordered by fanciful moldings. “How did you meet your partner?” Aisling asked when she was at liberty to. “My father acquired Bessemer for me when I was a child,” Steven answered quietly. “I have always been—” he paused, grasping for the right word, “a gigantic nerd of rocks and metal-type pokemon.” He held up his hand to show the titanium cuff and assorted rings that adorned it. He also had a single earring set with a rainbow stone. Aisling could hang with this guy. Their banter carried them through the rest of the tour. The current earring was ammolite, but he also had bismuth and opal ones he wore regularly. His hair had gone silver as a teen, and he had finally scraped together the confidence to stop dyeing it blue, resulting in the dual tone while he waited for it to grow out. He was twenty-two and had all ten badges in his home region. He was raised by his father like she had been raised by her mother. He returned her interest and took her playful jabs with good humor, further cementing her decision to befriend him. “I like to look good,” he said of his tailoring. “And that’s not a very suitable comment from someone sporting a jacket as interesting as yours. Why Lord Jirachi?” “Diádh is my patron,” she answered honestly, momentarily disarmed by the pun and teasing. Xoana looked back at the mention of the luck god. She had never asked about the design, but perhaps she was curious. Aisling left her with that one tidbit of information and steered the conversation away. When they arrived back in Sycamore’s office, a pair of scientists were waiting for them. The man was tall with a mop of golden curls, while the woman was quite short but looked as though she could and would snap the man clean in half over her knee. She slid off the desk and tossed her dark cascade of hair like she was reenacting a shampoo commercial. “This is Sina. She’s researching the energy released by mega evolution.” She lacked the definition and sculpting of a bodybuilder, and her exceptionally firm handshake suggested strength training as the source of her physique. “Dexio is looking into the enhanced bond between trainer and pokemon while the mega form is active.” Everyone here was a regulation hottie. Dexio was by far the least attractive of all the lab employees she’d seen, but he was still a twink adonis if one was into that sort of thing. And other than Steven and Sycamore himself, he was the only man. Aisling was beginning to suspect some bias in the hiring process. A knock came at the door and Steven opened it to let another man in. Forget Dexio, this asshole was towering. He would have had to duck through a standard door frame. His outfit was too fashionable not to be custom and must have therefore cost a fortune. Though to be fair, there couldn’t be many places that stocked his size. He also sported an elaborate and immaculate mane of red hair, as if he needed to strike a more imposing figure. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, Arsène,” he said, though he obviously was. “Not at all Thierry!” Sycamore said warmly, weaving through them all to be closer. “But you’ll be pleased to hear the Mega Evolution program has three new trainers.” The giant looked them over and Aisling evaluated him right back. He stank of privilege—or maybe that was perfume. “May I introduce Thierry Lysandre, esteemed entrepreneur and philanthropist.” The looks on her friends faces showed that they knew who he was and were awed simply to be in his presence. The name seemed vaguely familiar to Aisling, but stirred none of the same emotions. But he was clearly very wealthy, close to Sycamore, and perhaps directly involved in the program, so she decided to behave. Sycamore introduced them all, and once the pleasantries were dispensed with, Lysandre launched into a speech so tiresome it almost made Aisling break her good behavior right them. They were “the future” and “had the power to change the world”. It was like being at her lycée graduation all over again. So of course she didn’t listen to much of what he said, just kept her mouth shut and nodded when it seemed appropriate. Steven shifted to obscure himself from Lysandre and looked very much as though he was tuning it out as well. Xoana’s smile had turned hollow. Sina and Dexio were either good at faking it or at least somewhat invested. Tracie and Tierney were getting bored. Serena, on the other hand, hung on every word and Sycamore displayed a frankly embarrassing level of adoration. He knew they weren’t alone, right? At last Dexio offered to take Lysandre to see whatever he was actually there for and they left, allowing the rest to talk about their projects and fill out the forms that needed doing. Aisling tried to talk to Steven while Serena all but interrogated Sycamore, but he was already engaged with Tracie and she let them be. Sina saw to the rest of them, switching back and forth from Tierney to Aisling and Xoana. Besides the timeline, there wasn’t a ton to absorb, so Aisling continued to watch the others out of the corner of her eye. Evidently Steven had divined that Tracie didn’t like eye contact and repositioned himself shoulder to shoulder facing her screen to take the pressure off. Luckily Sycamore was charmed by Serena’s intensity and gladly answered all her questions. Aisling had to admit she could be engaging, even if she was a stuck-up asshole. She noted Xoana ogling Sina’s impressive bod with amusement and Tierney coloring every time the scientist focused on her with mild surprise and satisfaction. She kept finding ways to obscure her face and could barely string a sentence together. It occurred to Aisling that Tierney might be sensitive about her appearance. She was quite heavyset and vitiligo was rare and stark against skin as dark as hers. Something to keep in mind going forward. “If that’s all taken care of, perhaps it’s time to—” “Arrange for your accommodations while you are in the city,” Sina finished for him. Sycamore gave an embarrassed half-chuckle. “Exactly so.” “Well,” Xoana began. “We were hoping to stay at the Hotel—” “That won’t be necessary.” Everyone looked at Tracie, which made her look down. “Everyone can stay at my house.” “Tracie, are you sure?” Tierney asked in a careful tone. “My parents are out of town, but they extended an invitation to you all and there is plenty of space.” A beat of silence followed. “Excellent! Well, if that’s settled you are free to go.” They delivered their various farewells and meandered out into the hall. Steven gave Tracie his number, which Aisling was tempted to ask for as well, and Sina gave hers to a blushing Tierney. After that, she took off while Steven remained in Sycamore’s office. “Aisling,” Serena said tentatively. Aisling ignored her. “My Queen?” she tried, though it pained her. “Yes?” “I was hoping you might agree to accompany me to the Café Soleil for some coffee and pastries? On me?” If Aisling didn’t know better it rather sounded as though Serena was asking her out. Too bad she didn’t care. “Naw, I’ve got an appointment. Y’all go on without me. I’ll catch up later. Just text me your address okay, Baronne?” Serena’s barely concealed rage was almost worth Xoana’s disappointment. She grabbed Serena’s arm and pulled her away before she could blow. Aisling waved. She leaned back against the wall by the door and pulled out her holocaster to look at a map. “A somewhat rude and invasive personal question, if I may?” Steven’s voice floated out of the crack in the door. “Of course!” Sycamore said warmly. “You know they’re my favorite.” “Have you slept with all of your friends?” So she wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Maybe she would ask Tracie for Steven’s number. Sycamore laughed. “Hoenn must be so uptight! Loosen up, mon ami. You are in Illumis, City of Love!” “I’m fairly certain Illumis is the City of Light,” Steven muttered. “Nonsense. Only tourists say that.” ... “Where the hell is she?” Serena asked for the third time that evening. “I thought you said it was a hair appointment. It’s been hours! What could possibly be taking so long?” “A lot of things!” Xoana didn’t mean to sound so huffy, but she wasn’t in the mood to address Serena’s ignorance politely. She didn’t have time to explain hair texture to her. She was too busy worrying if Aisling would notice, how they would all handle the subject if it came up, how Aisling would react. Tracie hadn’t said anything—Tierney was doing a good job of distracting her with video games—but Xoana had to think she was just a little nervous under there. Then again, they had the house to themselves, so maybe she was getting all worked up for nothing. The bell rang downstairs and they all poured out of Tracie’s room. Joffrey, the Chastain family’s Gothitelle had already answered the door and Aisling stood in the grand vestibule, hair transformed from barely contained cloud to a cascade of ropey strands pinned neatly back. Locks looked good on her—right even. But where the hell had she gone that they finished in just one sitting? Their eyes met across the double staircase and Aisling’s face took a moment to go from gaping but understandable awe to that too-big grin of hers. “I really cocked up the nicknames, Baronne. You’re clearly the Queen of this group.” Tracie shifted her hands behind her back so Aisling wouldn’t see her wring them. “Why didn’t you tell me you were filthy rich? Like damn! Look at this fucking house!” She was laughing now. Tierney chuckled too. “You should see the estate!” Xoana and Serena gave her reproachful looks, but she ignored them. “Of course you have an estate. No one could have this kind of house in the middle of the capital without having a country estate. It’s only natural!” Aisling laughed again. “This is awesome!” she declared, throwing up her arms, not the least bit caring that Joffrey was still standing there. “Ya gotta show me around your pad!” That shattered the tension and Tracie started down the stairs. Then the doors opened. There was no bell this time and Joffrey jumped to assist Tracie’s parents as they entered. They piled their coats into his arms which he ran to the closet before hefting their suitcases with psychokinesis and floating upstairs. Everyone remained frozen where they were as he passed. “Théo darling!” her mother called and all four of them winced. How was it the woman never noticed? “What on earth are you wearing? Did you girls dress him up again?” “We went shopping!” Xoana said with all the excitement she could muster, nearly jumping down the steps between them to be by Tracie’s side. “We haven’t been in the city in so long!” Tierney nodded vigorously to back her up. She already had a hand on Tracie’s shoulder. “Well, that’s what you get for having only female friends,” said Tracie’s father. “So sweet of you to always indulge them,” her mother added. “Oh, but you haven’t even introduced us to your new friend!” She turned to Aisling. “You’re in Prof. Sycamore’s program too, correct?” “Yes!” Aisling stepped up and offered her hand. “Aisling Quinn. Wonderful to meet you.” They both seemed pleased by her politeness and firm handshake. “I thought you were supposed to be in Flusselles until the end of the month?” Tracie ventured. “Yes, well, Antoine called because there’s some big issue with the supplier so your father had to come back to town to sort it out. We’ll just have to take the trip next week or whenever this blows over.” Silence again. “We had a long journey and I need to recover for a bit. You all have fun. We’ll see you at dinner!” They all stayed where they were while Tracie’s parents climbed the other side of the staircase to their wing of the house. Tracie turned back and Aisling waited at the foot of the stairs until Xoana beckoned her to come with. Aisling spoke to Tracie as they went down the hall. “Can I ask you something?” Fuck. Tracie nodded. “Do your parents know you’re a girl?” Oh… That was good. Tracie shook her head. “Do you want me to correct them?” Tracie shook her head again. “Okay.” There was a palpable sigh of relief from the group. “Can I still call you Baronne around them?” Tracie smiled just a little. “Yes.” Aisling let out a rather loud expletive as they entered Tracie’s room. She kicked off her boots and dove onto the king-sized four-poster, rolling back and forth before settling on her side with one knee crooked and her head propped up by her elbow. “Is this where we’re sleeping?” Then she had the gall to wiggle her eyebrows. “You’ll have Timothée’s room,” Tracie answered, going to her night table for the remote. Aisling’s exaggerated disappointment was cut short when the enormous screen descended from the ceiling so that Tracie and Tierney could continue their game. “Awesome! What are we playing?” “Super Pokken Ultimate.” “Nice! I’ve only ever played Royale.” Aisling sent out her team to hang with the rest of the pokemon while they got set up to play. Xoana and Serena sat up on the bed, and the other three sunk into bean bag chairs. Spark retrieved her extra small controller and arranged her own mini bean bag beside Tracie’s. Aisling was crap at Pokken. “I can’t believe I’m getting beaten by a Pikachu!” She cried after yet another sound defeat. Spark leaned around Tracie and chattered. “Is she shit-talking me?” Tracie didn’t answer but her face must have given it away. Aisling laughed. “You’re going down, rodent!” Spark then proceeded to utterly thrash her for the next few rounds. Aisling yelled and laughed and fought her hardest all to no avail. When she got KOed early for the fourth time in a row, she put down her controller and rocked out of her seat. “Fuck this noise. I’m gonna play some real Pokken!” Spark’s cheeks sparked. “Come here, Bree!” The Quilladin came over and Aisling tackled her. Bree was confused at first but caught on quick and giggled and snorted as she and Aisling rolled around on the floor trying to pin each other. The ruckus was too much to play over and they all turned to spectate. Aisling threw her jacket to Xoana as sweat began to bead across her brow and Xoana clutched it tightly despite herself. Aisling held out surprisingly well as the two alternated between competitive and silly. Spark cheered shamelessly for Bree and even Serena had to stifle a laugh. It was almost enough to forget about the dinner looming ahead. ... They reconvened in Tracie’s room after they were all clean and changed into their pajamas. Tracie’s parents had taken the nickname thing in stride. Her mother even found it cute. Sharing a meal with them was so much easier when Xoana and her friends could counter every instance of “Théo” with something she’d chosen, assure her that she was a girl even if her parents didn’t realize it. Xoana wished she’d thought of it a long time ago. The pokemon had been served their evening meal separately but were now allowed out to nap or play at their own choosing. Xoana had filled up the tub in Tracie’s bathroom and Froabble was in there now along with Serena’s new Squirtle. Sprout was getting along like he’d always been there. The only one who didn’t seem the least bit interested in socializing was Aisling’s Charmander. Once it was made clear to her there were no battles allowed in the house, she installed herself in the windowsill and sharpened her claws with her teeth. “Hey, Tracie, do you have DDR?” Aisling asked. “Yes.” “Tierney!” She jumped. “I challenge you to a dance off!” It took her a few moments, but she smiled. “You’re on!” They cleared the floor and rolled the bean bags to the other side of the room. Aisling might have expected mercy when Tierney selected a lower difficulty, but Xoana and the others knew that meant she was about to show off. At the higher difficulties there wasn’t any room for flourish. At a low rank one could dance and that was exactly what Tierney did. She was good in recitals but always best when she was freestyling her own thing—at least in Xoana’s opinion. All that mildness melted away as she hopped and spun and swung her hips. Aisling cheered and lycan-whistled even as she tried desperately to keep up. Xoana was surprised when she managed a halfway respectable score. “Best two out of three!” she yelled like she had a better chance than a Durant against a Heatmor. Usually Xoana was happy to watch, but something moved her and she hopped off the bed into the game. Aisling grinned and Valériane shuffled over as well now that it was no longer a one-on-one. They moved down so the Hawlucha could be next to her trainer and played on medium. Valériane got a few laughs flapping her wings, wagging her tail, and flaring her crest in her own version of dance moves. It goaded all of them to let loose a little more, which meant Xoana and Aisling sacrificed their scores to bop while Tierney continued to mercilessly flex on them. It wasn’t long before Aisling demanded hard mode and Xoana bowed out to make room for Serena. She was no dancer, but precision, tenacity and practice made her pretty good at DDR. Good enough to beat Aisling’s score anyway, which was all that mattered. That victory was enough to dispel the last of her irritation and ease that last bit of tension between them all. Tracie jumped into a round, as did Loach and Bree after Valériane explained it to them. The Riolu did well enough all things considered, but even the easiest setting was too much for Bree. She laughed along anyway and Aisling helped her through. Emer, Aiden, and Justine couldn’t play but bounced around in solidarity. The rounds flew by one after another and their limbs grew heavy while their minds became more and more awake. When the rest of them were finished, Tierney and Valériane did one last duel on expert. What the Hawlucha lacked in grace, she more than made up for in speed and rhythm and she came out on top to cheers and applause. By then it was late, but they were all far from sleep, so Tracie put on one of her favorite movies and they all sat on the bed to watch. Xoana barely noticed when Aisling lay her head in her lap—that is until she reached out to braid the hair and found it wasn’t Serena’s. Suddenly the contact sent a violent tingle up her spine. But was it really all that different? Despite all Xoana’s fretting and the little power struggles, Aisling had slid near seamlessly into their midst. It was like she’d been there since the beginning. It was like it had always been but maybe just a little bit better because she brought something to the group that they lacked—filled a hole they didn’t even know was there. Aisling rolled to look up at Xoana and threw a cheeky grin at the blush that was no doubt suffusing her face. But this time it wasn’t overwhelming. It just felt good. Really, really good. “So, I know the plan was to stay here for a while, but should we really still be doing that?” It took Xoana a moment to realize Aisling was addressing the room and not just her. “Don’t get me wrong, this is great but…” Things had changed. “None of the other gyms are close,” said Tracie. “And none of us are going to be ready for our second badge soon,” Aisling gently insisted. “I don’t wanna make you stay with your parents that long.” The warm fluttering in Xoana's gut returned in force. “It doesn’t matter what order we go in,” Tierney assured, lifting her head from the pillow snuggled under her. “Let’s just pick a direction.” “How about west?” Aisling suggested, stretching luxuriantly. She settled even further into Xoana’s lap and rested her legs across Tierney’s back. “We could hit the beach before summer’s over.” Now that was an idea. “We could do Relifac-le-Haut Gym next. That’s right on the water,” said Serena. Xoana would have to call Clément—he was expecting them—but she couldn’t say she was sorry to push that particular Gym battle down further down the line. In fact, she began to feel something heavy lift off her shoulders, that last bit of weight she hadn’t remembered she was carrying after everything else. “It’s settled then! We’ll leave in the morning!”

[qveensbury]

just for the holidays

to @zanykingmentality for @zutaraexchange also on AO3

modern/college AU, friends to lovers, fake dating, one sided pining

summary: “If your family liked me, my family is going to love you. And, they’re gonna murder me when they find out we broke up.” What started as a pretend relationship to give Katara some breathing room starts to gain a life of its own. Zuko hoped his feelings for his best friend would lose some steam in the motions. But, he’s starting to grow uncomfortable with the illusion and desiring the real thing. 

“I mean you could always come home with me.”

Zuko snorted and tried to will away the heat in his chest before it crawled into his neck. “You often bring home strays for Thanksgiving? I wouldn’t want to impose. Besides, I should see my mom’s new family more often.”

Katara steepled her fingers. “Well, it wouldn’t be entirely selfless—“

“Lady Katara has ulterior motives?” He smirked.

“Let me finish.” She shoved his shoulder. “My new granddad has been bugging me about not having a boyfriend. I’m only top of my class and Vice President of student government but where is that boyfriend.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m kinda tired of hearing him go on about that. Soooo, you would really being coming home as my pretend boyfriend for Thanksgiving.“

Zuko held his breath. The blush had conquered his neck and cheeks now. “Oh.”

“We would fake breakup before Christmas,” Katara began gesturing with her hands. “It would involve lying. But, I think it would be believable. I talk about you enough.”

“Talk about me? About what?”

“That we had lunch or were studying in the library. If I conveniently forgot to mention we were dating…” She gestured to say “oops.” She took a moment to take in his body posture. “You can say no. I would understand. We’re not in a movie or anything.”

Zuko swallowed. “No, I would like to meet your family. And, if you think they’ll buy it, we can pretend to date. It’s just Thanksgiving.”

“Are you sure?” Katara scanned him, finding assurance in his relaxed posture.

“Positive. I trust you.”

+

“This is Zuko, my boyfriend.”

Zuko’s heart flipped. Pretend boyfriend. Pretend.

Hakoda turned to Katara, mouth gaping and still holding onto Zuko’s hand. “You never mentioned that in your calls,” he said softly.

Zuko froze. Anger and disapproval were emotions he could navigate. He’d mastered dodging and deflecting them. But, this shade of surprise was disconcerting. It almost sound hurt. They’re not like your father.

“It happened really recently, Daddy.” Katara took Hakoda’s arm, squeezing it. “You said dating your best friend was the best decision you ever made.”

Pretend. Pretend. Pretend.

“It caught me off guard,” Hakoda mumbled, letting go of Zuko’s hand. “So, Zuko where are you staying this weekend?”

“Uh, I was planning on going back to the dorms. Uncle is visiting my cousin and his wife’s new baby on the West Coast.”

“You should stay with us we have an extra room.” Hakoda took Katara’s duffle.

Zuko glanced at Katara who blinked. “Thank you sir but I—“

“You shouldn’t be alone during the holidays. Don’t be shy.” Hakoda climbed the stairs to the second floor. “Katara can show you. It’s on the ground floor.”

Zuko looked to Katara again. She shrugged before beckoning him to follow her.

Katara turned the light on. “This is it.”

Zuko walked in and looked around.

“What do you think?”

“Do boyfriends usually sleepover on their first Thanksgiving?”

Katara hummed, raising on shoulder. “Dad would understand if you don’t.”

“I’d have to go get my stuff from the dorm.” He put a hand on the back of his neck.

“If it’s too much, don’t—”

Zuko glanced away. “We might as well follow through right?”

Katara drew her lips into a line. “We don’t want to do too much though.”

“This doesn’t seem like too much,” he shook his head. “It’s not like we’re sharing a bed,” he chuckled. “Chill out.”

Katara paused before nodding. “Okay. If you’re comfortable.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Besides, your dad was right. No one wants to be alone during the holidays.”

+

What were you thinking, Ryuku?

Zuko packed a bag in his dorm.

Really? Sleeping over? That wasn’t the plan.

He got back in his car and drove back to the Kuruk’s.

The plan was play pretend boyfriend and squash this stupid crush. The plan was to avoid seeing your mom’s new family and nothing more. Look at the mess you’ve made!

He pulled up to their street and noticed another car in the driveway.

<Katara: Pakku is here. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.>

<Zuko: What should I expect?>

<Katara: A grilling>

He sighed getting out of his car. This much I’m prepared for.

Zuko adjusted his overnight bag into a more comfortable position. He rang the doorbell.

An older man opened the door and glared at him.

“Hello, you must be Katara’s grandfather. I’m Zuko, her boyfriend.” He extended his hand for a handshake.

Katara was at the door before Pakku could respond. “Oh Pakku, this is the guy I was telling you about!” She smiled and Zuko could feel how much pleasure she got from this. He’d seen her act before but this was a different level. She wrapped her hands around his elbow and leaned her face against his shoulder. “This is Zuko.”

Zuko smiled at her, following her cues.

“Pakku, let them in.” An older woman tugged on Pakku before pulling Zuko and Katara into the house and closing the door. “Hello, dear. I’m Kanna, I’m Katara’s grandmother and this is my husband, Pakku. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, ma’am. Katara talks a lot about how much you inspire her. It’s an honor finally meeting you.”

Kanna smiled. “You found yourself a charmer, Katara. Hold on to him.”

Pakku was still glaring. He twisted his mouth into a pout and hmpfed. He turned around. “I’m going to watch the game.”

Kanna looked at her husband walk away and shook her head. “He doesn’t know what he wants. Old badger.”

Katara laughed. “I could have told you that.”

“Can you believe he used to be worse?” Kanna guffawed.

Katara snorted. Zuko looked over at her, furrowing his brow.

“Pakku is Gran-Gran’s second husband,” Katara explained. “She didn’t give him the time of day until they were a lot older and Pakku mellowed out. I guess I’m kind of to blame for their relationship. I went to his martial arts school to learn tai chi. He insisted,” she shook her head. “I wasn’t old enough to start the beginner classes. I swear I heard someone say it was because I was a girl and I threw a fit.”

“Of course you did,” Zuko smirked, knowing.

She pulled away from him and play slapped his arm. “Shut up! Long story short, he found out I was Gran-Gran’s granddaughter after I started lessons and he reconnected with her. And here we are.”

“I guess that’s kind of like us, huh?”

“Hmm?” Kanna raised an eyebrow.

Katara grimaced. “Yea, you know you’re right.”

“We weren’t exactly the friendliest when we met,” Zuko explained

“That’s an understatement,” Katara laughed.  

“But now, look at you,” Kanna said.

Zuko smiled at Katara. Best friends.

“How did this happen? I was surprised when Hakoda said you were dating.”

“It felt right,” Zuko said, really without thinking. Oh boy, way to go, Ryuku. Foot in mouth.

Katara smiled back, bigger. Zuko could see the shock in her eyes.

“Those are always the best relationships,” Kanna’s eyes grew warm. “I’ll let you get settled in Zuko. Katara, help me set the table.”

“I’ll be right there.” Katara watched her grandmother walk away. “What was that?” She drew out her question in a whisper.

Zuko blushed. “Just following through.”

“If you make them love you, I won’t be able to let you go.” Katara snorted.

He nodded. Yea, Ryuku, slow down.

“Lemme go help. I have my phone on me if you need me.”

“Got it.”

Zuko unpacked, familiarizing himself with the guest room and bathroom. He called his uncle and checked in to hear how his flight was.

“I’m having Thanksgiving with Katara’s family.”

“That sounds nice. I know this arrangement wasn’t ideal.”

“It’s been okay so far.”

“Good. I’m glad. Take care, Nephew.”

“Goodbye Uncle. Greet Lu Ten and the family for me.”

“Will do. Love you Nephew.”

“Love you Uncle.”

Zuko put his phone in his pocket and wandered around looking for Katara.

“Zuko!” Hakoda called, smiling.

Zuko tensed up. “Sir.”

“Can you lend me a hand? We’ll eat as soon as Sokka comes.”

“Sure.” Zuko felt thoughts bouncing around in his head.

“Be careful, the pan’s hot.” Hakoda handed him potholders.

“Thank you.” Zuko began plating the roasted vegetables.

“So, your cousin just had a baby?”

“Yea, Uncle is really excited to have a grandson. Lu Ten and Kimiko’s first child came early. We were planning on visiting them together around Christmas. But, it made more sense to get a refund from our December tickets and use the credit to buy a ticket for Uncle to go see them now.”

“That must be exciting.”

“Yea. I’ll still see them at Christmas.”

“I forgot to ask if you had any food allergies or dietary restrictions.” Hakoda pulled the turkey out of the oven.

Zuko realized he hadn’t answered and cleared his throat, “Uh.” Zuko focused on scooping out a stubborn beet. “No I don’t have any dietary restrictions. Thank you for asking.”

“Of course.”

Zuko wasn’t sure how to handle Hakdoa. He wasn’t quite like Uncle and he wasn’t like Father. Zuko watched him out of the corner of his eye. The older man surveyed the food prepared. Hakoda gave him another task. And after seeing him struggle, Hakoda gently instructed him on how to get stuffing off the spoon in one motion. Maybe it’s not for show.

“I think, that’s everything.” Hakoda glanced at his phone. “Sokka says he’s in the driveway. Let’s start putting everything on the table. Thank you for the help.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t want to be a freeloader.”

“Nonsense, you’re a guest!”

“There you are.” Katara stood when they entered the dining room. “Sokka’s washing his hands now. Here, lemme help you.”

“Relax Katara. You didn’t bring home a freeloader.” Hakoda winked at Zuko.

Zuko sent back a small smile.

“Dad! Don’t call him that! Zuko is very hardworking.”

Hakoda’s eyebrows shot up. “I was teasing, sweetie.”

“I mentioned that I didn’t want to be a freeloader and I didn’t mind helping out,” Zuko said. He placed his dish on the table trying to ignore the relief and joy wanting to explode inside of him.

Katara sighed. “Pakku is being hostile. I could really use you as an ally, Dad.”

“Who’s this?”

Zuko faced the speaker. When he saw, who he assumed to be Sokka, looking at him with curiosity and not a glare, he released the tension in his jaw and uncurled fists

Katara had echoes of Hakoda in her mannerisms and eyes. Her brother was his spitting image.

“This is Zuko, my boyfriend.”

Sokka narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “Boy, do you know how to pick them,” he said.

“Sokka!” Hakoda chided.

“Hey!” Katara slammed a hand on the table.

Here it is. Zuko felt his muscles coil, the tension reclaiming its place.

“What! I’m just saying this guy looks like bad news. After Jet, I thought you’d—“

“Shut up! Zuko’s nothing like Jet. And just because you c—“

“Enough.” Hakoda motioned for them to stop, miming a line. “Cut it out both of you. Sokka, that was incredibly rude. You owe your sister and our guest an apology.”

Sokka grumbled sorry’s as he pulled out his chair to sit down.

Zuko remembered one of Katara’s rants about her older brother. He’s a genius but sometimes I swear he’s six.

“Are you okay?” Katara leaned over to ask once the rest of the family sat down at the table.

“Peachy,” Zuko responded through grit teeth.

“He’s not normally like this.”

Zuko glanced at her and saw the worry in her face. He forced a smile, “Clearly, not with you.”

She bumped shoulders with him.

He glanced over again as she accepted a plate of turkey. He caught her smiling to herself and his heart fluttered.

I really want to hold her hand right now.

+

“I’ll wash the dishes.” Katara offered standing up once everyone had finished their dessert.

She might as well have opened a window or turned on a light.

Dinner had been a mix of awkward silences and pointed questions.

“I can help,” Zuko stacked her plate on top of his. He shot her a look to say, ‘We need to debrief.’

“No, Katara you’re probably tired. Why don’t I do the dishes?” Sokka didn’t take his eyes off of Zuko.

“Sokka, I’m fine. If anything, you should switch with Zuko not me.”

“He’s a strapping young man. I’m sure he can handle it.”

Hakoda glanced at Zuko who shrugged and stood to collect more plates.

“Fine by me.” Zuko walked into the kitchen.

The two of them washed dishes in silence. Zuko scrapped food into tupperware or the garbage. Sokka washed them and set them to dry.

“So what’s your deal?” Zuko asked, after several minutes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why are you giving me such a hard time?”

“‘Cus I know how sleazebags look at my sister and what they think they can get out of her and there’s no way I’m stepping out of the way to let that happen.”

“And, I’m a sleazebag? You just met me. How can you be so sure?”

“You look like the poster child of bad boys. I just need to get you a leather jacket and some piercings.”

“Really what gave it away? The scar?” Zuko pointed to the burn scar around his left eye.

Sokka glared at him, sensing the sarcasm. “Yea, you look like you make reckless decisions and I don’t want my baby sister around someone like that.”

“Newsflash Sherlock,” Zuko took measured breaths to keep his tone even, “my dad gave me this scar when I was thirteen. Katara has known me for two years and we’ve been best friends for a year and a half. Maybe you should stop looking at her like your baby sister and consider maybe she’s learned from her relationship with Jet.” Zuko returned to scrapping food into tupperware.

“Zuko, I––“

“How are you two doing in here?” Hakoda popped his head in the kitchen. “Need an extra hand.”

“Peachy, sir.”

“We’re good, Dad.”

Hakoda nodded, before leaving them. His footsteps became faint.

“Zuko, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Zuko shrugged.

“I––“

“Oh, that reminds me.” Hakoda opened the kitchen door. “Sokka why don’t you bring Zuko with you to the mall?”

Zuko looked at Sokka and watched his mouth gape open.

“Uh, actually––“

“I’m okay with that. Katara won’t be shopping. I don’t have any assignments due when I get back from break either.”

“Great! Glad to see you come around Sokka.” Hakoda tapped the doorframe.

Sokka waited for his father to leave. “You didn’t have to do that. I was sucha jerk to you.”

“You were. But, you’re still Katara’s brother.”

+

“Are you okay?” Katara leaned over the armrest of her chair towards Zuko.

“Yes, Katara,” Zuko laughed, “for the hundredth time.”

“It’s just been hostile I didn’t expect this big of a reaction.”

“You’re the princess. I think families are always like this with their only daughters.”

“Your sister’s partner would get this kind of red carpet treatment?” Katara snorted.

“No, but Azula’s not like you. She’s not as close with the family. For what it’s worth, I don’t regret coming.”

“Really?”

Zuko nodded his head. Spending time with you like this—

Katara smirked. “Look who’s getting soft.”

A blush blossomed across his cheeks and down his neck. He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Never mind.”

“No, no, no! I’m glad you don’t regret it. I owe you big time.”

Zuko’s eyes jumped to her lips and he turned his face away from her. Cut it out Ryuku. You’re breaking up soon anyway.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Katara tugged on his arm.

“Uh, hanging out with your brother.”

“Really? How did that happen?”

“Well, your dad suggested it and I think I felt bad for him.”

“Zuko,” she gently chided. “You don’t have to do things you don’t want to.”

“No no, it’s fine. He’ll be more reasonable tomorrow.”

“Why’s that?”

“I kinda blew up about my scar.”

Katara swore, “He asked about that?”

“He didn’t ask as much as assume I was a delinquent or something.”

She shot up, “That jerk!”

Zuko grabbed her arm. “Hey! It’s okay. We talked about it. He’s a lot more rational now.”

“But––“

“Katara, it’s okay I promise.”

She sighed. “Okay, fine.” She flopped on the couch next to him, abandoning her previous seat. “Do you want to see a movie tomorrow?” She held onto his arm. “We haven’t spent any time together so far.”

The blue of her eyes flooded his thoughts. “Sure.” He turned away.

“Does it matter what?”

“You pick.”

“Great! We should at least pack in a fake date right?”

Zuko nodded, ignoring the ache in his chest.

+

“How was shopping?” Katara looped an arm around Zuko’s neck, leaning her head against his. Sokka and Zuko had been waiting for her in the food court.

“Good. Zuko is actually a better shopping partner than you are Katara.”

She snorted. “If that gets me off the hook of spending two hours with you as you agonize over one belt, so be it. Can I have my boyfriend back? Our movie starts soon and I want to see if the popcorn line is worth it.”

“Yea yea sure. You kids have fun.”

Katara stood back to let Zuko stand up. She lobbed car keys to Sokka.

“You ready?” She looked up at him.

“Lead the way.” He took her hand.

Katara decided the line was too long and they found their seats.

“How was shopping?”

Zuko chuckled. “Sokka and Uncle both have the same shopping habits. It’s really uncanny.”

“And, he wasn’t a jerk?”

“No. He was fine. We ran into Suki. They’re gonna plan a date.”

“Wait! Suki Suki? How did that happen?”

“To start, we kept running into her all day and he’s not really subtle.”

“As subtle as a jackhammer.” Katara nodded

“Suki walked by our table before you showed up and I just was gonna go crazy if I heard him talk about her for another thirty minutes. So I kinda flagged her down and introduced myself. I mentioned that I had to go make a call but that Sokka had something to ask her and walked away.”

Katara grabbed his arm. “Then, what happened?”

“I came back like ten-ish minutes later and he had Suki’s number.”

“You got my brother a date with Suki?!”

“That’s one interpretation.”

“Why do you have to be so perfect?” She put her hands on her forehead. “My brother blew his chances with Suki the minute he met her. I think it took him five minutes to his foot in his mouth. He’s had the biggest crush on her for years.”

“I know. He told me.”

“Zuko,” she laughed. “My family is never gonna let me live breaking up with you down.”

Zuko chose to ignore that comment. “I’m actually surprised they like me. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Really? I talked you up. Plus, Zuko, you’re like a catch. You know that right.”

He shot her a skeptical look.

“It’s facts! Besides, I kinda went through an anti-love phase after Jet. I think they’re just happy I’m brought someone normal home. But enough about them. I’m glad we’re gonna watch a movie together.”

“Really?” Zuko teased.

She laughed. “Seriously. I feel like everyone has got to spend time with you except for me. We can’t have that.”

“Yea, perish the thought.”

She snorted. “And like it has been crazy at school, too.”

“Right, I’m lucky to get any time with you, Madame Vice President.”

“So, it’s nice.”

Zuko hummed in agreement.

Katara wrapped her hands around Zuko’s forearm, resting her hands there. She rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m glad you didn’t spend Thanksgiving alone.”

He rested his head against hers. “Me too.”

+

“So…”

“So?” Katara sat down. “Your text was a little bit of an SOS. What happened?”

Zuko groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. “Somehow, we never realized that Pakku and my Uncle play paisho together.”

“Get out.” Katara set her phone down on the table.

“Yea, and Pakku told Uncle that we’re dating.”

Katara swore.

“Uncle was pretty devastated that I hadn’t told him we were dating.”

Katara’s face fell. “Oh no. What did you say to him exactly?”

“Essentially what you told your dad. That it was really sudden and that I kinda didn’t think it was gonna last long.” Zuko swallowed past the lump in his throat. “But since we’re together, he wants to invite you over for Christmas.” He ran his hands through his hair. “But like, a big Christmas, with Lu Ten’s and my mom’s family.”

Katara chewed her fingernail. “Well,” she looked at the table, “you did Thanksgiving with my folks. It’s only fair I do a holiday with yours.”

“Katara,” Zuko shook his head. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” My heart can’t take this.

“Well, what’s our alternative?”

“We could just let them know that it didn’t work out and we were better off as friends.”

“You don’t want to do this?”

“No, it’s just,” he sighed. I want to and that’s the problem because I don’t think you want this to be permanent. “I don’t want this to get complicated.”

“You’re not twisting my arm. If that’s what you’re afraid of.”

Zuko sighed again. This was not the plan.

“As long as we break up before Valentine’s Day. I think they’ll understand. We can just do it in the middle of the semester and they can’t badger us about it cus we won’t be back home until Spring Break.”

“February is two months away. You’re okay with ‘dating’ until then?” He searched her face.

“I told you, you were a catch, Ryuku.” Katara smiled.

Zuko gave her a weak smile in return. Pretend.

+

“Who knew the dork would bring home such a beautiful girlfriend?” Lu Ten put Zuko in a headlock.

“Babe,” Kimiko chuckled, “Cut it out. Nice to meet you.” She smiled at Katara.

“Likewise,” Katara smiled.

“Where’s baby Kibou?” Zuko asked, finally wrestling free of his cousin.

“With Dad.”

Zuko glanced at Katara. “Do you want to go meet him?”

“Sure!”

“Let’s go.” Lu Ten grinned, watching them.

“Uh, just a heads-up that Uncle is almost the exact opposite of Pakku,” Zuko whispered to Katara.

“If I could handle Pakku, your warning is in vain.” Katara winked at him.

Uncle Iroh stood rocking the baby. He turned towards them as they entered the living room. “Hello!” His smile grew as his eyes shrank. Where Pakku was a steely facade, Iroh exuded energy and comfort. “Kimi, I think Kibou is getting hungry. He’s a little fussy.”

“Oh, Kibou, let your mommy have a break.” Kimiko accepted her son from Iroh. “I’ll be right back.”

“You must be Katara.”

Katara smiled, “I am.”

Zuko pressed a hand at the small of her back. “Katara, Uncle. Uncle Iroh, Katara, my girlfriend.”

“I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She whipped her head to look at Zuko. “Really? I’ve heard about you too, Uncle Iroh. Clearly not to level of detail you’ve heard about me.”

Zuko’s face took on more color. “Uncle,” he protested.

“Zuko’s been a lot happier since you two have become friends. I think you two will make a fine couple.”

“Uncle!”

“What?” Uncle moved forward and extended his hands for Katara. She placed her hands in his and he squeezed them. “It really is a pleasure to meet you. I know you two were taking your time to tell everyone but I felt it would be nice to see everyone for the holidays.”

“I sprang Thanksgiving on Zuko. It’s only fair.”

He squeezed her hands again, chuckling.

The doorbell rang.

“That must be Aunt Ursa. Dad, do you want to open for them. I’ll check on Kimi.”

Zuko drew his lips in a line.

“Yea, I’ll get it.” Iroh let go of Katara’s hands and headed to the door.

Katara waited until it was the two of them before turning around to face Zuko, his hand withdrawing from her. “How are you feeling?”

Zuko shrugged. “Just have to face it head on, right?”

Her eyes bounced back and forth between his, searching. “I’m here for you, okay?”

He felt his heartbeat settling. He nodded. He felt his head lean towards her but stopped short of touching her. Her eyes are so blue.

“Zuko.”

They turned.

Ursa stood in the doorway. “Hi, how are you baby?”

Zuko felt tears prick his eyes. “I-I’m ok.”

Katara took his hand. He grasped her hand, feeling how his trembled.

For Pete’s sake, Ryuku.

She squeezed back.

“Ikem and Kiyi are taking their coats off now. I’m so excited for them to see you again. And you’re well?” Her forehead wrinkled.

Zuko ducked his head, nodding again.

“Good.”

He could hear the hesitance in her voice, as if she wasn’t sure.

“Kiyi.” A man ushered a little girl into the room behind Ursa. The little girl glanced up at Katara and Zuko and walked backwards until she bumped into the man. She scurried behind him holding on to Ursa’s pants.

Ursa looked down at her. “You remember Kiyi.” She placed a hand behind Kiyi’s head and tried to coax her back where Zuko and Katara could see her, but she refused. Ursa sighed, chuckling softly before putting her hand on the man’s shoulder. “And, you remember Ikem, my husband.”

Ikem took a step forward and extended his hand. “Nice to see you, Zuko.”

Katara squeezed his hand again before letting go and nudging him forward.

“Nice to see you, too.” He glanced back at Katara, who was already by his side. “This is Katara, my girlfriend. Katara, my mother, Kiyi, and Ikem.”

“It’s so nice to meet you all.” Katara shook Ursa and Ikem’s hands.

“Kiyi, don’t you want to meet Zuzu’s girlfriend?”

Kiyi shook her head. She moved behind her mother after her father exposed her.

Ursa shrugged her shoulders, apologetically. “She’ll warm up once we get settled.”

“No rush.” Katara slid a hand across Zuko’s back to loop an arm around his waist.

He let out a breath, realizing how tense he’d become. He focused on her warmth and let his shoulders relax. He looked up at his mom. Her forehead was still furrowed and Zuko felt a pang in his chest.

“It’s really good to see you mom. I know it’s been a long time––“

“No! I could have made a better effort, too. It’s so good to see you, baby.”

He smiled, leaning into Katara. She squeezed him.

Ursa surveyed them before smiling in return.

+

Ursa cocked her head slightly. “Sorry, we had already planned on sending Kiyi’s crosspoint to Zuko. I ‘helped her’ with this one for you, Katara.”

“It was last minute. I understand.” Katara smiled at Ursa, smoothing out the embroidered bookmark.

“Dad, has to be special and require handmade gifts.” Lu Ten teased

“But, Katara was able to make candles in time for all of us. It’s not too unreasonable,” Iroh responded.

“You weren’t the one answering hundreds of questions about which scents you all would prefer or stayed up on the phone with her as she made those candles.” Zuko crossed his arms.

“Yea, but that sounds like boyfriend duties, Zuko.” Lu Ten smirked.

“Yea,” Katara turned to face him. “Tough luck.”

Zuko couldn’t help the small smile on his face. If this is tough luck.

“I do have cookies, since I figured Kiyi might not be too ecstatic about candles.”

“You nailed it with the mermaid candle.” Ikem glanced at his daughter, playing in the corner. She’d every now and again uncap her candle and smell it before setting back down.

“Kiyi, do you want to do tea time with Ms. Katara?” Ursa leaned towards her daughter. “It would be a nice ‘thank you’ for the candle.”

Kiyi glanced at Katara.

Katara smiled, nodding in agreement.

Kiyi looked her mother again, nodding slightly.

“Lets go make some tea.” Ursa took her daughter’s hand and led her out of the living room. She beckoned Katara to follow her.

Katara squeezed Zuko’s hand before getting off the couch they shared to follow his mother into the kitchen.

“Oh, I do have a new pot Kiyi can use. Let me go get it.” Uncle Iroh stood up to find it for his niece.

Kimiko stood. “Tea actually sounds lovely. Be right back, babe.”

“So, Katara.” Lu Ten steepled his fingers, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “What’s the story?”

Zuko scratched the back of his neck.

“No need to get shy. You’re gonna have to tell this story a million more times.”

“It’s just. I, I don’t think we’re gonna last that long.”

“What do you mean?” Lu Ten frowned. “You guys look happy together. Are you just preparing for the worst?”

“It’s in the tea leaves, as Uncle says.” Zuko put his face in his hands.

“If you don’t want that to happen, what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t think Katara wants a long-term relationship with me.”

“Have you asked her?”

“It’s kind of obvious. She doesn’t have to tell me. It’s been a casual relationship.” Zuko felt his chest constrict at that reality. Their movie date had been an anomaly.

“But it could be serious and long-term if you said what you wanted. Is just letting your relationship fall apart a better option?”

Zuko shrugged.

“You want to stay with her, don’t you?”

“Yea of course.”

“So, act like it. Katara saw something in you to agree to be your girlfriend. She came here and met your crazy family, and I know you tried to dissuade her. You guys haven’t been dating for six months. That’s a lot of commitment from someone who’s in a casual relationship.”

“You don’t understand. There’s more to the story.”

“Yea, you’re right.” Lu Ten stood up. “I don’t know the full story. And neither do you. Either you save your relationship or watch it go up in flames. C’mon, let’s see what the girls are up to.”

Zuko reluctantly stood up.

“Knock knock!” Lu Ten opened the door to the bedroom Iroh had prepared for Kiyi. “Can two boys come in? Or is it a girls only party?”

“You can come in Uncle Lu Ten!”

Lu Ten smiled back at his cousin.

Zuko rolled his eyes. Like father, like son.

“We were gonna join you. But, it looks like there’s only room for one more. Zuko, why don’t you stay and I see how Kimi and Kibou are doing.” He clapped a hand on Zuko’s shoulder.

“Yea have a seat, Zuzu.” Katara smiled.

Where are your allies when you need them. Zuko sat down.

“Perfect timing. I should go put the cookies in the oven. I’ll be right back.” Katara winked at Zuko.

Kiyi’s mouth dropped as she watched Katara walk out. She glanced at her brother before staring at her teacup and furrowing her brows.

How the tables turn. Not my plan either, kid.

“…Would you like more tea?” Zuko lifted the teapot.

Kiyi shook her head.

Zuko poured himself a cup. “Uncle makes a good pot of tea.”

Kiyi nodded.

“Do you know what kind of cookies Katara made?”

Kiyi shook her head.

“Did you have a good tea time?”

She nodded. “Ms. Katara is nice.”

“Yea, she is.”

“Are you gonna marry her?”

Zuko choked, sputtering tea into his hand. “What?”

Kiyi had on a serious expression. “She’s really nice and she likes you. If you like her back, you should marry her.”

“Kiyi, it’s more complicated than that.” He wiped his hand in a napkin.

Kiyi pouted and Zuko swore he saw a six-year-old Azula in her expression. “How? Ms. Katara said she’s happy she came. She really wanted to make you happy.”

“Yea, that’s cus we’re friends.”

“That’s not what she tol–“ Kiyi covered her mouth.

Zuko stared at his younger sister. “What did she tell you Kiyi?”

“It was a secret. I can’t tell you.”

He leaned back. “That’s fair.”

They each took a sip of their tea.

“Can you poor me some more, Zuzu? My tea is cold.”

Zuko lifted the pot. “There isn’t much left. We should go get some more.”

They walked to the kitchen together in silence. Kiyi opened the door.

“Hey, the cookies will be cool in a couple minutes.” Katara greeted them.

“Did you just take them out?” Zuko asked he turned on the fire under the tea on the stove.

“Mhm. But as soon as they’re the right temperature, you should try one, Kiyi. They taste good cool but amazing almost out of the oven.”

Kiyi struggled to sit on the stool.

Katara and Zuko both moved to help her. Katara laughed, waving Zuko on to go ahead.

“Thank you.” Kiyi leaned forward on her forearms.

“Did you guys have a good chat?”

“Yes,” Zuko answered, watching the tea.

“We ran out of tea.”

“I see that.” Katara smiled.

“Kiyi, darling, your aunt is on the phone and she’d like to talk to you. We can come back and get cookies later, okay?” Ikem wrapped his arm around his daughter and set her on the ground before taking her hand. “Ms. Katara will want to hang out with Zuko.”

“Oh, the cookies just cooled; so she can have one now.” Katara handed her one in a napkin. “Zuko and I can come visit you soon and have a proper tea party.”

“Really?”

“I mean if Zuko wants to.”

Kiyi looked at Zuko and raised both her eyebrows, another classic Azula face. Get with the program, dummy.

Zuko turned off the stove before facing Katara and crossing his arms. “Kiyi is gonna be devastated when we break up.”

Katara’s eyes became round. She took a bite of her cookie and looked away. “About that. I wanted to talk––.“

“I don’t want to break up.”

Katara’s eyes flashed to his.

“I know we said this was all pretend but I don’t, I never wanted it to be.”

Her mouth fell open. She set her cookie down.

Zuko swallowed. Heat radiated throughout his body. “I want to be your boyfriend Katara, for real.”

Katara closed her mouth and nodded. “I don’t want to break up either.”

Zuko’s breath stuttered. “Seriously?” He took a moment to process what she said. Calm realization rooting out anxious nerves.

“Yea,” she laughed. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Like I said you’re a serious catch and––“

Zuko stepped around the island and cradled Katara’s face in his hands. He leaned forward and kissed her. She slowly took hold of his shirt. He moved closer as she tugged on him. Katara gasped a little and Zuko pressed closer still, deepening the kiss. He let out a soft moan.

When they pulled back, Zuko knew his favorite color in the world was the shade of Katara’s eyes after making out. The blue was deep and stormy.

He brushed his thumb along her jaw. “I cut you off as you were complimenting me. And?” He smiled laying his forehead on hers.

Katara snorted, wrapping her arms around Zuko’s neck. “I don’t know. I forgot.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “You had something more urgent than listening to me compliment you so let’s just pick up from there.”

Zuko settled a hand on her waist and brushed his lips against hers. “Your wish is my command.”

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 65)

"Beers, Cheers & Unexpected Tears"

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

@lovemythsworld

@crystalbaby12

The After Party is raging. The music is loud as shots are flowing. Everyone is laughing and congratulating each other.

Luna and Ashley are changing to join them when Luna notices a singular text amongst dozens. It's from an unknown number.

"Seen U 2nite little one 😛"

"This motherfucker and his burner phones." She thinks, deciding not to delete it this time in case Colson asks. She blocks the new number again and pockets her phone. Luna has a boyfriend to enjoy.

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

As soon as he sees her, Colson pulls Luna close. "I'm so fucking proud of you, Kitten. The way you and Ash changed it up was beautiful." He places his hands on the back of her head and back. Kissing her deeply. Any thoughts of Tommy disappearing.

"Thanks for including Case. She had a ball." He tells her, while still holding her.

Luna looks around to spot the little girl, goofing off with Benny and Slim. She smiles as she looks back up at him. "Of course! It wouldn't have been the same without her. Did you see what she drew?" She asks him.

"Yeah, I told you she was hella smart." He answers proudly.

"She must get it from Em." Luna teases him.

"Shut up." He laughs, kissing her again.

"Remind me to grab it before we leave, please. I wanna frame it for her."

"She's so fucking amazing." Colson thinks holding onto her as she rests in his arms.

They're interrupted by Rook. "This is for you." He tells Luna handing her a shot.

Laughing, she easily swallows it whole.

"Where's mine?" Colson complains.

"Bring your asses on then, bitches." Rook jokes.

Luna kisses Colson once more before they follow behind Rook. Luna's grandmother grabs her hand, pulling her back as Colson proceeds on.

"Oh, Luna, you and Ashley were WONDERFUL!! I love how you stripped it down. I feel like it made your message clearer to some who may not have gotten it originally." Patti praises her.

"Thanks Mom-Mom. I didn't think of it that way." She admits before asking her if she'd like another drink.

"I would!!" Joni interrupts them, laughing as she shakes her empty glass. She grabs Luna for a tight hug, making sharp pain shoot through Luna's already pounding shoulder. Pulling back from her, Joni says "You did so great, Luna Bug! I'm so proud of you." before squeezing her tight again.

Luna grins at the old nickname, hugging Joni back and thanking her. Taking the woman's glass, she says "I'll grab you a refill. 7&7?" She asks, to Joni's nod. She already knew. "Mom-Mom?" She asks before heading to the bar.

"I'm okay for the moment, Loons. Thank you though." Pattie says  before Luna makes her way off.

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

Before hitting the bar, Luna stops into the bathroom. Working quickly she crushes up a few percs to bang them. Her shoulder is killing her and she knows between the happiness and hugs, it's only gonna get worse.

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

"SHOTS!!!!!" Pete hollers, gathering everyone around, as Luna slips back in. "To a great show, great performance and most of all GREAT family!!!!

"CHEERS!!" They all shout as the raise their glasses. Slamming them in celebration.

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

Everyone is having a good time, mixing with each other. Music and laughter floating through the room. Pete is busting it up with Kate, Colson and Rook. Benny, Baze and Slim are getting more drinks, mixing with the cast and crew. Dom and Ashley talk to Patti and Joni.

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

"You girls were extraordinary!!" Patti raves at Ashley, after hugging her and Dom warmly. She had met Dom during Christmas, Ashley bringing him to Christmas Eve dinner.

"Thank you so much, Mom-Mom. You know your opinion means the world to me." Ashley beams. She has a great relationship with Luna's grandmother.

They continue talking about upcoming Nightmare performances, life and the album Ashley's working on. Patti watching adoringly as Dom gushes over his girlfriend. Delighted her girls have finally found men who seem to be deserving of them.

Luna drops off Joni's drink without interrupting the conversation. Looking around the same room, she finds Casie sitting and talking with Ashleigh. "Hey Dilla!!" She calls to her with a smile.

Casie looks up, grinning at Luna. She walks over to them and squats down as the little girl jumps into her arms full force. Both Ashleigh and Luna laugh.

"Yup. Percocets." Luna thinks, still feeling a slight throb. Yet, it's much better then it was.

"That was so much fun!" Casie exclaims. Kissing Luna on the cheek and squeezing her tight.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Dilla!!" Luna beams at her, giving her another hug. "Do you have your picture? I wanna save it for you."

"Really!! THANK YOU!!" Casie dives into her again. "I'm gonna go get it!!" The little girl shouts over her shoulder as she runs off.

Colson is watching Luna and Casie. Feeling buzzed, plus overly happy and grateful for his girls, he prepares himself. "Here goes..." He thinks walking over to Pattie.

Luna is still sitting with Ashleigh. "You guys were great!!! It was really cool for you to involve Casie." She says as she smiles at Luna.

"Thanks." Luna smiles back. "I thought it was important, since she was in the video and everything, you know?"

Ashleigh nods. She likes Luna, always has. As she watches her with Colson and Casie, getting to know her better, she likes her even more.

"I'm just glad Emma thought it was just as cool..." Luna continues.

"You guys get along well, don't you?" Ashleigh asks her.

"Oh yeah, Em's fantas...." She's interrupted by a jumping Casie.

"Here it is!!!" She proudly displays her art to Luna and Ashleigh.

Luna takes it from her, saying "I'm gonna put it in my dressing room to keep it safe." as she stands up.

"Okay!!" Casie says, trusting Luna completely. "C'mon Ash!!! I wanna show you something cool!" She tells her, pulling her out of her seat.

"Byeeee..." Both women grin at each other.

As Luna heads to her dressing room, Colson walks over to Pattie and Joni. Ashley and Dom are now over with Pete and Kate. Approaching them, Colson has butterflies in his stomach.

"Fuck.... Fuck.... Fuck.... Get it together Kells." He tries to calm himself down. He's been thinking about this for the last few days. Not knowing when he'll see Pattie again, he tells himself to "Shoot your shot."

"Hello ladies." Colson greets Patti and Joni with his boyish grin.

"How are you, Dear?" Patti asks him with a hug. He hugs Joni also as they praise the performance.

Colson blushes while thanking them but stating humbly that it was all Luna and Ashley.

This makes Patti smile. She likes Colson. Respecting him as a man, parent and an artist. Appreciating how he cares and interacts with her granddaughter and absolutely adoring Casie.

"Do mind if I speak with you for a moment, Patti?" He asks her. There's a slight tremble to his voice.

Taking her cue, Joni heads off to mingle with the other young boys.

"Is everything ok, Colson?" The older woman asks him delicately.

Cheeks flushed, he looks away as he begins to rub his hand on the back of his head. "Yes ma'am." He answers, looking back at her.

"Spit it out, Honey." Patti encourages him.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck." His mind races.

Looking around, he asks if she'd like to sit. She tells him No. That what she would like is for him to talk to her. Patti listens and watches him intensely as he begins to speak.

Her directness reminds him of Luna. "The apple doesn't fall far from that tree." The thought slipping into his mind.

"I uh, I.." Colson stutters. Closing his eyes, he musters up the same courage he found the night he met Luna.

"I love your granddaughter, Patti. I love everything about her. Her strongwill, her kindness, how she loves Casie and Casie loves her. The two of them mean everything in the world to me." He's rambling. "I know it's been a short time and you may think I'm crazy but I don't know what I would do without her. She makes me a better man and even though she doesn't need it, I have this insane urge to protect her." He sighs, looking down at the ground then back up at Patti. "I know it's Luna's choice and being who she is, I don't even know if she'll say yes or when I'll ask but...." He trails off as he inhales deeply. "I'd like to marry her one day and it's important to me how you feel about it."

Colson is nervously waiting for Patti's response. A soft smile spreads over her face. In the seven years Luna had dated and lived with Justin, he had never approached Patti in this capacity.

"When's her birthday?" She asks him. Deciding to have a bit of fun with first.

"July 16,1992." He answers without hesitating.

"What's her biggest fear?" The first was clearly too easy.

"Fame and deep sea diving." Colson states, postive of his answer. This impresses her grandmother.

"Luna's middle name?" Patti knows she hates it and tells very few.

Colson grins, feeling confident. "Adelaide."

Patti decides to dig deeper. "If she asked, would you sign a pre-nup?" Thinking of Luna's inheritance and the rights to both her and Robert's catalogs.

"No doubt." He nods his head, the thought never popping into his mind.

Patti has one last question. "What if she doesn't want to have kids? Would you be okay with that?" This one is very important.

Colson's eyes soften. "Then that's okay. We've talked about her not knowing if she wants to or not. I want you to know, I don't love your granddaughter for what she can or can't give me. I love her for who she is. All parts of her. The independence, the stubborness, the unpredictableness. All of it. Besides, we have Casie." He shrugs lightly.

Patti takes his hand and squeezes it. "She's lucky to have found you. You'll make a great partner. Whether she let's you marry her or not." She tells him kindly.

It takes a minute for it to register with Colson. Once it does, he asks Patti excitedly "Does this means what I think it means!??" Blue eyes bright.

Patti nods as Colson lifts her up for a tight hug. She's laughing when he puts her down.

"Thank you! Thank you!" He says taking both her hands before hugging her again and kissing her cheek. Promising her she has nothing to worry about. That he'll never waver from Luna's side. Married or not.

"Go get her, Kiddo." She tells him with a wink. He kisses her cheek again before asking if she needs anything.

"Go have fun." She tells him with a pleased smile. He thanks her again sincerely before going to check on. Casie.

"What was that?" Joni asks moseying over to her bestfriend.

"He just asked for my granddaughter's hand in marriage." Patti tells her with a pleased look with a mix of amusement.

"I guess chivalry isn't dead." Joni muses, spipping her cocktail, watching the next generation with hope.

Coming back from her dressing room, Luna heads over to Pete, Kate, Ashley and Dom. She doesn't see Colson walking over to them. Casie is now with her grandmother and Joni. Ashleigh is talking with Kenan as The Boys still mixing with the cast and crew.

"Yo! Tonight was epic!" Pete says. Raising his glass, he toasts "To the baddest bitches I know, changing the world one song at a time!" The five of them laugh through their "CHEERS!!"

"I'm always fucking missing out on drinks tonight!" Colson complains with a laugh as he slides his arm around Luna's waist.

"Poor Bunny." Luna leans up, barely reaching his cheek to kiss it. He gives her a boost by the ass. She then turns and grabs him a fresh Rolling Rock off the bar.

"A1, Day 1!" He laughs again while bending down to kiss her.

"So how long have you guys been together?" Kate asks Luna.

"Almost 10yrs in their minds!" Pete teases them to Luna's smirking, rolled eyes and everyone else's laughter.

"No, for real, a little over a month?" Colson answers, looking at Luna to double check.

She shrugs, "Yeah, about a that." She agrees, touching the padlock around her neck.

"Wow, you guys are really in sync with each other." Kate admires.

Luna and Colson exchange that One Look before a quick kiss. "I'm gonna check on Case, come on Pete." He coaxes his friend. Dom had already wondered off towards The Boys.

Ashley, Kate and Luna continue to talk. The bestfriends asking how Kate and Pete met. It wa by random, at a coffee shop in MidTown. Kate asks about Yellowhammer.com and their activism in AL. The girls explaining their work with the ACLU and Planned Parenthood. Kate's quit impressed. She loves how outspoken, motivated and fearless they are as young women. They continue to laugh as they get to know each other better. Ashley deciding she likes Kate. Luna already coming to the same conclusion. Kate's smart and funny. She's also really sweet and mature. Not some little kid who's going to play with their friend's heart.

"Oh, Petey!!!" It's so good to see you, Lovey!!" Patti hugs Pete as he squeezes her back tight.

"Glad you could make it, Pat!" He says with a huge smile as he leans to greet and kiss Joni too.

"How's your mother?" Pat asks him. He responds with a 'GREAT' before Pat tells him to have her call so they can have lunch soon.  Complaining how she feels like it's been ages since she's seen her friend. He agrees happily.

"Tell me about this lovely woman you have with you..." Patti changes the subject

Colson laughs as Pete turns as red as a tomato. He's saved by Casie.

"Dad can I stay the night with Ms. Patti and Ms. Joni? We're gonna have a sleep over...." She asks excitedly, looking up at the nodding women beaming down at her.

"Uh... Let's ask Luna." He tells her before calling out "BROOKLYYYN!!" into the crowded room.

His voice makes Luna smile as she turns to find him. He's with Pete, Casie, Joni and her Mom-Mom. Him and Pete are waving her and Kate over.

"Looks like girlfriend duties call!" Ashley laughs. She goes to find Dom as the other women walk over to where they're being summoned.

"Hello, how are you this evening?" Patti asks of Kate with an inviting. Before she can answer, Casie interrupts them.

"Can I spend the night, Looney!? Can I spend the night???" She's jumping up and down.

"Where at, Dilla?" She looks at Colson confused.

"Ms. Patti's. We're gonna have a slumber party with Ms. Joni!!" She explains as she's about to burst.

Colson shrugs and Patti nods when Luna looks at them. "You don't have any clothes...."

"Clothes, smlothes." Her grandmother tells her. "She can sleep in one of my old band Ts. You guys come by tomorrow with fresh clothes and we'll all go out to brunch before you leave again." Patti has it all planned out.

Luna laughs in agreeance, knowing her Mom-Mom had an ulterior motive.

"It's settled then. Why don't you collect your things and say your goodbyes while I talk to Petey." The old woman tells the little girl.

"Petey?" Casie smirks with a laugh. Skipping away she sings

🎶Petey, Petey such a little sweetie🎶

The adults laugh as Luna and Colson follow behind her. Pete going on to finish introducing Kate to Patti and Joni.

"It's an honor." Kate states in awe of the musical legends.

"Ooohhh... I like her." Joni says as they all laugh.

They enjoy polite conversation, Joni recognizing Kate from Pearl Harbor, asking what it was like to work with a young Ben Affleck. Kate laughs sliding her hand into Pete's, saying that they're good friends

Meeting up with Benny, Rook, Ashley, Dom, Slim, Ashleigh and Baze across the room, Casie tells them about her epic night plans as she kisses and hugs them all goodbye. Benny offering to walk Casie, Patti and Joni out to Luna's gratitude.

Heading back to her grandmother, Luna introduces Patti to Benny. "He's gonna walk you guys out. And I don't wanna hear it, Mom-Mom. It's late and you'll have Case with you." Knowing her grandmother's protests of independence.

Listening to her granddaughter, Patti thanks Benny for being a gentleman. Luna kisses and hugs her grandmother and aunt as Colson squeezes Casie goodbye.

They switch off. Colson hugging Patti while whispering 'Thank You' in the old rebel's ear before taking Joni's hand, thanking her for coming and kissing her lightly on the cheek. The two women are smitten by the charismatic young man.

Luna squeezes Casie, telling her to have fun and that she loves her. The little girl grins, saying she will and that she loves Luna too as she squeezes her tight again.

Standing up, Casie turns to Benny, imitating her father "WE OUT!!" she shouts. Erupting the adults into laughter again.

Luna grabs her grandmother's hand, telling her she loves her and to call if she has a problem. Patti squeezes her hand back, reassuring the young woman that they'll be fine. Admiring this new look on Luna.

As they leave, Colson leads Luna over to everyone else by the small of her back. "WE READY TO FUCKING PARTY!!! He shouts as the room erupts.

More drinks are ordered, music bumps and the laughter is contagious. Congratulations still making their rounds.

"Yo! You guys were fire!!" Slim compliments Ashley and Luna.

"Yeah, the way you guys stripped that shit down and then had us come in hard was fucking GENIUS!!" Baze agrees.

Luna and Ashley look at each other beaming.

"We couldn't done any of it without you guys. Seriously, all off you. From playing on it to producing it. This OUR baby, so THANK YOU GUYS!!" Luna lifts her glass. "To family!"

"TO FAMILY!!" They all cheers.

"I have to say, great song, phenomenal performance from you all, BUT, Case stole the show." Ashleigh laughs.

"That girl is smart as a whip!" Benny agrees. "You got your hands full Kells!" He laughs.

"FACTS!!" Rook chimes in, nudging Luna. "You ready for a crazy pre-teen because she's coming our way soon."

Colson overhears them. "That motherfucker better not scare her away." Thinking how he jumped the Patti hurdle, he doesn't need an imaginary one blocking his way to Luna.

"Enh, she's a great kid." Looking at their group, she laughs, "There's not much here for her to rebel against." Rook laughs with her as Luna shrugs and continues "Plus, both Colson and I were bad ass kids. Whatever she may slide passed Emma, she's deff not getting through the two of us."

She looks over and winks at Colson who's staring at her.

"FUCK I LOVE HER." Is all he can think.

Dancing, laughing and drinking, the night carries on. Shots be downed together all over the room.

"To the two chicks I know with balls bigger than most dudes. NOT MINE THO!!" A drunken Slim laughs loudly, cheersing The Girls. Slamming another round with Luna, Ashley and Benny.

Glancing over her shoulder, Luna sees devious Colson and Pete standing in the doorway.

She walks up to them. Before she can all what they're up to, they attack her. Trapping her tiny body between they're two tall, lanky ones.

Rocking her back and forth between the two of them, they sing laughing.

🎶We got a drunken Moon Pie🎶

🎶Not gonna let her get by🎶

Drunk and shocked. With her body bouncing off of them, Luna's bursts into fits of laughter as she begs them to stop.

🎶Even when she asks why🎶

🎶Cuz she's our drunken Moon Pie🎶

They keep shaking her till their song is over. Dizzy from her weird ride, Luna clings to Colson to catch find her balance.

"You guys are fucking maniacs." She laughs, resting her face on Colson's chest. "How long you been planning that?" She asks sarcastically.

"Five WHOLE minutes." Pete tells her, scrunching his face up. "Be careful, or we'll do it again." He warns playfully, sticking his tongue out.

"Is this what I have to live with now?" Luna drops her arms from around Colson. Looking between the two of them with a miffed look on her face.

"Yup." Colson and Pete say in unison, grinning at each other.

🎶We gotta...🎶 They go to start again before she springs out of their grasps.

"Fuck you guys." She laughs, trotting away.

Pete goes to find Kate as Colson chases after Luna, scooping her up from behind. She squeals as he kisses all over the back of her neck. Both are drunk.

"Ready to go?" He asks her. It's close to 3A.

"Yeah, I gotta grab my stuff first." She agrees.

Colson rallies up the bunch while Luna runs to her dressing room. Everyone's going back to the brownstone. Including Dom & Ashley and Pete & Kate. Benny offers to take Luna's bag and Casie's poster. She thanks him with a peck on the cheek.

"WE OUT!" Colson shouts as Luna runs up and jumps onto his back. Even caught off gaurd, he catches her easily.

"HIGH HO SILVER AND AWAY!!" Luna shouts from on top of him.

"You're so fucking weird!!" He laughs as their rowdy group makes their way through the empty building.

"YOOOOOOU LOVE IT!!!" She continues to drunkenly yell. Making him laugh harder.

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

Back at the brownstone, they find Cards Against Humanity. Rook puts on  music. Ashley clears off the kitchen table for Colson, Pete and Slim to start rolling joints. Luna grabs everyone beers while Ashleigh and Kate find snacks. Baze helps Dom set up the game. And Benny's searching for food on his phone. The Stay Fresh is delivering to everyone's drunken, hungry roars. They order a shit ton of wings, mozzarella sticks, cheese fries and more beer.

It doesn't take long for the food to arrive. Munching and drinking, the group passes around joints while they play the game. All of them are drunk and can hardly contain themselves.

Rook laughing hard enough, he falls out of his chair onto the floor. Luna almost losing a mozzarella stick out of her mouth from laughing at him. Colson snorting as he laughs loudly at them both. Everyone else laughing at one of the three of them.

They're so fucked up and distracted, they don't even finish the game. Hanging out, they one by two disappear. Leaving Benny asleep at the kitchen table.

Luna feels bad but Colson reassures her that he's immovable. To leave him be.

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

Making out on the bed, Colson pulls away from Luna. His drunk eyes stare into hers with fear. He sometimes becomes emotionally vulnerable when he gets really wasted.

"Do you feel alright?" Luna asks, hoping to catch a smile from him. She does but it's tiny and weak as he rolls into his back. "Talk to me Colson." She shifts on her side, stroking his hair.

Staring at the ceiling, he let's out a sigh before telling her "I can't shake this Tommy thing."

"Oooohh Boy." Luna thinks. She's drunk and tired. The sun is coming up and all she really wants to do is fuck and sleep.

"What can't you shake?" She lays her head on his chest, facing him.

"Why you would cheat with him and not me." He tells her quietly.

Luna closes her eyes, trying to keep her patience with him. Sitting up, she climbs on top of him. Placing herself on his groin.

"Because when we seen each other, I was very much in love with Justin. We were still new, intimate, engaged in each..." She looks away, closing her eyes for a moment.

Head swimming from all the shots. Luna's never made it a habit of explaining herself. Drunk or not, she will for Colson though.

"His addiction sent us through spurts where he would shut me out. All of us, only hanging with people he knew wouldn't bitch about him getting high.  There were months where we shared the same bed but weren't speaking about anything relevant, let alone fucking. I hooked up with Tommy during one of those cycles. I had felt like Justin had been cheating on me for years. I was pissed and felt rejected. Tommy was an escape that paid attention to me." One solid tear slides down her cheek. He wipes it away as she continues to look at Colson.

"Fuck, that sounds so pathetic." She thinks, disappointed in herself.

"Why didn't you leave him?" He asks her the same question from last night.

Luna sighs. This one is hard. "Because whether I liked his actions or not, at one point he was my bestfriend. I think I loved him so much that I clung to the idea that maybe we could get that back." She looks away, multiple tears dropping now. "Plus, I didn't know if he could survive without me. And that wasn't worth the risk." She wipes her own tears now as she shrugs. Lightly saying, "Didn't matter though, you know. I finally snapped and he killed himself the next day while I was out." She closes her eyes to keep the tears in.

He pulls her down onto his strong chest. Stroking her hair as she silently cries into. "You know it's not your fault." Colson tries to console her.

She sniffles a "Yeah...."

"Sure it's not.... That's why his entire written last words were dedicated to telling me to fuck off.... " She thinks sadly, feeling her soul hurt. Luna will always love the brilliant man she fell in love with. Not the shell Justin had become in the end. Although Luna misses him, she misses the life he should've had more. Even if he wasn't supposed to spend it with her.

**********************************************

Colson's heart rips apart for her. "She's too fucking loyal for her own good..... He didn't fuckinug deserve her..... At all.... Fuck.... And to let her find him... That's some asshole shit." Colson thinks as he holds her tight, vowing to himself to never hurt her.

Their conversation was heavy. Neither wanting to talk anymore, nor needing to. Their bodies telling each other everything they need to know as Luna lays on Colson's chest and he strokes her hair until both their worried minds finally shut off.

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

To be continued...

[ciestessde]

Phantasma Magica Ch. 5

STORY SUMMARY

Clockwork and the Observants send Danny to Hogwarts on a special mission. But, cryptic as ever, that Old Stopwatch never actually told him what would happen on it!!! “All you need to do right now, Daniel, is stay focused on your mission. And remember, the-” “‘The Lions with the time-turner, lightning-bolt scar, and hair like fire are friends; watch out for the rat; and the black dog is not a threat.’ Yeah, you’ve only repeated that a few dozen times today.”

Next → ← Previous (First)

Harry was stuck, by order of the school nurse, in the hospital wing the rest of the weekend after his fall. Which was fine by Danny -- Harry was the only overnight patient, so, other than the occasional visitor and the nurse, the hospital wing was empty most of the time. Which meant, with Danny able to turn visible when needed, he could spend the entire weekend guarding and visiting with his friend. (A fantastic balm to his newfound paranoia!)

Harry didn’t seem to mind the company, either, filling Danny in on various things about the wizarding world. … Well. He mostly talked about Quidditch -- the upcoming rematch occupying the boy’s mind. Danny was an expert on the sport by Monday morning. And (despite his aversion toward sports in general) Danny found he was looking forward to watching Harry play -- without rain blocking most of his vision. But the entire weekend -- even though spending time with a friend did much to calm him -- something kept bothering Danny. That taint in Harry’s metaphorical “smell” kept itching at his nose…

Even after his release, Danny decided to continue prioritizing Harry’s safety -- only resting when he knew Harry was in a safe environment. And with all the practice he got following Harry around, Danny finally perfected the art of concealing the chilling effect of his aura. ~Poor~ Malfoy, though, was unaware of his nemesis’ ghostly bodyguard, and had decided Harry’s weakness to the dementors was hilarious. If he had known… perhaps he wouldn’t have decided to make fun of Harry during potions… and maybe he would have avoided having his stool, and a bit of the table in front of him, turned intangible -- covering him in his unfinished potion… (Much to Danny’s annoyance, Snape didn’t take any points from Malfoy’s House. He considered pranking the professor as well, but didn’t dare risk it. … Yet.)

Because he was prioritizing Harry’s safety, Danny found himself staying with him when Lupin asked to have a word after class, too. Once all of the students had left, Danny went ahead and turned visible. “I heard about the match,” Lupin addressed Harry, “and I’m sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?” “No. The tree smashed it to bits.” Lupin sighed, beginning to prepare for the next class. “They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance.”

Hesitating, Harry asked, “Did you hear about the dementors too?” Lupin paused, glanced at the phantasm floating in the corner -- then looked back at Harry. “Yes, I did. I don’t think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time… furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds… I suppose they were the reason you fell?” “Yes,” said Harry, hesitating again before, “Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just-” “It has nothing to do with weakness,” Lupin interjected sharply. “The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don’t have.”

As Lupin explained the horrible creatures that were dementors again, Danny was bothered by the mystery that bugged him all weekend -- the tainted smell of Harry’s soul. There was another piece of the puzzle. He could feel it, just out of reach… “When they get near me--” Harry’s throat tightened, “I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum.” Lupin moved as if to comfort him, but stopped. There was a moment of silence.

“-Why did they have to come to the match?” Harry said bitterly. “I expect knowing a phantasm was nearby agitated them. But mostly -- they’re getting hungry.” Lupin shut his briefcase with a snap. “Dumbledore won’t let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up. … I don’t think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement… emotions running high… it was their idea of a feast.”

‘--Wait…’ Danny thought, ‘... If it was the crowd that drew them -- why did they target Harry? And… I get reliving bad memories is common around them, but -- Harry was a baby when his mother was killed…‘

Finally, something clicked: This wasn’t the first time the dementors had singled Harry out; reliving a memory he shouldn’t have; the tainted “smell.” … Danny’s mission -- Clockwork’s clues… An idea -- which seemed almost impossible -- occurred to Danny: ‘What if… Harry is a horcrux…?’

Now that the idea had occurred to him -- -- It was unmistakable. Danny’s senses honed in on Harry’s soul without his volition -- and there it was. Like an infected wound, or a parasite -- a piece of a soul reeking of death clung to Harry. It’s essence seeped out of his scar, right where they had said Voldemort’s curse rebounded. For the first time since becoming a phantasm, Danny genuinely felt cold.

But he couldn’t dwell on this. What felt like hours to Danny was only a couple seconds -- before the name “Sirius Black,” and the abrupt motion of Lupin almost dropping his suitcase, pulled him back into their conversation.

“Yes, Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn’t have believed it possible…” Lupin said. ‘But Harry wasn’t on the list of objects!’ “Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long…”

‘Harry’s my friend -- I will NOT attack him!’ Harry interjected, “You made the dementors on the train back off.” ‘Oh, of course Clockwork didn’t tell me, he knew I wouldn’t-- no… Waaait. He said that Harry was a “friend” …’

“There are -- certain defenses one can use.” ‘That old- He manipulated me! --Not that… I didn’t know he was doing that... --but STILL!’ “But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist.” ‘Okay. Breathe. Calm down.’

“What defenses? Can you teach me?!” ‘Clockwork didn’t put Harry on the list.’

“I don’t pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry… quite the contrary…” ‘That means I don’t have to do anything.’

“But if the dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them--”

Lupin hesitated… ‘And if Harry knew… He’d freak out…’ “Well… all right. I’ll try and help.” Danny was trying his hardest to not freeze the walls behind him. “But it’ll have to wait until next term, I’m afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays.” ‘If Clockwork didn’t mention this… Yeah--’ “I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill.”

‘--Harry doesn’t need to know.’

He was about to follow Harry out of the room -- still visible -- when Lupin called, “Danny?” His gaze jerked around, his mind still reeling. Lupin locked eyes with him, concerned. “I hope this isn’t over-stepping, but… Are you alright?” Danny didn’t know how to answer that. He wanted to trust this teacher -- he really did, but… He smiled, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Lupin couldn’t have missed the pause if he had tried. But he continued on, “Well, I was wondering if I might have that interview tomorrow. During lunch, perhaps?” Lunch was safe. Harry was surrounded by other wizards -- Hermione and Ron, other friends -- during lunch. “Yeah, that works for me.” Danny’s desire to protect his young friend was stronger than ever. And the more positive relations he could build in this unsafe environment -- the better.

So as promised, he met the professor in his office the next day. He asked mostly standard questions… Which was rather awkward for Danny. “What do phantasms eat?” “Uhhh… Well…” Only the first question -- and he already wanted to fly away. In his defense, he thought they already knew AT LEAST this much!? “We-I mean, they eat mostly… ummm…” ‘How do I answer this without freaking him out?!?!’ Resigning himself, he sighed. “Phantasms eat... souls.”

Lupin almost dropped his quill. He stared at Danny, certain he had misheard. Danny quickly added, “But- I don’t! I eat -- My guardian, he makes this substance. A substitute for souls. I- Here, let me show you!” And like that, he darted off, grabbing them from where he had stored them in the system of giant-unused-wall-pipes. Lupin was fascinated by the glowing green bottles, and Danny agreed to let him have one to study.

““We were aware that phantasms were capable of sucking out souls, of course, but… I never thought a creature would use it as their primary food source. I wonder-- is being a soul eater--” “--‘Spirit-eater’--” “--what causes the space around both species to become cold?” “I… don’t know. Maybe?” “Now, I know this might be uncomfortable, but… What about reproduction?”

And so the interview went. Many awkward questions, many not. Some curiosity easily satisfied: “I see. You can spread your aura into it to turn another object invisible or intangible as well!” And many questions he didn’t have answers to: “How do you switch between a corporeal and intangible form?” By the end of it, Lupin seemed to have lost any remaining reservations he had towards Danny, and Danny had decided that Lupin really was a good guy. But still… a good guy or not, Danny didn’t know whether he could trust Lupin with his mission. Not just yet…

  Before classes were to end for their winter break, another Hogsmeade trip rolled around -- with the promise of Danny and Harry being stuck, once again, inside the castle. But on the way back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry was lured into an empty classroom by Ron’s twin brothers, Fred and George.

“Early Christmas present for you, Harry,” Fred pulled a worn, blank piece of parchment from inside his cloak, and, with a flourish, laid it on a desk. “What’s that supposed to be?” “This, Harry, is the secret of our success.” George patted the parchment fondly. “It’s a wrench, giving it to you, but we decided last night, your need’s greater than ours.” “Anyway, we know it by heart. We bequeath it to you. We don’t really need it anymore.” They explained they’d gotten (stolen) it from Filch; a drawer in his office labeled “Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.”

With a tap of George’s wand and the words “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” ink spread out on the parchment forming a map with the title:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER’S MAP

It showed every detail of Hogwarts and its grounds (‘Where was this when I needed it?!’), even -- with a moving dot and a name -- where people were inside it. For an instant, Danny and Harry’s pulses raced. But they quickly realized -- Danny wasn’t there. They were both just as confused as they were relieved. (Danny even more so when he saw the names of the Hogwarts’ ghosts and Peeves were shown on the map.)

Fred traced a secret passage on the map with his finger, “Right into Hogsmeade. There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four,” he pointed to them, “but we’re sure we’re the only ones who know about these. Don’t bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it’s caved in -- completely blocked. And we don’t reckon anyone’s ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow’s planted right over the entrance…” ‘That… Doesn’t make sense. Of course it was used! It was built, so -- oh, y’know what, forget it. I’ll investigate it later.’

After the twins left, Danny turned visible. “Danny look! If the twins are right -- and I’m sure they are -- I can get into Hogsmeade!” “Yeah…” Danny hesitated, while Harry studied the map more closely. He knew he couldn’t stop Harry if he really wanted to go, but… “Hey, uh…” Harry looked at him, grinning. Danny smiled back. ‘I’ll just have to go with him.’ “If you’re going to do this, you should probably grab your coat and invisibility cloak first.” “No, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to wait any longer.” And like that, he took off. Danny sighed, but smiled. It was good to see Harry so happy. He had been in a slump ever since losing his broom. Some fresh air and new sights would probably do him good.

Danny followed at a distance. Harry met up with Ron and Hermione right away. Hermione did not approve of Harry being there, of course. Ron, though, pointed out a notice pasted on the door of the shop the secret tunnel had let out in, which said that dementors were patrolling the streets of the small town during the night. ‘Only during the night, huh…?’ Ron’s point was that Sirius Black couldn’t get into the town because of these patrols. Danny disagreed (he’d gotten into the school, hadn’t he?), but he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with the creatures here during the day.

  After buying some candy from the shop, the trio made there way to a small, warm pub/inn called the “Three Broomsticks.” Things were going well. Ron even got Danny his own mug of “Butterbeer” -- a non-alcoholic beverage which, Danny decided (though not as good as hot cocoa) wasn’t half bad. He floated above the table, drinking from his invisible cup, when he noticed a group of teachers headed towards the building.

Danny reached down and turned Harry invisible with him. “Danny?” asked Harry. “What’s wrong?” Hermione looked around, quickly spotting their professors and the other adults coming inside. ‘Oh, this is going to be another long day, isn’t it?’ He resigned himself to it when they sat down at the table right next to theirs. Apparently, one of them, a man he didn’t recognize, was actually the “Minister,” and they even invited the waitress, Madam Rosmerta, to join them. The topic of conversation was, of course, Sirius Black. But… things turned personal.

Well… even more personal than attempts on Harry’s life. Danny was worried he’d have to restrain Harry. He almost had to restrain himself.

Black was Harry’s godfather. He’d been Harry's father’s best friend! But even more than that…

“... Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm,” the Minister said. “How does that work?” asked the waitress. Professor Flitwick (the teacher of the Charms class) filled her in. He explained that it hid a secret inside a chosen “Secret-Keeper’s” soul so that, unless revealed by the Secret-Keeper, it would be impossible to know or find out -- even if the “secret” was directly in front of you. Black had been chosen as just such a Secret-Keeper to hide the Potter family’s location from Voldemort. And, seeing as they were murdered barely a week after he became their Secret-Keeper…

Danny struggled not to freeze Harry’s shoulder, but managed to control himself. Their story wasn’t finished, either. Soon after Voldemort “died” (as Danny knew better), another friend of Black and Harry’s father, “Peter Pettigrew,” confronted Black. And Black didn’t just kill him -- Black blew him up! ...

  After making sure Harry and the others made it back to the castle safely, Danny flew himself down into one of the rare places that could provide the space and privacy he needed right then: the large underground room he had found connected to the pipes. (He had been mildly concerned by the gigantic snake carcass that was down there when he first found it -- but he didn’t even spare it a glance.) He spent that night and into the morning letting off steam. The snake’s body was frozen solid and shattered into millions of pieces, the walls were scorched and scarred by ethereal fire and his sonic attacks (as loud as he could make them without drawing attention down there).

It was like his mind was racing -- but had nowhere to go.

He wanted to find this Sirius Black and kill him -- No, he wanted to protect Harry, to make sure no one hurt his friend --

Harry must be feeling even worse right now, he should be comforting him -- No, Ron and Hermione were closer friends to Harry, and there was nothing he could say or do that could help --

He could kill Black, that would help his friend -- ‘I WILL NOT KILL!’ --

-- ‘But I want to protect them…’

~~~~~

If you like this, please REBLOG!

(Updates every Wednesday until completion.)

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Next → ← Previous (First)

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (13 of ?)

A OUAT WINTER WHUMP FIC

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @cocohook38, and @killianjonesownsmyheart1 <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY COCOHOOK38 HERE!!!!!******

Present (Wednesday, continued)...

His partner, fallen. Stabbed. Dead?

Chilled shock jolted through Detective Jones, stealing his air, prickling his limbs. He battled for calm as he started forward, eyes frantically searching the prince’s body for any sign of life. Slave Killian seemed frozen as well: he held his sword inches above David’s flesh, watching blood drip from its point, his eyes vacant.

And then David stirred. Just a slight twitch, the faintest of groans. Jones shuddered in relief. But the movement woke Killian, too, who inched his blade higher. It appeared as if… was he drawing back for the finishing blow?

The detective raced the final few meters, arriving just in time. Immediately after he thrust his own sword forward, the blade collided with the descending steel of Killian’s. Off-balance from the start, Jones was nearly brought to his knees by the resounding impact. But with a valiant effort, he remained upright, hanging grimly onto the handle with both hands.

“What are you doing, mate?” he gritted, arms trembling from the strain. Killian did not look at him; he gave no indication of having heard. Jones was certain he would give no response. But then Killian spoke for the first time in a low, emotionless voice.

“I’ve orders to kill him.”

Jones replied with a scornful scoff. “You picked a hell of a time to start following corrupt authority again.” He tried to steer the blade away from the fallen prince, the cut on his arm stinging fiercely as the muscle underneath bulged. Surprisingly strong for his emaciated appearance, Killian would not allow the adjustment.

“I must obey my Master.”

Though it was obvious, having the situation confirmed still sent a shudder down Jones’ spine. Killian truly had fallen victim to the killer. The torture, the brainwashing… and the fatal neurological condition that would follow. In fact, at this proximity, it would have been hard to miss the tremors, mild though they were.

Jones swallowed his emotions. Right now, what mattered was keeping David safe until help arrived. He had to delay things, draw them out as long as he could. With a big breath, he squared his shoulders.

“Your Master. Right then. Suppose you’ll be wanting to kill me too.”

As if suddenly realizing he could do it in any order, and that the finishing of David would be easier without Jones standing in the way, Killian swiveled to face his new opponent. His bloodshot eyes held no trace of fear, contrived swagger… or hope. That grim nothingness unnerved Jones more than any other expression would have. He took a step away from David, desperately straining to hear the distant wail of approaching sirens.

“I should warn you, I’ve probably picked up a thing or two which you haven’t seen before. Lest you’ve forgotten, I do have nearly three decades on you in terms of age and experience, despite my rather dashing and youthful appearance.”

Killian did not deign to reply; Jones could not tell whether he was even listening. Wordlessly, the slave set himself for battle, and Jones followed suit, ending in a perfect mirror of pose, ready and alert.

The Killians were matched in many aspects: size, skill, strategy. Even the unfamiliar blades they both carried were an equal hindrance. But where the detective was strong and agile, the slave was hampered by injury and malnourishment. Where Killian had a sworn intent to kill, and could attack with abandon, Jones had an aversion to the same and must use caution. Still, a long, drawn-out affair would favor the stronger man, and that’s just what Jones was counting on.

He allowed Killian to make the first move, which wasn’t long in coming. A quick and recognizable series of strikes, almost a warm-up drill. The familiar clash of steel brought back harrowing memories of a life lived recklessly, of far too much pointless bloodshed and outright villainy. Jones parried easily and followed up with a sequence he knew Killian would identify just as quickly. Prolong the fight, keep everyone safe... including the brainwashed slave before him.

Jones drew first blood--quite by accident--with an old move that now ended differently, thanks to a particular incident involving another failed cure for his poisoned heart. He had completely forgotten that the technique used to conclude in another manner. Killian went to block what he was expecting, and instead ended up with a deep gash down the back of his sword arm. Mentally berating himself, Jones withdrew to allow Killian time to regroup… and found himself sporting a slash of his own, right across the ribs, as Killian lashed out in fierce retaliation. This time, the step back was for his own benefit.

Now puffing and drenched with sweat, Jones found himself on the defensive. Apparently, the successful strike had given Killian a surge of vicious energy, and Jones was hard-pressed to keep up. With the increase in speed, though, also came a noticeably worsening tremor that rattled the slave’s limbs, causing his blade to scythe erratically and become that much harder to block. Jones was cut twice more before Killian began to slow: an inconsequential stripe across his upper arm, then a deeper line of blood marring his forearm that matched the dagger wound on the other side.

Keeping his focus through the burn of his injuries, Jones patiently awaited an opening. Killian’s stamina was fading. The force of his blows weakening, his tempo slowing. Blood dripped from his elbow and flicked in all directions with the clash of swords. Jones could see other wounds oozing, reopened by the exertion. He had turned a disturbing shade of gray that contrasted sharply with the crimson marks adorning his skin. No way would he last much longer.

In the distance--finally--came the faint and welcome wail of a siren. And then another. Their ominous melody provided a haunting soundtrack to the twin combatants as they panted and grunted their determined rhythm.

Killian stumbled. Jones went for his sword. Mechanical hand gripped twitching wrist, sword hilt hammered against weakened fingers. But with a growl that turned into a yelp, Killian swung his blunted arm at Jones’ face. The stake and ring sliced deeply into the detective’s cheek, narrowly missing the eye and releasing a torrent of blood down his face and neck. Half stunned, Jones staggered back, expecting steel through the gut at any second. But Killian had broken off as well and seemed to be hunched over his mutilated wrist.

Less than a minute. The double siren multiplied and grew louder by the second. Jones only had to hold him off for a little while longer, then fresh bodies with working weapons could contain him. Struggling past the raging pain from his face, Jones glanced over at David, who had grown frightfully still. The detective’s eyes--well, one eye, now--focused on the prince’s back… was he still breathing?

In the split second of inattention, Killian recovered enough to whirl, faster than Jones would have believed possible. The sword whipped around in an arc and crashed against Jones’, and his hurried tightening of his grip was not enough to keep hold. His blade went flying and he leapt back in desperation.

Without warning, an unexpected hand grasped his ankle. One of the stunned slaves, apparently not quite out of commission. Jones’ attempts to keep his balance were futile: shifting his center of mass did no good when the other leg was suddenly grabbed as well, yanked right out from underneath. He tried to roll as he fell, to soften his landing and protect his head. He managed the latter, but at the cost of twisting his knee and driving gravel into his elbow and torn forearm. Gasping for breath, Jones kicked out and contacted some part of the prone slave, who instantly released his ankles. But it wasn’t enough.

As Jones scrambled to right himself, he saw two bare feet just in front of him, and the shadow of a sword darkening the ground nearby. He rolled onto his back, casting about for any inspiration, any defense, and finding none. Defeated, he looked up and met the dead eyes staring down at him. Unchanging even as the sword reached its apex. Paused. Twitched only as a result of symptomatic spasms. And flashed down again.

*****

Jones wasn’t dead. That fact was almost as shocking as the stab wound itself. Sure, he hurt like hell, he couldn’t draw a full breath, and he may be hallucinating thunderstorms now, but it was a welcome contrast to whatever passed these days as the Underworld.

More wailing wind accompanied a frantic increase in the unnaturally rapid lightning flashes, there came another odd rattle of thunder and a gush of rain that fell nowhere near Jones’ bleeding form.

David. Dammit, David would be getting wet. Jones drew as deep a breath as he could manage, positioned both hands at his sides, and hoisted himself up with a groan. Through one bleary eye, he took in the scene of confusion, bits and pieces falling back into place as he waited. The fire. The slaves. Aid cars, firemen, the yellow Bug. David being tended: good.

Jones felt blood soaking the front of his shirt, and he placed a hand against the worst pain: the landing site of the strangely non-lethal sword point. Hearing low murmurs behind him, he winced and gingerly craned his neck until he saw the crouching form of Emma. She hovered over the still shape of her husband, wearing an anxious and sad expression. An EMT knelt nearby. As if sensing the detective’s gaze, she turned.

“Is he…” wheezed Jones.

“Unconscious,” Emma reported in an exhausted tone. “Had to tase him.” She took in the sight of his blood soaked hand, the reddened sword nearby, and asked, “You okay?”

“Significantly less dead than was my original assessment.” He stopped to catch his breath, adding, “Think I might lie back down, though.”

Another flash of worry crossed Emma’s face, but this time, she stifled it. “You do that. We’ve got things under control now.”

Jones couldn’t suppress his groan as he fell back onto his elbows, the movement and hard landing jolting though each of his wounds in scalding waves. But he bit out his foremost concern.

“Your father?”

Emma glanced David’s way. “Don’t know yet.” She sounded shaken.

“Don’t worry,” Jones grunted as he lowered himself to lie completely flat. “He’ll be irked to find he’s missed the battle’s conclusion... but he’ll get over it.”

He closed his eyes, not sure if he’d rather sleep or pass out at the moment. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind shaky exhaustion and a full awareness of pain. He heard Emma get up, apparently satisfied with her husband’s stability and security. She took a step in his direction, hesitated, then came close and knelt beside him.

“Let me see.”

He allowed her to nudge his hand away from his sternum, and a hot lance accompanied the shifting. “Don’t suppose belief will be enough this time.”

In answer, Emma replaced his hand, holding hers on top as she flagged a passing EMT. “I don’t think it’s too serious,” she told him. “Looks like the blade bounced off your hard-ass breastbone.”

“Said with all fondness, I presume?”

“Always.”

The medic arrived and began to ask questions, and Emma made as if to get up, but Jones caught her hand.

“Hey. It’s not your fault.” He glanced briefly at Killian, who was just being lifted onto a gurney to be loaded into an ambulance. “And it’s not his, either.”

She only smiled sadly, stood, and walked away.

[pinesconessecrets]

Pinescone Secret Santa

AN: 

Pinescone Secret Santa for @oakwoodouroboros-fics-and-art on tumblr!

Takes place after Gravity Falls. Wirt and Greg have gone up to Gravity Falls with Dipper and his family, and while everyone else is out, Dipper and Wirt decide to do a little hiking on their own.

Wirt wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was winter up in Gravity Falls, and he and his brother were spending their holiday vacation with the Pines family. Everyone else was out of the Shack visiting with friends, and Dipper had wanted to take Wirt on a hike through the woods. It was pretty cold for a hike, and Wirt could take or leave the forest, given some of his past experiences. But Dipper’s eyes had shone with excitement, and he was so eager to show Wirt his favorite bits of Gravity Falls weirdness, that Wirt couldn’t help but say yes. So they’d bundled up in sweaters and gloves, packed some food, and set off into the forest.

That was five hours ago.

Wirt took off his gloves. Hiking had made him way too hot, and his feet were aching. “Dipper, if we are lost in the woods again…”

“We’re not lost!”

“We’ve been hiking for hours. In circles. See that tree?” He pointed. “That’s from twenty minutes ago. When I lost my sanity.”

Dipper stopped and looked around. They’d reached a small, flat clearing, still carpeted with grass even with the approaching winter. “Well…I guess this is as good a place as any to –”

Wirt dropped his backpack with a thud and collapsed to the ground.

“– stop. Er…yeah.”

Wirt rolled over onto his back and let his arms flop out to the sides. “I feel a sudden and profound kinship with Sisyphus, pushing his boulder time and again to the top of the hill, just as we circle endlessly in this eternal forest. I am weary in my very soul.”

Dipper cracked a grin. “Sorry, Wirt.”

Wirt waved a hand and then let it drop back to the grass with a sigh, closing his eyes. The chilled ground felt great through his sweater. Not to mention that his feet and legs were practically creaking with relief at the opportunity to rest. It sort of reminded him of when he and Greg slept in the woods in the unknown. Right now Greg was off doing who-knew-what with Dipper’s sister, Mabel. He wondered if Greg was as tired as Wirt felt right now.

There came a scratching noise.

He cracked an eye open. Dipper was scribbling furiously in his journal.

“Oh, please tell me there’s not some magic bug thing in my hair.”

“Hang on one second, don’t move.”

Wirt swallowed. “There is, isn’t there? Oh man, if my hair turns blue like last time I –”

“Tada!”

Dipper held up his journal. He’d drawn a sketch of Wirt laying in the clearing, completely relaxed in the downy grass, an expression of perfect peace on his face.

Wirt blushed. “That is so unfairly cute.”

“Yes, you are!” Dipper said cheerfully, snapping the book shut. “I’ve gotta make a record of every amazing thing I see. And that includes a certain future Poet Laureate.”

“Don’t forget his muse, with the blessing of the heavens on his brow and the map to my heart in his hands.”

“Oh now who’s being unfairly cute?”

Dipper grinned and lay down on the grass next to Wirt, his head pillowed on Wirt’s arm. Wirt scooted him closer and turned, so Dipper’s hair brushed against his cheek like butterfly wings. Dipper drew one arm around Wirt and they lay there, just breathing, the quiet noises of the forest drifting over them, the cool air kissing their cheeks. He was already cooling off, but Dipper’s body radiated warmth and comfort. He sighed deeply. Maybe hiking for hours wasn’t so bad after all.

Suddenly Dipper’s radio crackled with static.

“Dipper? Are you there?”

Dipper groaned and reached for the radio. “Yeah, Mabel, I’m here.”

“You’re back home by now, right?”

“No, but we’re close.” Wirt swatted him playfully and Dipper smothered a laugh. “Sort of close. Why?”

“So HAHA FUNNY STORY! You know that magic weather druid-rock we found last Spring and weren’t supposed to touch?”

“You didn’t.”

A shadow fell over them and they looked up. A massive wall of clouds was slowly moving across the sky, dark and foreboding. The air temperature started dropping so fast the hairs on Wirt’s arms stood straight up.

There was a buzz of static. “– to show Grunkle Ford!” Mabel said. “We’re all up at the Manor, so we’re inside and we’re safe – Greg too – only we might have caused a –” A burst of static cut her off. The storm was so vast and heavy Wirt’s ears actually popped from the pressure, and he could feel the weight of it on his chest. Thunder boomed and the clouds unleashed a blinding fury of snow and ice.

“BLIZZARD!”

They jumped to their feet and ran. Wind struck their backs and thin shards of ice cut at their hands and faces. And they were just at the edge of it!

“Dipper! Where’s the Shack?!”

“Dead ahead, I think!”

“You think?!” Wirt yelled. “This is it! We’re gonna get caught in a snowstorm and freeze to death!”

“Less talking, more AAH!”

They braked hard as a tree in front of them gave a mighty CRACK and one of the upper limbs began to fall. Dipper slammed into Wirt’s side, knocking them to the right. He hit the ground with a thud and heard Dipper give a sharp cry.

“Dipper!”

“I’m fine!”

He wiggled out from the edge of the branch, his backpack slung on his arm. Wirt pulled him out the rest of the way, squinting as snowflakes sliced at his eyes and face. The snow was thickening and the wind was now so strong Wirt was crouching to keep from being swept away.

“THE SHACK!” he yelled over the gale.

Dipper started to point and gasped, holding his arm. Wirt grabbed his boyfriend around the shoulders and ran, lengthening his stride. The wind screamed in his ear. He glanced back and saw nothing but a wall of pure white, swallowing whole trees, eating up the ground like a rabid beast. He ran faster but the storm was practically on top of them. They’d be swallowed up in seconds.  His heart pounded.

Oh man oh man we’re gonna die we’re gonna –

Dipper yanked his hair and yelled. The Shack was ahead of them, slightly to the left, its dark peak already half-covered in white. He ran toward it. His legs ached and his lungs screamed and the snow drove icy fingers of death down his back –

They reached the door and Dipper hurled himself at it, forcing it open. Wirt tripped and crashed to the floor, dragging Dipper down with him. Dipper flung out a leg and kicked the door shut just as the blizzard reached the Shack, pounding furiously at the door, shaking the windows, whistling angrily from somewhere in the rafters like a very ticked-off tea kettle. The already-dark cabin slipped fully into the shadows as the windows darkened, so completely full of snow it was like someone had pressed pillows to every pane. The rafters creaked and groaned, and the shingles rattled, but the bones of the house stood firm.

For a second Wirt and Dipper lay on the floor, limbs tangled together, both of them breathing hard. Then Wirt dropped to the floor and started laughing.

“We made it!” he gasped. “I can’t believe we made it!”

Dipper went down on his elbow, half-smiling. “Yeah! Funny weather though! Oregon, am I right?”

Wirt laughed harder. It wasn’t even that funny, and at the same time he’d never heard a funnier joke in his life. The wind moaned against the wall and Wirt couldn’t catch his breath for laughing. Tears leaked out of his eyes.

“Geez, Wirt,” Dipper chuckled, raising a hand to push his damp bangs out of his eyes. Instantly his face turned white and he dropped his hand.

“Wh-what?” Wirt gasped, glancing up at Dipper. “You – okay?”

Dipper didn’t answer, just sat up with a low hiss, one arm pressing the other to his side. “I think the branch got me.”

Wirt sat up too, still breathing hard, and touched his boyfriend’s shoulder. Dipper turned obligingly.

Wirt held back a hiss of his own. The tree limb must’ve hit Dipper with its outermost branches – the ones that weren’t as heavy, but were even more flexible. It had cut across Dipper’s back like a whip, slicing a jagged line in Dipper’s sweater and leaving a nasty welt. Wirt very carefully pulled the fabric away from the skin and saw bruises already darkening along the line.

“It really stings,” Dipper said through gritted teeth. His teeth were starting to chatter, too. They were both nearly soaked from the snow, and Wirt’s socks were soggy with melted ice. He shivered.

One of his fingertips brushed Dipper’s wound and he jolted.

“S-sorry,” Wirt stammered. “Can you walk? If you g-get us dry clothes, I’ll m-m-make something to w-warm us up.”

“We should g-get these off, first,” Dipper said, motioning to their clothes. “At least our shirts and socks.”

Wirt was really freezing now, and his fingers felt like frozen fish sticks, but he grudgingly complied. When he took off his socks his feet were blue – actually blue, like a cold winter lake. But the worst part was taking off Dipper’s sweater. Wirt had to help him, and even then Dipper’s face was tight with pain.

They left their clothes by the door and stumbled down the hall together. Dipper and Mabel were staying in the attic for the summer, but the stairs might be dangerous with their lack of coordination, so they went to the study where Wirt was staying and grabbed two pairs of pants and some of his thickest sweaters. Dipper stepped into the hallway to get changed.

If Wirt thought his legs had ached before, it was nothing compared to how they felt now. They prickled and ached and were somehow weirdly hot even though he was freezing. And they seem to weigh about 200 pounds each. Changing into sweatpants left him shaking with exhaustion. When he was done he leaned heavily on the dresser, debating the merits of collapsing face-first on the floor.

Dipper knocked at the door. “Wirt?”

“Almost done.” The door looked so far away.

“Hurry. We need to start a fire and get draaagh…”

Wirt forced his legs to the door and opened it. Dipper had braced himself against the wall, holding his shoulder. He grinned weakly.

“Th-thought that’d get you.”

Wirt winced and pulled Dipper towards him, so he was leaning on Wirt instead of the wall. They moved stiffly back to the front of the Shack and into the parlor, the wind whistling bitterly in the cracks of the Shack.

Dipper’s friend (Soup? Stew?) had turned the parlor into a second living room, with two big couches that folded out into beds for the old uncle guys. It had a big rug, a coffee table, some book cases, and most importantly, a brick fire place complete with a stack of wood three feet high.

Dipper let go of Wirt and reached for the lighter and the newspaper on the coffee table. Wirt knelt on the brick and began loading log after log into the hearth.

“Easy,” Dipper said, with a small laugh. “If you pile on t-too many the f-f-fire won’t start.”

“I will never b-be warm ag-g-gain,” Wirt chattered. “Not unless we s-s-set the whole Sh-Shack on fire.”

“Let’s p-put a pin in that.”

Dipper pulled sheets of paper from the newspaper and threw them on the logs, then clicked the lighter. Wirt forced himself to stand up, staggered over to a couch, and grabbed the thick blankets that had been piled on top. He came back and sat down, pulling the blankets around them as tight as he could without scraping Dipper’s back.

“We should really di-disinfect that,” Wirt muttered.

“Mmm.”

The storm was still pounding outside. They huddled together and sat so close to the fire their knees practically touched the metal grate. For a second Wirt wondered whether Greg was okay (haha, whether), but then he remembered Mabel had said they were all safe and sound.

A sudden breath of cold air touched Wirt’s neck and he shivered, scooting even closer to Dipper. His boyfriend dropped his head on Wirt’s shoulder with a sigh. Wirt’s eyelids drooped. The flames flickered higher, warming his numb face, making his cheeks tingle. He was so heavy, and so, so tired…

Dipper woke up slowly. His first thought was that he and Wirt had fallen asleep in the clearing, and his back sort of hurt because he’d laid down on some rocks. Then the full memory of the blizzard slammed into his brain and the pain on his back roared to life.

“Ow ow ow owwww,” he muttered. He opened his eyes.

He and Wirt had fallen asleep in front of the fire. The storm was still going outside, and the fire had burned low. But he was wrapped up in thick warm blankets, and Wirt had somehow tipped over and sprawled across Dipper’s lap like blanket, snoring and all. Dipper smiled and gently brushed Wirt’s bangs from his face.

Wirt gave a snort and opened his eyes, glancing up at Dipper.

“Are we dead?” Wirt asked. “Because all of my muscles hurt like we’re dead.”

Dipper grinned. “If we are, then we must be in heaven…because I think I see an angel.”

Wirt groaned. “Well you poetry is clearly dead…”

Dipper laughed and then winced as the skin on his back pulled. Wirt groaned and struggled to sit up, wiping at his face with his hand.

“Alright, okay, I’m awake. Can you turn so I can see your back?”

He did, letting the blanket fall away. Wirt pulled up his shirt, carefully avoiding touching it.

“Okay, well the good news is, I don’t see broken skin. The bad news is that all the skin I do see involves all the colors of the rainbow.”

“Hurts like it does,” Dipper admitted. “Honestly it’s a good thing Mabel does such good knitting, or that thing probably would’ve sliced me way worse.”

He held back a hiss when Wirt let the shirt fall down. Wirt tucked the blanket carefully around Dipper again and then leaned forward to add more wood to the fire.

“Okay,” Wirt said, standing up. “I’m going to get some ice for that –”

Dipper groaned. “Not more ice.”

“– and you are going to sit there like a good little mollusk until I get back.”

“Can you at least bring snacks?”

“Yes, but only for me.”

Dipper let out a smothered snort. Wirt moved away, yawning, and in a minute he was out of sight.

Dipper looked around. It was warm, but it was also pretty dark in here, since the only illumination was the fire. He got to his feet slowly, using the coffee table for balance. His joints popped and cracked and he suddenly had a deep sympathy for his Grunkle Stan’s arthritis. He stepped carefully to the standing lamp and flicked on the light. Instantly the whole room looked much brighter, warmer, and safer, in spite of the snow still hurling itself against the glass. He looked around again. Now if only he could find…aha! Right by Great-Uncle Ford’s sofa was a fresh pad of paper and a pen. Perfect.

When Wirt came back he had again situated himself in front of the fire, hiding what he’d done under his blanket.

“Oh good!” he said, spotting the tray in Wirt’s hands. “You brought food! You are my favorite person ever I am so hungry.”

Wirt raised an eyebrow. “You turned on the light? I told you not to get up. Now I get to eat the snacks all by myself.”

“Oh c'moooon,” Dipper groaned. He looked at Wirt with his best puppy dog eyes. “Please? I’m so hungry I’m dying…”

“Oh, fine,” Wirt mumbled, blushing bright red. “But ice pack first. Put it on your back and then hold it there by leaning against the coffee table.”

Wirt handed him the ice and Dipper complied, settling the blanket carefully around him. Wirt set down the tray and they made short work of the pretzels, Smoreos, and instant hot chocolate loaded with marshmallows.

“How long d'you think the storm’s gonna last?” Wirt said minutes, nodding toward the window, a Smoreo in his hand.

Dipper shrugged. “Probably until my Great-Uncle Ford can figure out a way to turn off the magic rock. So not long. I don’t know how long we were asleep, though, so who knows how long it’s been since it started.”

“I know.” Wirt yawned hugely. “Feels like we napped for days and I’m still tired.”

He grinned. “That’ll happen when you run like crazy from a blizzard after five hours of hiking.”

“On that note –” Wirt pointed at Dipper “I am never ever hiking with you again. I happen to like my nose on my body, not sliced off by frostbite’s ruthless cleaver.”

“Aw, c'mon! This was a one time thing!” Dipper nudged him with an elbow. “You know you were having tons of fun until the deadly blizzard!”

Wirt rolled his eyes. “Keywords in there are ‘deadly blizzard’, Dipper.  Bilzzards are not my thing.“

“Fair point, fair point. Counterpoint, if you don’t hike with me, then you will be deprived of epic poetry material forever. Two dashing young heroes narrowly escaping the indomitable forces of nature? Tell methat doesn’t have ‘epic’ written all over it.”

“Weeeeeeelllll…”  Wurt was trying not to smile. 

Dipper grinned. “Alright, then…would this change your mind?”

He pulled Ford’s notepad from under his blanket and held it up. On it he had drawn himself and Wirt asleep in front of the fire, one of Dipper’s arms draped across Wirt’s shoulders, with Wirt pillowed in Dipper’s lap, ensconced in layers of thick fluffy blankets.

Wirt turned bright red all the way to the tips of his ears. “That is so unfairly cute.”

Dipper laughed (carefully) and patted the floor next to him, inviting Wirt to come closer. Wirt grabbed his blankets and obliged, pulling the tray closer. He grabbed the pot of hot chocolate from the tray and refilled both their cups, then settled back comfortably against the coffee table. They weren’t cold anymore, but they pressed together anyway, shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee. The ice was doing wonders for his back, too. He took another sip of chocolate so he wouldn’t get too cold. The steam from the mug was soft and soothing.

Suddenly Wirt shifted. “Uh, Dipper, why is there a face in the flames?”

“Hmm?” He glanced up. “Oh that’s just one of those little soot ball things. Like from that one movie with the cranky girl who does all the chores? Mabel named it Cinderfuzzyballofcutenessella, but we just call it Fuzzy.”

Wirt grumbled under his breath. “The next time I see your sister remind me keep her far, far, far away from anything paranormal.”

Dipper chuckled and snuggled closer to Wirt. The fire burned strong and bright in the hearth, the smell of chocolate filled the air, and Wirt’s whole body warmed Dipper right to his soul, filling him with peace.

He rested his head on Wirt’s shoulder and drifted back to sleep.

He rested his head on Wirt’s shoulder and drifted back to sleep.

[mrsjihyunkim]

🌹Flowers & Ink🌹Ch 1

Ok so this was inspired by @v-dcc​ of V as a tattoo artist. Like I’m so in love with this that I made it my desktop. Any way here is the first chapter and I hope I do this art justice. Definitely going to be more to come of this story! Also this is pretty long so I put a cut in it and the story tag is going to be F&I 

       The sun shined in the window and spilled onto V's face. He groaned and threw and extra pillow at the window. This only knocked down the blinds and V put his head under the last pillow. If there was one thing he disdained more than women it was mornings. He was at the shop until like three in the morning working on a cherry blossom piece. The girl had done nothing but flirt with him the entire time so by the end of it he was in a sour mood. Now that he was up it was pointless to try and sleep. So after getting dressed and grabbing his coffee, he headed to his shop. As he was unlocking the door to the shop he noticed that people were moving stuff into the shop next to his. It peaked his curiosity but he'd see it eventually so he just went about business as usual. He only had four appointments today but that's usually how it was. V liked to get to know the person he was working so he could make sure they got the best tattoo. He went to the back and saw his apprentice struggling to make coffee. "Do you still not know how to use the coffee machine Yoosung?" The blonde boy put down the pot and threw his hands up.

"It's not my fault you have such a stupid fancy coffee maker! Like I don't even get why you have it cause you never use it." V handed him thermos of coffee and Yoosung snatched it. "Why accept the gift if you're not going to use it?" Yoosung drunk the coffee and sighed.

"I accepted it because it was the only way to get that woman to leave me alone." Yoosung shrugged.

"Yeah she was persistent. I still don't understand why you just didn't go out with her." V shot him a look and Yoosung dropped it.

"Anyway, did you sleep here last night?" Yoosung was still wearing his clothes from yesterday and he blushed a little.

"Yeah but only because that session lasted so long. I would of just had to come back here by the time I got home, so I slept in the back." V rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Well go on and head home, and shower. The first appointment isn't until noon so I don't need you right now. And you know you don't have to be here every morning before me right?" Yoosung nodded at him and smiled.

"Yeah but I like to cause I can get some practice in before you take over." Yoosung was beaming with pride and it made V smile. Yoosung’s energy was sometimes annoying but he was hard working and that’s all that mattered to V.

"Whatever. Just go home and get cleaned up. This maybe a tattoo shop but we still have an imagine to maintain." As Yoosung was leaving he saw Vanderwood coming in.

"Careful Vandy he's a bit cranky." Yoosung passed by Vanderwood and out the door before he could be asked anything. So Vanderwood walked in and treaded carefully. V had on his glasses and was nose deep in a notebook when Vanderwood found him.

"Why is Yoosung leaving? Are you not opening the shop today?" V barely looked up from his notebook.

"He slept here last night so I sent him home to get cleaned up. Why are you here?"

"Damn dude. You really are a sour puss today." Vanderwood set a white paper bag on the table. "I brought you some breakfast. Maybe that will put you in a better mood." V glared at him but sighed. He set down the notebook and took his glasses off. They clattered against his dog tag necklace as he grabbed the bag. "So what's got you in a sour mood granny?"

"I told you not to call me that, and I'm not in a bad mood. I'm just tired." V took the doughnut out of the bag and Vanderwood just shrugged.

"Could of fooled me. And if you don’t want to be called that then don’t wear a granny chain." Vanderwood had known V since he opened the shop. Not only was Vanderwood the one who sold it to him but owned the car garage at the end of the block. So he knew when V was in a grumpy mood. "Let me guess. Someone flirted with you and all you did was get annoyed." V shot him a look and Vanderwood felt a chill go down his spine. "That's a yes. Excuse me for not giving you an sympathy. Most guys would love being such a chick magnet." V tossed the rest of his doughnut in the trash and got up. Vanderwood sighed and decided to drop the subject.

"Don't you have your own shop to open? I'll walk you out." V headed for the front and Vanderwood followed. He knew better to fight V when he was in a mood. When they got outside the shop V noticed a car full of flowers parked next door. While Vanderwood continued to babble V looked at the car and noticed how the light reflected inside the car and he could see the depth of it. Without even thinking he walked over to the car and peered inside. Every seat except for the driver was covered in flowers. There were daffodils, roses, lilies, even succulents and cacti. There were probably more but he couldn't tell. He was so busy looking at the flowers that he didn't notice the brown haired woman standing behind him tapping her foot.

"Excuse me but do you mind? I need to get in there." V turned around and saw a woman in khaki pants and black tank top standing behind him. He moved out of her way and she opened the car door. She grabbed an arm full of flowers and V could see her struggling. Normally V avoided getting into other people's business but the flowers had him curious.

"Do you need any help?" The woman stared at him and raised an eyebrow. To V she almost seemed suspicious and he regretted ever asking. "Or not. Just thought you had a lot in there and would want some help." He shrugged and put a hand through his hair.

"Oh thanks but it's ok. I have a cart to use inside but these already cut and need to be in some water. Putting them on the cart would only smash them." She turned on her heel and headed back into her shop. V for better lack of words was stunned. She didn't try to hit on him or anything, and she just flat out refused him. He walked back to his shop and just completely ignored the smile on Vanderwood's face. When he got back inside he grabbed his notebook and went to sit outside. His brain was just telling him to stop but he really wanted to draw the flowers. So he watched and drew as his new neighbor set up flowers and paid him no mind. At least that's what V thought but MC was very much aware. In fact she was so aware that she was arranging the flowers in the best way for him to draw. She was a little creeped out by it at first but didn't mind when she realized that he was drawing the flowers. Time flew by as V did sketch after sketch of the different arrangements and before he knew it he saw his first client coming up to the shop. MC watched as her new neighbor greeted a tall slender guy with long grey hair. They went back into the shop and MC sighed in relief. She was turning around when she ran smack into a younger blonde boy. They both crashed to the ground and MC's watering can spilled all over her.

"Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! I'm running late and you turned around so fast that I couldn't get out of the way. Are you ok?" MC looked at the blonde boy and really wanted to cuss him out but she could he was just a kid, and he looked like he was about to cry. She let out a sigh and stood up.

"It's alright. Spilling water comes with the job." She smiled at him and that only made Yoosung feel worse.

"My name's Yoosung Kim. I work at the tattoo shop next door. You've probably already met my boss V. He's the guy with the blue hair" Yoosung seemed so proud of the fact that he knew him. It made MC curious though because V seemed like a giant ass but Yoosung seemed like an innocent little kid. Maybe she had misjudged V.

"I'm MC. I just opened my flower shop here." She gestured to the building beside her and Yoosung smiled. He was about to say something when V's voice called out his name.

"Shit. Gotta go. Nice to meet you MC!" Yoosung called as he ran to the tattoo shop. V watched as Yoosung ran over this way and noticed that the girl was soaking wet. Once they were inside Yoosung began to talk really fast. "Sorry I'm late V. I accidently knocked down MC and she got soaked." V pretended not to care but he was a little happy to know her name now.

"You're still late and Hyun's already here." When they got to the back the man with long silver hair was sitting at a table looking through some sketches. He looked up and smiled at the two.

"Hey Yoosung! What's up?" Yoosung gave him a high five and started getting V's equipment out.

"Hey Zen. Not much really. I did get to meet the cute florist next door so that was exciting." Zen's eyes looked up from the sketches in surprise.

"Really now? Did you get her number?" Yoosung blushed and shook his head. "You're killing me man! You know I gotta live vicariously through others. I'd do it through V but he treats women like the plague." V rolled his eyes pulled his hair into a messy ponytail.

"Did you decide which design you want Hyun?" Frowning at V's lack of a reaction Zen nodded.

"Yeah I want this one. It has the romantic feel I'm going for." He handed V a sketch and it was one he had done of MC's roses earlier. As V transferred it to the stencil he couldn't help but smile. As V worked Zen turned his attention back to Yoosung. "So why didn't you get her number Yoosung?" He just shrugged as he got the rubbing alcohol and began to prep where Zen wanted the tattoo.

"Well for one I completely knocked her on her ass and she spilled water all over her. I didn't think that would be the best time to hit on her. Plus she seems like one of those people who is nice but also scary. Like when I crashed into her I thought she was going to cuss the shit out of me. Even though she smiled I could tell that she was pissed." V was listening to Yoosung's every word despite telling himself that he didn't care. There was something about MC that bugged him but he couldn't figure it out. She definitely wasn't like women that he was used to but that really didn't mean anything to him, or did it. Either way right now he needed to focus and do his job.

"Alright Hyun. You ready?" Zen nodded and V began his work. He worked for almost three hours before feeling satisfied to stop for the day. He had done the basic outline of the piece and some shading. V cleaned off the tattoo and smiled at Zen. "What do you think?" Zen hopped off the table and went over to the mirror. He twisted so that he could see the roses and vines on his ribcage. There was a mirror, microphone, and a stack of paper all inbedded in the vines.

"It's awesome V! This just might be my favorite one now." V rolled his eyes but smiled.

"You say that every time." V took his gloves off and threw them in the trash.

"Well that's cause you do fucking kick ass work!" He slapped V's hand they slid into a fist bump. "Alright I'm gonna home and take some new selfies. Take care guys!" He left just as V's next client was coming in. After Zen V's appointments seemed to go by pretty fast and before he knew it he was on the last one. It was a smaller piece. The woman had wanted a cancer ribbon and a few flowers in honor of her mother who just passed away. When it was done she cried and V felt his heart lift at her joy. Once she was gone V sat down and sighed. He was so beat that he might sleep here tonight.

"Hey Yoosung." The blondes head popped in the door way. He almost reminded V of a puppy. "Go ahead and go home. I'll clean up tonight. Also make sure you practice tonight. You've got an appointment tomorrow." Yoosung eyes lit up like fireworks and he was barely stopping himself from bouncing up and down.

"Are you for real? I actually get to work on someone tomorrow?" V nodded and Yoosung squealed. "I won't let you down boss!" V waved his hand toward him and Yoosung took off. Once V heard the jingle of the doorbell he got up and started cleaning. He changed all the trash and wiped down all the tables. Just as he was about to start cleaning his tattoo gun he heard the doorbell.

"Sorry we're closed now." He said as he made his way to the front. When he got there he found MC standing there. She looked tired and V wondered what she was still doing here so late. "I hope you don't want a tattoo cause we're closed." She seemed dazed but her eyes snapped open when he was done talking.

"Oh no. I figured you were closed but I was hoping that you had a first aid kit." V looked closer now and noticed that she had a towel wrapped around her hand. She also had red smears on her smock.

"Yeah just a second. Try not to bleed on the floor ok." V turned his back to her and she just frowned. He sounded like an asshole but MC wasn't surprised. Most men were assholes, especially when they were that good looking. V came back and handed her a first aid kit. "So what happened?" V's question surprised her because he didn't really seem to care about anything.

"Oh. I tripped over a box and fell down with a bunch of vases. Talk about an omen." She let out a small laugh but V could tell that she was upset. "Anyway, thanks for the first aid kit. I'll bring it back over tomorrow." She smiled and turned around to leave and V saw some red seeping through the side of her shirt. Before he could stop himself he was reaching out for her and grabbing her shoulder. MC stopped and looked back at him, clearly shocked.

"I'll come with you. I'd feel guilty if you got clumsy again and bled out." He pushed her out of the shop and locked his door.

"It's ok really. I mostly got it cleaned up. I just needed some bandages." She tried her best to convince him but it seemed like he wasn't even listening. They got to her shop and she sighed. V looked around the shop once he was inside and it honestly looked like an indoor garden. "I fell down over there." She pointed over toward a fridge with a glass door. V grabbed a broom that was next to the counter.

"Alright just sit down and take care of those cuts." MC nodded and V walked over to the fridge. He noticed that she had in fact moved all of the glass into a pile. Using the broom he swept the glass into an empty box and carried it up to the front. MC seemed completely spaced out and seemed a little pale. V looked at the towel she had wrapped her hand in. There was a lot more blood than he expected and wondered if she was ok. He was honestly surprised by his concern and didn't really know what to do. "Hey are you sure you're ok? Is there someone that you need me to call or anything?" MC had been feeling a bit dizzy but V's voice helped her snap out of it.

"Oh no I texted my roommate and their on their way over. She just had to finish work so she should be here soon. Thank you for your help though. I hope it wasn't a bother." V just shrugged and MC went to hand him back the first aid kit.

"Keep it. We have more at the shop. Plus you obviously need it more than I do." She huffed out a breath and V just turned around a left. Something about that girl made him act weird and he didn't like it. The last thing he needed was more complicated feelings. MC watched him leave and she was still angry at his implications. This guy was definitely an asshole and nothing could change her mind.

[coaldustcanary]

fic: Thrown to the Wolves (1/?)

Werewolves are pack creatures, but Emma "Swan" Blanchard has always preferred to work alone. When a missing wolf and a dead body smell like imminent trouble for the werewolves of Portland, she returns home to the city to track down whoever's responsible. She soon discovers that she's not the only one trying to figure out what's going on in her old stomping grounds, and soon finds herself stuck with a partner - the infamous Killian "Hook" Jones - in more ways than one.

Author’s Note: At long last, my contribution to the @cssns - my self-indulgent World of Darkness/Werewolf: The Apocalypse AU. Due to unavoidable issues entirely on my part, this work is dropping without any associated art - my apologies.

Also available on AO3. Rated M for mature themes, sexual content, violence, and shady werewolf politics.

The park on the south side of the bay was large, dotted with clusters of trees and spread over a vast hillside overlooking the water, meeting it directly at high tide, and with a rocky, muddy beach when the tide was low. It was shaded by a passing bridge and highway, and offered the perfect vantage point from which to see ships coming and going, or the array of vessels large and small moored in Portland across the way. From massive cruise ships making their way from warmer climates to stolid cargo ships laden with containers from Scandinavia all the way down to the squat little lobster boats and the rare elegant tall ship looking like something out of time, Portland’s harbor bustled. It was both a working harbor, with heavy trade in international shipping, and a tourist’s playground, clustered with restaurants and bars. Just beyond the harbor, on Commerical Street, for a few blocks both groups created a busy throng of cheerful humanity.

Even here, across the harbor and the Fore River in South Portland, gentrifying neighborhoods and a fair view made for more traffic, more tourists – and much less parking. Emma cursed under her breath as she eased the Bug into a narrow spot along the road that bound the south side of the park and the crest of the hill, turning the wheels into the curb and applying the parking brake to keep the old beast from rolling on into the sea. Turning off the ignition, she laid a hand lightly on the car’s dashboard, closed her eyes, and let her consciousness seep down into the sun-warmed metal.

“Blend in, buddy,” she murmured. A grumbling, mildly offended vibration was the only reply the car deigned to give, but as she opened her eyes, the sunny yellow on the car hood seemed to fade, and without any conscious thought, her gaze slid away from the car to the park and the flowered bushes just beyond. With a small smile, the opened the door and stepped out into the summer heat, walking away from the vehicle that even she had a hard time laying eyes on, now, let alone anyone else passing by. The Bug might be a difficult car to keep running, but decades of “life” had given the car a powerful spirit inhabitant that could be coaxed into cooperation nearly as easily as a dog could learn new tricks. It was more than worth the trouble, even if it meant the odd game of fetch with a bicycle tire now and again to keep it happy.

The warm, humid air was thick with the scent of mown grass and the beach roses that dotted each cluster of bushes. Beneath the heavy scents of summer the pungent, salty earthiness of a receding tide mixed with the acrid exhaust and oil from cars and ships filled Emma’s nose, nearly overwhelming her senses. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, and smiled.

“So they finally believe after all.” Emma’s breath caught briefly in her throat, but she forced herself to exhale slowly, and only then open her eyes. The sight of August’s face prompted both a pang of relief and a certain undercurrent of shock. His familiar features were far more careworn than she’d ever seen them, and both his hair and scruff were peppered liberally with gray. When he’d found her as a child on the streets, sick and panicked, her body fairly vibrating with the need to become the wolf for the first time, he’d been barely out of his teens himself. Now he seemed, if not old, older than he ought to have been. The life of a city wolf came with certain benefits, but nobody would ever call it easy. Emma looked down, away from his faint smile and forced a smile of her own even as her chest tightened with guilt.

“It’s good to see you. Despite circumstances,” she said. August smiled crookedly.

“It’s good to see you, too, Emma. Looks like the woods and wilds have been good to you,” he said, tilting his head to look her over with the same curious scrutiny she’d paid him, his gaze lingering.

“Though I can’t imagine that jacket is very good camouflage,” he added, a hint of teasing humor in his tone. Emma shrugged and tugged at the red jacket’s hem pointedly.

“It’s not. The jokes I hear about hunter’s orange are really old and unoriginal at this point, but I’m not changing my style for any stuck up, stuffy werewolf nobility with more names than brain cells. They all wear clothing out of last century. Or camo. Or even plaid, when they’re obliged to blend in with the humans,” Emma grumbled. August snorted, shaking his head.

“You can take the wolf out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the wolf,” he said gently. “I did warn you. And them. But I don’t think your mother wanted to hear it.” As August spoke, he turned and gestured down the path for her to walk with him into the park territory of the city wolves. Emma hesitated, eager fondness to return warring with cautious instinct to hang back The scents of this place were so familiar, but at the same time every wolf’s instinct in her body urged her to stay back, out of this place marked and claimed by other wolves, wolves who weren’t her family any longer. August was at her side suddenly, his hand very lightly resting on her shoulder.

“It’s still your home. It’s always your home,” he said firmly. Emma swallowed and nodded once, jerkily, taking a few cautious but deliberate steps down the path, the tension in her shoulders easing a fraction. She let out the breath she’d held onto for too long in a steady stream, and looked sideways at August who paced her, stealing regular glances in her direction. When their eyes met, she held them briefly – not long enough to hint that she was challenging him, mindful of how the wolf could take eye contact – and managed a small smile.

“Thanks.”

“It’s only the truth. I just wish…” He paused, and at Emma’s searching look, managed a tight smile in return.

“Never mind. You’re where you need to be. But I’m glad they understand how risky this situation is for us all, and let you come back to help us.” The edge of relief in his voice was palpable, and Emma grimaced.

“Well. Gotta be honest, here. They still don’t exactly agree with you on that,” she said slowly. August’s brow furrowed.

“Then why-“ he began, and then stopped abruptly, his eyes widening. “Oh, Emma. You didn’t…”

“She didn’t outright forbid me from coming.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I might not have told her that I was leaving, though.” August groaned, clutching a handful of the hair at the back of his head in frustration.

“No, don’t act like that,” Emma started, pointing a finger at him. “You taught me the rules just as well as anyone-“

“Yes, as we follow them, here in the city. Loosely. Subject to interpretation and balanced with our need to survive among humans,” August said intensely, pitching his voice low and for her ears only. Some subjects it was best not to let strangers overhear.

“I haven’t broken any of our laws, August. I’m respecting claimed territory, both yours and theirs. I announced myself when I came, and I was permitted entry, or did you actually mean to tell me to go to hell instead of welcoming me ho-here?” Emma drew herself up straighter, a sharp edge to her voice. August abruptly turned from her and started walking, pulling Emma along by her sleeve. She fought down the snarl of anger and jerked her arm free, though she kept pace with his rapid stride, even as he snapped a reply.

“And what of your responsibility to your mother? To your pack? I sent word to you about what’s going on here because I knew you’d believe me. I thought you could convince the Storybrooke wolves that a wolf gone missing like this is just as much a danger to them as it is to us here. Even if a Kinfolk’s death is nothing they will care about,” he growled. Even as he spoke, August continued walking out on the dock that extended from the wedge of parkland tucked under the highway bridge overpass to the city. The sun was sinking below the horizon to the west, casting long shadows into the river, and though it remained humid and still, the temperature was dropping quickly. August only stopped walking once there was nowhere else to go but the river itself, staring pensively across its modest expanse to the city on the other side.

“She didn’t forbid it, August. That has to be enough. And you know my pack would stick out here like a sore thumb. They’re very good at being werewolves, but they’re not at all good at keeping a low profile. Even if I could convince them to help me, it would be a disaster. They’d talk to spirits right and left and look crazy to the humans. And if that wasn’t enough to get the cops called, they’d probably come armed to the teeth with medieval-looking weapons and wearing armor. Can you imagine Mulan casually toting her sword around the city, looking for an enemy to stab?” August sighed

“We could use their help, though. They might not trust city wolves much, but we’re all in the same boat, here.” Emma shook her head, fighting to keep her voice even.

“You’ve visited Storybrooke, what, twice? On formal occasions only? You don’t know how they are when they’re being honest. Merida told a grand tale at the last full moon gathering, you know, about how great it was that the wolves had taken out all the rest of the shifters. It was this incredible story about how great it was that the werebears were all dead, and how her father had gloriously slain one himself in single combat. She’s a bit extreme, maybe, but it’s not even unusual up there. It’s been a decade since a wereraven has been seen anywhere in the North Country, let alone Storybrooke, and they used to be our allies. And the other wolves don’t even pretend they don’t wish that they could go hunt down the last few werecats for fun.” August held up his hands against her tirade.

“As if they’d find them…” he muttered with a roll of his eyes. “But I know, Emma. I know. They’re self-righteous to a fault, but it’s not a bear or a cat we’re talking about here, it’s a wolf. It’s Will. He’s gone, and we can’t find hide nor hair of him, not the slightest trace.”

“And Liz?” Emma asked. She knew the truth of it, likely better than he did, but she had to hear it in his own words.

“Traces…everywhere.” He blew out a breath, settling on an overturned bucket with slumped shoulders. Emma crouched on her heels, squinting slightly against the glare to peer across the river before she began to speak, reluctance in her tone.

“The cops are still confused. Official investigation theory is that animals got to the body, but it doesn’t fit the timeline at all. She had not been dead long when they found her.” August looked at her sharply and Emma shrugged. “We don’t really do the high tech stuff up in Storybrooke, but Dad’s still the town sheriff. We have Kinfolk in every position of authority there. I had him pull the file from the state database. Walked him through it, step by step.” She’d hated to do it, to prevail upon the man she’d known for only a scant few years for a favor, the kind she’d wheedled as a bounty hunter from Portland police contacts under Cleo’s training. But as hungry as she was to know her family and understand their strange ways, they were just as eager, just as quick to try to connect with her in whatever way they could.

Even if for her father it meant providing illegally-obtained crime scene photos that she could pore over for evidence that one of her old acquaintances had committed a gruesome murder that could put every werewolf in Maine in jeopardy. And when push came to shove, and she had formally asked her mother for permission to return to the city, he had supported her mother’s stern denial. Not that it mattered. He was only Kinfolk, of course. Hardly more than human, and outside the city, that meant useful and little else.

Oh, her parents loved one another. That had been a strangely comforting realization, to see that even traditionalist werewolves who lived outside of human civilization as much as possible could still see the value of individual human-like Kin for anything besides breeding and propagating the next generation of werewolves. But when your spouse, or your parent, or your sibling couldn’t take the wolf form or speak with the spirits to learn their secrets, it made them less for many werewolves, particularly those who lived in their own private fiefdoms, like her family and the land they ruled, protected by magic. Kinfolk were plentiful – they outnumbered werewolves by a significant margin, with the magic, or genetics, or whatever it was that created them a fickle thing – but in the town of Storybrooke, they played a role more than anything.

David, her father, might be the town sheriff, but when your wife was one of the highest-ranking werewolves on the North American continent, what did it matter? When your mate could take the form of a terrifying wolf-human hybrid and have any mere human gibbering with fear, had slain vampires, fought off multiple challenges for her throne, and bartered with powerful spirits for secrets beyond mortal understanding, a badge and a service revolver meant precious little.

So he’d been glad to help her – he was so fond of her, so proud of all she’d become, and her mother was, too, in her way – but when it came to a decision, when it came to action, his voice was silent. It wouldn’t have mattered a whit had he spoken, of course. But Emma wished, vaguely, that he’d tried. But sometimes when Kinfolk tried to take a stand, especially if it disagreed with a werewolf, particularly one they were close to…

“Will’s probably hiding, August,” Emma said, admitting what she’d begun to suspect days ago, as soon as he’d sent word. “I don’t think he did it intentionally – he’s not that stupid and he’s not cruel – but he probably lost control of the wolf. If Liz cursed him out or got tired of his bullshit antics or even breathed funny and he took it the wrong way, and couldn’t control himself…” August had sagged on his seat, his elbows on his knees, but at Emma’s suggestion he straightened and shook his head, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline at the implied accusation.

“He wouldn’t. He can be an idiot, and impetuous, but he wouldn’t,” he said firmly.

“All it takes is one moment of weakness. You’re the one who taught me how important control was, and how quickly you can lose it. I’m sure he feels terrible about it, but I saw the pictures. If it wasn’t Will, then some other werewolf killed Liz.”

August didn’t argue the point; he knew it to be true as well as she did. They sat in silence on the docks, only the soft sound of the tide coming in, raising the slow-moving river by inches surrounding them. With the light reflecting on the soft waves and the cries of the gulls overhead, it might have been peaceful. In another time, but in this very same place, she’d spent many peaceful hours in August’s company, and with Cleo, Lily, Will, Jefferson and the handful of other tough, tradition-flouting werewolves and Kinfolk who preferred to live here surrounded by humanity. They’d found her and taught her the ways of the world when the bitter feuds among political rivals had left her a veritable orphan. It would be sweet to pretend that nothing had changed and she still belonged here, but then she’d been “rescued” from the hardscrabble city life and whisked off to a fairy tale existence as freaking fantasy-creature royalty. But Cleo was dead, Lily gone, and whatever August might say, this place was no longer her home. Emma abruptly pushed up from her crouch and walked back along the dock to the park with purpose, her eyes adjusting swiftly to the growing dark.

“Either way, I’m going to find out. Don’t wait up."

The old cobblestone streets of Portland could be treacherous even for a cautious driver – dimly lit and thick with pedestrians – but Emma took the Bug across the bay into the city nonetheless. To let the car stay hidden for too long was risky in general, so she’d coaxed it into dropping the camouflage, instead only keeping the usual distraction magic in place to keep anyone from looking too closely at the car’s registration, or lack thereof. She avoided the Old Port area where tourists thronged easily enough, skirting the west side of the city only to turn for the northern part of the peninsula where Will lived in Bayside.

Here the city mixed historical buildings with industrial warehouses, and though no housing could be considered cheap in Portland, not any longer, it was at least cheaper than anywhere else in the city proper. Whether it would remain that way for long was doubtful, however. Will lived equally quite close to both the city’s homeless shelter and the Whole Foods grocery store, and new apartment buildings sprung up every month alongside multi-million dollar renovations of old buildings. Emma’s mouth twisted with distaste at every visible change she catalogued as she pulled the Bug to a stop along a sidestreet curb. Will’s apartment was on the third floor of an aging multi-family dwelling. The first floor housed the elderly Kinfolk gentleman who owned the building, while on the second floor lived a family of city wolves and their Kin. She could check in on old Percy at least, before she went up to Will’s place. He might have a sense for where Will would be laying low. She mounted the porch steps lightly, ready to pull open the door to the building’s shared common stair, when she glanced up briefly and fell perfectly still.

The third floor window was softly illuminated from within. A human wouldn’t have seen it, or at least dismissed it as a trick of their eyes and the ambient light from streetlamps. But Emma could see the light move through the window above, concentrated and small, like a flashlight. Emma’s eyes narrowed as she considered the possibilities. Any of the building’s other inhabitants would turn on the light – they had no need to hide. If it was the cops, they’d have lit up the building like a Christmas tree at the very least, and parked cruisers all along the street. And if it was Will himself he would hardly need or risk a flashlight. That meant that while the obvious suspects were unlikely to be up there, someone taking pains not to be seen was in a missing wolf’s apartment. Steadily, her step light and cautious on the old creaky stairs, Emma crept up the first flight next to Percy’s apartment door, listening carefully.

There was the soft hum of a radio from Percy’s apartment, and that of conversation and laughter from the second floor, but beyond that Emma couldn’t make out any particular noises from above. She passed the second floor landing and continued to the third, testing each step carefully and taking her time. The apartment door was slightly ajar, and she could see the faintest glow of light and soft movement, of someone walking carefully over the creaky floorboards. As she reached the third floor landing, Emma pulled in a breath slowly, weighing her options, and then bent to pull a slender knife from her boot. She might rue the idea of Mulan bringing her sword to the city, or Merida striding down the street with her bow, but she wasn’t entirely averse to being armed. Straightening, she gently nudged the door open, pressing it with a fingertip, and thanking whatever spirit of the night or silence was looking out for her that the door swung freely and without a sound.

Will’s apartment was a single room with a high ceiling, and in the late summer heat the air was stiflingly thick and warm. A running ceiling fan squeaked rhythmically, spinning in a feeble in an attempt to keep the air moving, but it accomplished very little besides covering the sound of Emma stepping into the room, her gaze fixed on the black-clad figure shouldering a satchel with its back to her as it held some kind of light over the room’s unmade bed. She inhaled delicately in the space of a heartbeat, scenting the room’s occupant – a man and wolf-blooded, but not a werewolf. Whoever he was, he was definitely Kinfolk, but not someone she knew, and that was all she had time to decide before action was required. He paused in his apparent search, and started to turn. The room was four strides across for an average human. The muscles in  Emma’s legs burned as she leapt across the room in a bound, setting her shoulder into the figure’s back and pressing him down onto the bed. The figure crumpled with a grunt, the bed’s springs screeching in complaint, and Emma swiftly brought her knife to his throat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. A breathless wheeze was her only immediate answer as his gloved right hand convulsed on the source of the light he’d been carrying. Emma’s eyes widened and she pressed the knife more firmly against her captive’s throat.

“Drop. It.” The light source dropped to the sheets with a soft noise, and the room was plunged into full darkness. Emma swiftly moved her free hand from his back to the piece of carved wood he’d carried, picking it up and jamming it into her boot. Only then did she ease her weight from the man’s back a trifle, and he drew in a rough, gasping breath before answering her, voice muffled into the rumpled bedclothes.

“Could ask you the same question, love.” His voice was accented, but despite the playful words, he didn’t move, remaining absolutely still. Carefully, she wrapped her fingers in his dark hair and steadily pulled his head back, free of the bed. He hissed in pain, and she carefully scraped the edge of the knife a fraction higher against his neck.

“You were saying?”

“I said, ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a wretched place like this?’” Though the skin of his neck slightly indented from the blade’s pressure, his tone was somehow light. Emma used her handful of his hair as leverage, turning his head to the side so that she could get a look at him and in the relative privacy of the pitch blackness, she took a moment to take in his features. Dark stubble, good cheekbones, and thick lashes that fluttered prettily when he blinked. Not at all bad to look at. When his blue eye met her own unerringly even in the darkness, however, she froze and sniffed again, carefully, to confirm her original suspicion. His scent carried the edge of wolf-blood, but not the specific, powerful scent of a fellow werewolf. There were ways for werewolves to hide their scent, but even that trick had a price – he wouldn’t smell of anything at all if that was the case. But he smelled very much like a man, and like a Kinfolk, and no werewolf could pretend otherwise. At least not that shew knew of. Her grip tightened a fraction, and he grunted in pain.

“I do apologize if my scent offends, my morning ablutions were so long ago now,” he ground out, teeth flashing in a sharp grin.

“Is this really that funny to you, wise guy? Who are you, and what are you doing here?” she tried again.

“If you let me up, I’ll answer any question you like, but this is rather uncomfortable for us both, don’t you think?” He shifted, trying to get his feet beneath him, most likely. Emma sighed and let the entirety of her weight settle on his back for a moment, leaning close his ear as he wheezed once again.

“Stand up, both hands where I can see them, and keep it slow.” With that, she slipped to her feet and took half a step back, yaning the satchel from the man’s shoulder as she went and dropping it to the floor. With a groan, the man rolled to his side, pressing his right hand against his ribs with a wince. She stepped back away, giving herself room to maneuver.

“Just the one,” he ground out, using an elbow pressed to the bed to lever himself slowly to his feet, keeping his arms raised slightly afterward. In the dark, his smile was pained, but still disarmingly charming.

“What are you talking about?” Emma snapped, unamused. “One what?”

“Hand, darling.” The fingers of his right waved in her direction, but the left was still and lifeless. It tickled a memory, but then it was gone and she frowned, shaking her head.

“Oooo-kay, that’s just fascinating. Let’s try this again. I’m going to ask you one more time who you are and what you’re doing here, and if you don’t start answering instead of flirting pronto I’m going to lower your total number of hands further one finger at a time.” The smile on his face faltered.

“Brandon Smith. I’m doing the same thing you are, I presume – looking for Will Scarlet, but as you see, he’s not at home,” he snapped, an edge of sullen impatience to his voice.

“What’s the spirit for?” He smiled again, tilting his head.

“Why, the flask in my pocket is for my own consumption, but I’d gladly share-“ Emma growled over his lilting invitation, a rumbling, thunder-like sound that couldn’t have come from a human’s throat. His smile returned, though it was more a baring of teeth than anything.

“I don’t have your nose, darling. The carving hosts a dog spirit who can sniff and track. But you know Will’s not been here for a week or more.” She lifted her chin slightly, but he wasn’t wrong.

“And your name?”

“I told you-“

“Bullshit,” she cut him off sharply, raising the point of her knife to point directly at his face. “I know a lie when I hear one. You can deflect and dance around a topic, but when you lie to me I damn well know. Tell. Me. Your. Name.” He let out a breath through his nose, somehow still unerringly able to meet her eyes in the dark. He couldn’t possibly see her face, and yet…

“My name is Killian Jones. I am, as I’m sure you know, Kinfolk.” Truth. The first plain statement he’d made this whole time, and it was the truth. But he wasn’t done.

“You probably know me by another name, though,” he continued. Still the truth. She made a soft noise of inquiry, lifting an eyebrow, the knife blade unwavering.

“Hook. The wolves, they call me Hook.” The room fell silent, save for the steady squeaking of the overhead fan. The urge to take the wolf form swept over her like a cold wave and she inhaled sharply, his scent prickling with uncertainty despite his steady expression. The blade point wavered as she gripped it so hard her hand trembled as she fought down the howling need to have fur and teeth and claws. Hook. She’d heard stories, of course. Werewolves were nothing if not tale-tellers, particularly when it came to their enemies. Their traitors. In some he had chosen to become a vampire, in others inviting his possession by a spirit of vengeance. But in all of them, he was Kinfolk – blood of the wolf who had betrayed his own people. Murderer. Hunter. He watched her – though he couldn’t be in this lighting, not really – almost expectantly.

“It’s just there,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His arms remained slightly raised and still. “In my bag.” Without lowering her blade, Emma crouched, slowly reaching her left hand into the satchel. Her fingers brushed over the few items inside, until they settled around the one she was looking for. Gritting her teeth, she wrapped her fingers around the cold metal shape and pulled it free, hissing softly under her breath. It prickled at her fingers sharply, alternating between freezing numb cold and needle-sharp pain as she held it up. The wickedly curved hook seemed to glow in the dark of the room, the enchanted silver casting its own light. They both stared at it for a long moment before she looked away, back at the man who seemed to be waiting on her, his arms slowly dropping to a defensive position in front of his body.

She was leaping for him with a snarl, body contorting and sprouting thick silver fur, before either hook or knife had hit the ground.

[tinyliltina]

Bandaged, not bruised

Brook scowled at her ankle. Of all times, of all days, it had to sprain now. Right when she was wandering through naga-infested territory. Fantastic. Wonderful! Just her luck. The teen drew her leg closer, examining the damage. Surely a fall from running too quickly wouldn’t be excruciating to walk on.

Slowly, Brook pushed her hands down. She stood on her good foot. The instant she put pressure on her swollen ankle, she howled. Brooke dropped to her knees. Her hand rubbed at the tender spot. Wincing, she shuffled back until she pressed against a tree. Well, shit. Looked like she was spending some time out here.

It wasn’t a bad day to be stuck outside. The air was warm, albeit muggy. Birds, bugs, and forest-dwellers alike chattered and sang in the trees. Brook leaned her head against the tree’s smooth bark. Wait. Smooth bark? She lifted her chin and peered upwards, only to hiss at what, or rather, who was above her.

He looked human enough, she supposed. He was tall, pale, and had brown hair that nearly covered his face. The guy was shirtless, as nagas sometimes were. His tail was a real blue with brown and yellow rings down the back. Oh, yes, and he was about seven times her size.

“So,” the naga said. “You finally noticed I am not a tree. Funny, thought it would have hit’cha sooner.” Well, he didn’t sound angry. That much was good.

“Yeah,” Brooke growled. “I kinda did. Thanks, though, for affirming the fact you’re not a hunk of wood. May I say, though, I honestly wish you were.”

The naga raised a brow. Or, it looked that way. Brook couldn’t tell much under his shaggy hairdo. He did shrug, and knelt closer to her. Brook struggled to move away, a sharp pain in her ankle making her grimace.

“You’re hurt,” he said. Again, he didn’t sound aggressive. Just calm. Brook didn’t know if that bodes well for her.

“Wow, Einstein, any other brilliant discoveries to point out?” Brooke snapped. The naga chuckled, then settled back.

“While I appreciate the compliment to my superior intellect,” he smirked. “The name’s Blue. And you are?”

“And why should I tell you?”

“Because I’m the Einstein who’s going to help your snappy ass,” Blue stated. And with that, he knelt down and gathered Brook into his arms. She stiffened at his touch, and moved to beat his chest.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Blue’s voice became more serious.

“Oh yeah? And what’re you-?” Brook began. Blue cut her off with a cold stare.

“I have fangs, kid. Don’t test me.” He paused, then sighed. Blue shook his head, slithering steadily. “Nope, I’m still bad at being mean. Look, I could bite you if you decide to be difficult and hurt yourself more. It won’t be pleasant, but the worst you’ll feel is sleepy.”

Brook stared at him. She snorted, then settled. While smart-mouthed, she wasn’t stupid. The big guy was already holding her, and if his teeth were as big as she imagined, she didn’t want any of them near her skin. She huffed and settled. Seemed the was in this whether she wanted to be or not.

As Blue moved, Brook looked around the woods. The further they moved, the more she noticed small, hand-dug holes in the ground. There were several of them, all of them human sized, and all of them very small. Toys were strewn on the ground, many of them built for sturdy, outdoor play. As a part-time hobbying mechanic, she had to say, they were well built. And, they were well played with. She glanced to Blue, then to the ground.

After some time, they reached something Brook never expected. A massive, log house sat in the middle of a huge clearing. It looked homey, quaint, and peaceful. Her gaze moved to Blue again. He looked relaxed. Maybe even relieved?

Blue seemed to notice her staring. “Yes, that’s my house,” he rumbled. “You caught me at a good time, the kids are out with my fiancé.”

Brook frowned. Kids..? The guy looked old, but no more than thirty.

“They’re adopted,” Blue added. “One...I’m not sure how I ended up with, and the other hatched from an egg I found.” He sounded enough like a proud dad… Was that why he’d helped her? He was a father? Brook frowned, and grimaced as Brook removed an arm from beneath her to open a wooden door. She was greeted to a simply-decorated living room, once again filled with toys and decorated with a soft rug.

Blue slithered into the room. He carefully moved around toys, pictures, and possible paintings. Once he reached the couch, he carefully settled Brook down. “Wait here,” he murmured. Then, he moved away. Brook watched him leave the room. She sighed. Seemed she was stuck.

As she waited, her eyes scanned the house. It smelled sweet, like fresh baked goods. She leaned back into the couch, struggling to find reasons to hate Blue. Then, she found something that caught her eye. A small, toy car with one wheel pulled loose. The wheel was strewn not far from the car, as though it had been ripped off. Brook smiled.

~~~

Blue returned to the living room. He’d found a small wrap for Brook’s foot. It wasn’t much, but it would get the kid home without too much trouble. He smiled as he slithered into the room. Brook appeared to have amused herself. He leaned against the wall, smiling at the girl’s focus. She’d found one of the kids’ broken toys… Her brows were furrowed as she fiddled with it.

He smiled while she worked, and decided to leave her be until she was done. Brook fiddled and tinkered with the tiny toy. It didn’t take long for her to seem pleased with her progress. Once she’d finished re-attaching the wheel, Brook took the car and rolled it on the couch beside her. She sat it down, and looked over. Blue blinked, then slithered in.

“Just gonna wrap up your foot,” he smiled. “You should be okay to walk home from there.”

“Could’a walked home without it,” Brook mumbled. “But whatever.” Blue rolled his eyes and bent down, gently lifting her injured leg. He’d learned while working with the kids, smaller creatures needed delicate attention.

Concentrating, Blue used the pad of his finger to hold Brook’s leg in place. He retrieved the wrap, and used his free hand to begin wrapping her ankle. Brooke hissed and swore under her breath, but made little effort to move away. Once Blue was satisfied with the wrapping job, he used a claw to cut away the excess material, and gently pressed down. He grinned.

“There,” Blue purred. “Not a bad job for a part-time parent…”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Thanks, pops,” her voice dropped with sarcasm. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.” She attempted to stand, winced, but continued. Blue placed a finger in front of her. Before the girl could move any more, he scooped her into his arms. No use in wrapping her foot up if she only hurt it again…

Blue smiled. Brooke glared at him, shooting daggers.

“Yeah, look, I’m not going to let you walk home alone like this. It’s almost dark, and I doubt there’s gonna be many nocturnal critters that would have good intentions like I did.” He slithered to the door, with Brook tucked into an arm. “But I promise, after I drop you off, I’ll be outta your hair.”

“Whatever,” Brook snorted. She crossed her arms and pointed again. Blue ignored her, opting to open the door and head outside. As long as the kid got home safe, he didn’t mind some sarcasm on her part.

“Alright, which way?”

~~~

AN

So, here is the finished bit of an art trade I did with @the-little-shoebox —and this took way too long to write oml

I’m trying to be better about this but I’m really anxious when it comes to writing with other people’s OCs other than like one person’s

I’m just so used to talking to one person about characters and no one else so I tend to only write with that one person’s OC -ajdjf it’s a habit I should break I know ;w;”

But anyways thanks to @the-little-shoebox for being so absolutely wonderful as I worked on this and took way too long but even though this was a challenge it was a lot of fun to write! ;w; I hope to do more things like this in the future! ^_^

Brook belongs to @the-little-shoebox

Blue and the story are mine

[knight-kat-blog]

This Means War

The Goblet, Rendezvous of Stars Mansion, Thanalan

Kiht’s feet slowly pressed against the hardwood floor as she sat up on the edge of her bed. Her groggy gaze examined the infirmary room with mild confusion, but the look soon faded from her face, and her attention turned to her legs.

She slowly put pressure on them as she stood. Her tentative movements betrayed her hesitation, but she continued in anticipation. Nothing happened. She hopped in place a few times as if testing her legs, but she didn’t wince or feel pain. She let out a sigh of relief, and her manner grew pensive.

Her head hung slightly low as she stood motionless. Moments passed before she drew a knife from her belt. Her casual, tribal clothes were all she wore to sleep, but even in safety, Kiht was always armed. She studied her blade - a clean, steel hunting knife with a handle made of ancient wood. A raptor eye insignia had been carved into the handle. Slowly, her head lifted with intent, and she slipped the blade back into its sheath on her belt.

She gathered a white linkpearl from her satchel bag left next to the bed then brought it to life with her own aether before speaking into it “Tefh, are you there?”

“Aye sis, I’m ‘ere. What do you need?”

“I need a specific set of my belongings brought to the Shroud,” Kiht said then paused. “And I need my raptors. Meet me in South Shroud in the Lower Paths, and bring Jahk, Arri and Kedha’a.”

“Must be some serious shite goin’ on for you,” Tefh responded.

“Indeed, shite I am ready to help put an end to.”

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Lower Paths, South Shroud

The forest greeted Kiht with its usual, consistent sounds. Birds chirped, frogs croaked and giant tortoises rumbled in the distance. The Lower Paths maintained an eerie stillness as much life could be heard, but not easily seen.

She stood in the open with an alert gaze, and a spear leaning on her shoulder. She watched the tree line as she awaited to see if the next Moon-keepers to emerge would be poachers or family. Figures approaching down the road soon answered her. Three Keeper women and one Keeper man with two raptors in tow came into view, and Kiht breathed a sigh of relief.

“Kiht, what’s goin’ on?” asked the only red-headed Keeper in the group. Jahk’s small stature contrasted her perpetually irritable expression.

The two raptors let out high-pitched calls and dashed to Kiht’s side to greet her. Their small winglets flapped wildly as they bowed their heads to the touch of her hands. She pulled two small fish from her satchel, and then gave each raptor a tasty reward for their loyalty. “I missed you two,” she muttered softly to them then regarded her cousin.

“A friend of mine has been attacked. I am dealing with smart voidsent, and they are far more organized than your typical horde.” Kiht closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but all that came of her moment of pause was a scowl. “I will not stand for it,” she growled. “There are many reasons to -hate- this group of voidsent, but it became personal now.”

“We’re with you, cousin, I brough’ the war paint. Let’s murder these monsters!” Jahk interjected.

“You want to drag the family into this?” Kedha’a added.

“Shut it, male,” Jahk blurted out as she swiftly turned to face Ked, and just as Kiht opened her mouth to speak.

“-You- shut it,” he responded.

“Silence for a Gods dammed tick!” Kiht shouted as she balled her fists. “I do -not- want the family dragged into this. This is not just some gathering of voidsent in the Shroud. It is a group that infests a noble house of Ishgard. We are not going to just -raid- it or some shite like that.”

The four Keepers all regarded Kiht with surprised faces. Though Ked’s face could only be guessed at due to his ash mask that he almost always wore.

“I brought you here not to help me fight, but to bring my raptors, pass me my things and relay a message to Matron Kihra. They may be tracking me, so I cannot stay with the family. I think it best that the family resettle to one of the secret points.”

“Nay, let us ‘elp you. That’s what families are for. I’ve killed voidsent before!” Jahk eagerly objected as she leaned forward to emphasize her willingness.

“Nay, Jahk. Our family needs to rebuild. We have taken enough losses fighting the battles of others,” Kiht responded as she crossed her arms.

“Then why do you fight the battles of others?” Ked asked in his usual, calm tone.

“Because this was never supposed to be a battle. It began as a mere favor to a friend, and it was never supposed to be dangerous. But it grew into the shite it has now, and what kind of reputation would the Jakkya gain if we backed out of something just because it got dangerous?” Kiht shook her head several times. “Nay, I started on this without the consent of the family, so I will not suddenly drag them into it just because things have gotten dangerous.”

The four Keepers regarded Kiht quietly as a moment passed. Eventually, Arri took a step forward. The lengthy bangs of her black hair nearly shrouded the concern in her blue eyes.  “Even if you started on it alone, you don’t ‘ave to finish it alone,” she said without hiding the worry in her voice.  

Kiht grew a slight smile as her gaze settled on the youngest of the five Keepers present. “Worry not; I am not alone in this. I will count on you four to watch over the family.”

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East Shroud greeted Kiht and her raptors much like South Shroud. The usual cacophony of bird and insect noises were like many kinds of chimes and bells all ringing to different influences. The many paths through the area of the forest were starting to over-grow with weeds, and the Keeper passed scarce Gridanian patrols. The tension once held in the air by the presence of the Garleans occupying Castrum Orriens was gone, and this patch of the Shroud no longer presented itself as a potential warzone.

After a time of traveling, she spotted the familiar sight of glowing fungi and manipulated plant-like structures of Little Solace. The thick canopies of East Shroud kept the area dim which made the glow of the Sylph settlement appear brighter. Fireflies hovered around the settlement, dancing through the air akin to how the Sylphs themselves often interacted with each other.

Once Kiht closed a respectable distance between her and the settlement’s entrance, she glanced to each of her raptors and spoke to them in a series of clicks in whistles while relieving them of their saddle-packs. The raptors moved off as they understood the Huntspeak commands. The larger Shroud raptor dashed off to encircle the Sylph settlement while the smaller grass raptor moved the opposite direction.

Kiht drew out a dark object from her satchel belt - a wooden whistle shaped like a bird of prey. She blew on it gently to create a shrill whistle that stood out from the sounds of birds and bugs, and after pocketing the whistle, she held out her arm like an inviting tree branch.

Moments later, a small falcon landed on Kiht’s arm. The Keeper smiled and met the gaze of his yellow irises with her blue ones. The two stared at each other for uncounted moments. Sounds of the forest were drowned out by her focus on Haru, and his focus on her rendered him motionless like a statue.

No commands were spoken, but something unheard and unseen prompted Haru to open his wings and lift off into the air with purpose. Kiht watched him fly off beyond the canopies as she lowered her arm. The sounds of the forest soon returned to her notice. She continued to the entrance of Little Solace after picking up several of her packs.

Two Sylphs tasked with watching the entrance regarded Kiht with their expressionless faces. Their dark eyes betrayed nothing, but the subtle motions they made as they hovered were dances of wariness. Kiht glanced to each Sylph but spoke no words. She halted and dropped her packs then unbuckled most of her armor.

The Keeper was free of all physical burdens besides her clothing. Her expression held a neutral tranquility, and she slowly raised her hand as if to examine it. Her motion was soon followed by the extending of her arm and subtle shifting of her hips. One foot stepped at an angle different from the other, and her lower legs crossed to send her into a slow twirl.

Kiht moved her arms as if they were gliding through water, her tail trailed behind her like a ribbon and her body shifted with each step and further twirling. Her graceful dance grew faster and faster, but moments later, she stopped. Her gaze returned to the Sylph guards.

“This one greets walking one”, one of the guards said while changing her hovering motions to a less subtle series of movements that betrayed more energy and less fear.

“This walking one is known walking one,” the other guard added while motioning in a similar dance.

“Indeed, I have trade to offer. I would like to trade goods for other goods and trade for shelter,” Kiht responded.

The Sylphs turned to each other then back to Kiht. “For shelter, walking one must speak to elder one.”

The Miqo’te bowed her head. “Very well.”

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Little Solace was crowded with Sylphs, and the biggest open space was the path that lead through the settlement. The social plant-people danced about, turning mundane daily tasks into displays of art and expression. However, Kiht found the one isolated corner of the settlement between two rock formations near a small river. She unpacked a large assortment of gear and objects from three travel packs then took a cross-legged seat on the grassy ground.

As Kiht’s raptors patrolled a respectable distance from Little Solace to avoid scaring the Sylphs, Haru circled in the sky above to keep a bird’s eye view on the settlement and surrounding area. The Keeper huntress unpacked a whetstone to sharpen her steel hunting knife and trio of spears. Tedious bells later, she found her two knives made of mythril. She poured an aether crystal concoction onto the blades to help the whetstone sharpen the special metal.

Once the weapons were done being tended, she crushed red berries in a small ceramic bowl with a finger-shaped stone and collected river water to dilute the substance which took on the color of blood. As she let the substance settle in the bowl, she soaked a cloth in river water then wiped clean the black paint markings around her eyes.

When finished, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the calm-flowing river water. Her clear face looked back at her with an appearance far more innocent than she was. Her short hair and unmarked face stirred memories in her mind.

“I remember you,” she mused quietly to herself. “I thought I had not changed, but you… You feel like a lifetime ago.”

She pushed herself away from the water’s edge then sat in front of her bowl of red paint made from Soldier’s Sore berries. Her fingers dipped into the substance and slowly drew out a tiny portion. She regarded the paint for a moment with a pensive gaze.            

“Whatever is left of my old innocence must remain buried a while longer,” she declared to herself then began to apply the paint to her face. “By the light of the Moon, and amidst the sacred Twelveswood, I swear to you, Menphina, that I will serve you as a warrior,” she prayed with a determined tone. “This has gone far beyond Verad.”

Once the markings were done, she let the poisonous paint dry on her skin. Fortunately, it was only poisonous if consumed. Next, she took her mythril knives and unscrewed the endcaps of the handles. She affixed a Sylph glamor into a slot inside each cap then screwed them back onto the knives. She slipped the blades into twin sheathes on her lower back, and they suddenly disappeared from sight. She repeated the task with four throwing knives and sheathed her only unglamored steel knife on her thigh boot.

Kiht took up her double-bladed spear and disassembled it back into twin batons that she slipped into holsters on her back. Her other two spears were retrieved from their place on the ground then bound together with twine. She slung them over her shoulder like she would another pack then gathered up the rest of her stuff.

The Sylphs in the settlement continued their usual antics as Kiht made her way out. After a sun’s preparation, she was no longer in need of their shelter. The Keeper paced out the entrance to Little Solace then let out a whistle soon after. Moments passed before Dirk and Estoc rushed to her position.

She secured the packs to the raptors’ saddles then continued onward down the path in which she came. It was time to return to Vylbrand. 

@dubiousduskwight