#two posts for the price of one! now reread it in her voice

[wumblr]

there's this sexual fantasy of the social climber, right? like, in the fantasy, you don't only want to meet someone who's perfect for you, you also, additionally, want them to have the resources to make all of your problems disappear or substantially improve your enjoyment or quality of life

and i would like to point out the recuperative effect this has. much in the same way that the long-shot hope for winning the lottery someday keeps people clocking in to work and participating in upholding status quo, the idea serves to redirect people who otherwise might be looking at routes of escape

of course i've just described everything from fifty shades to pride and prejudice all the way back to at least chivalric romance if not scheherazade too. and i don't know if it says something inherent about human nature as much as it says something about the human response to oppression

unfortunately the fantasy that could actually provide a route of escape is collectivization. so you see the way that this fantasy is recuperative. by excluding every other member of your class from it. it says you, by nature of being so exceptional, deserve to be swept off your feet. that is the unspoken undertone this fantasy whispers in your ear

and while i am saying that i understand this urge, it's been here for thousands of years, and i've engaged in the fantasy myself -- to be honest, i also think it's responsible for some of the greatest evil in the world. you throw another under the bus because you believe yourself to be more deserving than th--

[sgt-scottymoreau]

MWII Event: Ghost Team

Summary: The truth is out and it's time for a payback. The 141 and Los Vaqueros work together to regain control of the later's HQ.

Warning: None

Words: 2.6k // AO3 // Masterlist

A/N: I wrote this fic (and all parts before) a while I go, so I'm rereading all of them before posting and turns out it's a good thing. Here I called Graves, Grace. Twice! lol

He told them all that Laswell found about the transport of the missiles, an illegal transaction. Shepherd had good intentions but what he did was never meant to be and when the mission went sour once the convoy was attacked by a Russian PMC, the two men had to cover up. The current mission made the 141 get a little too close to the truth and they weren't going to let anyone know what happened. Scotty listened to the tale, the whole story leaving a bad taste in her mouth. Too much of a déjà vu, but this time it was worse. It wasn't just guns and small weapons, it was missiles. Ballistic missiles even! What was it with all the higher rank betraying their team or a team?

The van bumped, taking her out her clouded minded and her shoulder hit Soap. She let out a groan. "You good?" The Scotsman asked. 

"Yeah…" Scotty looked at her wound, which was bleeding on her vest. "We are shoulder buddies now. Think you can patch me up?"

"If I remember what you did, you will be fine."

"Or we will have to amputate it." Ghost snickered.

She glared at him while the other laughed. "Very funny Lieutenant."

“Alright, once we reach the safehouse, I plan to give a call to the general.” Price groaned. 

“You really expect him to squeal?” Soap asked, rolling his shoulders to release the tension. 

“No, but I want more answers.”

At the safe house, Gaz was the one who ended up patching up Scotty. "Always get yourself in trouble when you are with them and not with the captain and me." He joked. 

"I start to think the same." She winced when the disinfectant touched the wound. "I'll blame Soap, the eagerness of our local expert demolisher is contagious."

Gaz laughed and gave her a pat on the good shoulder once he was done with her.

The captain was true to his words. As soon as he was able, he opened his computer to link up with the general. The conversation went as sour as anyone expected. The tension was high in the room. Every word Shepherd spoke seemed to only annoy Price even more. Scotty glanced at Gaz and Soap who returned the same concerned look every time or a frown when the general tried to explain something and it didn’t sound very reassuring. 

“And you have forgotten what you are fighting for, John.” Shepherd said. “To do good you gotta do some bad.”

The sentence rang badly in Scotty’s ears. This kind of thinking hit way too close to home. There was no way this would end up friendly. Her hands clenched. 

“You need to call off your Shadow.” Price said with a stern voice.

“Graves?... He’s a dog with a bone, and I highly recommend that you don’t try and take it.” At this very instant it was obvious to everyone that there would be no turning back. To the 141, their only allies left were Los Vaqueros and Laswell. Price ended the call telling Shepherd that once they were done with Graves, he was coming for him. The captain closed the computer and looked at his team. 

“What now Captain?” Gaz asked.

“Like I said. We go after Graves. Alejandro, get your Vaqueros.” 

Alejandro pushed the door of the room they were in and called out his men to gather around the table. Price cleared his throat. "Alright, we are taking back your HQ. We are getting our prisoner, we are killing commander Graves."

"When?" Rudy demanded. 

"Now." Ghost was quick to answer.

"This is a fight against our own." Price kept going. "We are not 141 and Los Vaqueros on this. We are a team; Ghost Team." 

Ghost grabbed the bag at his feet and threw the content on the table. A bunch of balaclavas slid on the table. He then proceeded to do something that took even Scotty by surprise. For someone who not even a few hours ago told Soap he would never take off his mask… Ghost gracefully removed it revealing his hidden features to everyone. She bit the inside of her cheek to remain with a straight face. The situation was maybe tense but her mind could help but falling even more for him at the moment. Scotty was a little surprised by the lack of reaction from Soap or Gaz, but maybe they were still under shock to see him. Price had a soft smile. "It's good to see you again Simon." He acknowledged. In respect, the captain removed his own hat and placed it on the table. "If you are in, take a mask. If you are not… don't." 

One by one, everyone around the table took a mask and slipped it over their head. It had been a while since she wore a balaclava herself. Last time had been long before she joined the 141. It brought some old memories. Ghost had finished adjusting his, his eyes looked at everyone around the table but his gaze lingered a little longer on Scotty. She caught the staring and smiled at him through the mask, not like anyone would see. Alejandro quickly went over the plan. Two teams infiltrating the HQ at the same time. Team 1 with Gaz, Price, a pilot and himself will go through the tunnel and get to a helicopter to provide air support. Team 2 with Soap, Ghost, Rudy, Scotty and Los Vaqueros will be on the ground to eliminate all threats and make their way to Graves to kill him. Gaz and Alejandro would secure Valeria, once Price was up in the air.

The place quickly became lively. Not a second to waste. Checking mags, weapons, armors, vehicles. Nothing went under the radar; they had to be ready. Scotty was helping one Vaquero to load up the van with a bag of ammos, when Ghost casually passed next to her. To the outside world, it looked like he was just checking to make sure all was going well. But he was close enough to whisper to her. 

"Looking good, sergeant." He commented. The ghost team style fitted her, more than he thought. 

"Not bad yourself, Lieutenant." Scotty replied, always loading the van. 

"We are leaving in five minutes, make sure everything is ready." He left on this to check on others. Soap joined not long after. He helped Scotty lift up a heavier bag. 

"Didn't see you react much to Lt's big reveal." He teased. "Seen him before?"

"You will never let go, will you? No I haven't, just like I haven't seen a reaction from you either. I thought you would be happier to see the man behind the mask. Jealous he is prettier than you?"

"He wishes he was. Good to know you find him pretty." He winked at her. 

Scotty was glad of the mask, because her cheeks tainted pink when she realized the slip up. "Don't even get an idea from that MacTavish!"

"Too late. Let's load in." He tapped her shoulder and climbed in the van. She took a seat next to him. Rudy and Ghost climbed in and the van roared. Scotty leaned closer to the Scotsman. 

"If you say one more time there's something between me and him, you will wish Graves had killed you back then in the city." She whispered to him.

Soap laughed off her threat, but didn't comment any further. Ghost did notice the stiffness in the sergeant's shoulders and chuckled internally. 

The drive to the base was tense. Everyone wanted to be there already, be in the fight and not wait for trouble. Till Price’s voice came through the radio. “All Ghosts - I’m wheels up with eyes on.” That was the good news that his team had made it in one piece.  

“Copy that. Two is inbound to the gate. You’re clear hot when the target is marked.” Ghost replied. He then turned this team in the van. “We think Graves is in the HQ, holding his ground.”

“Once we’re in, we split up. Close air clears the way.” Rudy reminded everyone. 

“With Shadows on the run, we locate Graves and kill him. Comprendes?”

“Completely, lieutenant. All Ghosts, stand by for breach.” He told the rest on the team in the other van in Spanish.

Ghost turned to Soap and Scotty. “Soap, get the designator and mark targets for Price in the helo. Scotty, provide cover to the sergeant when he will be marking on the field.”

“Roger that.” They both replied at the same time. Soap grabbed the marker and aimed it at the entrance of the base as soon as the van stopped. He then gave the green to Price to attack. To say that a spark of joy lighted their mind when they saw the rockets hit the structure was little. After all they went through, it felt like the start of a good payback. The driver pushed the van through the debris so team Two could be free and unload their fire on all the Shadows. While they will keep them busy, Alejandro and Gaz had their chance to get to Valeria. 

The helo was making everything much easier. It definitely gave them the upper hand on top of making the workload lighter to handle. Soap aimed the marker at the building and gave another go to Price. Scotty followed her order to the letter and took down a sniper before he would hit the Scotsman. They sweep the leveled building, no Shadows left alive. In a matter of minutes, they reached the HQ. Obviously, the doors were locked. Rudy took out some breacher charges; he knew this would come handy. Ghost gave one last piece of advice before the set off. If anyone sees Graves, drop him. Soap was the first one to see him.

“Contact! Second deck.”

“He’s on the run, clear in!” Ghost ordered. Scotty and Soap swiftly charged inside. She signed him to take one flight of stairs while she would take the other. Maybe they could corner him that way. She climbed them two by two. A shadow came in her view, Scotty dropped him before he raised his gun in her direction. Luckily by choosing the opposite way she was able to sneak behind fire compared to the boys who had to deal with all the Shadows. From a distance she helped. 

“I see Graves! He took the exit in the control room!” Scotty shouted.

“Roger that!” Ghost acknowledged. “We have to move before we lose him!” They pushed their enemies back and cleared the second floor rapidly. They made a sprint to the back door, just in time to see an automated door close. The helo hovered not far from the wall. 

“All stations, be advised, Graves went over the wall.” Not even a second after he said that, Ghost called an RPG but it was already too late. The rocket hit the helo directly in the back. On the ground Rudy, Ghost, Scotty and Soap couldn’t do anything besides looking at it spiraling out of control and going down to crash somewhere behind a warehouse. Rage boiled in their veins; if anything happened to the captain, they would kill Graves a second time. The four of them pushed forward the wall. They had to climb over it to reach their target. Soap gave a boost to Rodolfo who in return helped the sergeant to climb. They sat there ready to help Ghost and Scotty climb as well. 

“Ghost, you coming?”

“No Price and the pilot needs help. You three finish this.” He started to walk away. 

“I’m going with you.” Scotty said. She waved at Soap to get on the other side. “He might need help himself to get the captain out.” 

Ghost nodded to accept her help. Although the last thing they heard from the other two was Soap saying that Graves brought a tank. That sounded like a rough time. Ghost and Scotty rushed to the last location they saw the helo go down. It wasn’t the first time that Price went down in a helo and probably not the last. The man could survive anything. They couldn’t rush in with the Shadows getting in the way. Even if they had attracted most of the troops when they breached earlier, some were also heading towards the crash site. If the crash had not killed the captain and the pilot, they would most likely finish the job. 

Hidden behind a wall, Scotty aimed her snipe. “Three Shadows.”

“I take the one on the left. Can you take two with one shot?” Ghost asked. Scotty said it would be possible, she needed to reposition. She crouched to a better position, mounted her gun on a crate and checked. She gave a thumb up to Ghost. “On three. One, two… three.”

They both fired at the same time. The hostiles dropped. Scotty scanned the area quickly. All clear. They ran toward the helo. Price was crawling with some difficulty. Scotty grabbed him by the arm and helped the man up. Ghost lifted a broken metal pipe of the pilot who thanked him as he got up. “You good, sir?” Scotty asked Price. He was looking everywhere around him. She noticed the hat on the ground. She handed it to him.

“Thanks, I’m good.” He replied removing the mask and placing his signature hat back on. He reached in his pocket to grab something. He pulled out a broken cigar. “Fuck! I was saving this one for a good time. What a waste.”

“Only you can worry more about a broken cigar than broken bones.” Scotty teased him. She also slipped the mask off. She swore only Ghost could wear it all the time. This mission had been more than enough and she was glad to finally feel fresh air on her skin.

“Watch the tone, sergeant.” He smiled back.

The radio cracked. “Soap to Ghost. I’m with Rudy. Graves is KIA. How’s Price?”

“Angry. Lost a good cigar in the crash. Pilot’s okay too. Out.” 

From here, the 141 regrouped with Alejandro and Rudy in the hangar where Valeria was held prisoner. Graves and his Shadows might have been taken care of, it wasn’t the end yet. The 141 still have to figure out where the third missing missile is. Not even a second inside the container that held her, that even without knowing Spanish it was clear she was taunting Alejandro. Price had no time for bullshit. “You knew there was a third missile?”

“Oh, I didn’t count them. I have people for that.” She replied with the most unfazed expression. 

“She’s lying.” Alejandro interjected. He knew her well enough. 

“Where’s Hassan?” Gaz demanded. 

“Where’s the other missile?” Ghost pressed. 

Valeria looked at everyone in the room, as if she was trying to get what was her best course of action. At this point what did she have to lose? “Chicago.”

The 141 and Alejandro looked at each other. This was not good, it was in fact worse than they expected. While the other two missiles have been found far from any dense population, this one was right in the middle of a city. “What the fuck is going on?” Gaz worried.

“I said I’d tell you where he was. I didn’t say I would stop him.”

“You fucking scorpion.” Alejandro raged. “I told you she would do this, eh?”

“I run a business, señores… and señora. We grow or we die. It’s the way of the world.”

Price’s expression didn’t change. But this is what made him the most intimidating. “You put a target on your back.” He warned her.

“No, I put a target on Chicago. Now fucking leave Las Almas and go find it. Fucking assholes, get out of here.”

“For now, she is yours. But we’ll be back.” This was a promise. Enough interrogation. Alejandro escorted Valeria out. Price quickly contacted Soap to get the transport ready and to get Laswell. Now that they knew where the missile and Hassan were, time was ticking. 

[zydeco-xylophone]

ITS FUCKING DONEEEEE

granted this needs a LOT of polish but mostly im glad that it exists outside of my head in a state that isnt just bullet points

Another scorching day; the scuttling lizards and buzzing insects take refuge in what little shade the noon high sun casts. The ancient, rusted fan squeaks offered no relief in the dark office. Even the motes of dusting floating in what little light peaked through the blinders were lethargic.

The stranger paid no heed as it cut a swathe through the stale, dry air with purposeful strides. Like many who made their living in the desert; it was dusty, worn and sunbleached. Unlike them, it chose to layer itself in the triple digit heat. The hat, bandana and fringed mask hid it's face in leather and shadow; it's body likewise hidden underneath a faded poncho and long gloves. The one spot of fresh color in it's ensemble was the patch of red in the burlap sack it carried.

It placed the sack on the clerk's desk and undid the knot. Inside was the latest bounty's head, face frozen in a snarl. The stranger twisted it around to face the clerk. She pushed her bifocals up and peered through the bulletproof glass of the office at the piece of meat.

"That would be... Jakes Ezra, bounty issued one Rain ago, wanted dead or alive?" She rattled off in the voice of someone who had been in customer service a long, long time.

It nodded, and pushed two pieces of paper through the slot. One was the original wanted poster, now crinkled and slightly bloodstained, the other a much fresher but still dirt smudged grocery list.

"Alright, I'll get your supplies and change in just a moment. Please dispose of that outside."

It nodded again, this time more begrudgingly. Shame, it had been hoping for the meat to be fresh enough to count as a bonus. Guess it couldn't have outran the heat this time around. The head got dunked down the trash chute, the sack going back to it's side. No reason to waste perfectly good burlap, bloodstained or not. Every bit of supplies counted when far in the desert.

While the elderly clerk was busy fulfilling it's lengthy grocery list, itself was busy surveying the latest bounties posted. The majority was small game - jilted lovers going after one another for a paltry price, rival farmers trying to hire livestock thieves, and bounties for said thieves. The reward might've been worth the effort for local greenhorns trying to dip into bounty hunting, though that was a big maybe. 'Flock of chickens' and 'eldest child's hand in marriage' weren't exactly tempting. The handful of actual bounties were the usual gang leaders, unpopular politicians, and other bounty hunters gone rogue slash killed the wrong person with connections. Typical stuff, really.

Like usual, it picked the one with the biggest number. Six digit bounty, posted by three different towns. A two for one job involving a couple suspected of stealing several herds and confirmed to have tainted a spring on their property. Located somewhat close by, if you stretch the definition to include over the nearest range. Posted during the current dry season. Someone scribbled 'hethins' in the corner.

It paused. Reread the poster slowly. Confirmed what its eye sockets saw.

Taking cattle happens every day. Taking whole herds less so, but not that unusual. But poisoning a well, even accidentally? It was too important a resource, more so than metal or money. Even the most brainless, cruelest of lowlifes know that. Nobody and nothing (except itself) made it far in the badlands without water. Especially on one's own land at that. If the mass livestock theft was true, than they weren't stupid. If they weren't stupid, they would know there's easier deaths than dehydration. If they weren't stupid or suicidal, then what was their ploy?

It plucked the poster off the wall. Like every other bounty, more information would be provided upon request. Luckily for the stranger, the little old lady behind the counter finished gathering it's requested items. Bullets of several different calibers, waterproof firestarter, manilla ropes, needles and threads made up the bulk purchase. Each package shuffled through the deposit box was carefully stored away under it's poncho. The clerk didn't make it to her old age by staring openly. Possibly magic hammerspace or not, this one had the decency to put the wrappings into the trash can. Only after it's purchase was safely tucked away did it slide the poster to her with a questioning 'hhhh' sound.

The old women tutted as the poster came into focus. "Rue and Dean Hurst. Used to be good folk, those two. Salt ranchers, newlyweds, trying to making a living off of the land. Now they're wanted dead and burnt. The drawing's still accurate as far as I know, but it's been a fair few months since anybody seen them up close. Hard to get a good look at them between the potshots, the dynamite traps and the smell. They dumped their whole herd, and anybody else's they can flinch, into their well. Wind blows the wrong way and it's like the devil's outhouse. Nasty, nasty stuff." She shook her head in emphasis, the chain of her glasses swinging with the motion.

The bounty hunter pointed at the string of numbers.

"Oh, that? A hundred grand came from each town down from their well. Nobody wants that sickness in the water. And, well, it's not my place to say, but..." She leaned in close, voice lowered with conspiracy. "People, not me mind you, have been spreading rumors that they're feeding /something/ at the bottom of that well. Doing foul rituals with tainted meat and the like. Or worse, that the sickness in their heads wants to spread itself. "But", she returned to her reclined position, voice level as Anubis' scales once more, "that could be the working folk trying to light a fire under the moneyholder's asses."

It nodded with experienced understanding. Pulling teeth and fingers off was easier than trying to separate somebody from their riches. /Without/ a knife.

"Nobody wants to wait until their supplies run out, so the high prize is to help speed things along. Can't say how many tried their luck. Don't know how many didn't come back either. You sure you don't want something more to help your luck?"

The stranger's shadowed lack of eyes held her gaze for a moment before it shook its head. With a polite tip of its hat, it left the bounty office without so much as a jingle of rusty spurs.

"Damn kids these days."

---

Merciless sun and pounding heat did nothing to check the ceaseless stride of the nameless stranger. It needed nothing but a compass, map and a location to track its quarry. A beast of burden would only slow it down with it's mortal needs. The wild beasts inhabiting the land proved to be less of a challenge than the steep, sandstone hills. They had better things to do than to bother a gun wielding twolegger that didn't pause for anything. The wilder things, the ones who copied voices at dawn and dusk, were politely skirted around. No need to waste bullets on something that wouldn't stop. Like recognized like after all.

Even with it's steady march, it took the better part of a week to get close to the valley were its quarry called home. The knife sharp hills and their winding cattle paths took time to cross even in the best of conditions. It was pure luck that it didn't come across any would be highway thief. Perhaps it was because of the smell. True to the clerk's word, the stench struck like physical blow when the wind shifted. The layers of cloth covering its face and the unnecessary action of breathing did nothing to abate the foulness. It had half a mind to burn its cloths when it was done with job and it hadn't even seen the place yet.

The pale eye of the moon may have turned away when it reached a tiny dip of a gulch, but the many stars illuminated the long abandoned homestead hidden in the dried shrubs. Many of it's kind littered the chaparral - the failed dreams, the broken homes, the bad luck and worse endings. Dime a dozen, really. Still, it slid down a gravelly incline in hopes that there was something worth scavenging in the rusted out place. Or at the very least, get a small break from the foul stench tainting the area. It was getting stronger as it got closer, which was saying something as started off like a slap to the face.

'Devil's outhouse was understating it', it thought to itself with a silver of irritation, 'no wonder they coughed up so much cash, it'd take a dragons' hoard to convince *anything* to get close.' Even the animals and beyond, from the laughing coyotes to the twilight-dwellers, had long since vacated the area.

To its dismay, the stench was no better inside the dilapidated house. The broken windows, hole in the roof and long since kicked down doors might have had something to do it. True to what's left of its gut, the place had been ransacked. Ages ago, if the plants taking root in the rotting carpet was any indication. Bullet shells and broken glass hadn't so much been brushed aside as they became part of the floor. The entrance to the basement was little more than a sunken, trash filled pit in the middle of the mess. A few bending shelves stood the test of time and vandalism, but their contents hadn't. All that was left were indistinct, moldy, dehydrated lumps. The overwhelming stench buried whatever rot infested the discolored walls. It was just about to leave when the mass of lichen in the corner caught its attention. That wasn't a boulder somebody decided to drop in - that was an unbroken, if heavily rusted, safe.

It crouched in front of it with something approaching eagerness. Picking it was right out of the question with how the lock was more moss than metal. Brute force breakage ran the risk of damaging the goods inside, but also not working at all if the bullets still embedded into the iron was any indication. The bounty hunter reached for its least favorite knife and wiggled it into the door's seam. The dull blade cut through the years of grit and rust with no little elbow grease. It would've cursed if it had the tongue as it sawed through the locking mechanism. Finally, its efforts were rewarded with an ear grating screech of rusted metal as it pried the safe open.

The actual reward inside was less than impressive. The papers inside were worth little more than tinder - marriage and birth certificates, tax information, family photographs, nothing so useful as bullets or gold. The odd one out was a well worn teddy bear, sitting like a guardian amidst the yellowed paper. For reasons beyond itself, it took the bear and placed it alongside the many bullets within itself. Maybe to have something to show for all that effort? Something to try and block the horrific smell of rotting meat? It didn't know. What it did know was that it's prize is in the next valley and it wanted this bounty to be done a week ago.

Burs and dust clung to its poncho as it trudged up the last steep hill. Not even the dried plants stirred in its presence when it reached the peak; the predawn sky still awash with stars, the burning sun merely a warning on the horizon. Sitting at the bottom of the valley proper was the homestead. Like any other house worth living in the wastes; it was merely an entrance to the underground levels, hidden away from the sun. There was no telling how deep, how far the passages went. What wasn't like any other house was the well overflowing with viscera to the point it spilled into a large, putrid puddle. Had it possessed the ability to do so, it would've wrinkled its nose at the hammerblow stench.

It didn't come this far to go back empty handed.

Rather than the beeline it had been on for the past however many days, it chose to circle behind the house. It had no heart of it's own to race, no skin left to prickle with unease, yet a discomfort that had nothing to do with the wet rot nearby had taken root. Perhaps it was how no flies buzzed around the tightly packed carcasses, yet maggots writhed on the single unlucky coyote that had tried to eat the foulness. Perhaps it was the silence that made its every step feel earthshaking. Or maybe, just maybe, it's own unnaturalness recognized whatever lurked underneath. It wasn't a comforting thought.

Its hand went to it's shotgun as it pressed against the still warm, unpainted adobe wall. Try as it might, it could not hear any movement inside or out. The soft scuff of it's worn boots against hardpacked earth felt akin to nails on a chalkboard as it crept towards the wooden door. Heat built in the air as dawn inexorably crept closer.

The door didn't so much as squeak as it barged in, gun at the ready. There was no blood on the walls, no criminals set to fire, just an average, empty entrance way. Its entrance didn't summon anyone or anything either. The only thing stirring was the dust in the air. Miscellaneous items, the kind that tend to accumulate but weren't put into storage when two people lived together, decorated the shelves lining the room; pickling jars with entirely ordinary contents, slightly shameful romance novels by the dozen, tacky knick-knacks, and stacks of unanswered letters. The one thing off about the room was how it *didn't* reek to heaven and hell despite the well of horrors right outside.

Its hand stayed on the trigger as it carefully stepped down the stairway leading into the home proper. The all consuming darkness only found in the underground rose to meet it at the bottom step. There was no breath to knock out of its withered lungs, no eyes to dart furtively for light that would not appear. Its own unnaturalness rose to the challenge - dim sparks of ethereal purple fire lit in a mockery of pupils as six rattlesnakes writhed free from under its poncho. Each one of them were nearly as thick as a bicep and more than thrice as long. They too were especially thankful to finally be free of that noxious scent, of the confines of its overstocked ribcage. Their senses and limited minds blended seamlessly with its own until there was no difference between them.  

The snakes slithered ahead with a speed that belied their size, the once a person following at a more sedate pace as it sorted through six sensory inputs. There wasn't much difference between them - just stale air, dust, dirt, and not a fresh scent to be licked. Plenty of old trails crisscrossed over each other into a blurred haze of having once been, yet none made it out the entrance way. No secret passages and no bodies revealed themselves from the investigation of the branching rooms either. The desire for stealth and urgency ruled out the urge to look more closely at them. The bounty wasn't going to turn themselves in after all. With no option but forward, they continued down the grave dark corridor.

Normally; the deeper one goes underground, the colder it gets. The slight incline grew steeper, the smooth dirt floor changing underbelly to rock still bearing pick marks, yet the temperature remained comfortably mild. Down right pleasant even, especially after the trip through the sunblasted hills. There was even a promise of fresh water in the slight breeze coming from further within.

The central node of the collective paused midstep as the snakes continued on with renewed eagerness. Its suspicions were spread thinly across minds more concerned with getting the reek out of their noses. Was the well of rot so foul that the quarry was hiding in dark? But nothing came out to take the advantage. Even the pitch black of the grave stayed its hand. There wasn't even so much as a tripwire or buried mechanism down the corridor turned mineshaft. Just plain rock, lumber supports and the occasional unlit lantern on the ground. They still had kerosene in them.

Seams started to rip at the collective when it lingered behind a distance too far. It hurried to catch up with a mental curse; going from six inputs to one was always a disorienting experience and the last thing it needed during a hunt. Senses resolved themselves as connection restored - humidity gathered in the air, pairing sweetly with crisp water, the ground going from unforgiving rock to something more springy, perhaps a mote or two warmer than before. Had it not been for the constant yet subtle give, the snake selves would have compared the floor to an ancient tree's bark. The scent of the Hurst's, gathered from their belongings upstairs, continued to lead downward. The trail grew fresher, clearer - days old as opposed to weeks, details coming into focus with every inch forward. Was that blood on the wind or simply the tang of ore and polished tools?

Fangs and guns were readied as the breeze shifted. The corridor was ending and at it was their prey. Experience and instinct sharpened the collective's mind to a fine point. One after another; the six simple minds entered without a sound, three clinging to the damp walls and three spreading out to the center. The pillar uniting them, the one with no senses to guide it through the unending darkness, stood just beyond the entrance as it absorbed the information. A circular room large enough to hold the house overhead with room to spare, kerosene spilled from broken lanterns, a closed door on the far wall, the freshest water any of them ever tasted trickling down from the walls, rock debris scattered throughout and the prey crushed under the worst of it.

The hunt left the collective as quickly as it came. Then came the confusion. Did they expire just before it got here? The blood was warm, the bodies cold, yet there wasn't a lick of death and decay in the oddly pleasant cavern. Where was that breeze coming from, anyways? Nothing was adding up. With its other avenues turning up nothing and no quarry to alarm, it turned to the one sense it hadn't utilized; sight. It followed a snake to the nearest unbroken lantern, reached underneath its poncho for its lighter, and illuminated the room.

Meat greeted it.

The room and the corridor were made out of glistening, throbbing meat - what the collective had assumed was fresh water was blood sluggishly pooling, the rough floor bones and callouses, and they didn't want to consider if the breeze was breath. The rubble was mostly earth, save for the glistening chunks of broken bone, sourced from a felled ceiling. Yet, for all it swung the lantern around, the scent of damp earth and crisp water didn't falter. The only whiff of blood was from the two broken bodies. Crushed beyond recognition was a better description for their sorry state. It'd be lucky if there was enough left of them to turn into a bounty. An unhappy grunt escaped the confines of its covered face as it set to uncovering the two. There had to be proof that it was the Hurst couple rather than some unfortunate lookalikes it mugged for a quick buck. Hopefully, whatever crazy-sickness followed them to the grave and stayed there. It could only hope that whatever tainted this place stayed behind as well.

All but one snake had left it and the lying meat behind. The disorientation, the world suddenly getting smaller and darker as one became six, didn't make piecing together the heads any more pleasant of a task. Said snake didn't immediately return to its resting place between the ribs and items. Instead, it waited with a predator's patience at the bounty hunter's feet. As for itself, it cast its usual stealthy, methodical pace aside in favor of haste; tossing rubble and shoving the misshapen gore inside the burlap sack. The sooner it got out of here, the better.

Some part of it winced with every sound it made. Just because it was confident in its abilities didn't mean it wanted to face whatever may be lurking just beyond its senses. It had half a mind to burn the whole place down, well included. Maybe earn another few hundred for getting rid of the stink. Or maybe to assuage the paranoia that something was going to come out of the dark, out of the flesh, and drag it back into its grave. The more it thought about it, the more it talked itself into going along with the idea. Why bother to loot the homestead when anything could be cursed, tainted with things beyond mortal reckoning? It certainly didn't want to know who, what or why, the gritty details behind the grisly scene.

It certainly didn't just hear a young child sob behind the closed door.

Even through the door, the sound shattered the silence. Its mind raced. The bounty said nothing about a child being involved. Those who posted it would be calloused enough to trade a child's life for their own survival. It could've easily been a lure, a trick for it to lower its guard. Wouldn't be the first time something tried that. Yet, the nameless stranger found itself raising to its feet and not even reaching for a gun. The heavy rattlesnake coiling along its arm was weapon enough.

It had no name to call its own, but its been called plenty of things throughout its existence - Tombstone, Wraith, Snakebite, countless curses of various creativity, a monster, a demon, and on one memorable occasion, Dead Wife. It certainly lived up to all of them, save maybe the last one. It had not killed a child, by action or otherwise. It was not going to change that.

The light of the lantern illuminated the area with flickering yellow light. By all accounts, it was a normal unpainted wooden door. It didn't even so much as have a stain on it, sticking oddly out from the organic surrounding. The lock on the outside shined without a speck of rust. An acid reflux mixture of dread and hope against hope curdled were its voice used to be as another sniffle-sob echoed out.

It knocked.

"Hhhh*hic*-hello?"

Without a voice to answer, it unlocked and opened the door.

Despite its vow, it had somewhere between 'at a distance' and 'none' experience with children. It wasn't so sure that a nebulously young child could have four eyes, two mouths and not nearly enough space on their face to fit them all. Or that their skin hung off their too thin frame like an oversized cloak, exposing muscle and bone where it draped off of them. They tried to hide under it like a blanket as their wet eyes stared up at the stranger. Their eyes didn't blink at the same time.

Slowly, it reached under its poncho. The stuffed toy, worn with age and love, looked even dirtier in the baleful lantern light. Heartbeats, all of them belonging to the child, passed before they mustered up the bravery to reach for it.

[nekojitachan]

I just read armies for the third time and every time I reread is just as fuckin amazing as the last time... Also I saw an ask once mentioning a collection about Aaron visiting Andrew in London, just wondering if you have any plans of posting again? I'm just so weak for my minyard boys. Hope you're good! Love your writing please never leave us ❤️

Ah... I went looking for the link to the story but I’ve been unable to find it yet (I know I would have used something to tag it, but that’s not working). I do have it saved, but not the link (on a side note, I found a twinyard prompt that I’ve forgotten about). So here it is again (until I either add it to Armies properly or do an Armies side stories post on AO3):

*******

Abram smiled at Ashley as he leaned gingerly against the top of one of her monitors with his chin resting on top of his folded arms. “So, I sent you the file last night, and let me tell you, it was rather difficult reining in Andrew while I corrected the few grammar mistakes – he wanted to make a couple comments on the paper.” That had surprised Abram, his husband’s interest on the topic, but Kimberly had picked an interesting book for once.

Ashley laughed as she leaned back in her chair and toyed with her long, dark brown braid. “I appreciate your efforts since I can only imagine what he’d have put in there.” She shuddered a little which made Abram smile in shared horror. “She’s doing better?”

“Yes, I imagine soon enough you’ll have to come up with something else when I ask for a favor.” Ashley smiled at that, a mixture of pride for her younger sister and delight in thinking up a new ‘price’ for Abram when he needed certain things done; he didn’t mind because Ashley was a minor miracle worker and usually asked for small, easily to do things in return such as proofing her sister’s uni papers or bringing back certain items from their travels.

“I’m sure I’m up to the challenge,” Ashley said as she tapped away on her keyboard. “As is, I’ve just sent you my part of our latest bargain. The email contains all the information you need in regards to the reservations I made for your dinners and a private appointment at Barts Pathology Museum.” She gave him a pleased smile as she once again toyed with her braid. “Anything else?”

“Don’t let the place descend into chaos while we’re away, yes?” Abram asked as he stood up and gave her a jaunty salute.

“I’ll do my best!” Ashley called out as he walked away, voice bright with laughter. Maddy and Rita (who was back in the office while she did some research before her next mission) wished him a nice ‘holiday’ as he left the office to meet up with his husband.

Andrew was standing out in the hallway with Lloyd and Kathryn Ambrose, one of the higher-ups who handled the EMEA region. Despite Lloyd’s occasional grumbling about the woman (he tended to grumble about anyone ranked above him), Abram never had a problem with Kathryn, who always treated him and Andrew with polite respect. “Hello, Abram,” she greeted him.

“Hello, Kathryn. Everything all right?”

“Yes, I was just talking to Lloyd and Andrew about how there’s a potential situation in Hungary. I know you’re about to go on holiday, but I just wanted to give you a head’s up that we may need to send the two of you there once you’re back.”

Lloyd nodded as he motioned to Andrew and then Abram. “Bit of a special request, but some people feel that you two could help out the agents already there.”

It wasn’t as if they could say ‘no’ when it was their jobs; Abram shared a look with Andrew who gave a slight nod after a moment. In a way, it might be better for them since someone else would be taking the lead on the mission and they would be providing support, would be more in the background. Though it meant that they’d have to do a bit of research before they left even though they were supposed to be on break.

“Send us all of the necessary information,” Abram said as he went to stand next to his husband.

“Though we’ll need an extra day or two to prepare,” Andrew argued as he stared down Lloyd.

“Of course. I’ll have Maddy put together the intel and send it to you by tomorrow.” Lloyd knew better than to fight with Andrew by then, especially with Kathryn right there (and when she appeared pleased by their agreement). That dealt with, they said their ‘goodbyes’ and left.

It wasn’t as if Andrew’s brother and sister-in-law would want to see them the entire time they were in London – they were visiting for a medical conference, after all, so they should have plenty of time to go over the material. If anything, the extra day or two they’d won from Lloyd would be spent by themselves to ‘recover’ from the visit.

Abram had the suspicion that they would need the days to recover, considering how Andrew was already on edge from the approaching visit, which was why he’d done everything he could to ensure that Aaron and Katelyn had an enjoyable (and busy) time once they arrived. He’d enlisted Ashley’s help on the matter, since he didn’t want the family too involved with Andrew’s brother ‘just in case’.

The Minyards were due to arrive the next day, and were staying at some hotel in central London where the conference was being held (along with a couple of ‘minders’ from the family), but had agreed to meet up with Andrew and Abram during their free time. Nicky and Erik would come to visit in a couple days for a mini-reunion, so there were dinners arranged and Abram had planned for an excursion or two for the couple to enjoy (by themselves).

Things between the brothers had improved since the wedding in South Carolina last year, had been tense phone calls at first before the two had moved on (somewhat) from the past, but Aaron and Andrew spending time together like this was a big step that Abram wasn’t certain that they were ready for just yet. Still, it was what it was, and in a few days Aaron would return to the States and soon after that Andrew would have an excuse to vent any disappointment by killing someone (more than likely).

“What idiocy are you contemplating now?” Andrew asked as he drove them home.

“Hmm, just that you’ll probably have to wait a week or so to commit therapeutic homicide, hon,” Abram confessed, and laughed when his husband heaved a weary sigh.

“Should have had the damn judge say ‘until insanity do you part’, could have gotten out of this marriage ages ago,” Andrew grumbled even as he held out his hand for Abram to entwine their fingers together.

“You like my mental instability,” Abram insisted as he smiled. “Keeps things interesting.”

Andrew did the sighing thing again but didn’t disagree.

Stuart and Davis were in the townhouse when they arrived, which drew a displeased frown from Andrew when he caught sight of Abram’s uncle standing in the kitchen with a purring King in his arms. Davis grinned while he held up his hands in a placating manner. “Just dropping off a few things and checking in on the kids.”

Abram patted his husband on the back before he went to hug his uncle, mindful of King who was handed over when they stepped apart. “You look tired, is everything all right?” Jamie had told him that Stuart was traveling a lot lately when they’d last talked; Abram had checked a few documents for the family to ensure that everything was on the up and up in the contracts.

“Too much drinking with Camillo last night,” Stuart complained. “Looking forward to being home for a bit.” He gave Abram an exhausted smile as he scratched King’s chin. “I know you’re busy the next few days, but if you’ve some time, call me and we’ll have some tea, yeah?”

Abram nodded in agreement. “That’s doable.” They should be able to meet up while Aaron and Katelyn were busy with the conference.

“Good. There’s some chocolates and jenever for you, and Ravi will show up with the cars when you need one, just call.” Stuart waved to Andrew as he left, and Davis bent over to give a meowing Sir a stroke along the back on the way out.

“Couldn’t he have brought some damn whisky?” Andrew complained as he headed straight to the boxes of chocolates out on the island while Abram shook his head and set King down on the floor.

“Your life’s so hard,” Abram remarked as he picked up the bottles of gin-like liquor and stored them away in the cabinet (he had a feeling he’d need them soon enough). “So, we eating in tonight or going out?”

“In, since we’ll be going out the next few nights,” Andrew said between bites of sweets.

That decided, Abram checked the fridge and cabinets before he settled on a spicy chicken and rice dish to make later, and worked on a few more documents for Jamie in-between calls with his cousin and Nicky while Andrew read a book. They went out to sit by the fish pond for a little while before he started on dinner, a mug of tea in his hands and a glass of whisky in Andrew’s, an enjoyable half an hour where Andrew made his usual threats over the poor fish and Abram slumped down enough to rest his head against his husband’s broad shoulder, content to sit there next to him and enjoy the peace and quiet.

Then he was given a shove to the knee and told to go cook something that wouldn’t poison the both of them.

Abram bit back a smile as he called his husband a prat for the umpteenth time, affection a warm tingle in his chest.

Andrew sat at the island and texted with Nicky while he made their dinner, and had a glass of wine waiting for him once it was done (and stole the damn naan once Abram sat down). It was nights like these which Abram treasured the most during all the years they’d been together, when they ‘bickered’ during dinner then curled up together in the living room (since it was late spring it wasn’t too warm yet for a fire) to watch a few episodes of a baking show they both enjoyed (easy to follow with their schedule) then head upstairs after a few hours.

They were tired, but not too tired. Looks were exchanged and clothes were shed before they sprawled out on opposite ends of the bed, where Abram spent a moment enjoying the sight of Andrew’s stocky yet muscular body (save for the slightest pouch of fat on his belly which he adored) before he gasped as his husband stroked his half-tumescent cock then leaned in to nuzzle it and-

He much enjoyed it when Andrew performed oral sex, but he also much enjoyed it when he could reduce Andrew to a shuddering mess with his mouth and hands, so it was the best of both worlds when they both blew each other. It didn’t take long until they both were shivering messes sprawled out on the bed, and then the bastard dragged him off to the shower to wash off before they tucked in beneath the blankets for a restful night’s sleep.

Mostly.

Andrew was up first, which was a rare occasion; Abram resisted the temptation to follow his husband out of the bed but decided to give him a bit of peace (half an hour) before he got up as well. He found Andrew working out and only put in a mile or two on the treadmill before he went to wash off then began work on a batch of chocolate chip and hazelnut hotcakes. It was right as he finished the last one that Andrew joined him, fresh from his own shower.

“I guess you won’t be fish bait just yet, babe,” the prat remarked as he rested his chin on Abram’s left shoulder and wrapped his right arm around Abram’s waist.

“If it wouldn’t be so traumatic to the cats and Nicky, I’d file for divorce,” Abram teased as he added the last hotcake to the huge stack next to the stove.

Andrew clicked his tongue before he snatched up the plate. “You’ve never had it so good and you know it.”

Yes, Abram did indeed ‘know it’, but there was no need to say it, was there? “Did you hit your head with a weight or what?” he asked instead, and rolled his eyes when Andrew made a rude gesture his way. “I’ve merely decided to wait for you to die from clogged arteries or diabetes instead, it’s much easier than dealing with solicitors and the such, hon.”

“What was that?” Andrew waited until he was seated at the island and his precious carbs set down to reach for his phone. “I’m making note of this so when we’re either divorced or you mysteriously disappear one day, there’s no problem with me taking custody of the cats and Bren – yet another cruel comment bordering on abuse.” He made a show of typing on his phone before he set it down then got up to fetch the whipped cream and syrup for his hotcakes. “How I suffer for this relationship.”

“Yeah, yeah, be sure to tell Nicky – oh, wait, I’ll do it for you.” Abram grinned when Andrew’s shoulders hunched upward at that remark. “I’m sure he’ll be ever so helpful with recommendations on how to save our marriage.”

Andrew gave him a long, level look for several seconds (which was impressive, considering the stack of hotcakes before him) before he spoke. “He’ll torment you just as much as me, you know.”

Ah, a flaw in an otherwise perfect plan. “Uhm… I’ll be off with Stuart?”

“You think the pest won’t rat you out to the family?”

Dammit, there was that – Stuart had actually calmed down on the whole ‘Andrew is bad’ front and all. “He’ll still be worse with you,” Abram argued as he set about making some scrambled eggs for himself.

“Right. Idiot.” Still, Andrew appeared smug as he finally cut into his stack of sugary carbs, so Abram felt pleased as he prepared his own breakfast. Once it was done, he sat down and rolled his eyes at how most of the hotcakes were already gone.

Andrew checked his phone while they ate and reported that Maddy had sent the intel for the Hungary mission, which they’d start parsing through later. Abram had just enough time to wash the dishes and go change before they left for the airport in the Aston Martin sedan which Navi had dropped off for them to use to pick up Aaron and Katelyn since neither of the sports cars in the garage would handle four people and luggage. Since Andrew didn’t trust anyone but the two of them or Bren (who made sure the cars didn’t sit idle too long) driving the sports cars, they didn’t want to have them out of the garage for the few days that Aaron and Katelyn were in town, so Ravi would drop off and pick up the sedans whenever Andrew needed one to drive his brother around town rather than let them sit in the driveway overnight.

Abram waited until they were past the worst of the traffic to speak up. “Aaron’s into general practice and Katelyn’s pediatrics?” He hadn’t paid much attention when Andrew spoke about his brother, other than to note that they were getting along (finally).

“Yes.” Andrew tapped his fingers against the steering wheel then sighed. “They both work at the Medical University of South Carolina in Charleston. Guess it balances out us a bit, right?” He glanced aside at Abram with a slight quirk to the corner of his mouth. “We kill people, they heal them.”

“We don’t kill everyone,” Abram argued. “There’s some missions where people live.” He smiled when Andrew snorted in dissent. “Whatever.”

“Whatever indeed.” Andrew’s eyes narrowed at the hatchback driving much too slow in front of them. “I’m about to kill someone right now.”

Someone was probably going to get multiple vehicle violations in the mail within the next few days, Abram suspected, but for once the threat wasn’t directed toward himself so he merely settled a little lower in the comfortable leather seat and used his phone to check the traffic ahead.

They reached Heathrow shortly after Aaron texted to say that he and Katelyn had cleared Customs and retrieved their luggage, and so drove to Arrivals to pick them up. For some reason the two had declared that they didn’t have to go into the airport to greet them, so Andrew drove the sedan to the general arrival area where the two should be waiting and found them by spotting Aaron’s familiar visage.

The couple appeared surprised by the Aston Martin as it pulled up to the curb and when both Andrew and Abram exited the vehicle, with Katelyn breaking into a grin while Aaron shook his head. “It’s so good to see you!” the young woman exclaimed as she made an abortive motion as if to give Andrew a hug then thought better of it. “Thank you so much for coming to pick us up.”

“Ah, yeah, you didn’t have to do that,” Aaron said in a much more subdued manner; he was dressed in worn jeans and a MUSC long-sleeved t-shirt, while Katelyn wore leggings and a brightly colored PSU sweatshirt. “We could have taken a cab or something.”

“But the hotel room won’t be ready for a few hours,” Abram said while Andrew grabbed the luggage to put into the car’s boot. “I thought that’s why-“

“Ignore him,” Katelyn insisted as she nudged her husband in the side. “He’s grumpy because of the long flight.” She gave Abram a grateful smile while Aaron huffed and went to help his brother with the luggage. “We appreciate everything you’re doing for us.”

“Uhm, it’s nothing, really.” Abram motioned toward the car and fumbled for the door handle so he could open it for her. “Let’s get going.”

“Okay.”

Katelyn smiled as he closed the door once she was inside, yet Aaron gave Abram a displeased look over the hood of the car before he slid inside. Abram frowned over the reaction then shrugged as he returned to his seat up front.

“This your car?” Aaron asked once they drove away from the airport. “Seems a bit too normal for you, a bit proper and all.”

Abram bit into his bottom lip to hold back a chuckle as Andrew revved the 560 horse power engine to easily bypass the traffic as they merged onto the highway. “It’s not bad for a loaner, but I much prefer the Vantage S Roadster or the Maclaren 720S. They’re not meant for four people,” Andrew stated in a bored tone, “unless you want to ride on the roof.” He gave a look at his brother through the rear-view mirror. “That an option?”

His brother was quiet for several seconds before he made a disgusted noise. “Like rubbing it in that you’ve got money now, don’t you?”

“Aaron,” Katelyn protested in a quiet, unhappy voice.

“I wasn’t the one to bring it up,” Andrew pointed out as his hands tightened around the steering wheel.

That seemed to deflate Aaron’s bad attitude as he slumped back in the seat and was quiet for the rest of the drive to the townhouse. After about ten minutes, Abram spoke out in Chinese. “Perhaps we can be assigned to Hungary a little early.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Andrew replied, but there was the slightest bit of humor in his deep voice and his grip relaxed.

It looked as if Aaron wanted to say something when they reached the townhouse, but Katelyn managed to step on his foot before she walked away from the car. “It’s lovely,” she said in a bright manner as they entered the building.

“Ah, thank you.” Abram was a little unnerved by how cheerful she was about everything, despite being used to Nicky’s exuberant nature; why was she with a dour person like Aaron? “Would you like something to drink? Tea or coffee?”

“Tea?” Aaron muttered as he glanced around. “Can he be any more British?” That seemed to be directed at Andrew.

Katelyn’s smile appeared a little strained at the comment, and then Sir came trotting along, probably attracted to the sound of their voices. “Aw, would look at… him?” she asked as she glanced at Abram, who nodded. “Aw, such a pretty boy,” she cooed as she bent down to pet Sir, who began to purr at the attention. “And coffee, if it’s not too much trouble. We’re trying to stay awake until tonight, we heard it’s best for jet-lag.”

Abram made a quick escape to the kitchen and left it to Andrew to show his family around the first floor of the townhouse. He heard Katelyn’s excited voice as the coffee brewed, and the three returned as he poured the hot beverage in four mugs; it didn’t come as a surprise when Andrew headed straight for the cabinet which contained the whisky.

“The place really is lovely,” Katelyn exclaimed as she leaned against the island as she looked around at everything. “I especially like the backyard. We keep talking about getting a townhouse one day, but we’re so busy with work right now that an apartment is easier to maintain.”

“It won’t be anything like this,” Aaron muttered, but he gave Andrew a slight, grateful smile when whisky was added to his mug. “We’re saving up enough money that we’ll get something nice for Charleston.”

“Just another year or two!” Katelyn gave a slight laugh as she leaned against her husband with an arm wrapped around his waist. “And by that point, we should be able to enjoy the new home! You know what they say about residents and long hours.”

Aaron grimaced at that. “I didn’t think anything could make me feel as tired as Day’s obnoxious practices when we reached the semi-finals, but a twenty-hour shift will do it.”

Abram perked up a little at the mention of Exy, at least until his husband gave him a ‘gentle’ kick in the right ankle. “So lots of long days, huh?” he asked as he got up to fetch a tin of biscuits to go along with the coffee, which he made sure to set close to Andrew. “I’m sure you have stories to tell, yes?”

He might not know how to deal with ‘normal’ people like Aaron and Katelyn after being raised by criminals and murderers, but he knew how to get people talking, especially after going to work for Lloyd. Especially after seeing the flashes of envy in Aaron’s eyes (an emotion so unfamiliar in Andrew’s) since picking the couple up from the airport.

It didn’t take much prodding for the two (especially Aaron) to reminisce about stories during their years as interns and residents, about the patients they’d treated while on the long training shifts and their fellow students. For a while it appeared that Aaron tried to disturb them by recounting the most gruesome stories that he could, but gave up when neither Abram nor Andrew were bothered (that and it seemed as if Katelyn did some kicking of her own).

If only Aaron had a clue what his brother had been up to the last few years, but all he’d been told was that Abram’s family was in ‘shipping and trading’ and that the two of them currently worked for the government.

Abram noticed that Andrew avoided looking at Katelyn directly when she talked, his gaze often cast at the mug held behind his hands, and figured that his husband still had some issues in regards to Aaron’s relationship. He also noticed that Aaron focused his attention on his brother rather than look at him, especially once it was clear that Abram wasn’t the ‘squeamish’ sort.

Andrew wasn’t the only one with his issues, it seemed.

Katelyn was in the middle of talking about some child who’d eaten too much raw pizza dough when her phone chimed. “Oh,” she said when she read the message. “We can check in now.”

Andrew stood up while Abram gathered the mugs. “It won’t take long to get to the hotel,” Andrew said as he walked away (probably for a cigarette before the drive into the city), and Aaron excused himself for a moment, which left Abram and Katelyn alone in the kitchen. He went to put the mugs in the dishwasher and was surprised when Katelyn came over with the tin of biscuits.

“Uhm, we really appreciate all of this,” she said in a quiet voice. “I know you don’t have to drive us around or have dinner with us and stuff, that it probably would have been enough for Andrew and Aaron to just meet up for coffee or something.” She gave Abram a wry smile when he held up one of the mugs. “He might not show it, but it means a lot to Aaron that Andrew’s willing to spend so much time with him after everything, and he’s… he’s trying, honest.”

Abram was beginning to see why Aaron had fought his brother so much (according to Nicky) for this woman, with her cheerful disposition, intelligence and obvious love for the man. “Well, he is a Minyard,” Abram said once the dishes were put away. “I know what to expect.”

She giggled a little and nodded. “Yes, and while they’re wonderful men, they’re stubborn as well. Very stubborn.”

“Ah….” Abram made a show of holding up his hands and shaking his head in a clear sign of not wanting to incriminate himself (at least, not when there was a chance of Andrew walking in at any moment).

Katelyn giggled some more and gave him a sympathetic look. “Right, not trying to get you in trouble, but I understand. I can’t always say that we’ve gotten along,” she rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner at that, “but I’m happy that Andrew found someone.”

“Thank you.” Figuring it was best to change the subject before his husband returned, Abram motioned to the young woman’s purse. “So, there’s a couple of dinners we arranged and a friend of ours lined up a tour we think you and Aaron might enjoy, but do you want or need to do any shopping while you’re in town? Anything to take back home?” There’d been times when some friends of Nicky’s had come for a visit and needed souvenirs and the such. “I’ve a good friend who works at Harrods who can be of assistance.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Katelyn beamed at the offer and went on about a shopping list she’d been given by her coworkers and her mother, as well as a couple items she’d hoped to find before she left; both Andrew and Aaron rolled their eyes as she talked while Abram sent a text to Liliya to arrange an afternoon when the two could meet up – maybe even have Nicky join in since he’d probably enjoy the excursion and got along well with Liliya.

Tension seemed to leave Andrew’s shoulders once the couple was dropped off at their hotel, and it was a quiet ride back to the townhouse. Abram made them some spiked tea and tugged Andrew out to sit by the pond, content to be alone with his husband once again. “That wasn’t too bad, was it? Katelyn seems nice.”

For once, he didn’t think the frown directed at the pond had anything to do with Andrew’s ‘dislike’ with the fish. “She’s still annoying as ever,” Andrew proclaimed before drinking his tea.

“Really?” Abram sighed as he leaned against Andrew. “How long are you going to hold this grudge? I mean, it’s just been… what, almost ten years? Something like that?” Couldn’t he just accept the poor woman already?

“Forgiven Ally for Calais yet?” Andrew asked as he stole Abram’s tea, the bastard.

“Never mind,” Abram sighed as he slumped down on the bench. “It’s going to be a few awkward dinners, how wonderful. At least I’m not driving.” He had a feeling that there would be at least a bottle or two of wine consumed at dinner.

“I put up with your insane family all the time, you can put up with Aaron and the cheerleader tramp for a few nights,” Andrew told him in that ‘agree with me or else’ tone that always made Abram want to grit his teeth.

“I don’t mind the cheerleader ‘tramp’, I just have to put up with some weird, twisted copy of you.” Abram scoffed as he thought about Aaron. “Does he really think he’s getting anywhere with those feeble scowls and insults? After I’ve lived with you this long?”

There was a slight twitch to Andrew’s full lips before he finished Abram’s tea. “It is rather amusing to see him try, isn’t it?”

“Prat,” Abram said as he rested his head on Andrew’s shoulder. “Why do I bother with you?”

“Someone has to remind you to feed the damn fish, babe.”

“More like make sure you don’t try to fry them up one day, hon.” Abram hummed in happiness as his husband tugged on a lock of his hair then closed his eyes so he could enjoy Andrew’s presence and the sound of falling water. It was quiet for at least a few minutes before Andrew tugged on his hair again, harder that time. “Ow, what?”

“Come on, it looks like it’s going to rain and I’m not about to have you get soaked then pass out on me during a mission again.”

“One time,” Abram moaned as he stood up. “One fucking time. Are you ever going to let that go, either?” he asked, even though he suspected he knew the answer already.

“No,” Andrew said in a succinct manner as he gave him a slight push toward the townhouse. “Idiot.”

Abram wondered if he could get Katelyn alone during her visit and commiserate over living with a Minyard (former Minyard, in his case, he supposed) for a good hour or two, perhaps see if she had any advice which may come in handy (other than ‘render him unconscious for a bit of peace and quiet’).

*******

[paintedrecs]

I was going to name a different one, but: the scene between Owen and Demona at the beginning of "All Is Mended" chapter three. :-D

That’s 800 words, so you’re cheating. Also what other one were you gonna name hmmmm.

For this meme.

Excerpt from this fic. (Gargoyles, Owen Burnett/David Xanatos, 11k, Owen POV, canon compliant.) Discussion under the cut.

“I don’t understand you,” Demona said.

Owen watched her approach; he’d heard her glide down to the castle but hadn’t bothered to move from his seat on the edge of a wide stone wall, overlooking the bright lights of the city stretching out far below. She was an ally for the present, working with Xanatos on his latest attempt at immortality. That didn’t mean Owen trusted her.

“You’re not human,” Demona said, folding her wings as she perched beside him—graceful, and dangerous, but not someone he wasted effort fearing. “Yet you act like one. Why.”

“I made a promise,” Owen said. He could’ve left it there, but he swept a sidelong look at her, then added, dryly, “Perhaps you need the word defined.”

“Funny,” she said, in a tone so casually uncaring that he could tell he’d poked at a particularly tender spot, one she’d spent centuries ignoring.

“So I’ve been told,” he said.

Demona’s lips pulled back slightly as she spoke through her fangs. “That’s what I mean, Puck. Why do you persist in masquerading in this skin, when we both know who you are?”

“I’m Owen,” he replied, adjusting the glasses that had slipped a little down his nose. The frames didn’t fit right around his ears anymore; he should have the screws tightened, when he had the time.

“You’re pining,” she spat, as though she’d never heard a fouler word.

That, he hadn’t expected. He didn’t bother denying it; Demona was many things, but never a fool. “I don’t see what relevance that has to you,” he said. “You wish to gain immortality; I’m doing my part. Owen is perfectly capable of playing his role.”

“And Puck has powers Owen could never dream of.” Demona tilted her head, watching him thoughtfully. It was unpleasant, but he let her eyes scrape over him. “When you were last in your true form, as Puck—” she began.

Owen let out a sudden, scoffing breath. “When you held me in chains and made me do your bidding.”

She shrugged, lightly. “You said something to me then. You told me that if I wished, you could make Goliath love me again. Was that true?”

“I bend the truth,” he said. “When the mood strikes me. I do not lie.”

“So it was possible.”

“Yes,” he said. He narrowed his eyes at her, unsure where she was heading. “Titania’s mirror is beyond your reach now. Even if you had it in your grasp, you know full well I wouldn’t carry out the wish the way you wanted.”

“Because you’re a trickster,” she said, with annoyance that bordered on grudging respect. It was clear that she hadn’t often run into someone who could best her. “But my point, Puck, is that you have this power. You could make David Xanatos love you.”

Owen’s lip curled in disgust; he turned away from her.

“Don’t pretend you have a human’s misguided sense of honor,” Demona chided, human sounding like the darkest expletive she could harness. “You’ve done worse, over the centuries, as have I.”

He didn’t bother dignifying her with a response.

“Answer me, Puck,” she demanded, then, dripping with disdain, when he remained silent: “Owen.”

“You think ill of humans,” Owen said, each word precise, biting. “You blame them for all your errors, for the foul deeds only you were responsible for carrying out. You think yourself above them, and you assume that I, as someone who has lived far longer than you, who has seen worlds you cannot fathom, will treat humans with as little esteem.”

Demona rose to her feet, towering over him, her eyes flashing red in fury.

Owen cast her a look that carried the full weight of his contempt. “Yes, I have the power to do as you say, and far beyond that. What you don’t see—what I suspect you’ve never seen—is that forcing someone to bend to your will is meaningless. All it does is show how weak, how petty, you are.”

Demona hissed at him, but did not approach. She unfurled her wings, and as she dropped from the turret, she cast back her parting shot. “You should know, then, that Fox is pregnant.”

“I know,” he said, to the now-empty sky. He watched as she followed the currents across the city, well past the clock tower where her former love resided, no longer thinking of her.

Xanatos hadn’t told him yet, but Owen was familiar with the signs. He’d seen, too, the way Xanatos had grown more careful with her, how his hands would instinctively stray, now, to her waist, her still-flat belly, not yet swollen with life. How he looked at her, with a light in his eyes that would’ve burned one less worthy to cinders.

“I know,” he repeated quietly and, adjusting his glasses and briskly dusting off his suit, returned to his work.

Commentary! Oof we’ll see if this gets long. Character limits on twitter make it easier to be concise. And please please let the read more actually work this time, tumblr.

So this is actually one of my favorite parts of that fic.

In general, I reach an Avoidance Point with my own writing; I edit obsessively, post, edit the posted fic a little more, then panic and stop rereading it. If you don’t check your bank account, it’ll never be empty. If you don’t reread your fics after you’ve posted them, you’ll never find out that (a) they’re terrible (b) there are a dozen more areas that could use more editing.

Nevertheless, I’m still, I think, really proud of this one. This particular section isn’t something that’s terribly new for me, not like other parts of the fic that stretched me beyond my usual comfort levels, but it is an interaction between two characters I’d never written before.

I’m really pleased with Demona’s voice here. The way she spits out Owen’s name, the hatred she shows for anything human, her very dubious (and self-centered) morality, the hints of lingering heartbreak over Goliath, her deep confusion over Puck choosing to take on human form. It’s the worst curse she can imagine - and since this scene takes place after “The Mirror,” you’ve seen how horrified she is at seeing herself as a human, a “gift” Puck bestowed upon her so she won’t turn to stone during the day.

Demona pissed Puck off, so he gave her what she asked for, but at a price he knew she would absolutely despise.

But Puck loves being a human. He loves being Owen. It’s something Demona can’t ever understand, and here she’s trying to, as much as Demona ever tries to truly understand anything that doesn’t directly benefit her.

Why would Puck spend his days in a form where he doesn’t have ready access to his exceptional powers? Why would he allow himself to continue serving a human - when he broke away from her so quickly, so easily? Demona might occasionally work with Xanatos, but she doesn’t like or trust him, and she’d readily destroy him alongside the rest of humanity, after she’s gotten what she wants/needs from him.

Why would Puck fall in love with a human - something that’s become obvious even to Demona, from working alongside the two of them. Worse: why the hell won’t he do anything about it, when he clearly has the power to make Xanatos do whatever he wants?

These were all questions I wanted to pull out of the story, and Demona - as someone who actually knows who Owen truly is - was a natural choice to press hard for some answers.

I layered a bunch of stuff into this interaction, but here are three main concepts:

1. Love isn’t selfish.

I don’t think Puck would’ve actually cast a love spell on Goliath if Demona had asked - not without throwing in a few twists and tricks. But the fact remains that he could have, and that it would’ve been comparatively easy. Demona didn’t ask for and didn’t really want that, but she did love Goliath for a long time, as much as she’s capable of loving anyone, so that offer would stick with her.

And Demona...well, Demona already used one free-will-spell against Goliath, so it’s not like it’s an idea she’s entirely adverse to.

Owen, on the other hand, would never consider making Xanatos do something against his will. (This is, in fact, something he and Xanatos share - Xanatos’s immense caution against pushing Owen into something he might not want contributes to that stupidly long gap before they resolve their relationship.)

If Xanatos doesn’t love Owen, that’s his choice. Owen is heartbroken about it, and he’s out here on the rooftop indulging in some quiet reflection on how it feels for a human heart to shatter, but he’ll shake it off and go back inside before long. Demona’s an unwelcome intrusion, and he’s understandably sharp with her.

2. Puck is a trickster, not a villain.

I have a lot of thoughts about Xanatos, too. While it’s not entirely relevant to get too into depth with here, I do think that a huge part of Puck’s attachment and loyalty to Xanatos comes from the fact that Xanatos is fascinating - not dull and full of preachy speeches like Renard - without being actually evil.

Demona is interesting, sure - she’s lived a long and exciting life - but Puck would never, ever willingly serve her. She’s selfish. She’s cruel. She’s vindictive. Puck doesn’t want to destroy humanity; he likes humans. He likes Xanatos best, yes, but he enjoys being in this world with the rest of them.

In the City of Stone episode, Owen stands toe-to-toe with Elisa and says, “Mr. Xanatos is trying to fix things. What are you doing to help?”

And that, I think, is the crux of the relationship between Owen and Xanatos. Owen sees Xanatos’s delightful trickster spirit, and he also sees the good in him. They’d both upend a city but would be careful to put it back to rights if things went too far. Demona would gladly stand back and watch it burn to the ground.

Demona can only see reflections of her own cruelty now. She hates humanity because they’re the easiest target to blame for her own flaws. Owen sees humans’ complexities and loves them for it.

And because he isn’t truly human - because he’s a fae who’s wandered the earth as long as Demona has, and has lived longer, with a much wider perspective on the world and all of reality - he has no reason to listen to her petty whining. And she might actually, for the barest moment, listen to what he says to her.

Of course, she has to get in one last dig before flying away in her usual dramatic huff, but he already knows that, too. Demona can’t hurt him; Owen made his own choices, knowing the consequences. And, unlike Demona, he’s willing to live with those consequences without trying to reflect the blame elsewhere.

3. You can choose your own identity.

Demona has very rigid ideas about...well, about pretty much everything. Humans are bad. Gargoyles are good. (As long as they side with her.) Her human form is something that’s useful to her now, but she’ll never stop loathing it or wishing she could shake it off.

She thinks everyone sees the world the way she does, and she assumes that Puck is (a) not entirely happy being trapped as a human, chained to Xanatos by a contract, like she attempted with the mirror (b) “pretending” to be someone else when he’s wearing his Owen shape.

But what I wanted to show throughout this fic is that Puck is Owen. And that even a fae subject to Oberon’s Rule can choose his own identity, his own name, his own place in a life that he wants to lead.

At one point here, Owen refuses to respond to Demona until she calls him by his proper name. She spits it out, hating it, but he’s already told her once that’s who he is. He gave himself that name; it’s the one he wishes to use.

Owen was born into a specific life. This life - with Xanatos, as Owen Burnett, glasses and suits and clunky flip phones and all - is the one he’s chosen for himself. And he’ll do everything in his power to keep it.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  Breaking the Curse

Chapter 4:  And Your Enemies Closer

It turned out that whether Dove had wings or legs, he was still a remarkable asset. After his accomplice had left the shop, he had dutifully taken his bag of money into the back. He pulled out a thick black ledger off of one of the shelves and began to count the money. He worked on the books, just as he'd told Dove he would do, just as he always did. But this time, throughout the day, text message after text message came in. It began to paint a picture in his mind that made him smile with pride as he realized he was going to like this Emma Swan.

"Rumors are true," Dove wrote. "She was arrested earlier today for stealing Henry's file from Doctor Hopper's office. Mary Margaret Blanchard bailed her out. She cut down the tree branch after that. She's no longer welcome at Granny's, something about a 'no felon rule.'"

He'd barely had time to smirk at that convenient rule he was certain Regina had only just now decided to enforce when his phone buzzed with a picture notification. It was a picture of the apple tree outside the Mayor's office. Usually prim and elegant, it was obvious that one limb had clearly been hacked away by an ax or a chainsaw, perhaps. The branch lay on the ground along with a dozen or so apples scattered around it. The image nearly took his breath away. But this time, it wasn't because of Emma Swan, at least not entirely. It was because he'd seen that scene before, once a long time ago.

In the Enchanted Forest, in his original vision, he'd gotten a flash of Regina and the Swan, Emma, in clothes that were not of their land, facing off with one another. They'd stared one another down with hatred and determination in their eyes, two enemies, a villain, and a hero: the Cursemaker and the Cursebreaker. Behind them, in that vision, they'd been standing in front of a tree…an apple tree with a limb cut off.

As a chill swept through him, he crawled back through his messages and reread the part about Mary Margaret bailing Emma out of jail. Mary Margaret, Snow White. Mother and daughter had been reunited and maybe even formed some sort of bond somehow. He had no idea how or why, but he knew Mary Margaret. Here, the timid school teacher was shy and less than confident. She was a far cry from the queen and bandit she'd once been, no doubt by Regina's design. For Mary Margaret to want to do something like post bail for the woman who had stolen the files for the Mayor's son…that wasn't something she'd usually do. But it was interesting, so very, very interesting.

He knew what he had to do. He'd spend all day thinking about it. From the moment he'd gotten the picture from Dove, all the while he'd worked on the books and counted the money, even as he packed himself up to go home that evening and made a few adjustments to his shop. He'd come to the conclusion that he didn't need the Seer's help to break this Curse, that he didn't even need the voices of the other Dark Ones in his head. He could plan for the breaking of the Curse, he could navigate bringing magic to Storybrooke, but it was all going to start with one person: Emma Swan.

As if on cue, as he walked to his car that evening, he happened to spy Henry and Emma coming out of Archie's office, smiling together. The bug, Archie, personally saw them out, and they checked their watches. It was too early for Henry to be out of therapy, and as forgiving as Marco's friend the cricket was, he knew that Archie wouldn't have that look about someone who had really stolen the file. That meant that Emma and Henry spending time together was an action that was being sanctioned and encouraged by a man who always valued truth and honesty. And the fact that watches were checked…Archie wanted them back before Regina arrived and could find out.

That action alone was confirmation that he was about to make the right decision. In order for the Curse to be broken, sides would be taken, alliances would be formed, enemies made. He'd needed to choose his sides carefully in the Enchanted Forest, playing different sides to make sure the Curse was cast. Here, trying to break the Curse, it would be a lot easier. The vision he'd had in the Enchanted Forest made sense. Now, there was Regina's side, and there was Emma's side. Victory, this time around, would be found on Emma's side, and nowhere else.

As he watched the pair happily walk down the street, his eyes were drawn to the clocktower. Aside from the abandoned library, the sight of that still working clock lifted his spirits and his hopes. Whether she was currently capable of using magic or not, her arrival in Storybrooke had already worked some magic here. That magic was only going to grow. He wanted to be a part of it.

It was time for an allegiance change. That fact weighed heavier on him than he thought it would, but it was understandable. He'd trained Regina. He'd taught her everything she knew, relied on her, spent hundreds of years investing in her so that she'd cast the Curse and get him to where he was today. But now they were here; the Curse was cast. Now, his life had to be about breaking that Curse, or else he'd never be able to leave and find Bae. So yes, that meant it was time to change his allegiance. It was time to champion the Savior. It was time to start rooting for Emma Swan.

Once, he'd sought to ensure a terrible war between Snow White and the Evil Queen, and now he wanted to ensure one between the Mayor and the mother of her child. But this wasn't like crafting a war for Regina. This was creating a fight for Emma. He knew little about her, only having been in the room with her one time since she'd arrived, but the fact that she'd stayed and defaced the apple tree after Regina had her arrested and kicked out of her room at Granny's told him enough. She was fiery. She was strong and determined, and that was without whatever magical qualities she possessed. He'd known types like her before. The more support she had, the more she fought against Regina, the stronger she would get. So what was he to do?

Create support by creating unrest. Regina didn't have many friends here, he wasn't even convinced the Sheriff liked her, and he shared her bed, though he had no idea why he was sure. He had to foster hatred and fear of Emma in Regina. By doing that, Regina would push Emma. Emma would push back. The town would sense the war; they'd rally behind her, the Savior would grow stronger, the Curse would break. He could go find Baelfire.

And for that, he knew exactly what he had to do. He had to create instability for Regina. He didn't want Regina to know he had his memories, not yet…knowledge was power. But suspicion, on the other hand, was born of fear. And fear bred weakness. Weakness created instability.

With Regina assuming Henry was still at therapy, he knew right where to find her. He didn't make it into the Mayor's office at Town Hall; he didn't have to go that far. He smiled as he found her in the garden, tending to the tree that Miss Swan had defaced. The branch was gone, the apples picked up, the tree looking nearly perfect again. But the fact that Regina was the one tending to it…Emma had gotten under her skin. Beautiful.

"What a mess," he commented, alerting her to his presence.

"Not for long. What could I do for you, Mr. Gold?"

"I was just in the neighborhood. Thought I'd pop by. Lovely to see you in such high spirits," he stated before she could pick up on the fact that he never just "popped by," especially not to check on her, not unless he had something he needed or she needed of him.

As he circled her tree, Regina laughed. "Well, it's been a good day. I just rid the town of an unwanted nuisance."

He smiled. That was unlikely. In a way, he felt bad for Regina. If her wolf-spy was half as good as his bird-spy, then she might know that wasn't the case right now.

"Emma Swan. Really?" he paused, looking over the tree. Love her or hate her, that tree from their land did make the most delicious of apples. Probably second only to the apple that she'd fed her poor step-daughter once upon a time. He had an idea.

"Yes. I imagine she's half-way to Boston by now."

"Oh," he smiled, plucking one from the tree. "I wouldn't bet on that." Suddenly Regina turned, and the smile he'd heard in her voice gave way to darkness. "I just seen her strolling down the main street with your boy. Thick as thieves, they looked."

"What?"

"Perhaps you should have come to me," he suggested with a smile. Given their relationship, it was a suggestion in character for Mr. Gold, but if she happened to take the bait, he wouldn't regret it. It would give him an excuse to be closer to the situation. "If Miss Swan is a problem you can't fix, I'm only too happy to help. For a price, of course."

Regina chuckled. "I'm not in the business of making deals with you anymore."

He smiled as she turned from him. She really had made this all too easy. He wanted her on edge. He wanted her back to the Regina she'd been when she'd stormed into his shop after getting Henry because she'd figured out who or rather what his mother was. What ever happened to that fire, that knowledge and discomfort, he wasn't sure…but he wanted it back now. He wanted just a tease of it. And interestingly enough, Henry was the last deal she'd ever made.

"To which deal are you referring?" he questioned with perfect timing.

She turned back, her eyes wide, body trembling. He had a feeling that if he could hear her heart, it would have been pounding. Now she had fear. It wasn't much, just a hint. It was only a hint of what had been that might make her begin to question her power and this curse. "You know what deal."

"Oh, right. Yeah. The boy I procured for you." Her shoulders lowered in relaxation, and she turned back to her tree. She was relieved, and that meant it was the perfect time to stress her again. "Henry…did I ever tell you what a lovely name that was? How ever did you pick it?"

And there it was again. Tension. Just enough inflection in his voice to suggest he knew something, but not enough to confirm it. That was what he wanted. He wanted her to stay up late tonight, reliving those memories of panic from when she'd first gotten Henry, remembering what it felt like to think the girl was the Savior coming to break her curse. He wanted her to wonder if it was breaking and ask herself if the man she was talking to was Mr. Gold or her old tutor Rumpelstiltskin.

"Did you want her to come to town?" she questioned, rounding on him, her voice raised in exactly what he wanted to hear. Panic. "You wanted all this to happen, didn't you? Your finding Henry wasn't an accident, was it?"

He kept himself in check, showing not a trace of the curiosity and surprise on his face as he looked her over. They'd had this conversation before. Not exactly word for word, but close enough. She hadn't gotten answers from him then because he really hadn't known, he was cursed, and it was fate intervening on his behalf. But she…she should know. Why didn't she know?

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Where did you get him? Do you know something?"

"I have no idea what you're implying."

"I think you do," she bit back. "Who is this woman, his mother, this…Emma Swan?"

He smiled, suddenly feeling breathless and unable to hide the joy he found in her statement. If she was asking again, then she didn't know. Dammit. He was right. She did have magic. She'd used it on herself all those years ago, to erase the information from her mind. That was how she'd been able to raise Henry all these years without fear of his birth mother. That was why she'd stopped panicking after she'd come into his shop! His previous suspicions were confirmed. He had to be careful then. If she had magic and he didn't, he needed to tread very carefully. He might have already given away too much.

"I would say you think you know exactly who she is," he answered mysteriously. It was a statement that could easily go two ways. It could be translated that he assumed Regina had figured Emma Swan out already, judged her early on, and knew what she was dealing with. Of course, it could also be translated that if she was fearful that it was Snow White's daughter, she might want to act on that instinct. And he was happy to leave it at that.

"I really must be going," he turned to leave, but with his limp, he'd barely gotten a step in before Regina appeared in front of him again, cutting him off.

"Tell me what you know about her!"

Panic. That was good. Panic was good, but knowledge was bad. Panic kept her in a state of confusion, which would only serve him in the future. It meant that she wouldn't attack Emma directly because there was no proof that she was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. He wanted her to suspect but not to know. But maybe, a bit more suspicion…what was that deal they'd made back home?

"I'm not going to answer you, dear," he responded, giving her a hint that he might have known something more than he was saying. "So I suggest you excuse me. Please."

And there it was. He felt something shift in the air between them, something sizzle. Magic. The curse upholding itself and sparing magic to make sure the deal they made was upheld. And from the looks of it, Regina sensed it too. The drop of the jaw, the flush of her cheeks. It was just enough that it scared her. It made her question whether or not he remembered and whether or not it was because of Emma. He took a bite of his apple and moved around the Mayor. She didn't follow, didn't ask any more questions.

And he smiled to himself as he tossed the apple over his shoulder and left her with a head full of suspicions and fear.

[kyvir]

Sincerely Yours

Sarada loves her job, and lost an opportunity because the President gave it to his son, Boruto. Why did Boruto take it? Because he heard there was a feisty manager on the team. Watch them fight, argue, tease, flirt, “accidentally” fall in love, and deny it to the bitter end.

Rating: M Pairing: BoruSara

Collaboration with @kairi-chan!

Chapter Three

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Sarada woke up with a massive headache. Blinking her eyes open, she struggled to get up and realized she was back in her room. How… did she get back in her room? Trying to recall was making her headache worse, so she stopped that immediately. A quick look at her clock told her it was time to get up and get ready for work. 

Work. Fuck. Did she really have to? 

She groaned but pushed herself to get in the shower, and tried her best to get her back in shape. Despite it only being Wednesday, Sarada decided to dress down a bit, but still looking professional. She opted for black pants and a white button-down shirt, and low heels today. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and applied little makeup. Maybe today, she’ll go get coffee first before even entering the office. 

As she entered Ninbucks, the baristas greeted her cheerfully and did her best to smile. She ordered a bigger cup this time and an extra shot of espresso. 

“Ooh,” The barista commented. “Long day?” 

Sarada chuckled. “You have no idea. I don’t even remember what happened last night.” 

The barista laughed. “Then that means it was great.” 

“Surely,” Sarada smirked. She would have to ask Inojin what happened. If he was already there. It was only 9:23 am. Still early. 

Sarada collected her coffee and made her way into their office and to her desk. The two weren’t there yet. The previous night must have been wilder than she expected. But what caught her attention was that she already had an email sent that morning from Boruto, and the lights in his office were already on. 

Did he… get there before she did? What the hell. 

Taking a seat and looking at the papers on her desk, Sarada tried to ignore the emails Boruto sent in, but another came in, this time, on their office chat platform. 

Shikadai: You in the office already?

Sarada lifted her brow and replied. 

Sarada: Yes, I am. Why? 

Shikadai: Damn, you clean up fast. You were dead before nine, you know? Lol. 

Sarada: I know I got drunk, okay? Ugh. Who brought me home?

Shikadai: Boruto carried you to Chocho’s car. You guys left around ten. Too early. You can’t drink as much as you used to!

Sarada growled. She was out cold, and her boss had to carry her? This was insane. 

Sarada: No, he didn’t. I wasn’t that drunk. I could walk just fine. 

Shikadai then sent her a photo, it was blurry but clear enough for Sarada to see that Boruto was carrying her in the parking lot, following Chocho. 

Shikadai: Inojin rode with you two. He can tell you what happened. 

Sarada’s cheeks burned. Oh my fucking god. This was not happening. This. Was. Not. Happening. 

Reaching for her coffee, Sarada downed half of its contents in one go and reread the messages. Nope. they were still holding the same contents. 

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. How embarrassing! She had to apologize. This was his first week of work and he had already seen her drunk and had to carry her! 

Quickly, she opened the email from Boruto. It was nothing urgent, he was just asking for a follow up on the numbers he requested the day before, with some extra instructions added. She found it weird, she never had to make a report like that before. But still… Quickly, she sent an email to Wasabi to ask for the details and then closed her laptop. 

Did she have to go to his office now? She was still so embarrassed. Well… better now when the two weren’t there yet, right? 

Sarada stood and then walked towards his office. She noticed someone had just scampered out of it, looking a little distressed and… scared. That was… odd. Anyway, she still knocked on his door. 

“What is it?” He asked. 

Sarada wanted to jump away from the door, but opened it anyway, taking a peek inside. “Good morning… it’s me.” 

Boruto was sitting at his desk, glaring at his computer with half-lidded eyes and pouty lips. After a few seconds, he looked over at her and grunted, “Mornin’.”

For a moment, his grouchy greeting made her want to sass him, but seeing that he had dark circles under his eyes, she bit her lip and stopped herself. She came here to apologize, not ruin his day. 

“I just wanted to… thank you for last night. And also apologize.” Her eyes looked everywhere except for his face. She noticed he had put up some new things in his office. A new map was placed on the wall behind him, a pencil holder with a peculiar, sunflower pen, and a few picture frames. One caught her eye in particular. 

It was a photo of him in his graduation toga, with his arms wrapped around a girl with long black hair and blue eyes. 

Did he have a girlfriend? Sarada looked at the sunflower pen, and found it was the only thing “girly” enough in his office. It was from her. It had to be. 

Her hands clenched by her sides and her eyebrows twitched. Well. Isn’t that typical? He’s already taken. How this guy was taken, she wouldn’t know. Sure, he was handsome and had a really really cute smile but come on. This was his first job! What, was that girl still studying or something? 

Oh my god.

What if he’s into younger girls?

Sarada quickly took a look at the frame again, the girl was more than a foot shorter than him, and not wearing a toga, too. 

Fuck. Confirmed it. She was younger. Definitely younger. Oh my god. 

That’s just… disgusting. Liking younger girls! Sarada gritted her teeth. But she looked to only be a few years younger… definitely in the legal range. 

Why was she even getting so worked up about this? It’s not like she cared who he dated, right? Sarada huffed and crossed her arms across her chest before looking at him, her eyes were hard, and she had forgotten why she was even here in the first place. 

“Can I go now?” She huffed again. 

“Jeez, what’s with the sudden attitude?” Boruto grumbled, lips poking out in a more profound pout. “I thought you were sorry and thanking me and all that?”

Sarada looked at him and felt her jaw slack by the tiniest bit. The way he was pouting made him look like such a baby. He looked so… cute. Sarada felt her cheeks fill with heat and recalled what exactly her business was doing here.

“Umm yeah, I wanted to apologize for last night. I… didn’t know what was going on anymore. I totally blacked out.” Shit. Why did he have to keep looking at her like that? He was too cute, and she forgot why she was fuming in the first place. 

“Don’t worry about it. It happens.” His voice was lower than usual and he was speaking so quietly as if raising his voice would be too much for him to handle. “Did you get that report for me?”

Sarada replied, “Yes. I requested the numbers but haven’t gotten them yet. Is it okay to submit it after lunch?” 

“Yeah,” Boruto muttered and then sighed loudly in comparison to every word he spoke. “Whenever. I don’t care.”

Her lips pursed and she studied his face. He looked tired and drained. Did he not sleep right last night? After all of those shots, she would have thought he would sleep like a baby. Unless… “Are you… hungover?” 

“I’m sorry?” Boruto looked at her, brows raised and eyes narrowed. 

Whoops. Looks like she poked a nerve. “Sorry, you’re just not as… happy as usual. If you’ve got a headache, I’ve got some aspirin in my bag.” 

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m happy.” He scowled. 

That scowl seriously convinced her otherwise, though. “Of course,” she giggled. “My bad. I’ll go get your report ready.” 

“Wait.” Boruto groaned. “The aspirin?”

Sarada looked over her shoulder with a warm smile on her face. “I’ll bring it right over.” 

With that, she left his office and walked back to her desk, rummaging through her bag and pulled out two pieces of aspirin. She then went to the pantry to get a glass and filled it with water, too. Right before she brought it over, she went back to her desk to get a post-it and scribbled a note on it. She stuck it on the glass and then went to his office. Sarada placed the pills and glass down without a word and left, not wanting to be around when he read the note. 

“Have some ramen for lunch, it helps. :)” 

.

.

.

As soon as Sarada got to the desk, she plugged on her earphones and got to work. There were a number of promotions that were left hanging and she needed to wrap them up to get Boruto’s approval for the budget before sending it over to finance. After sending a few emails to settle things, she printed out the papers for his signature and then left them on a pile by her left. 

Inojin was out on field duty today, doing a product shoot for their new ramen line, and Chocho was out meeting suppliers and agencies. She was getting texts from them, asking for quick decisions and approvals for the content they were going to sign off on. This, on top of finishing the report Boruto wanted. Even if the latter wasn’t urgent—or so he claimed—she wanted to have it done first, so she could have fewer worries as she scrolled through the proposals that Chocho and Inojin quickly sent over. 

To say it was overwhelming was an understatement. She didn’t even realize she skipped lunch, as she went through the report and told Inojin to wait and talk to her the following day before approving another product shoot and the concept he wanted to go with. Chocho was fighting him for another idea, and Sarada really didn’t want to play referee right now. It was so much easier when they all reported to the director, as he had to make all the important decisions and defend it to the board if they ever made a mistake. 

But now… it was all on Sarada.

The promotions with bigger reach, of course, needed the director’s approval. As well as designs for billboards and commercial times and prices. But social media content, as well as their online campaigns? Trivial things that the director shouldn’t be worrying about. Product shoots and point of sales designs? Nu uh. It was now on Sarada’s turf and being the perfectionist she was, didn’t make things easier for her to decide. 

At one point, she told the two to prepare some slides to justify their own ideas and present them to her after lunch the next day. The two complained, naturally. When did they ever need to convince Sarada? Well, now they did. She was their boss and responsible for them and the brand. 

She only tore her gaze away from her screen when Namida came by her desk. “Hey, Sarada,” She grinned. “Here are the numbers you wanted. Oh, and I added your Job Orders there. Apparently, they need approval from the director to proceed.” 

“What?” Sarada asked, completely at a shock. “The previous one didn’t need to!” 

“Yeah but…” Namida shifted her gaze away. “We found that some numbers didn’t add up last time. And well… we just want to make sure this time around instead of digging up for things.” She looked back at her with an apologetic smile. “Sorry…” 

She sighed and removed her glasses. “No, no. Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. I’ll have them approved. Just… give me a sec.” 

Namida held up her hands. “It’s okay, you can give them to me at four. I won’t be leaving until later. I’ll have them processed ASAP so you can get your money.” 

Sarada smiled tiredly at her. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t sweat it!” Namida grinned before leaving her desk. 

These reimbursements were meals with suppliers, as well as some trivial approvals like gas and Uber rides. They all happened more than a month ago and she was irritated that they had only brought it up now. Well… there was no point in waiting. 

She looked at the clock and realized it was already well passed two, and she hadn’t even eaten yet. “Shit.” Debating whether she should eat first or go to Boruto’s office to have a million things signed took her a good minute. But gave up and decided to have it approved and over with. Her report wasn’t even ready yet… 

Oh well. He said it wasn’t urgent. 

She gathered up all the papers and walked to Boruto’s office, knocking before opening the door to take a peek inside. “Sir?” 

Boruto looked from his computer to her, looking a little more alert than he did earlier. “Come in.”

She walked in and held a pile of papers in her hands. “I need these for your approval.” 

“Alright.” He grumbled before muttering a string of unintelligible curses. 

She pretended not to hear them and handed the papers over, waiting for him to look through them for a while before asking, “would you want me to come back? One is for the billboard, the other for a commercial and the next two are campaigns for the new line.”

“Yeah, just give me an hour,” Boruto told her as he studied the papers on his desk. 

“Okay…” Sarada left his office and plopped back on her desk. She looked at her inbox, and there were more emails. A quick alt-tab and her report was only halfway done. 

“Later…” she muttered to herself and went through her purse to get her phone and wallet, making a quick run to Ninbucks for a sandwich. Perhaps some iced coffee, too. She deserved it. The day was going by way too fast, and she needed to get more work done. 

After ordering, she took a seat and scrolled through her phone. Replying to her father, asking how her day was going and if she was still going to stay at their house for the weekend. Sarada replied quickly and asked him to ask her mom which cake she wanted for her to bring. As she got her order from the counter, she sat back down and found he already replied. 

“The chocolate one with strawberries,” Sasuke replied. 

Sarada giggled. “Which one? The one with white cream or black?” 

She watched the three dots jump around a few times before getting a response. 

“The one you always get…” 

“I get mama both.” 

“Just one.” He replied instantly. 

“Then white or black?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Sarada laughed and replied that she would ask her mother instead. Sasuke thanked her and she finished up her sandwich. Checking her watch, she had only been gone for fifteen minutes. Not bad. Sarada picked up her things and sipped on her coffee, feeling so much better that she finally had something in her tummy, and the coffee was an added, yet welcome, bonus. 

Their area was still empty, Chocho and Inojin probably didn’t want to go back to the office anymore. It was getting pretty late, anyway. She shrugged it off and got back to her computer, ready to face her emails again. 

After a few emails sent, she went back to the report, and started fixing the numbers up, formatting and color-coding the cells and tabs, making it all the more readable. Sarada prided herself with organized and functional files, and the finance team often asked her why she didn’t opt to become an accountant instead. 

Numbers were good, but she loved being in marketing more. Besides, she still got to crunch some numbers, but also got to write and be around some art-related things. It was cool. And she did it well. 

Finally finishing the report, she typed up a quick email to Boruto, explaining how the file worked, what the colors meant, and which tab he can find the information he needed on. 

Hi Boruto, 

Attached is the monthly sales report. If you have any questions, I’m at your disposal. 

Warm regards, 

Sarada 

Finally. She could breathe again. The big tasks she set for her day were done, and it was only three-thirty. Maybe she could go home early today, get some groceries done and curl up to watch Ninflix. 

Maybe. 

The idea of resting got her excited but remembered she had to text her mother about which cake she wanted her to bring for the weekend. As she was engrossed in her texting she didn’t realize someone was standing in front of her desk. 

“Taking it easy?” Boruto asked and then dropped the stack of papers on her desk. 

Sarada gasped, nearly jumping out of her skin and dropped her phone on her desk as the papers landed. She looked up, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind. Her brows furrowed more to see her boss grinning from ear to ear. 

“Hardly,” she replied, barely containing the anger in her voice. She took a quick look at the papers, all signed with some post-its on it for extra instructions. “Did you see my report, too?” 

“I was just finishing up when you sent it, I’m heading back to read it over now.” He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “While you get back to your texting.” Boruto snorted and looked annoyingly smug as he walked off, going back to his office. 

Sarada glared after him and stuck out her tongue when he wasn’t looking. “I will go back to texting,” she muttered under her breath. “One that you disturbed!!!” She gritted her teeth and typed quickly, finished her text to her mother followed by, “MAMA I HATE HIIIIM” with angry and crying emojis after. 

She put her phone down and took some deep breaths to calm down, and it wasn’t long until she received another text from her papa. 

“Tell me to come and I will.” 

Sarada giggled. Her mama was quick to forward that message. She replied she was fine and she’ll tell them all about it on Saturday instead. 

She tossed her phone back in her bag and went back to her emails, cleaning them out and making sure to flag those that needed a reply the following day. Opening her drawer, she pulled out more post-it’s and started writing tasks on different colored ones and stuck them on her table, arranging them according to urgency. 

It was already five-thirty, and still no email from Boruto about her report. Just a little more and she could call it a day, hoping that he wouldn’t bother sending her another task or a follow up for anything else. 

After she arranged her desk and cleaned up, right before she could turn her laptop off, she got an email from Boruto. Sarada groaned and read it. 

Hi Sarada, 

Thanks for sending the report. The numbers are looking good, keep this up and we will hit the target in no time.

Make sure to add the projection for the campaigns next month and then align with Supply for the added stock for the next three months to support the demand. 

Nice format. I like the colors. :) 

Cheers, 

Boruto. 

Sarada smiled at seeing he added an emoji but rolled her eyes at his signature. Who uses “cheers”? 

Chaotic people. That’s who. 

Oh well. He seemed like the type anyway. 

Sarada flagged his email and then scribbled on another post-it to write Shikadai an email, and set a meeting with him to finalize the following day. 

With that, she turned her laptop off and gathered her belongings. Time to call it a day. 

Sarada exited the office and headed towards the elevator, a little shocked to see that Boruto was already there, waiting, and playing with his car keys. He noticed her approach and turned to look at her, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

“Finally finished?”

Sarada smiled back and nodded. “Yup. Finally!” 

“Heading straight home?” He asked casually and then the elevator arrived and the doors slid open. “After you.”

Impressed with his gentlemanly tone and gesture, she entered the elevator and waited for him to enter before pushing the button for the ground floor, and Boruto pushed the button for the sixth. 

“I have some grocery shopping to do, and then yes, go home.” Noticing the floor he pushed, she asked, “You drive to work?” 

“I do. What about you?” He asked, blue eyes peeking at her. 

Sarada couldn’t help but look at his eyes. Even in the dim elevator light, they looked so bright. “I take the train,” she replied before looking away, turning her attention to the screen, indicating what floor they were on. Anything to keep her from looking at his eyes. They were so… alluring. 

“The train? That must suck.” His nose scrunched as if he couldn’t fathom the idea. “I could give you a ride if you want.”

Her dark eyes widened. Getting a ride home would be nice, but no. She didn’t want to intrude. “Oh no, it’s okay,” Sarada held her hands up. “I have to stop by the grocery, and besides, I don’t want to trouble you.” 

Boruto chuckled softly and played with his keys again. “It’s no trouble, really. I don’t mind.”

She bit her lower lip. It was tempting. The train would be cramped around this time, and she didn’t really need to do the groceries… “no, really. It’s okay. You look like you need to rest a little more today, boss.” She grinned cheekily at him, hoping he wouldn’t mind being teased. At least, today, she learned he was a grumpy little baby when he was hungover. 

“Fine. Your loss.” He shrugged, smirking. “Do you live nearby?”

“Yeah, I live by Eleventh Avenue, near the convenience store. You?” 

“Oh, really? I live on Fifth. Not too far.” Knowing this only seemed to make him smugger. 

Sarada rolled her eyes and the elevator dinged, opening up to the parking lot. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“See you then.” Boruto nodded, still smiling as he walked out.

Sarada waved at him with a small smile on her face as the elevator doors closed. The elevator felt a little lonelier now that he was gone, but Sarada brushed it off and got out as soon as she reached the ground floor. 

The walk to the station was nice. The air was cool and the crowd wasn’t as bad yet. A quick stop at the grocery made her mood lift, choosing some fresh vegetables and crackers, along with a cheap bottle of wine and chips. Tonight, she would have a salad for dinner, but reward herself with wine and chips as she watched a few episodes on Ninflix before bed. 

The night was looking good. 

xxx

[porchwood]

When the Moon: Fairy tale teaser (Ch 15)

Because I’ve been thinking about mice since posting the Strawberry Time teaser, and there’s a mouse scene - or rather, a whole mouse story - over here too. 

I read a long time ago (and strangely, can’t remember where) that “if you read good books, good books will come out of you.” Well, for a goodly portion of my younger years, I read fairy tales. Indeed, for much of high school, I toted around Jack Zipes’ doorstop collection of French fairy tales: Beauties, Beasts, and Enchantment.

I mention this because, after I wrote this sequence, I read it aloud to a fandom friend and felt a tangible shift when I moved from the Everlark scene into the tale that Peeta is telling Katniss. I’d reread it silently a dozen times in writing/editing and obviously knew exactly where it was going, but in reading it aloud, by the time I got to the end I was crying. (And no, the ending isn’t sad.) I can distinctly remember this happening just once before: upon rereading (aloud, for a final edit) the end of Prince Peeta and the Mockingjay-Maid.

So, for what it’s worth, I guess fairy tales come out of me.

This is just a snippet of that tale and it opens kind of clunkily because it’s unfolding from an Everlark conversation. (Sorry for any confusion. :/)

*******

The minstrel spoke with wit and wisdom in perfect balance, maintaining the king always as his superior, even as they spoke as equals, and each night, what tales he told! Full of wonder and magic they were: talking beasts and enchanted maidens, trees that ripened with jewels rather than fruit, golden fish swimming in rivers of silk and silver doves nesting in a tapestry-sky. And when the king was certain his mind could bear no further astonishment, the minstrel would sing to his harp and lute, lulling the young monarch to sweet, refreshing slumber filled with the most beautiful dreams.

The king ached to have such a man as father and counselor and friend, and the minstrel admired the king in turn. Though his life was a wandering one, he accepted the proffered fine quarters for a fortnight – time sufficient, the king was certain, to persuade the minstrel to stay on longer still: a sennight, three months, a year.

But the dreaded final eve of the minstrel’s visit arrived at last, and no present the king could offer would sway him to remain, though his refusals were all courtesy and grace. “I shall return – assuredly, my friend,” he told the king. “But the woods and wilds call me, and I must return to their paths.”

The young king wondered, not for the first time, whether the minstrel was not in fact a king in his own right, governing all the wildwoods of the world and their denizens. For the silence of the birds at his singing seemed as much homage as awe, and now and again the king had glimpsed a snout or beak peeping out of the minstrel’s pocket or collar or sleeve, to be rewarded with crumbs and a stroke of one deft finger.

“But ere I depart,” said the minstrel, “I would share with you my deepest confidence and very greatest treasure,” and from an inner pocket of his jerkin he withdrew a nubbin of downy gray fur, no bigger than the tip of the king’s thumb – surely a willow catkin, except it bore a tiny point of a snout and shining eyes like round black beads.

A mouse, so small and perfect that the king caught his breath in astonishment.

“This is mine own companion,” said the minstrel, “dearer to me than my own flesh, and the repository of my songs and tales. Shall I demonstrate?”

The king, stunned to speechlessness, could only nod, so the minstrel set the mouse upon his shoulder, where she began, in a voice sweeter than any bird’s, to tell of a shy prince trapped in a tower by a wicked magician, with three great ferocious boars as his watchdogs, and of the crafty scullery maid who freed him with the aid of a sparrow, a pint of sour milk, a head of cabbage, and two stout sticks.

The king had never heard such a tale, neither from the minstrel nor any other, and he humbly begged the mouse for another, and another, and another, and each story was new to his ears and more wondrous than the one before.

The candles guttered and the fire burned low, and at last the minstrel rose from his chair. “I must rest, ere I begin my journey,” he told the king, though he looked far more thoughtful than weary. He had spoken little as the mouse spun her tales and now he observed the king closely, as though he anticipated a question.

And it came, as inevitable as sunrise, for the minstrel knew mice and men in equal measure, and he had watched the captivation grow on both sides these past hours at the hearth. Indeed, it was at the mouse’s own request that he had shown her to the king, and she had never spun tales for any but the minstrel himself.

“Please, may I keep her with me?” asked the king, at once plaintive as a child and shamed by this unthinkable request, for he had heard enough of the oldest tales to know what befalls those who seek another’s greatest treasure, however innocently and honestly.

The minstrel regarded him steadily, and it seemed there was something of amusement in his eyes, though his face and words were grave indeed. “She was hewn from my very heart,” he replied, “like a jewel; a pearl of great price. You could sell all you own and still never possess her.”

“I do not wish to possess her,” cried the king in horror. “I wish her to be my companion – and would indeed pay any price for that honor.”

“It will cost everything you now possess,” said the minstrel carefully. “Every stone, every thread, every plank. Would you pay such a price – more than a king’s own ransom – simply to keep company with a storytelling mouse?”

“Gladly,” the king replied without hesitation, for he had learned long ago that a palace brimming with riches is nothing compared with one true friend at the fireside.

“For all her virtues, she is a common field mouse,” the minstrel reminded him. “The stories are hers alone to give, and should she trust you not, you will have nothing for your sacrifice but a small, silent wild creature taking up space in your last pocket and eating a full share of your crumbs.”

“If she trusts me not, I would not wish her to stay with me,” the king answered tenderly, bowing his golden head to the little mouse, and as such he did not witness the minstrel’s fleeting smile.

When the king raised his face once more, the minstrel’s expression was both somber and shrewd, and it seemed that firelight danced across his striking features, though the logs on the hearth were now scarcely embers. Not for the first time, the king wondered whether the minstrel might be a powerful magician, and what the storytelling mousekin might be in her turn.

“Will you sell all you own, that this mouse may belong to you?” asked the minstrel in an eerily resonant voice, like distant thunder at dusk, balancing the precious creature in the palm of one outstretched hand, as though she were indeed the rare pearl he had described.

“I will sell all I own that I may belong to her,” answered the king softly, and this time he caught the flicker of a smile on the minstrel’s lips. “Return in a fortnight, if you will, and you will find me better than my word.”

“I look forward to it,” said the minstrel, as though they spoke of breakfast or a walk in the gardens, his firelit features and the strange resonance of his voice gone as though they had never been.

[entamewitchlulu]

so i did a reading challenge this year and i wanna talk about what i read

transcription under the cut

i did Popsugar 2019 and wanna talk about what i read:  Book Reccs and Anti-Reccs 

1.) Becoming a Movie in 2019: Umbrella Academy (vol 1) by Gerard Way and Gabriel Ba

4/5. A fascinating take on superpowers, dysfunctional families, and the apocalypse. Can get pretty gory, confusing here and there and you have to pay close attention to panels for lore, but overall an entertaining romp.

2.) Makes you Feel Nostalgic: Circles in the Stream by Rachel Roberts

4/5. Middle grade novel about the magic of music, belief, and of course, friendship. Definitely written for kids, and has some unfortunately clumsy Native rep, but overall an absolute joy to dive into once again.

3.) Written by a Musician: Umbrella Academy (vol 2) by Gerard Way and Gabriel Ba

4/5. Ramps up the confusion to ridiculous degrees with some absolutely bonkers, unexplained arcs, but still fun to watch this dysfunctional family do its dysfunctional thing.

4.) You Think Should be Turned into a movie: All That Glitters by Rachel Roberts

4/5. Continuation of Circles in the Stream, but with more unicorns, more rainbows, and more fae, which makes it automatically even better than the first.

5.) With At Least 1 Mil. Ratings on Goodreads: 1984 by George Orwell   

1/5. I understand why it's important and all but wasn't prepared for some of the more graphic scenes and the overall hopelessness of the message.  Would not recommend or read again.

6.) W/ a Plant in the title or cover: The secret of Dreadwillow carse by Brian farrey

5/5. A fantasy world where everyone is always happy, save for one girl and the princess, who set out to solve the mystery of their kingdom. Poignant and great for kids and adults.

7.) Reread of a favorite: Cry of the Wolf by Rachel Roberts

4/5. Yet another installment in the Avalon: Web of Magic series, which clearly I am obsessed with.  Please just read them.

8.) About a Hobby: Welcome to the Writer's Life by Paulette Perhach

5/5. A welcome kick in the pants, chock full of great advice told without condescension, and full of hope and inspiration for writers both new and old.

9.) Meant to read in 2018: The Poet x by Elizabeth Acevedo  

4/5. Absolutely beautiful coming of age novel told in verse.  Do yourself a favor and listen to the audiobook version.

10.) w/ "pop," "sugar," or "challenge" in the title: Black Sugar by Miguel Bonnefoy

2/5. I think maybe I just don't understand this genre.  Or maybe the translation was weird. I was confused.  

11.) w/ An Item of Clothing or Accessory on the cover: Our dreams at Dusk by Yuhki Kamatani

4/5. It had a lot more slurs/homophobia than I was prepared for, but otherwise is a very touching, relatable collection of queer characters living in a heteronormative world.

12.) Inspired by Mythology or Folklore: Ravenous by MarcyKate Connolly

3/5. A girl goes on an impossible quest to save her brother from a child-eating witch. Really wanted to like it more because I loved the first one, Monstrous, but it dragged a little.

13.) Published Posthumously: The Islands of Chaldea by Diana Wynne Jones

3/5. I adore Diana Wynne Jones, but this one was missing some of the magic of her other books. Not sure if it was because it had to be finished by someone else, or if I just grew out of her stories.

14.) Set in Space: Binti by Nnedi Okorafor

4/5. Powerfully written story of a girl straddling tradition and innovation, who wields power through mathematical magic, surviving on a spaceship alone with a dangerous alien occupation after everyone else has been killed.

15.) By 2 Female Authors: Burn for Burn by Jenny Han and Siobhan Vivian

2/5. Ostensibly a story about a revenge pact in a small island town, but leaves far too many dangling threads to attempt alluring you to the sequel.

16.) W/ A Title containing "salty," "bitter," "Sweet," or "Spicy": The Price of Salt by Patricia Highsmith  

3/5. It's okay but I literally just never know what anyone means at any time. Are they being reticent on purpose or do i just not understand communication

17.) Set in scandinavia: Vinland Saga by Makoto Yukimura

2/5. Technically and historically accurate and well made, but the story itself is not my cup of tea.  Very gory.

18.) Takes Place in a Single Day: Long WAy Down by Jason Reynolds

4/5. A boy goes to avenge his murdered brother, but ghostly passengers join him on the elevator ride down. Stunning and powerful character-driven analysis.

19.) Debut Novel: Nimona by Noelle Stevenson

4/5. Charming and then surprisingly heart-breaking comic about Nimona, a shapeshifter who wants to become a villain's minion. Really love the villain/hero dynamic going on in the background, along with the dysfunctional found family.

20.) Published in 2019: The Book of Pride by Mason Funk  

4/5. A collection of interviews with the movers, shakers, and pioneers of the queer and LGBTQ+ community.  An absolutely essential work for community members and allies alike.

21.) Featuring an extinct/imaginary creature: Phoebe and her Unicorn by Dana Simpson

4/5. Incredibly charming, Calvin and Hobbes-esque collection of comics featuring the adventures of Phoebe and her unicorn best friend.

22.) Recced by a celebrity you admire: The Emerald Circus by Jane Yolen

2/5. Recced by my fave author Brandon Sanderson. An unfortunately disappointing anthology proving that any story can be made uninteresting by telling the wrong section of it.

23.) With "Love" in the Title: Book Love by Debbie Tung

4/5. One of those relatable webcomics, only this one I felt super hard almost the entire time.  Books are awesome and libraries rule.

24.) Featuring an amateur detective: Nancy Drew: Palace of Wisdom by Kelly Thompson

4/5. REALLY love this modern take on Nancy Drew, coming back home to her roots to solve a brand new mystery. Diverse cast and lovely artwork, though definitely more adult.

25.) About a family: Amulet by Kabu Kibuishi

4/5. Excellent, top tier graphic novel about a sister and brother who have to go rescue their mother with a mysterious magic stone. LOVE that the mom gets to be involved in the adventure for once.

26.) by an author from asia, Africa, or s. America: Girls' Last tour by Tsukumizu

4/5. Somehow both light-hearted and melancholy. Two girls travel about an empty, post-apocalyptic world, and muse about life and their next meal.

27.) w/ a Zodiac or astrology term in title: Drawing down the moon by margot adler

3/5. A good starting place for anyone interested in the Neo Pagan movement, but didn't really give me what I was personally looking for.

28.) you see someone reading in a tv show or movie: The Promised NEverland by Kaiu Shirai

4/5. I don't watch TV or movies where people read books so i think reading an adaptation of a TV series after watching the series counts. Anyway it was good but beware racist caricatures

29.) A retelling of a classic: Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy by Rey Terciero

5/5. We can stop the Little Women reboots and retellings now, this is the only one we need. In fact, we can toss out the original too, this is the only one necessary.

30.) w/ a question in the title: So I'm a spider, so what? by Asahiro Kakashi

4/5. Cute art despite the subject matter, and a surprisingly enthralling take on the isekai genre. Love the doubling down on the video game skills.

31.) Set in a college or university campus: Moonstruck (vol 2) by Grace Ellis

2/5. An incredibly cute, beautiful, and fascinating world of modern magic and creatures, but unfortunately falls apart at the plot and pacing.

32.) About someone with a superpower: Moonstruck (vol 1) by Grace Ellis

4/5. Though nearly as messy plot-wise as its sequel, the first volume is overwhelmingly charming in a way that overpowers the more confusing plot elements.

33.) told from multiple povs: The Long way to a Small, Angry Planet by becky Chambers

4/5. Told almost in a serial format, like watching a miniseries, a group of found-family spaceship crew members make the long journey to their biggest job ever.

34.) Includes a wedding: We Set the dark on fire by Tehlor kay mejia

4/5. Timely and poignant, a girl tumbles into both love and resistance after becoming one of two wives to one of the most powerful men in the country.

35.) by an author w/ alliterative name: The only harmless great Thing by brooke bolander

3/5. Much deeper than I can currently comprehend.  Beautifully written, but difficult to parse.

36.) A ghost story: Her body and other parties by Carmen Maria Machado

4/5.  It counts because one of the stories in it has ghosts. A sometimes difficult collection of surrealist, feminist, queer short stories.

37.) W/ a 2 word title: Good omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

4/5. Charming, touching, and comical, probably the best take on the apocalypse to date. Also excellent ruminations on religion and purpose.

38.) based on a true story: The faithful Spy by John Hendrix

4/5. Brilliantly crafted graphic biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and his assistance in fighting back against Nazi Germany.

39.) Revolving around a puzzle or game: the Crossover by Kwame alexander

4/5. The verse didn't always hit right with me, but the story is a sweet, melancholy one about family, loss, and moving on.

40.) previous popsugar prompt (animal in title): The last unicorn by peter s. Beagle

5/5. Absolutely one of my all-time favorite books, it manages to perfectly combine anachronism and comedy with lyricism, melancholy, and ethereal beauty.

41.) Cli-fi: Tokyo Mew Mew by Mia ikumi and Reiko Yoshida

4/5. Shut up it counts

42.) Choose-your-own-adventure: My Lady's choosing by Kitty curran

3/5. Cute in concept, a bit underwhelming in execution. Honestly, just play an otome.

43.) "Own Voices": Home by Nnedi Okorafor

3/5. The storytelling style was definitely not my style; while the first book was slow, too, it felt more purposeful. I found my attention wandering during this installment.

44.) During the season it's set in: Pumpkinheads by rainbow rowell

3/5. Cute art, but precious little substance.  The concept simply wasn't for me in the first place.

45.) LITRPG: My next life as a villainess: All routes lead to doom! by Hidaka nami

5/5. An absolute insta-fave! Charming art, endearing characters, an incredible premise, and so much sweet wholesome fluff it'll give you cavities.

46.) No chapters: The field guide to dumb birds of north america by matt kracht

3/5. It started out super strong, but the joke started to wear thin at a little past the halfway point.

47.) 2 books with the same title: Unfollow by Megan Phelps-Roger

4/5. A brave and enduring personal story of growing up in and eventually leaving the Westboro Baptist Church. Really called to me to act with grace and kindness even more in the future.

48.) 2 books with the same title: unfollow by rob williams and michael dowling

1/5. How many times do you think we can make Battle Royale again before someone notices

49.) That has inspired a common phrase or idiom: THe Outsiders by S.E. Hinton

4/5. Definitely good and deserves it's praise as something that pretty much revolutionized and created an entire demographic of literature.

50.) Set in an abbey, cloister, Monastery, convent, or vicarage: Murder at the vicarage by agatha christie

3/5. I just cannot. physically keep up with all of these characters or find the energy to read between the lines.

ok that's all i got, what did y'all read and like this year?  (oh god it’s gonna be 2020)

[lostinfic]

4. England, summer

Summary: Travel writer/photojournalist AU, slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff and adventures around the world.

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Hannah Baxter Rating: Mature Word count: 1.5k

Prologue  |  Chap. 1  |  2  |  3  | Ao3  

In Covent Garden, the midday sun flared off the glass roof of the market. Hardy shielded his eyes. He hated London in the summer, hated the tourists, hated the heat, hated people playing bloody Frisbee in parks. He glared at a couple sharing an ice cream in front of him on the street, with a huff of impatience, he walked past them.

He reached the red mailbox on the street corner. He pushed a manila envelope through the slot like one rips a band-aid: quickly and holding his breath. Divorce papers, signed and sent. Time to move on. He rubbed a hand over the tightness in his chest. He knew the perfect antidote was work abroad. But until he received a new assignment, the next best thing was Stanford, the travel bookshop.

An enormous map covered the entrance floor of the shop. A memory struck him: Daisy, age six, playing hopscotch on the African countries. He smiled to himself. He would call her again tonight, even if it meant leaving another sappy voice mail. Perhaps she would want to come with him to New York in October. It would be nice to show her around. And, although he wouldn’t tell her that, he hoped she would be impressed by a whole exhibition dedicated to his work. He hoped she would understand he wanted to make the world a better place, for her.

He almost called his daughter right away, but he was in Stanford for a specific reason. Hannah had said her article on the Mahal Kita resort would be out on July 25th. “You were wrong,” she’d bragged in a text message, “they let me write everything.” He’d replied something that came out ruder than he’d intended, and he didn’t hear from her again.

As he headed towards the magazine display, he mentally composed a congratulatory message, “Let’s have drinks to celebrate”. He cringed. She wasn’t interested in him, she only wanted to have sex at the airport because she was bored.

In any case, first, he had to see this article with his own eyes. Part of him still doubted she’d gotten away with it, or had written it at all. He hoped she had. His own attempts at exposing the truth had come to nothing. Two newspapers had picked up the story only to replace it at the last minute with more pressing news. He was disappointed, but not surprised. He wasn’t giving up that easily. He still talked to Ellie and Kadek. He planned on widening the scope of his investigation by looking into other resorts owned by the same company, Group Peregrine. Meanwhile, Hannah’s article could reach readers he wouldn’t. People who directly encouraged these harmful practices in the tourism industry. She could open their eyes to the human cost of their vacations.

He spotted the latest issue of Elite Travelers. The cover featured a picture of the sea in Pulau Kesuma in oversaturated shades of blue. He baulked at the price and found a seat to read it in store instead.

The lede put him on edge right away. With each paragraph, his face grew hotter and his teeth ground harder.

He called Hannah.

“Hey, Alec! How—”

“You bloody liar.”

“What?”

“You said you would tell the truth in your article.”

“I did!”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You know what? It might not be up to your standards of exposing the truth, but it’s not that kind magazine, okay? I did what I could, but the rooms were nice, I had to say it.”

“It’s nothing but praise. Praise for criminals.”

“I get it, you’re a paragon of integrity and I’m a sham.”

“You lied to me. There isn’t a word in there about the environmental impacts or the fishermen.”

“Of course, there is. It’s right there in the lede. And there are at least three more paragraphs about it.”

“I’ve got your article right here, it says: From its unspoiled site to its respect of the environment, the Mahal Kita eco-resort is, simply put, flawless.”

Hannah fell silent. He heard her sniff, and his anger vanished.

“You okay?”

“I didn’t write that… It wasn’t me, that’s not what I wrote.”

“Seriously?”

“Keep reading.”

Hannah slouched down in the hotel armchair, closing her eyes to ward off the dizziness. Hardy kept reading the article. She recognized some of the sentences, but she’d reread the text often enough to identify the missing parts.

She was in Cornwall, covering a music festival, so she hadn’t seen the magazine yet. When Duncan hadn’t asked for revisions, she’d naively thought her article was perfect. No wonder she hadn’t heard back from him about the promotion.

“Baxter?”

“He fucking censored me… You were right.” She laughed, a hollow, bitter sound.

She expected Hardy to gloat, but his voice was gentle when he spoke again, “I really wanted to be wrong.”

He stayed on the line with her, in silence, while she struggled to make sense of this betrayal. She hated Duncan so much right now, she could have ripped his head off.

Hardy told her he’d experienced censorship too. Back when Tony Blair had sided with George W. Bush about the Iraq war. An editor had cropped one of his photographs so as to leave only the angry, armed Iraqi men in the frame and remove the children they were protecting.

“I was furious.”

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I made sure the original photo was published elsewhere.”

“I just… it was important to me, you know? It felt like a big step in my career. Something different…”

“So, what are you gonna do about it?”

“What can I do?”

“You have to get that story out there.”

She could put the uncensored article on her blog and expose Elite Travelers’ dishonesty. But could she afford to antagonize her main source of income? Adios business class and exotic resorts.

“You would want to work for them again after this?” Hardy asked.

“It had never happened before.”

“That you know of.”

The moral decision weighed on her chest, pushing a deep sigh out of her. She didn’t want to deal with this right now. Arctic Monkeys would be on stage in 15 minutes, and she had a VIP pass. All she wanted was put on a flower crown, get drunk and dance with strangers under the sun.

“Would you like to go for coffee. With me. To talk about it,” Hardy said.

“No, thanks. I can’t.”

“Yeah, no, okay. Then—”

“I’ve to go. Bye.”

*

A week later, Hardy received a message from Hannah with a link to her blog called “Secret Diary of a Globe-Trotter”.

Secret? he texted back.

It used to be a place to write anecdotes I couldn’t tell my father ;)

She had posted her original article, nowhere near as scathing as it ought to be, but critical enough to put off some people. She also described the censorship and her investigation on Pulau Kesuma. She even mentioned him, “Alec Hardy, a remarkable photojournalist”. He thrust out his chest slightly.

So what do you think?

You did the right thing, he wrote.

I hope so. Still not sure about that.

With a fresh cup of tea, he sat on the narrow balcony outside his flat. He typed “I’m proud of you”, but changed his mind. He wanted to keep the conversation going.

I can send you some pictures I took, if you want to add them.

Of course! Will you publish them anywhere?

Expo in NY soon.

She sent a thumbs up, and he assumed that was the end of the conversation.

After a moment, Hardy gave in to his curiosity and browsed the rest of her blog. Among the clickbait-y articles (“Five booking hacks you’ll regret not knowing”, “10 sexy airport looks”) and sponsored posts, he found hidden gems: longer texts describing encounters with all sorts of people during her trips. She made these people talk about their countries and favorite, uncharted places. From a churros vendor with a surprisingly profound philosophy on family to an 80 year-old ballet dancer who aimed to dance on every street of Paris, by the end of the interview, they all opened up to her.

Rain enhanced the scent of fresh-cut grass and lulled him into a peaceful state as he read on. He hadn’t meant to spend so much time on her blog, he had work to do, but her words drew him in every time. As someone who used images to get his message across, he admired her use of language. Funny, incisive. Each paragraph a snapshot of humanity.

He felt on the verge of understanding something about Hannah, like a word on the tip of his tongue. An elusive quality that explained why, on principle, he should be more annoyed by her than he was in reality. She kept proving him wrong. In fact, what annoyed him most was how quick he had judged her.

Over the following weeks, he checked her blog every once in a while. He told himself it was to take stock of the responses to the censorship. And if he happened to look at her latest photos at the same time, well, it was purely out of professional courtesy.

This was how he found out she would be in New York around the same time as him.

_______

FYI I'm going on a trip for 3 weeks. I'd love to post another chapter during that time, but I'm not sure it's realistic. I will try. Thank you for your patience :D

ETA: I managed to write another chapter before leaving, and I scheduled it to post about halfway through my trip, on the 27th.

[stargazer-writing]

I See the Light (The Arcana Tangled AU)

Julian x Apprentice (eventually, I promise!)

Tags: @superkaty777blog

Warnings: violence, emotional abuse? (see end of post)

Soft light streaming in through the window roused you from your dream, and you groaned as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to return to sleep. 

Just as you were about to doze off again, you felt a weight slide from your feet up to your chest, and you cracked open an eye to see a familiar light-purple snout inches from your face. 

“Morning!” the snake’s voice chimed like bells in the back of your mind, and you smiled as you lifted her from on top of you and set her on the bed.

 “Good morning to you too, Faust. I suppose it is time I started my chores,” you yawned, finally pushing yourself up and out of bed to get dressed. The sun was just rising over the horizon, and you remembered your father would be returning today; he had gone to the market a few days’ travel from the secluded tower you lived in to buy supplies that could not be found in the forest surrounding the tower. 

After dressing, you began your daily tasks: sweeping and scrubbing the floors, washing the clothes and hanging them up to dry, and, afterwards, finally preparing breakfast for yourself. Once finished, you stole a glance back out the window, and sighed in disappointment that the sun has only risen a little farther. 

Your father had once told you as a child that living in the tower was for your own protection; you had been blessed with magical hair that could grant you the ability to heal others and keep them young, and thieves, thugs, and criminals would be all too eager to take someone like you for themselves and use you. He often regaled you with tales of the many dangers he faced and defeated, such as murderous pirates and ferocious beasts, to warn you of the perils of the outside world. With this seclusion, however, came the price of unrelenting boredom, and on the occasions your father left you alone you longed for freedom from the stone walls of your home, if only for a short time. 

You quickly shook these wistful thoughts from your mind, however, knowing that your father had spent his younger days out in the world and had experienced these dangers firsthand; ‘Father knows best’, he would often tell you, and surely, he would never lie to you about what lied outside your home. 

Allowing Faust, your only friend for many years, to slither from her position wrapped around your broom handle to your outstretched arm, you returned to your room to attempt to relieve your growing displeasure, wondering if there were any books you had not reread recently.

After finishing two books and reading half-way through a third, you finally heard your father’s voice calling your name, and you rushed to the window he used as an entrance. 

Leaning half out of the window, you saw him far below you in the grassy field. You quickly hooked your hair onto the pulley system created to allow him in and out of the tower and watched as it cascaded down to the ground. Once he had secured himself, you began lifting him upwards to the entrance, each tug bringing him higher until he was able to jump inside. 

“Welcome home, Fa-” 

He dropped the sack he had been holding into your arms, cutting you off, and stalked past you to his favorite armchair, which he dropped into with a huff. 

“Those idiotic, worthless peasants attempted to charge me twice what their pathetic goods were worth! Me! I should have gutted them for insulting me like that!” he snarled, the hand of his gold prosthetic arm gripping the arm of the chair like a vice. He had lost the arm in a great battle as a young man, he explained once when you questioned it as a child, and you had often been captivated by the white light emanating from it. Now, you shied away from it, knowing his short temper could cause the limb to splinter wood, shatter glass, or destroy any other belonging he decided to take his anger out on. 

You set the bag of his purchased goods- bread, cheese, a new knife, and what appeared to be a new book for you as a gift- on the nearby table and carefully approached him, wringing your hands. 

“Father, there was something I wanted to ask you, now that you’ve returned…” you began hesitantly as he inspected himself in a hand mirror he kept by the chair, frowning at the streaks of white in his blond hair as he prodded at the lines accumulating by his eyes and forehead. 

“First, I need you to use that little gift of yours on me. Dealing with those cheats has started to give me wrinkles.” he instructed, not looking away from his reflection as he gestured you over with a finger. 

You paused for a moment, surprised he had demanded this of you so soon after returning, before hurrying to sit before him, gathering part of your hair and placing it in his lap. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and hummed to yourself as you focused the healing power of your hair towards him, imagining the signs of age on his body fading away. Faintly, you could see the glow of your hair channeling your magic ability from behind your eyelids, and when you opened your eyes, the lines on his face and white in his hair had disappeared. 

He took hold of the mirror once again, grinning in approval at his appearance, then finally turned his attention towards you. 

“You were saying something, Pet?” 

You dropped your gaze to the floor, nervously pulling on a strand of your hair, as you continued, “Well, you know my birthday is tomorrow, and I uh, was wondering if, um…” 

“Well go on, spit it out already!” your father interrupted, rolling his eyes in irritation. 

Summoning your courage, you straightened up and blurted, “I want to go see the lights!” 

He stared at you in surprise, brows knitted together, and you felt your cheeks burn under the scrutiny of his gaze. 

For as long as you could remember, bright, floating lights had appeared every night on your birthday, and you had dreamed of seeing them in person your entire life, feeling as if somehow, they were meant just for you. 

Suddenly, your father erupted into loud laughter, throwing his head back. 

“That’s what this was all about? Why would you care about such a ridiculous thing?” he questioned, standing up to remove his traveling cloak, and you followed behind him meekly. 

“I thought that maybe you could take me there? Just once, and then I’ll never ask again, but I just have to see what they are,” you explained quickly, and he frowned as he replied, “I’ll tell you what they are; they’re the tradition of a bunch of lowly, pathetic fools. Besides, you wouldn’t last a day out there. You belong here, where it’s safe.” 

“But Father, if I could just-”

He spun around, slamming his hand down on the nearby table, and snapped, “Enough! Forget about the lights! You are never leaving this tower!” 

You stumbled back, startled by his outburst, and he quickly regained his composure, smoothing his hair back into place. 

“Now, see what happens when you start thinking about leaving? Trust me, my pet, I’m only doing this for your own good. No one can protect you better than I can,” he said with a patronizing smile, and you sighed as you nodded in agreement. 

He gave you a pleased look, then took hold of his cloak as he pondered aloud, “I think I’ll return to that market to pay those peasants a visit; if I allow them to take advantage of my generousness like that, they’ll think I’ve gone soft. I’ll be back in a few days, and my pet…” 

He finished securing his cloak around his shoulders as you began to feed your hair out of the window and placed a hand on your forearm. 

“I trust you’ll be here when I get back?” 

Though his tone was light, you could see the hint of lingering anger in his silver eyes, and his grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly. 

“Of course, Father.” 

He stepped through the window, riding your hair down to the ground, and you watched dejectedly as he disappeared into the trees. 

“I’ll be here.”

Man Lucio is a bitch and a half to write

I wanted to wait to post this until Julian showed up, but this was getting pretty long and I didn’t want to wait any longer, so I promise the next part with Julian’s entrance will be up soon!

I also decided to tag this with some warnings because I don’t want to upset anyone accidentally, and I know Lucio’s portrayal in this could potentially be triggering to victims of domestic violence/abuse. If there’s anything else you guys can think of I should tag, please let me know!

Also, sorry for my lame-ass title :P

[tessatechaitea]

The New Titans #60

First time in my comic book reading history that I noticed how much Nightwing's symbol looks like the torso of a woman in a skimpy top.

It's difficult beginning a new New Titans comic book when I'd let myself believe I was finished reading them all. It's especially difficult to keep reading this comic book when the first page includes this warning:

You don't have to tell me twice!

Apparently my brain disagreed with its first assessment that the comic book didn't need to tell me twice because it reread the warning and idiotically read it correctly this time.

Dammit! Why did I already read Batman #440?! Now I'm practically locked into reading this!

Looking on the bright side for the second time in my life (the first time was when I realized that when I die, it'll most likely be in some horrible accident in which I won't have time to register that my life is ending and therefore I'll never actually know I've died, easing swiftly into the loving embrace of non-existence!), I thought, "Well, Batman #440 was written by Wolfman and it was a decent read. How terrible can this comic book be?!" But that pleasant thought was completely undone when the first panel reminded me of something I had yet to consider:

Fuck. Cyborg was still alive at this time. I'm fucking bored already!

Well, looking on the bright side who loves seeing a character yell "Booyah!" constantly, this comic book should be a real treat! I do feel a little bit of white guilt creeping in around the corners when I voice my indifference of the most boring character in the DC Universe because he's black. Especially with Donald Trump's recent explicitly racist tweets and the GOP's rush to hide behind other members of the GOP in the hopes that they won't have to shrug apathetically on camera when asked about the tweets. But it's not my fault that DC Comics chose to make their most boring character an American black man! Would it help if I said some of my favorite DC characters were black? Nope. Just heard how that sounds. Not better! Paragraph breaks don't do as much heavy lifting as I need them to. Sometimes after I've written some commentary, I'll wander off to another part of the Internet to take in some sights. Then when I come back, I sometimes want to discuss what I've just experienced. But going from one paragraph to another, readers just think they're reading it in real time as I wrote it. What I need are paragraph breaks that represent the amount of time I was away (but not what I was doing while I was away or they'd all be variations on "Gone five minutes. Jerked off to Sailor Moon porn where Rei surprises Usagi in the shower and teaches her how to masturbate" or "Gone ten minutes. Watched an erotic massage video and spent most of the time fiddling with the sound so the downstairs neighbors couldn't hear it. Turns out 3 out of 100 is still to loud for some women's orgasms" or "Gone three days. Couldn't take reading another Wolfman New Titans comic book and wound up just playing thirty games of Apex"). Between the last paragraph and this one, I went on Twitter where Andy Richter posted Fats Domino's version of The Beatles' "Lady Madonna." My only response after hearing it was, "Holy fuck." Seriously, I never want to hear The Beatles' shit version ever again! I also just noticed in the above panel, Cyborg accidentally stuck his penis plug-in to the side of his face! Whoops! Back in 1989, Cyborg wasn't capable of contacting anybody in the DC Universe immediately. So he's having trouble finding Dick Grayson. He tried his pager and...well, that's about it! It was 1989! If somebody wasn't sitting by their phone, you didn't have many other options when trying to contact them! This is probably one of the moments where much later DC editors looked back at Cyborg and realized he needed to be more powerful. I'm not arguing that he definitely needed to be more than a white noise gun that said "Booyah!" but they could have realized he needed to be interesting as well. Hell, it's not long after this issue that Marv Wolfman completely gives up on him and smashes him into bits. Having no other options but to risk exposing Batman's secret identity by putting calls to Wayne Manor on the Titans phone records, Cyborg gives Bruce a call. I'd understand interrupting Batman's hectic life if the world were on fire but the big emergency right now is that some weird kid looking for Dick visited Kory while she was practically naked (no wait. She had a towel on after showering so her body was more covered than usual). Batman is busy dealing with Two-Face even though it's the middle of the day. I think maybe Alfred lied to Cyborg. I bet Batman's taking a shit. Dick has gone back to Haly's Circus to find himself.

I bet these two clowns are actually old white land developers responsible for the circus failing! Their next trick will be to dress up like ghosts and zombies to scare everyone away!

A third clown named Harry comes out of a tent and passes out in Dick's arms. Can you imagine blacking out as a clown? You'd probably wake up in an unknown tent with no make-up covered in lion spit and shame. Dick meets with Haly and is all, "I read about the circus closing down and I couldn't figure out why. But now that I'm here, I totally get it!" And Haly is all, "Fuck you, Dick! You try running a circus in 2019! I mean 1989! Oh, yeah, I guess I should probably still have been able to trick idiots into thinking freak sideshows and abusing animals was still cool." Haly actually blames the failing of his circus on too much TV and too many video games. Obviously Super Mario, Tecmo Bowl, and Duck Hunt (hee hee! You thought, "Cunt!") were way more fun and interesting than sitting in a smelly tent being terrorized by people in greasy face paint but Haly really should take a little responsibility for his own business failings. Dick arrives and in ten minutes, he's already washed an elephant and kept a drunk clown from breaking his neck. Maybe get off your ass, Harry Haly, and fix up your shit. Haly also mentions that there's been a rash of accidents that have kept the selling price of the circus down. I bet it was those fucking clowns!

He's talking about his penis so yes, Dick, he has to ask.

While at Haly's Circus, Dick Grayson witnesses the origin of Clown Batman!

Later, after Bozo Wayne grew to an adult and was wondering what direction to take, a clown crashed through his window.

Tensions are running high at the Haly Circus as some performers want to circus to be sold so they can move on and others just want things to remain unchanged.

Finally, a clown that makes me laugh!

During the show later, Wilhelm the lion tamer gets his throat ripped out before Dick can save him. Dick was disguised as a clown so Wilhelm probably bled out as Dick was struggling to take off the stupid shoes. Tim Drake is in the audience watching because he's smarter than the entire Titans team put together. Later, Tim and Dick team up to find out who's been sabotaging Haly's Circus. It turns out it was the little person and the strong man. So typical! It's totally who I thought it was and not those two clowns from earlier. That was just a red herring I was throwing out to confuse you. The team-up doesn't make me like Tim Drake any better. But then Tim makes an admission that warms my heart and I can't help but love the kid.

Wolfman knew what he was doing.

At the end of the day, Dick Grayson buys half of Haly's Circus to help keep it afloat (with Bruce's money). Then Tim shows him the pictures of Batman battling Ravager that he took in Batman #440. He pleads with Dick to go back to help Batman cope with the death of Jason Todd. "Batman needs Robin!" he argues like a nerd doing his thesis on Batman's inexplicable need to endanger minors. Dick takes the kid seriously because who else has ever figured out that Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson are Batman and Robin?! Only the smartest man on Earth and he won't do that for another twenty five years! The New Titans #60 Rating: B+. Apparently it's the Titans that make the Titans comic book suck. Concentrating on Dick Grayson and his relationship with Batman and the circus (and even this new upstart kid that loves Dick) causes Marv Wolfman to be at his best! My guess is that it's the lack of Cyborg that really makes the book shine.

[androxys]

7/21 WIP Census

The other casualty of my deleting the old sideblog was losing my old WIP census, where I categorized all my current WIPs. That’s changed since I posted it, as Works in Progress tend to change, so I’m going to do another one (to avoid actually working on any of them). Here are their titles, brief descriptions, and opening lines.

Ken and Barbie: The sequel to Can’t Prove It! Now with 100% more Babs

“A city away, sequestered in her Clocktower, Barbara Gordon could only stare in dumbfounded shock, her brain screaming even if her mouth had seemingly ceased to work.”

The Town O’Mallow: Tim and Bernard go on a vacation that turns hellish. Huntress is sent to bail them out.

“’Blessed art thou among women, and... shit,’ Helena whispered.”

Mapping it Out: Okay this is just Timber fluff where the boys have a date night and Bernard wonders what intimacy would look like with Tim. It maaaay be two part and the second part may be them having sex for the first time. I’m not sure.

“’In here.’ His voice carried through the door to his bedroom. Bernard had a hand on the doorknob before the rest of Tim’s sentence carried through. ‘But I’m a little--’ Bernard turned the knob, opening the door. ‘Naked.’“

Stupid Games, Stupid Prizes: A citizen’s brigade is campaigning to remodel a Frank Lloyd Wright building back to its original state... which would remove the wheelchair ramps from the entrance. Like hell, Barbara Gordon thinks.

“ The Gotham Clocktower did not, when considering the entirety of the Gotham skyline, particularly stick out. Originally a relatively squat, rectangular building, the Clocktower had never been one of Old Gotham’s architectural marvels, like the nearby Wayne Tower, which cast a famously long shadow down the twisting boulevards and little alleys of downtown.”

The Word: I reread Final Crisis recently and found myself deeply frustrated by how much the plot meanders, and how I thought such a good Fourth World story was being spun into too many directions to make it a Crisis. So I’m reworking to focus more on the Fourth World stuff and less on, like, Superman’s cosmic dimension journey against the Vampire Monitors.

“It has been said before, and so too again shall it be revealed. As etched in the fire, scripted by the hand of the Source, there came a time when the New Gods died!”

Pearls of Great Price: The second chapter to my Welcome to Nightvale/Batman crossover fic. This one’s from Robin’s point of view while Bruce is being interviewed, showing what was happening at the Landfill.

“ Robin crouched on a rooftop, surveying the town. He missed the tall spires and perpetual chill of Gotham.”

Ghost Dragon: My most active WIP! This is a four (maybe five or six though, depending) chapter fic crossing over Miraculous Ladybug and Batman, particularly the Batman: Reborn era with Dick!Batman and Damian as Robin. Dick and Damian find themselves in Paris, ostensibly for a Wayne Foundation engagement but really so Dick can find Tim and bring him home. If Gotham heroes come to Paris, however, so too can Gotham villains, requiring Ladybug and Chat Noir’s help. Two chapters are already out, and I’m working on the third.

“Marinette wasn’t sure her heart was still beating as the dark shadow of the Batman fell over her and Chat Noir.”

Christmas in June: This one is about Bruce bailing on people he loves because he thinks that not spending a dinner with them here and there is less important than The Mission, because by following The Mission he’s keeping them safe and protecting them. He hopes it makes up from all the times he’s failed them, but he’s not convinced it does.

“’And you’re sure you don’t need any help?’ ‘No, Dad,’ Barbara said, holding the phone up to her ear with her shoulder as she leafed through her cookbook. ‘That’s kind of the whole point.’“

Hauntingly Familiar: Originally, this was part of three interconnected fics: an involved civilian POV, the Batfam’s POV, and an outsider POV who bumps into the other main plot while following his own. It all got too bloated and weighty, so I trimmed it to just the Bat POV and went from there. A random undergrad claims that there’s something afoot with the Court of Owls, which Batman would be more interested in if his mob informants didn’t keep turning up dead. Rumors can wait, he thinks.

“Matches Malone wasn’t being stood up for a date. That was impossible, for at least three reasons.”

---

I think that’s all of them! Normally I would put a post like this under a read more, but I’m actually quite proud of all of these and hope by putting them out there I’ll feel the fire a bit more to actually finish them all.

(Edit: It seems that the bullet point formatting just... isn’t working. Never change, tumblr. Forgive weird formatting, it just is what it is.)

[staircasttext]

Ep 18: Purrlock Holmes

Episode 18

[intro music]

LIZ: That's the price for being a cool tattoo bad guy now.

PAZ: Yeah, with my little cow.

JULIAN: Yeah, Paz's cow tattoo has made them a regular Tigerclaw.

LIZ: Yes, stealing cows is a crime.

PAZ: Tigerclaw's that guy who has like, Mom tattooed on his huge bicep. Does he have a canonical-- does he have mom problems? I don't even know.

JULIAN: Oh, I don't remember.

PAZ: I typed that into google. Martial arts supplies. You don't...

JULIAN: Oh, no. Here, I pulled up the wiki. Um, his mother was Leopardfoot, who only appears in the super editions.

PAZ: Oh, she was apparently the mate of the former leader, Pinestar.

JULIAN: Damn.

PAZ: Maybe he has daddy issues.

LIZ: Maybe he's like--

PAZ: It sounds like maybe he has daddy issues.

JULIAN: Oh damn. Goosefeather asks why the clan leader's mate had such a hard birth, saying StarClan was angry.

PAZ: Oh.

LIZ: [gasps] StarClan said this baby was evil.

JULIAN: The old medicine cat also sees evil in Tigerkit and tries to warn the clan.

LIZ: What?!

JULIAN: Assigned evil at kitten.

LIZ: Does StarClan like--

PAZ: Does he get--

LIZ: No, go ahead.

PAZ: Does he murder that medicine cat at zero days old? What happened to her?

LIZ: Oh, I bet he did. They fucking like Damian'ed this tiny baby cat.

PAZ: Is this in like a super edition? Maybe we gotta read that one.

JULIAN: Yeah, it is. It's in the Bluestar's Prophecy super edition.

LIZ: This is so funny.

JULIAN: There's also-- "during Snowfur's kitting, Bluefur brings a stick and tells Leopardfoot that it's for Snowfur to clamp her jaws on when the pains come. Leopardfoot remembers her painful kitting, wishing she also had a stick."

PAZ: Why didn't anyone bring her a stick?

JULIAN: Why didn't anyone get her a stick?

LIZ: They have a forest. They have to have them.

PAZ: Oh my god.

JULIAN: There's a lot of sticks.

LIZ: You don't need a big one. They're cats.

PAZ: Aren't there sticks all around their camp?

LIZ: They're probably sleeping on some. Just like, get one. What if--

PAZ: Okay, extremely funny.

LIZ: Leopardfoot sounds just normal right now.

PAZ: Yeah, except she has a horrible evil infant.

JULIAN: She doesn't seem to really have a personality beyond mother, based on this.

PAZ: From what I'm reading about Pinestar, I think maybe Tigerclaw had some daddy issues because Pinestar apparently left to go be a kittypet.

LIZ: Oh.

PAZ: Yeah, the drama.

JULIAN: Well, shit.

LIZ: Wow.

PAZ: I don't know if it ever comes up in the main series. I don't know.

LIZ: Pinestar's got it right.

PAZ: Yeah, Pinestar did what we have been saying this whole podcast.

LIZ: He's like, fuck all of this. I'm going inside.

JULIAN: Do it. Get out.

LIZ: Also, my baby is evil. I'm out of here.

PAZ: Yeah.

LIZ: What if this baby just had bad vibes?

PAZ: Your baby ever have such bad vibes you move? You move to another country.

JULIAN: Yeah, this whole Pinestar backstory only appears in the super editions.

PAZ: Huh.

LIZ: This is so funny.

PAZ: What? "When StarClan began urging Pinestar to kill his own son."

LIZ: What?

JULIAN: Holy shit.

PAZ: That's why he left. He was... wait, he was twins with Jake?

JULIAN: Yeah.

PAZ: The intricacies.

LIZ: Wow.

JULIAN: There's so many layers here. Wow. Wow.

LIZ: I mean, like if you look at the map that's in the book, they all kind of just live in the same neighborhood.

PAZ: I know.

LIZ: It's a very small community.

JULIAN: Tight knit.

PAZ: Wow. [laughing] Hi everyone. Welcome to Stairway to StarClan, a Warriors Cat reread pawdcast. I'm Paz.

JULIAN: I'm Julian.

LIZ: I'm Liz. Was that bonus content?

PAZ: No, that's cold open, baby.

LIZ: We gotta put some spoilers.

PAZ: I don't think Pinestar from the bonus novels is that much--

LIZ: What if people want to read the bonus novels?

PAZ: Well...

LIZ: You don't know.

PAZ: Too bad. Pinestar is described as "massive."

LIZ: Big boy.

JULIAN: Tigerclaw had to get it from somewhere.

PAZ: Yeah.

LIZ: What if Pinestar just looks like Bone Bone?

JULIAN: [yelps] Sorry about what that did to my audio.

LIZ: So Tigerclaw sees this little kittypet baby come into his home and is like, I'm going to have father issues right now.

PAZ: Yeah, apparently that's what happened.

LIZ: At this baby.

PAZ: That does seem to be the case, huh.

LIZ: That's so extremely funny.

PAZ: Oh, that's incredible. Well, we didn't read about Pinestar this week. We're still just reading Forest of Secrets. Um, what the fuck did we read? Chapter four through chapter six. Guys, there's a lot of secrets in this forest.

JULIAN: Yeah, this forest I would say is very secretive.

PAZ: Maybe there wouldn't be so much secrets if any of the cats talked to each other, but.

JULIAN: I think the cats should have a sharing circle. I know they have gatherings, and Bluestar calls them to hang out at the high rock or whatever. But I think they need more.

PAZ: Or even like an anonymous message board. They could just post things on a tree.

LIZ: They need Gossip Girl.

PAZ: [laughing] Gossip Girl.

JULIAN: Are you suggesting that the cats develop Yik Yak?

PAZ: Yes. I like Warriors Gossip Girl.

JULIAN: Warriors Gossip Girl is very good.

PAZ: I hope someone wrote that.

JULIAN: I hope someone did too.

LIZ: [typing] Warrior Cats Gossip Girl.

JULIAN: Pop on over to Warriors - Erin Hunter.

PAZ: Any hits?

JULIAN: Zero works found.

PAZ: Oh my god. Once again, we're putting out a call to action.

LIZ: There is a fan art, I think, or a regular art of someone called Ivypool from last year. But it's just captioned "xoxo, Gossip Girl."

PAZ: I think that must be a newer character. I don't remember them.

LIZ: Maybe she's the Gossip Girl.

PAZ: Or it could be an OC.

LIZ: Maybe someone's doing the thing that Warrior Cats needs, then. I support them.

PAZ: Yeah. Finally.

JULIAN: Sorry. I stumbled upon a fancast website. Someone has fancast John Boyega as Lionblaze.

PAZ: Oh my god. Stop, that's gonna make me have to like Lionblaze, who I think is so boring.

LIZ: These cats are British. I keep remembering that.

PAZ: That'd be a great VA, though. Let John Boyega voice some cats.

JULIAN: Fancasting suggestion made by totaltrashfiremammal.

PAZ: Great idea. Should we--

LIZ: What were we doing?

JULIAN: Let's--

PAZ: Wow. Distracted before we even said anything about what we read. Okay. Chapter four. Fireheart, Graystripe and Sandstorm are out hunting, and it looks like leafbare will be over soon. Fireheart sees Brackenpaw having fun with the other two and misses Cinderpaw, wishing she was still his apprentice. He catches a rabbit, and Bluestar says to bring it to Yellowfang, who is training Cinderpaw in medicine. He remembers Tigerclaw injuring Cinderpaw and how dangerous he is to the clan.

The next day, Fireheart and Graystripe sneak into RiverClan territory to talk to Silverstream to ask about Redtail and Oakheart. Silverstream says she wasn't there when he died, but brings her friend Mistyfoot, a gray cat who seems familiar to Fireheart, and who fought in the battle where Oakheart died. Mistyfoot confirms Ravenpaw's story about Oakheart dying in a rockfall accident and reveals that he was her father and that Stonefur is her brother. She says she can ask her mother Graypool, an elder now, to talk to him another time about what Oakheart said about Stonefur.

Chapter five. Fireheart returns to camp where everyone makes fun of him for being stinky, a disguise for smelling-- for covering up that he'd been in RiverClan. He sees Cloudkit impatiently asking Brindleface why he can't be an apprentice yet. Bluestar announces two new apprentices, Thornpaw and Brightpaw. Graystripe returns and says the meeting with Graypool is arranged for tomorrow.

The next day, Fireheart and Graystripe meet with Mistyfoot, Silverstream, and Graypool. Fireheart asks what Oakheart meant when he said no ThunderClan cat should ever harm Stonefur. Graypool asks the other cats to leave so she can speak to Fireheart alone. She reveals that she isn't Mistyfoot and Stonefur's biological mother and that Oakheart brought them to her as abandoned kits to raise. She said she didn't believe him and that she could tell back then that the kits smelled like ThunderClan.

Chapter six. Fireheart is shocked at what Graypool says, asking if Oakheart stole the kits. Graypool says Oakheart would never. She also says she raised Mistyfoot and Stonefur because she respected Oakheart and she didn't want their loyalty to be divided, and that she will rip out Fireheart's liver if he ever tells them. Graypool rules. He promises not to and is very respectful. She also says they never suspected anything, especially since they look so much like her (gray cats) which Fireheart thinks about briefly before forgetting.

Fireheart returns to camp and goes to talk to Bluestar, a gray cat, about what he's learned. He tells her about going to see Ravenpaw and the RiverClan she-cats, everything about Oakheart dying on accident, and how it means Tigerclaw was lying about killing him, and how dangerous Tigerclaw is to the clan. Bluestar seems thoughtful, but when Fireheart tells her that he learned about Mistyfoot and Stonefur, she gets angry and immediately dismisses him. She says to never bring it up again, that maybe Tigerclaw was right to doubt his loyalty, and Fireheart is bewildered, wondering if he's blown his chance to convince her. And that's the end of the readings this week.

LIZ: Gray is a very common color. It's kind of like--

PAZ: That's true. It is.

LIZ: It's the most neutral of the colors.

JULIAN: It could happen to anybody.

PAZ: They're not like fucking white cats.

LIZ: Or an orange cat.

PAZ: No, there's another orange. One of the new apprentices was orange, apparently.

LIZ: Yeah, orange and white. Seems to be more common than... I don't know. Get it together, ThunderClan.

PAZ: Well, that really just shows they're just cat racist because there are other orange and white cats in the clan.

JULIAN: I love Graypool.

LIZ: She's great.

JULIAN: Just got to get that right out there.

PAZ: Yeah, she's so good.

JULIAN: Cranky old grandma. I love her.

PAZ: I love all the old she-cats in this book. Yellowfang, now Graypool.

LIZ: They're all just like, oooh, my arthritis. You kids these days.

PAZ: She even says something like that.

JULIAN: Oh yeah, Fireheart brings her a mouse and she's like, well, I'm glad you're respectful at least, with this undertone of like, everyone else sucks.

PAZ: Yeah. Fireheart's bringing a gift for being allowed to stay over at her house.

LIZ: Fireheart brings her edible arrangements to Grandma. He's a nice young man. This is why he's the favorite of all the grandmas.

JULIAN: He is a nice young man.

PAZ: He is a good nice young man.

LIZ: Except for the President.

PAZ: Yeah, we'll get to Bluestar, but man.

LIZ: Listen, he's got like, what, three now? So it's okay.

PAZ: Um, but should we go back to the beginning of chapter four?

JULIAN: Yeah, this little hunting trip is cute. Brackenpaw starts defending Graystripe. And it's like he does not deserve you.

LIZ: No.

PAZ: Right. It made me really sad. I'm like, Graystripe has abandoned you like 80% of your apprenticeship.

LIZ: And that's such a long time when you're a cat. Brackenpaw's probably like 16 now in cat years.

JULIAN: That's a nice young man.

PAZ: That is a nice young man, and he deserves a better teacher.

LIZ: Maybe Sandstorm will be his teacher.

PAZ: Yeah, I don't know if Gray-- Graypelt-- fuck. Graystripe.

LIZ: Lots of gray cats.

PAZ: I forgot his name. I wanted to banish him from my mind. I don't even know if Graystripe is training him still, even.

JULIAN: Yeah, it's like is Brackenpaw like-- does he have the skills he needs to become a warrior? Is he gonna pass the cat SATs?

PAZ: I don't know.

LIZ: What's that thing you do when you have like the self guided study thing, but it's in high school?

JULIAN: An independent study?

LIZ: You know what I mean? Yeah, maybe he just has that, but it's like his whole day.

PAZ: What he has is like five different teachers, none of whom are Graystripe.

JULIAN: It takes a village. Ugh.

PAZ: Also very important, in this chapter in the scene after the hunting, there's a description of Yellowfang loafing.

LIZ: Yes.

JULIAN: Oh, yes. Yes. Yes!

LIZ: Oh my god.

PAZ: It was like one line, but I was like, oh my god. Picturing it.

LIZ: She's just like, little old lady loaf.

PAZ: She'd look like a cloud with all that fur.

LIZ: Oh my god.

JULIAN: Oh!

LIZ: Yellowfang, another gray cat.

JULIAN: I want to scrumble her so bad.

PAZ: She would bite your hand off.

JULIAN: I know. It would be worth it.

LIZ: She'd be real slow, though. She's a little old lady.

JULIAN: Yeah, maybe she doesn't have all her teeth. Maybe I'd be fine.

PAZ: Oh my god. Yeah, there's another description of Graypool. I think that's other old lady RiverClan cat, where it mentioned like all her broken teeth. Her little old missing lady teeth.

LIZ: Aw.

JULIAN: [wails]

LIZ: Maybe Yellowfang is, despite her name, she's like Chloe. She's just like, no teeth.

JULIAN: Bluestar is gonna have to rename her to Nofang.

PAZ: No.

LIZ: No! Bluestar's so bad at this.

JULIAN: God.

PAZ: I think Bluestar does a real bad renaming soon. Maybe in the next book. I think it's coming up. So yeah, Bluestar does suck at this.

JULIAN: Yeah, she has some-- pretty few jobs. She has a lot of jobs. But she doesn't do great at the one she has.

LIZ: No.

PAZ: No. Really does not. Yeah, I mean, but in the medicine den is like Cinderpaw and Yellowfang. And they have very cute interactions, but Fireheart's man pain.

JULIAN: Oh my god.

PAZ: And like guilt.

LIZ: God.

PAZ: It's never ending. I'm like, Can you just shut up?

JULIAN: It's like every other sentence, just like, oh, what she could have had. But tragedy took it from us.

LIZ: Oh my God.

PAZ: It's really frustrating because like, that's just like, what he's been like, if he hadn't been thinking that, Cinderpaw seems like she's having a fine time. But he's still hung up on that.

LIZ: His man pain's really typical. Because it's like, I wish I could spend more time with basically my daughter. Time to go.

JULIAN: Yeah. It's like, oh, if only there were something I could do to make this poor child's life easier. Bye! I thought about how sad it made me, and that's the same as doing something.

LIZ: I wish I had a nice relationship with my child. Gotta go.

JULIAN: Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw should talk.

PAZ: Yeah, they got some deadbeat teachers in differing ways here.

LIZ: Maybe they do. And we just don't see it because we're only seeing it from Fireheart's point of view, and he's never there.

PAZ: That's true.

JULIAN: God. Yeah, I mean, sort of on that note, I think, Liz, you pointed out that, like, the narration uses the word cripple to talk about her a lot.

LIZ: Yeah.

JULIAN: Which is like, yikes. But I think in a lot of ways that kind of fits with the like, the tone that Fireheart has of this sort of like paternalistic, like, oh, poor Cinderpaw. Poor, helpless Cinderpaw. Like I think just sort of doing a quick look into the history of the word, like a lot of disabled people have either reclaimed it or consider it a slur. But also, like, its history is very much one of like, being tied to like, really paternalistic, like, oh, we gotta save the poor children. And like not viewing people, disabled people as like, adults with agency, or people who will become adults with agency.

LIZ: It's kind of sad and interesting that this is also like, it's the narrative's point of view, right? This is what the reader is supposed to think as well.

JULIAN: Yeah, definitely.

PAZ: Because, like, if this had been on purpose, and would be like, investigating and critiqued at some point, it'd be very, like, accurate, sort of depiction of the way people treat disabled people. But it's not.

LIZ: No.

JULIAN: It is an accurate depiction of the ways that-- [laughter]

PAZ: Because they're just not thinking about it. It's just like the societal, like, views of the author just coming through.

JULIAN: Yeah. I'm glad that Cinderpaw has Yellowfang at least. Like their relationship is really good.

LIZ: Yeah, they're really sweet.

PAZ: Yellowfang would be such a cool teacher to have.

LIZ: She's one, around. She sticks up for Cinderpaw a lot, too, which is nice. And I know a lot is um, comparatively low bar compared to everyone else. I'm glad to see it.

JULIAN: It also seems like she's like, hey, like, you know, you're like a very energetic young cat. Let's find you something to do.

PAZ: Yeah, like, she assigns tasks to Cinderpaw. She's not like Fireheart, where it's like, no, Cinderpaw, she can't do anything now. That scene does make Fireheart remember, though, that Tigerclaw's evil. He has to keep being reminded.

LIZ: I know it's like--

JULIAN: I think he should get some post it notes.

PAZ: That's what I'm saying.

LIZ: The way it's written, it seems like-- it feels like he forgets and it just comes back now and then in a way that's like, very accurately cat like. I know it's like-- cause it's for the reader, right? It's like, oh, this happened like two books ago, but.

PAZ: I'll give him points. He takes the last step. He does a lot of investigative work this set of chapters.

JULIAN: He does. He's doing his little detective routine.

PAZ: Yeah, he's a regular Sherlock Holmes here.

LIZ: Don't you mean Purrlock Holmes?

JULIAN: Oh.

LIZ: He's a regular gumpaw.

PAZ: Aw.

JULIAN: Aw. I do have to critique his plan when they're like, oh, we have to go into RiverClan territory and hide out for Silverstream.

PAZ: Yes.

LIZ: Yeah.

JULIAN: Both of us.

PAZ: The note--

JULIAN: Like, you couldn'ta just met her at Fourtrees and asked her there?

PAZ: The note I wrote in my notes was "Fireheart back to being dumb here. Proximity to Graystripe."

[laughter]

JULIAN: Oh.

PAZ: Yeah, I guess in fiction the reason for that was like, he's like, [gruffly] I can't wait. But I think he could have waited maybe a little.

LIZ: Is that what he sounds like in your head?

PAZ: I don't know. Yeah, maybe he's like-- I feel like he'd have that like shonen boy protag like voice conviction.

JULIAN: I do-- the description of Silverstream is so funny.

LIZ: It is.

PAZ: Spottedleaf, move aside.

LIZ: Can we get a read on her description? It's really good.

JULIAN: Yeah. "Fireheart watched the RiverClan she-cat stepping delicately across the ice toward the bank. She was certainly beautiful, he realized, with a finely shaped head, and thick, sleek fur. No wonder Graystripe was captivated by her." Finely-shaped head?!

PAZ: The authors are trying so hard on how to write cat attractiveness.

JULIAN: What makes a cat sexy? Is it the head shape? I think it's the head shape. I mean, like, I would rather it be a finely shaped head than like her curvy butt or whatever.

LIZ: I know how that would happen, though. It would be like her finely shaped rump or something.

JULIAN: Her like sinuous flanks.

LIZ: Ew.

PAZ: Yeah, it's funny, but it's way better than what could be.

LIZ: Do you think they're gonna hit like their stride later, and it's just gonna be oh, she had beautiful fur and luminous eyes, and then you can just stop.

PAZ: Probably. There's a lot of cat romance in these books. They got to get practice. Shout outs to RiverClan for having an island that they live on?

LIZ: Yeah, that's really good.

PAZ: That's so defensible.

JULIAN: Yeah, it's good as hell.

PAZ: Nobody's invading them.

JULIAN: They're the only ones who can swim.

PAZ: Meanwhile, WindClan's just sleeping in a hollow in the hills. No wonder they've been attacked twice.

LIZ: Someone please save these cats.

PAZ: I'm gonna go build those cats a house.

JULIAN: Also shout out to Mistyfoot for being sort of the beleaguered best friend.

PAZ: Oh my god. Yeah, I did love that vibe.

LIZ: Isn't she like a mom? Did I read that wrong?

PAZ: No, Mistyfoot, I think is like, kind of maybe like a little older than Silverstream, I think?

LIZ: Maybe I'm just confused by all the mom stuff happening. I could have sworn she's like, I have to get back to my kits.

PAZ: She's the one who says Graypool was-- oh, maybe. I don't know. Maybe she did.

JULIAN: I think she might have mentioned kits. Hold up. I don't see that. But I might be missing it.

PAZ: I'm looking.

LIZ: It's not super important.

PAZ: Yeah, she does mention I've left my kits.

LIZ: Oh, okay, good.

PAZ: I think her and Silverstream are like peers.

LIZ: Yeah, I just mentioned it because it's very funny to have your best friend, who is the president's daughter, just be like okay, I've gotta go meet up with my boyfriend, who is from the enemy clan, and also his friend. And we're gonna talk about all this secret shit. And it's just like, I'm living my normal life.

PAZ: She's in her own YA novel.

LIZ: She is down, though. She's like, okay, I'll bring my mom to talk to you enemy cats.

PAZ: Yeah, she's surprisingly chill. You know, Julian, I can see why you might have liked RiverClan as a kid. There's a lot of cool she-cats in RiverClan. I'll give them that.

JULIAN: I think it was also just like RiverClan was my clan for my RP OC, so it's a lot of sort of reflected affection.

LIZ: Like aesthetically, also, it's a very cool one. And also I'll give it to you if not Graystripe.

PAZ: I can't remember who the cat in the New Prophecy for RiverClan was.

LIZ: Fishtail.

PAZ: No, hold on, I'm looking.

LIZ: Swimfoot.

JULIAN: Salmonbelly.

PAZ: Warriors wiki, where are you?

LIZ: Salmonbelly was born with a very pink tummy.

PAZ: Can I-- who the fuck was it?

JULIAN: Stormfur?

PAZ: Maybe.

JULIAN: Never mind.

PAZ: Feathertail?

LIZ: Butterflystroke.

PAZ: Okay, Feathertail was from-- I don't remember this book. Who are you people?

JULIAN: Okay, Feathertail is a RiverClan.

PAZ: They're fucking point of view characters? I don't remember these people. Wow.

LIZ: That makes sense. You said they do like to have more cats per book later on or something.

PAZ: Yeah, yeah, the following series, I think everything since the first series has like rotating POV characters.

LIZ: Sounds fun.

PAZ: Wow, I can't believe I just don't remember this.

JULIAN: I read the whole New Prophecy and I don't remember any of this.

PAZ: I did too. It was my favorite. I remember-- I mean, okay, I remember like, obviously, like Brambleclaw, Squirrelflight, Leafpool, Crowfeather, Ashfur. What book were Stormfur and Feathertail? Apparently they didn't leave a big impression on me.

LIZ: I'm excited to get to it, just--

PAZ: Oh, I love the New Prophecy. I think it still might be my favorite out of the three series I've read.

LIZ: Is it the second one, right? So we're three books away. Is that right? Three?

PAZ: I have no idea.

LIZ: How many--

JULIAN: Yeah, cause there's six per series.

LIZ: That's an afternoon of reading.

JULIAN: Yeah, slam right through em. This is a little bit unrelated. And I don't know if we have more to talk about with this first meeting. But the image of Fireheart showing up to these kits' naming ceremonies absolutely covered in shit.

PAZ: Literally, it's very funny.

JULIAN: Reeking.

PAZ: I like that Sandstorm just teases him.

JULIAN: Yeah, it's really cute.

PAZ: They're very cute together.

JULIAN: Yeah. It's just like the image of like, you know, your shitty cousin arrives at your kindergarten graduation, like covered in feces. No one will sit near him.

LIZ: But he's very supportive. God, is he gonna take a bath?

PAZ: I guess-- I guess so.

JULIAN: How is he gonna? Is he gonna like go in the river?

PAZ: Wasn't there something in the last book where he--

JULIAN: Is he gonna have to lick his shit off himself?

PAZ: No, no, there was something in the last book where he also had to go in the river to wash off something.

JULIAN: Oh, that's right. He had-- it was mouse bile.

LIZ: Ew.

PAZ: Yeah, that was the first book so yes, they did do that.

LIZ: All right, thank god.

PAZ: Not just gonna lick that off. Yeah.

LIZ: So this advice was from Graystripe. Do you think every time he's got to take a bath he's like, ohhh, my forbidden romance requires me to roll in feces and then take a bath, two of the things that I hate as a cat.

PAZ: He's dedicated. That's my nice comment about Graystripe for the day.

LIZ: Is it true love until you-- I can't finish the sentence.

PAZ: Yeah, there's a naming ceremony. I couldn't tell if they were really big babies because they were like Cinderpaw and Brackenfur's siblings. But I was like, are they from the same litter? Why are they so big?

JULIAN: Yeah, I don't know.

PAZ: Bluestar's always going on about how we need more warriors and then she's not making people warriors. She's not making people apprentices.

JULIAN: Just a sec.

PAZ: Okay.

JULIAN: Sorry.

PAZ: What was it?

JULIAN: It was mango pomelo cheese tea.

LIZ: Ooh.

PAZ: Ooh. Damn.

JULIAN: It is very good.

PAZ: That is important to try.

LIZ: Damn, I want something-- I want a fancy drink.

JULIAN: Naming ceremony. Bluestar's inability to move her kits along the path at any sort of rate.

PAZ: I'm really starting to have questions about Bluestar's ability to lead.

LIZ: What happened to the girlboss of our dreams?

PAZ: Well, it's just Graypool now.

JULIAN: Although I guess--

LIZ: But she's retired.

JULIAN: They can't become apprentices until they're six months old. How often can cats have litters?

LIZ: This is so crucial.

JULIAN: Oh my god. "Once pregnant, a cat's gestation period is roughly two months, making it possible for her to birth as many as five litters a year."

PAZ: Oh my gosh.

LIZ: Ahh!

PAZ: Holy shit.

JULIAN: So it could be just another litter.

PAZ: Yeah, I guess so. Nevermind. Yeah, cause they could just be like two months younger.

JULIAN: God, that's horrifying.

PAZ: What a nightmare.

LIZ: That's scary. I am looking at six month old kittens for just like reference. This is a pretty big cat. Gonna show you a little baby. Or I will if I can copy paste anything correctly. Yeah.

PAZ: That's a full cat there.

JULIAN: Oh yeah. That's a little boy.

LIZ: Yeah. So that means Cloudkit's even bigger than this.

PAZ: No, no, no, Cloudkit's younger.

LIZ: Right? I mean, like, yeah, he's younger, but he says he's like, bigger, right?

PAZ: Does he?

JULIAN: He does, but I get the sense that we're not supposed to take that seriously.

LIZ: It's all fluff. He poofs himself up real big.

PAZ: Aw.

JULIAN: Oh, buddy.

LIZ: Or he's just like a big baby. Which is also good to me.

PAZ: That'd be great. After that naming ceremony though is the Graypool scene where, very funny. The scene where like Silverstream and Mistyfoot were walking her out on her little grandma walk.

JULIAN: I love her. Also the scandal here that she reveals.

PAZ: Oh, yes.

JULIAN: Absolutely incredible.

PAZ: Very big gasp moment.

LIZ: She's pretty casual about it. She's just like, yeah, I'll tell you. Everyone else leave.

PAZ: It's because Fireheart brought her a mouse. He's a nice young boy.

LIZ: You seem like an upstanding gentleman. You're my grandson now.

JULIAN: It's the one mouse per secret rule.

LIZ: If you give her like 10 mice, two per day, you get up to her, what, 10 hearts event? Where she just legally adopts you as her grandchild.

PAZ: Oh, perfect.

JULIAN: Perfect.

PAZ: Yeah, she really did-- before she said like, okay, everyone else leave, she looked at Fireheart for a really long time. I think she was perceiving his protagonist halo.

JULIAN: She can see it.

PAZ: And she's like, oh, okay, everyone else get out.

LIZ: She's like, that's a really orange cat.

JULIAN: God, this bit about when Fireheart is like, oh, did he steal the cats? Oakheat is not a kit stealer!

LIZ: God.

PAZ: He's not in Megaboneclan. Don't even imply it. I wonder if that's where they got the idea from?

JULIAN: Maybe.

PAZ: Fascinating.

JULIAN: I feel like there's like a lot of a lot of kit stealing throughout the books. There was some in--

PAZ: Oh, you're right. There was.

JULIAN: Earlier, too.

PAZ: You're right. I just keep forgetting about that.

JULIAN: I mean, it was like, all things considered, fairly minor as far as like, plot repercussions.

LIZ: They seem just like normal cats now. They're not like-- they didn't grow up evil. They didn't grow up, like, very sad. They just kind of--

PAZ: Yeah, Graypool's whole thing is like, don't tell them because I don't want them to feel conflicted suddenly. And I think Fireheart had like a good character moment where he's like, oh, I like totally understand how that feels and I don't think they should have to deal with that.

LIZ: I did like--

JULIAN: I mean, yeah. I think that she should tell them they're adopted, but.

PAZ: Well, considering that like--

JULIAN: But considering the circumstances.

PAZ: Everyone's at war constantly and hates each other, maybe, maybe not.

LIZ: And they've got some sort of weird blood purity thing sometimes.

JULIAN: God.

LIZ: I think they personally seem well adjusted enough and have a nice mom that they'd be like, oh, you're still our mom. Thank you. Sad about all of that we're from an enemy clan that seems to be doing some real shit right now, but.

PAZ: Yeah, but if other RiverClan cats found out.

JULIAN: Yeah, that would be bad.

PAZ: That might be bad. After that Graypool scene is the Bluestar scene, I think.

JULIAN: Yeah. Fireheart learns from his earlier mistakes and is like, I'm gonna tell Bluestar right away so I don't forget.

PAZ: Good. Good start.

JULIAN: I don't get distracted. Which, you know, good. And then it goes real bad.

LIZ: Well, it's at least it's not his fault this time. He did the best he could.

PAZ: Yeah, he has a very solid case laid out. Like with multiple witnesses and sources. But Bluestar's like, own personal drama makes her a real like, dumb ass about this.

JULIAN: Yeah, she completely shuts down. And Fireheart is blaming himself, which I don't think he should.

LIZ: No.

PAZ: Yeah. Yeah, like the moment he mentions the RiverClan cats, that's when she shuts him down.

LIZ: Maybe she is just threatened by these coincidentally, like gray cats. She's like, oh, another gray cat? Two other gray cats? What if they want my presidency? No other reasons.

JULIAN: That who is that other dog comic, but.

PAZ: Yeah, poor Fireheart He's trying so hard to stop everyone from getting murdered-- specifically Bluestar from getting murdered. Like she's top of the murder list.

JULIAN: I know.

PAZ: And she is just thwarting his every move.

LIZ: She's got big about to like get fridged energy.

PAZ: It's like, then perish. If you're not gonna listen to him, then perish.

LIZ: Fireheart is constantly just like throwing himself in front of her like, get down Miss President.

PAZ: She stands up.

JULIAN: I described Bluestar as a girl boss earlier, and Han was like, oh, does she like also gatekeep and gaslight? And yes, she does.

PAZ: Oh, she sure does.

LIZ: She does. Mm-hmm.

PAZ: She's in prime form this chapter. Yeah, okay, here's a-- I'll just read to give you that flavor. "Bluestar let out a long breath. All the interest she had shown before had vanished, leaving her expression cold and remote. 'Go,' she ordered. 'Find yourself something useful to do, something that befits a warrior and never, never mention this to me again. Do you understand?'"

LIZ: Oh shit.

PAZ: It's like, ma'am.

JULIAN: Sorry, his ending little thing is like, "thistles and thorns, he thought."

PAZ: Yeah, it's very very cute.

JULIAN: Which is really cute.

LIZ: That's so cute little. They're little guys.

JULIAN: Yeah, their little cat figures of speech.

PAZ: There was another one in this set of chapters that was something like, darker than a crow's wing or something like that. Just good stuff.

LIZ: I think that's the whole chapter then, right?

PAZ: Yeah. It is. It was a pretty juicy set of chapters. Lots of just-- but it's all kind of around like the same stuff. Just that RiverClan investigation.

JULIAN: That kit parentage.

LIZ: I like the way the conflict is like continuing. It feels very frustrating to read. But it's like, yeah, it would be frustrating. This is good escalation, I guess. It's like you have all of the info that you were looking for for your little murder mystery investigation. But like, now there's this different stuff happening.

PAZ: Yeah, I'm just really appreciating how well these books are written like, for kids novels, because I'm still rereading Uglies. And like, it's a good novel, and I'm enjoying it, but it feels like more clumsily handled, like the way plot beats are set up, like the way all the Chekhov's guns items are put in place and come back. But the Warriors is just like-- it's very well plotted and paced when stuff comes up.

LIZ: I think it definitely benefits from having a team to do it, right.

PAZ: Yeah, for sure. And I think they're all like experienced authors. I mean, I could be wrong, but I'm pretty-- at least I think Vicki Holmes is the one. I'm pretty sure she was like writing before. And then they tapped her to write the series.

JULIAN: I think Cherith Baldry is the one who actually wrote this one. Or like the main writer for this one. But she'd also written like, a bunch of different fantasy series before this.

PAZ: Yeah, exactly.

JULIAN: And I think also, just like, something I really like about these books is there's a really good sense of cat politics. Like, there's a sense that this is a larger world and there's a lot of forces at play, some of which we see and like, some of which we don't, so that when stuff kind of comes in or out, you know, it feels like there's stuff happening off screen that is affecting the plot that we don't necessarily see, in like a good way.

PAZ: Yeah. Like I mean, like we were mentioning how Mistyfoot felt like the beleaguered best friend character. Like she was in so few scenes, but like the sense of that really came across well. There really is a sense that like, there is other stuff going on with like, the other clans.

LIZ: There's this part, um, when Graystripe and Silverstream are like okay, we're gonna fuck off now. Go have fun with your meeting. And Fireheart doesn't even get to talk much, but Mistyfoot is like, don't worry, I won't eat you.

PAZ: I am excited to see what happens in this book.

JULIAN: Me too. See some more secrets.

LIZ: Will any of these secrets come out? Will more secrets be created? Who knows? This is my tagline for the book.

PAZ: What do you think the next secret will be, Liz?

LIZ: Fireheart is Tigerclaw's dad. He's a time traveler.

JULIAN: Oh shit.

LIZ: But he's got amnesia.

PAZ: Oh shit. It's like time traveling Dumbledore.

LIZ: He got reset to baby age. That's how they don't know.

PAZ: My God.

JULIAN: The power of StarClan. As the prophecies foretold.

PAZ: They said, you didn't kill your kit the first time. Go do it again.

LIZ: Oh shit.

JULIAN: Yeet you right on back.

PAZ: Wow. That rules.

LIZ: Wow.

PAZ: Well, I can't wait to see that happen. I guess unless anyone has anything else to add, that's it for the book discussion segment.

JULIAN: Yeah, I don't have anything else to add.

[meow]

PAZ: All right. So, God. I don't know what episode it was. It was around when we were discussing the Barnes and Noble RP community that we also found that like within Goodreads groups there's a thriving Warriors community. So I was clicking around some of those threads. Lots of good stuff in there. Also a lot of groups that are just like two people, and I hope that went well for them.

JULIAN: I support them.

LIZ: That just feels like the natural habitat, you know?

PAZ: Yeah, it's definitely like someone and their friend just made a Goodreads group together. Good for them.

LIZ: So good.

PAZ: But I found a great thread that is titled "What's in a name? Warrior names, do's and don'ts."

JULIAN: This is-- I just want to let our audience know, this is divided into a prologue, a second prologue, chapter before the chapter, chapter one, chapter two, chapters one through five.

LIZ: I love this.

PAZ: This is serious stuff.

JULIAN: Mod Peyton here is very clear about what needs to be done and what does not need to be done.

PAZ: Do you want to read the intro?

JULIAN: Sure. "Prologue, understanding Warriors. It's rather disheartening to see role players creating outrageous names. Carrotkit, Blueberryfang, Sneezeheart and Scrabblepaw, to name some randomly selected examples."

LIZ: Those are so good.

JULIAN: "No matter how original they seem to be." What does Peyton have against good names?

PAZ: I feel like this is specific beef. I don't know if he's randomly selected.

JULIAN: This is 100% specific beef.

LIZ: Blueberryfang. Someone out there, ugh.

PAZ: I love Sneezeheart.

LIZ: Who's the medicine cat from ShadowClan again?

PAZ: Runningnose?

JULIAN: Oh, Runningnose?

LIZ: Yeah.

PAZ: Right?

LIZ: That's the same.

JULIAN: "There's a very specific reason why Warrior Cats are given the names they have, and it's much more obvious than people make it out to be. For one, we'll start early on in warrior lore. To be a warrior, a cat must be generous and must understand self sacrifice because the foundation of the warrior code is, essentially, the clan comes first. If that fact is disregarded, it could be said that the cat is no longer a warrior or doesn't understand the ways of warriorhood." And that's why you never have any evil Warrior Cats.

PAZ: None.

JULIAN: "This is the purpose of apprenticeship, to teach the warrior in training not only to hunt and fight, but to serve the clan as a true warrior." Well, fuck Brackenpaw then. "It isn't a good name that makes a warrior, but the character of the cat. However, with a good name, every other cat will know just how well they behave or how highly revered they are in the clan. This is why Deathfang or Boneclaw is unacceptable."

LIZ: Boneclaw.

PAZ: Why?

JULIAN: "This disregards not only the warrior code but reality, or rather, Warrior Cat reality."

PAZ: Reality?!

LIZ: Boneclaw.

JULIAN: "We'll discuss this soon enough in the following chapters."

PAZ: You can't say Deathfang and Boneclaw are unacceptable when there's fucking Brokenstar and Tigerclaw.

JULIAN: Brokenstar and Crookedstar and Nightstar.

LIZ: Boneclaw's so good. I'm so mad that no one is legally allowed to use it.

PAZ: If you use that, Peyton will fucking track you down, so don't even think about it.

LIZ: Come at me, Peyton. Here's my Goodreads at.

JULIAN: "A warrior is an honorable, respectable cat, and one of the best ways to represent that reputation is a good name. Below are a few examples, before I show you just how it works." Oh. "Sandstorm. Sandkit undoubtedly describes a very pale kitten, an obvious name to give a pale ginger cat at birth."

PAZ: She's not ginger! I refuse.

JULIAN: "As Sandpaw grew up, she developed a very harsh and spiteful personality." She did not!

PAZ: I don't think so.

JULIAN: "Which we can see is illustrated in her warrior name, Sandstorm. Sand being rough illustrates your personality in being both unfriendly and rude."

PAZ: What?

JULIAN: "So therefore Sandstorm is a pale ginger tabby, with a habit of being very snappy and blunt." Peyton, I have some beef!

PAZ: I think there's a little misogyny happening here.

JULIAN: Have you heard of tsundere?

PAZ: That too. Oh my god. She is not.

JULIAN: She's not rude.

PAZ: I mean, being blunt is not the same as being rude.

JULIAN: She's also very nice to a lot of cats.

PAZ: Yeah, I mean, she's unfriendly and rude like in the first book. That's about it, and they were all like teens, so. Ugh.

JULIAN: God. "Fireheart. Firepaw, as Bluestar stated, was named for his fiery coat that held the light of a blazing fire when the sun was upon it. His suffix, Bluestar also explained somewhat and not in depth, represents his caring personality. He cared for every cat, every clan, and made it obvious, even if it broke the rules of being a warrior. He wasn't afraid to support and take care of others, which meant he had heart-- a very brave and considerate heart. Fireheart, therefore, represents a dark ginger tom with a passionate personality."

PAZ: Thank you, Peyton.

JULIAN: "But there are other options in naming a warrior. For example, Goldenflower. This name describes two things: a cat, and a flower. The flower we know is yellow and the cat we know is golden and very motherly. The double meaning is a step ahead of the former names."

PAZ: Wow.

JULIAN: "Mentioning the cat and an object that represents them for what they look like and how they behave."

PAZ: The layers. The layers to warrior names.

LIZ: Yep.

JULIAN: "This isn't a very common way to name warriors because it is a very delicate process."

LIZ: Oh my god.

JULIAN: "But it can sometimes be the most highly revered and best way to consider. This is very similar to the names above, but don't get them confused. The former names describe the cat's appearance and personality separately and do not denote a second image found in nature. Sandstorm could be considered iffy, but it denotes her personality as sandstorms don't occur in heavily forested or grassy areas like where the cats live."

PAZ: Oh my god. It just goes on and on about like this.

JULIAN: Yep. Oh, they do mention Brokentail/Brokenstar, with their own explanations.

PAZ: Oh my god, hold on. I gotta read the legendary cats section. The second paragraph takes you out. "Everyone's heard of the legendary cat clans, LeopardClan, TigerClan, and LionClan, and cats do get prefixes from these particular cats. No, these clans did not and do not exist where the current four clans live, and are merely myths that the cats can tell. They're inspirational stories, sort of like nursery rhymes for kids today. We can safely assume that because leopards, tigers, and lions are real cats, and that because domestic cats such as ferals have lineage in them." I don't think they do. I don't think that's how the evolution happened.

JULIAN: That's not how genes work.

PAZ: That's not how it works.

LIZ: What? No.

PAZ: "That the Clans would understand what they were. It's completely acceptable to name your cat after one of the clans because they're not sacred or spiritual. Think of them as naming your little boy John, Abraham, or Matthew, if you catch my drift. They're good names for a strong representation of ancestry and appearance and work really well for traditional canon cats."

JULIAN: Tigerclaw has become Catholic this time.

PAZ: He sure fucking has.

LIZ: Can we please look at the don'ts in chapter four?

PAZ: Okay, let me scroll all the way down. Oh wait.

JULIAN: Hold up.

LIZ: Wait, wait, wait.

JULIAN: We got a cat genetics chapter.

PAZ: Wait, before that, before that. "Naming generators. Do not trust these with anything, whether it's a generator on the official Warriors site or the one on Warriors Wish."

LIZ: Ooh.

JULIAN: "Do not use these. The combinations are very poor, and needless to say, they do not follow rules of traditionalism. Names from generators are also less personal and meaningful, and it is not suggested that anyone use them." That is all in bold and underlined.

LIZ: Wow. And italics.

PAZ: Yes. Okay, continue. I think genetics is next.

JULIAN: Genetics is next. Peyton has some issues with the canon cat genetics. "Black cats cannot have blue eyes unless there's some amount of white on them. The genetics for creating the light eye gene is not found in solid black cats, and therefore is not plausible. This means that, realistically speaking, Crowfeather is not a plausible character, given his appearance."

PAZ: Crowfeather's been canceled.

LIZ: Wow.

JULIAN: "Tabbies can have blue eyes. It is not common, but genetics allow for it if the cat is of a certain breed. Hawkfrost is plausible. Violet-eyed cats are extremely rare, even more rare than tortie toms. This does not make playing a violet-eyed cat in the wild a common feat or something that should really be considered, but it is possible."

LIZ: Is it possible?

JULIAN: Finally, in bold.

PAZ: Oh my god.

JULIAN: "Tortie toms are rare and cannot live in the wild. They have very weak immune systems, are sterile, and without human/Twoleg care and medications cannot survive."

PAZ: Holy shit.

JULIAN: Okay.

LIZ: Wow, rude.

JULIAN: Cat magic? Fine. Violet-eyed cat? Fuck you.

LIZ: Tortoiseshell toms? Get the fuck out of here.

PAZ: Banned from the forum. Banned.

LIZ: Are purple eyes real? Even if it's just a shade of blue? I don't think so.

PAZ: I don't think so. I've certainly--

LIZ: I'm only seeing photoshopped cats.

PAZ: They got that Alexandria's Genesis or whatever.

LIZ: Purple eyes, white hair, does not poop.

JULIAN: Yeah, animalpath.org says, "you may have heard rumors about cats with purple eyes, but there is no known evidence of cats with purple eyes, although lighting conditions can make a blue-eyed cat's eyes appear purplish or blue violet."

LIZ: Peyton!

JULIAN: "Rare albino cats can have lilac-colored eyes, with the lilac being a soft pale shade of purple."

LIZ: What? Okay, Peyton, all right. I've got to see this. I'm only getting photoshops.

JULIAN: Yeah, I've looked this up.

LIZ: The second result I'm getting is from Warrior Cats. Warrior Cat Pelt and Eye Colors wiki.

JULIAN: This is the Photoshop.

PAZ: Oh my god. Sorry. I'm down to chapter three, the do's. "There are small things to keep in mind as far as grammar is concerned. Names are compound words. So that means names like One-eye will be hyphenated to separate the repeated letters so that it reads One dash eye. The Erins don't always do this, but that doesn't mean it's okay not to." Jesus.

LIZ: God. That's a lot of like, conjunctions.

PAZ: Does somebody want to read the don'ts?

LIZ: Yes.

PAZ: Yes.

LIZ: It's really long. Oh, it's so long.

JULIAN: We can split it up. We don't have to read the whole thing. Or we can have people tag in and out.

LIZ: Okay, I can start. "Chapter four, the don't. What don't you do in a name? There are tons of things you don't do in a name. We'll start small and work our way up. Well, not necessarily. There's no starting small in the don't section. These are basic but unwritten rules. Some of them the Erins have said. Some of them have been observed, but all apply. One, the moon, sun, and stars are sacred to the cats. These objects or variations of the objects are not to be used in names. The moon, sun, and stars are sacred. It's why star is only allowed at the end of the leaders' names. This is a rule I'll repeat over and over if I have to get it across. Examples of unacceptable names: Moonfur, Sunclaw, Starkit. This also applies to names that expand on the above: Lunarfur, Solarclaw, Eclipseheart, Crescentpaw."

JULIAN: Damn. Sorry to rain on Peyton's parade, but there is in fact a canonical Moonflower, so.

PAZ: I'm starting to doubt Peyton's authority on the subject.

LIZ: Peyton, debate me.

JULIAN: Meet me in Fourtrees. Debate me in the marketplace of ideas.

LIZ: "Eclipse especially is a no go. An eclipse not only happens rarely but when it does happen, the result that it has on the warriors are catastrophic. So no sensible queen would name her kit after an event that leaves all shaking in fear." I think it'd be really metal. You should do that, actually.

PAZ: Yeah, like what if you're goth, and you're like, I want my evil baby.

LIZ: Boneeclipse!

JULIAN: What do you think Peyton's stance on cats with wings is?

PAZ: Kill on sight. No mercy. Mosey down.

LIZ: Who wants to-- we can go through this by numbers, I guess.

PAZ: Sure. "Two. Due to the fact that dreams are held in high regard and are sacred in the ways of warriors, no variation on the word dream is to be used. This applies to the word itself and synonyms or similar words: wish, hope, muse, desire, etc. Examples of unacceptable names: Morningdream, Dreamkit, Wishinggaze, Musemind."

JULIAN: Sorry, we got a Wishkit. Oh shit. Wishkit was one of Yellowfang's kits who died.

LIZ: No.

PAZ: Oh no. I guess they died because it was an unacceptable name.

LIZ: StarClan saw the fucking birth certificate and was like fuck, no. No way. This baby? No.

PAZ: Struck down with thunder. Do you want to read the next one, Julian?

JULIAN: Yeah. "Spiritual connotations, both in the human world and cat world, are not to be used. Words such as spirit, soul, and angel denote higher levels of being, an honor not worthy of warriors."

PAZ: What?

LIZ: What?!

JULIAN: "This is only allowed for leaders through the use of star, as a suffix, to represent their connection with StarClan. Vicky has stated that spirit, soul, and other similar words would not make it primarily because of their human connotations with certain religions, which means spirit and soul are Twoleg words that warrior cats would not know about, despite contrary belief. Examples of unacceptable names."

PAZ: Holy shit, the third one in this list.

JULIAN: "Spiritsong, Angelwing, Demonsythe, and Soulflight."

LIZ: These are metal. You should use them.

PAZ: I love Demonsythe so much.

JULIAN: Please name your cat Demonsythe. Also the fact that Demonsythe-- scythe is not spelled with a C here.

PAZ: It is not.

JULIAN: This is definitely an OC. Like this is someone's cat. Someone made a Demonsythe, and Peyton said, fuck off.

LIZ: Demonsythe, if you're out there, come on our podcast. This whole-- are they saying that cats can't reach higher levels of being like humans?

PAZ: I think like they're saying is that only when you're dead. Cause warriors are the live cats, I guess.

LIZ: Okay, I thought this was gonna be like the weird thing where it's like, humans get heaven, and then like animals get like a lower heaven or something.

PAZ: Oh no.

LIZ: Do Christians do that? I wouldn't know.

PAZ: I don't know, maybe it is. Do you wanna read the next one, Liz?

LIZ: Oh, okay. I need to recover myself after Demonsythe. "Four, words that tend to be seen as disrespectful in their literal sense are not to be used. Cats are literal in their naming and do not use hidden messages. This means--"

JULIAN: You just said that Goldenflower was a metaphor.

LIZ: "This means that names that include words such as hollow, any variation of the word fall, burning, searing, singed, shattered, twisted, broken."

PAZ: Broken?!

LIZ: Hey. Listen.

PAZ: Hello?

LIZ: Hey, wait. Debate me! I've got some good-- I've got the wiki open, Peyton.

PAZ: You need to revisit the text, Peyton. You need to read-- you need to pick up one of these books and read it.

LIZ: Okay, "or any word related to the aforementioned is not acceptable, especially in a name that is given at birth."

PAZ: Guess what?

LIZ: "Certain words such as torn, broken, or otherwise are acceptable as renames but most are not. Examples of unacceptable names in either situation: Brokenheart, Twistedface--"

PAZ: That's just what Crooked--

LIZ: "Hollowsoul, Searingkit," and then just Fallenbird.

PAZ: Oh my god. This is killing me.

LIZ: Okay. "Examples of acceptable names for a rename. Cats that get renamed must have been in a life threatening situations." I've read that wrong. "Cats that get renames must have been in life-threatening situations, otherwise the names become meaningless. Every cat tears a claw every now and then, so Tornclaw isn't an acceptable name change." Let him do it. Let Tornclaw do it. Fuck you. "Most cats that get renames are then sent to be an elder because any situation that would then require a name change hinders the cat from--" I think they get to be elders when they're old.

PAZ: Yeah.

JULIAN: Yeah, I think fucking-- the WindClan, Deadfoot, would have some words for you, Peyton. Deadfoot would like to debate you in the marketplace of ideas.

LIZ: And then just like, One-eye, Brokenleg, Tornfur. Oh my god. And then there-- Peyton addresses the Erins. Okay, "this also means that yes, Erins, Birchfall is not really a respectable name."

PAZ: Oh my god.

LIZ: The name denotes a fallen birch, which for one does not represent the cat for anything, appearance, personality, event even that would have had something to do with the cat. It's a completely random and purposeless name of a very bad sign/event in a forest."

PAZ: Oh my god.

LIZ: "You must consider the meaning of your name when applying such harsh disrespectful words. They are absolutely not tolerated."

JULIAN: What if I want my cat to have an angsty backstory? I'm also like, has Peyton been in the woods? Trees fall all the time.

LIZ: If a tree falls in the woods and no one's around to hear it, will Peyton still debate them?

PAZ: Oh my god.

JULIAN: "Number five. Jewels and semi precious stones are not acceptable in names. Silver and gold are used because the terms for certain colorations and markings-- technical terms-- are actually silver and gold. However, there are no markings classified as jade, ruby, onyx, or otherwise. Secondly, the possibility of cats unearthing such rare jewels that aren't even found in the British Isles is an impossibility. Most stones must be mined for and are found under certain conditions unavailable to the cats." Isn't there a mine like on the map?

PAZ: There is. They go there for their spirit ceremony.

JULIAN: That's where the Moonpool is.

LIZ: I don't have an issue with Peyton's length. These are-- this is a lot of books. There's a lot of lore. I disagree fundamentally with what Peyton is laying down.

PAZ: Oh my god. Wow. "Number six."

LIZ: Excuse you. Wow.

PAZ: "Remember that cats are not sophisticated. If the kit is red at birth, they are not crimson, scarlet, or blood. They are red or ginger. Cats don't have dictionaries and thesauri." How old do you think Peyton is?

JULIAN: Oh God, either 25 or 14.

PAZ: Yeah, there's no in between.

JULIAN: No in between.

LIZ: Peyton, if you're 25, all of this is justified. Like all of what we're saying is justified. If you're 14, please forgive us. Keep doing you.

JULIAN: But maybe think about how other people might like to roleplay and how it might be different from how you like to do it.

LIZ: Peyton, if you're 14, we're just three clowns.

JULIAN: We're three clowns. And I was this clown. When I was a role player, like I did not set out a whole lore bible for how to name cats. But I was very like, very high minded about what I thought a proper name was.

PAZ: There's more. There's more though.

JULIAN: There is more. Who wants to do seven?

LIZ: Should I do seven?

PAZ: Sure.

JULIAN: Sure.

LIZ: Is it my turn? Did we-- sorry, just want to check. Did we read the unacceptable unsophisticated or sophisticated names?

PAZ: Oh no, I didn't.

LIZ: Just Burgundypelt. I like that a lot.

JULIAN: It's very good. I also am a big fan of Cobaltpaw.

LIZ: Yeah. Okay, "number seven. All Twoleg seasons are unknown to cats. Therefore, an Autumnspirit is not acceptable, nor is a Winterpelt. Seasons are referred to differently. This also works for things such as ocean, seas, comets, and other things not commonly referred to in the books. Examples of unacceptable names: Summerheart, Oceanbreeze, Comettail." Aw, that's a good name.

JULIAN: I think Comettail slaps.

PAZ: Yeah, I can picture it. That's a cat with a really bright red tail.

LIZ: Yeah, it can be like-- that feels like a prophecy cat.

JULIAN: "Number eight, animals found outside of the British Isles are not to be referred to. It's hard to keep track of all the animals that don't live in Britain."

PAZ: Is it?

LIZ: I mean, okay, comparatively, animals that live in Britain versus animals that don't.

PAZ: That's true.

LIZ: One of those numbers is bigger than the other. Yes.

PAZ: That's true.

JULIAN: Yeah, no.

LIZ: I do agree.

JULIAN: It is hard to keep track of all the animals that don't live in Britain. "But if you don't know for sure whether or not they can be found on the island, Wikipedia it. That is the simplest answer, and you won't look like a fool. Here are some common animals that usually get placed in names that are not native or found on Britain: coyote, cardinal, and bear. This also goes for plant species such as the orchid, olive, and ebony tree. Please do your research on a species before placing it in a name."

PAZ: Last, we've finally reached the end of this chapter. "Nine, everyone knows that Twoleg objects are not acceptable names. That's obvious. However, that sometimes doesn't seem to apply or rather, it gets overlooked. Many words don't even seem to have human origins of connotations, but they do and are not acceptable. Many common words used in names, such as mask and dance, are human words to describe things in nature and are not natural occurrences. People will reference the mask of a raccoon or the dance of courting birds, but these words are not recognized by cats. This also goes for obvious materials, such as ink, sword, dagger, and various metals."

JULIAN: Does-- all words are human words.

PAZ: None of these cats know any words. Why does it--

LIZ: They know one word, and it's meow. Can I propose an exercise?

PAZ: Yes.

JULIAN: Yeah.

LIZ: Can we make a completely unacceptable name?

PAZ: Yes, please.

JULIAN: Yes.

LIZ: What's your completely unacceptable name? Let's take a minute.

PAZ: Okay. Well, let's look back up at the don'ts.

JULIAN: Oh, here's some questions at the bottom.

PAZ: Okay, we'll go anti to all these questions.

JULIAN: Yeah, well, it's just do I have an acceptable prefix, which I think we need to-- we got to go through our rules and find.

PAZ: Let's make the name first and then come back to these questions. Okay, so no celestial objects. No dreaming.

JULIAN: What about an asteroid? Because that's both a celestial object and like a rare or semi precious stone.

PAZ: That's pretty good. Is there a prettier name, like asteroid term?

JULIAN: Meteor?

LIZ: Space debris.

PAZ: You know what, what if we take the name of a planet or moon. That'll also cover the no spiritual--

JULIAN: Perfect.

PAZ: --references. Let's look at some of these Jupiter moons.

JULIAN: I'm a fan of Titan.

PAZ: Oh, that could be a real big cat.

JULIAN: Big boy.

LIZ: Titan... fall.

[laughter]

PAZ: We can't do that. We'll get sued.

LIZ: Just bleep it out.

JULIAN: Titansoul.

LIZ: Is that a thing? That also feels like a thing.

PAZ: It feels like it should be a thing.

LIZ: Yes, it is a thing.

JULIAN: Fuck.

LIZ: Fuck.

PAZ: This is hard.

LIZ: It's a video game.

PAZ: Naming warriors is hard.

JULIAN: Titan...summer.

LIZ: Hot titan summer. Titan... bone.

JULIAN: Megatitanboneclan.

LIZ: Titan... dream.

PAZ: What if we do like Hades or something for the goth factor?

JULIAN: Ooh yeah.

LIZ: Hades... fur.

JULIAN: Hadesdream.

PAZ: Hadesdream?

LIZ: That's his wife before she divorced him.

JULIAN: I feel like the second part of the name is harder to like--

PAZ: Yeah, it's harder to go against.

LIZ: What if we do some word mashing? What if it's Hadesclipse.

PAZ: Oh shit.

JULIAN: [to the tune of Loona's "Eclipse"] Hadesclipes. Da na na na.

PAZ: Hadesclipse.

JULIAN: I like Hadesclipse. It breaks many rules.

PAZ: I'm really a fan of it.

JULIAN: How does it represent our cat?

PAZ: Um, they're evil.

JULIAN: Okay.

PAZ: They're evil and they live in darkness, hence the eclipse.

JULIAN: Gotcha.

LIZ: They're evil--

JULIAN: I think they have big teeth.

LIZ: But it also sounds like they started like a local competitor to Great Clips.

JULIAN: Well, that's what they have the big teeth for is to give the other cats hair cuts so they can-- they have to give all the other cats emo bangs!

PAZ: Yes.

LIZ: Oh, I love that. Hadesclipse, born during an eclipse. Very dark and evil, but gives you the crispest bangs you'll ever see. The swoop? Unimaginable.

PAZ: Did we go through the questions? Should we do that?

LIZ: Yeah.

JULIAN: Oh, yeah.

PAZ: "Do I have an acceptable prefix?"

JULIAN: Nope.

LIZ: Absolutely.

PAZ: "Does it make sense to be the name given at birth?"

JULIAN: Yes.

LIZ: Yes. Because Hadesclipse's mom was a goth named Boneocean.

PAZ: Oh shit. "How does it represent my cat?"

JULIAN: Well, he's evil.

PAZ: Yeah. "Can I match it with a suffix?" Yeah. Blends perfectly.

LIZ: Rolls right off the tongue.

PAZ: "How should my suffix represent him or her?"

JULIAN: Well, his work as an amateur barber.

PAZ: "Is it best to encourage their appearance or personality?"

LIZ: Ooh, ooh, ooh. Okay, so Hadesclipse can be one of those like torties with like the half like black face and half brown.

PAZ: Oh, fuck yeah.

JULIAN: Oh, yeah.

PAZ: Wait, wait, wait. Is he a tortie tom?

JULIAN: He's a tortie tom. He's a tortie tom and he has purple eyes!

PAZ: Fuck yes. "Have I successfully described my cat?"

LIZ: 100%.

JULIAN: Yes.

PAZ: Yes. Beautiful. Perfect. New leader of Megaboneclan.

LIZ: Everyone's gonna look so good.

JULIAN: They're gonna be so stylish.

PAZ: He invents hair dye with red berries so he can give them those frosted tips.

JULIAN: He can probably dye cats black, too.

PAZ: Oh, yeah.

JULIAN: With walnuts. For that real goth look.

LIZ: His first customer is Walnutfur. This was really easy.

JULIAN: Yeah, this is really good.

PAZ: I'm so glad that Peyton made a guide for us on how to make the best names ever by telling us what we shouldn't do so we can do it. Thank you, Peyton.

LIZ: I was very antagonistic before, but like nothing but with respect for the thoroughness of this. I couldn't fuckin do this.

JULIAN: Yeah, this is a work of like--

PAZ: It's long.

JULIAN: A lot of effort went into this.

PAZ: Yeah. You know, people are very passionate about warrior names. As we know from Susanclaws of days past. Well, I think that might do it for us today.

JULIAN: Oh yeah.

PAZ: We've learned a lot. And Hadesclipse rules. So next week we will be reading probably chapter seven through 10. I'm gonna see how long it is. It might end up being chapter seven through nine. It'll be a surprise. Other than that, you can find the show @staircast on twitter.com. You can email us with questions or anecdotes, stairwaytostarclan@gmail.com. And do we want to announce the thing?

JULIAN: We joke a lot on the podcast about doing a Patreon. But we're actually going to do a Patreon.

PAZ: Surprise.

LIZ: Hey!

JULIAN: There's like a ton of stuff that we want to get into and it would be-- a Patreon lets us sort of like have that separate stream.

PAZ: Yeah. Like maybe we do want to read about Pinestar being told to kill his child. And the Patreon would be--

JULIAN: We so badly want to read about that.

PAZ: The Patreon would be a great place for that. I mean, there's also a lot of other Warriors fan content. Like there's a Roblox game I would love to play. Um, stuff like that.

JULIAN: There's an official tabletop game.

PAZ: Yes.

LIZ: And we have to play that.

PAZ: Yes indeed. You love Hadesclipse? Wait till we play that game. Yeah, so I think the Patreon will be a place for reading the special books, maybe the manga. There's also novellas out there, maybe doing more specific deep dives on certain things. So if any of that sounds interesting to you guys, you can go to patreon.com/staircast, where we'll be doing bi-monthly bonus content episodes. Does anyone else wanna add something?

LIZ: I think that's it.

JULIAN: Yeah. I'm very excited to get to dig more into some stuff.

PAZ: Yeah. And any support would be great. We love you. And thank you to everyone who has been listening to this podcast. It's been really fun to do and I'm glad other people are enjoying it. Yeah, that's the update for now. We will catch--

JULIAN: Oh, there's some very ominous thunder in the background, sorry.

PAZ: It's Hadesclipse.

JULIAN: Hadesclipse is here to fuck us up.

PAZ: Yeah, he has thunder powers too. We didn't mention that, but just, you know. Anyway, that'll be it for us this week. We will be back next week with more Forest of Secrets. Everyone have a great week. And until next time, may StarClan light your path. Bye.

LIZ: Bye.

JULIAN: Bye.

[outro music]

JULIAN: Oh, it's International Asteroid Day.

PAZ: It is.

LIZ: Oh my god.

JULIAN: For Hadesclipse.

LIZ: Hades...clipse.

[randompandagirl]

So I just reread my Nano from last year (for the first time) that I thought was a piece of garbage... and it was much better than I thought it was. It’s not amazing, but it definitely made me laugh at bits (I think I’m hilarious, honestly). Anyway, I actually want to write more in it for fun. I also decided I am going to post it on here because I feel like it. So below is Chapter One. Even if it gets no comments I will probably post the other three chapter later.

This story is about a school for Time Travelers.

Elsewhere Chapter One “And afraid of a disaster, Miss Clavel ran faster and faster.” - Madeline, Ludwig Bemelmans  

                                                         Kinsley’s POV

“And you have absolutely no say?” Yesenia asked, giving me the side eye as she popped another cherry into her mouth.

  I shook my head. “No say whatsoever. I tried begging, I tried bargaining, I tried threatening. Nothing.” 

 “Well that's stupid. It's not like you're moving, or some delinquent! Why in the world does your mom think it's a good idea to send you to a boarding school for senior year? And besides, aren't boarding schools for like, super rich people?” Yesenia was about to grab another cherry but I quickly put the lid on the container and moved them away. I sighed as I did so and shook my head. 

  “Apparently I am getting a scholarship or something.” Which honestly made no sense to me, nothing did about this situation, but this least of all. I was a slightly below average student and I was held back in seventh grade, so I was also older than everyone else (except Keegan, but then, even some of the teachers were younger than him). If that doesn't scream not scholarship material I don't know what does. Also, I don't remember applying for anything. I would have remembered applying for a fancy school in New Zealand. 

   Yesenia, now that the food was out of her reach, stood, leaving me to sit alone on the park bench. “So you're really leaving tomorrow.” 

  I nodded up at her, lifting my hand to block out the sun.

   “That's just great.  Now I'll have to sit with Becky for lunch.” She sighed and then shrugged. “I guess I'll see you when I see you.”

    I just nodded again and then watched her as she left. Yesenia had been the last person on my list of people to say goodbye to before I left. It went just as I thought it would. We weren't that close, but I knew she would be mad if I didn't at least try to make an effort. Not that I would be here to see, but I know for a fact she would have been subtweeting me for weeks.

  I sighed opening up the cherries and tossing one in my mouth.  I knew I should probably be heading home, but who knows when the next time I would be in North Carolina was?  I wanted to enjoy the sights and sounds one last time.

   I closed my eyes and leaned my head back  and just soaked up the sun, letting my mind race.

   When my mother had told me three weeks ago that I would be attending Sudbrink Academy in New Zealand for my senior year I thought she had finally lost it.  I thought for sure it was a scam, so I googled it. I called the school and talked to real people. It was not a scam, everything they said seemed legit. 

 Even so I was skeptical. I was still skeptical. I would probably stay that way until started classes. Who knows, maybe even still.

   A buzzing feeling on my leg alerted me to the fact my mother was calling. She always called. Never texted. Which meant I always had to have my phone at least on vibrate.

   I sat up, opening my eyes, and answered her call. “Yes?”

   “You're still meeting me and Dan for dinner, right?” Her voice sounded frantic. It always sounded frantic. She always seemed to be worried about something or anxious about another. 

  “Yes. I told you, five thirty.” I quickly checked the time on my phone. “It's five. I've got time.”

    “Okay, okay! I just wanted to make sure you remembered. I will see you there!” She hung up before I could reply.

    I knew I should probably go home and make myself presentable before going out to dinner with my mother and her boyfriend, but I didn't really have much left that wasn't already packed away. So instead I just sat on the park bench just a little while longer and watched as a couple of kindergartners chased each other across the playground.

   As I watched I began to feel myself zoning out. Everything started to feel foggy and my vision became cloudy. I could no longer hear the shouts of the little girls. My stomach clenched as I realized what was happening. I forced myself to drop my head into my lap and covered my ears with my hands.

    “You're here, you're fine. You're here, you're fine.” I muttered to myself until I once again heard the little childish screams. I lifted my head and everything was back to normal. I had to get out of here. I threw the cherries into my backpack and slipped it on. As I headed for my bike chained up against a near by tree I counted. I counted how many episodes I had had in the past month. Seven. This was my seventh episode.

   I wasn't quite sure what was happening but it made me feel sick to my stomach. It felt like I was was being erased. It was the only way I could describe it, and did, to my therapist.  She had tried to help, I know she had, but nothing changed; it was still happening.

   My thoughts kept moving as I started to bike to the restaurant. Truthfully, and this was not something I had told anyone, but I was actually happy to be leaving. The circumstances that were making it happen made no sense, but I had lied to Yesenia when I said I had tried everything

.   When my mother told me, I, of course, at first was outraged, but the more I thought of it, the more I wanted it. To leave.  I hated my school, I really didn't have a best friend, or even a close friend. My boyfriend and I had broken up a bit before the school news (good riddance) and my mother was... well... my mother. 

  It wasn't her fault. She had a problem, and I know she is taking her meds, and trying her best, but at the end of the day, I just feel like we're two people living in the same apartment  for convenience only. I know that is a horrible way to view a parent, and there are some days where she is a mother. But most days we barely see each other.

   Me leaving would be best for both of us. She would be able to focus on Dan and her job, and I wouldn't have to feel guilty for feeling like she was my child more than my mother.

Dinner went just as well as expected. I was waited almost a half an hour for my mother and Dan to arrive at the restaurant and then had to endure Dan's quips such as, “Are you sure your Denise's daughter? Maybe you were switched at birth! Like that tv show!”

   Dan was a nice guy and good to my mom; he could just be terribly stupid at times.  The truth is, Dan wasn't the only one to have made those 'jokes' though. That's what happens when your mom is blonde and blue-eyed and your father was a random Japanese exchange student that your mother can't remember the name of.  You end up looking nothing like your only blood relative that you know. With my black hair and hazel eyes, the only part of us that look even slightly familiar is our noses: long and narrow.

   So the comments were a common occurrence, though Dan had been with my mother for about a year now, so now they were just annoying.

   After dinner was done my mother and I went home where we sat on the couch and watched Singing in the Rain. Well, my mother slept and I watched as I painted my nails. I glanced at her every once in a while and couldn't help the sense of relief that rushed through me whenever I thought about tomorrow.  I glanced one more time at my mother, quietly snoring with her mouth open, and leaned over to place a blanket over her.

     Tomorrow I would hop on a plane and would be gone for almost a year. Nothing to worry about but my school work. No teachers that already hated me. No fake friends to keep up with. No ex-boyfriend to avoid. I could completely start over. Be someone totally different. 

~~  I had never been on a plane before. In fact I have never been out of North Carolina before so my eyes were everywhere every step of the way. The flight had been paid for by the school, which I was pretty sure was not protocol, but neither my mother nor I questioned it because $2,000 for a plane ticket was two thousand dollars out of our price range. It was a nice flight, but was ridiculously long and by the time we landed I was very discombobulated.

   When I stepped off of the plane, after going through customs, I was surprised to see someone standing there waiting for me. I knew they were waiting for me by the sign that held my name in big block letters: Kinsley Bennett.

   “I'm Kinsley Bennett.” I said, walking closer to the woman that stood there, my feet feeling like lead with each step. She smiled warmly at me.

   “Kinsley, I'm Ursula! I am one of the caretakers of the grounds at Sudbrink Academy! Come with me, and we will gather your belongings and be on our way!”

  I wasn't sure what time it was, but I knew everything she said was way to bright for me. I yawned discreetly trying to hide it behind a hand and followed her through the airport to the baggage claim where thankfully all my luggage was. I had heard stories about baggage being lost or damaged and had worried about that the last hour of the flight.

   All the while Ursula talked, but I was so tired that nothing she said registered with me whatsoever. I remember thinking vaguely how dangerous it was that I was not fully aware of my surroundings, but not for long. Once we got into her car she insisted I sleep for it was a bit of a drive to the Academy and I promptly obeyed.

When I woke up I was no longer in the car. That was the very first thing I noticed because my body was outstretched and everything was still. My eyes flew open and I sat up fast

.   “Your awake!” 

   The voice was accented, British, and young sounding and not at all familiar. My head jerked to where the voice came from and I saw a teenage girl sitting on a bed across the room. I looked down and saw that I was in a bed as well.   

“What the hell.” I stated. “How did I get in here?”

    The girl smiled brightly, and two dimples appeared on either side of her cheeks and her blonde ponytail swung as she stood to her feet.

    “Ursula brought you in! She tried to wake you up but she said you were sleeping like the dead, so she carried you in! I helped bring in your luggage. I didn't open anything, I swear!”

    I didn't answer her I just peeled the blanket off of my body my face scrunched up in a scowl. How did Ursula carry me in? What kind of person carries a sleeping nineteen year old. 

   “I'm Tilly by the way! Short for Matilda.” The girl said standing in front of me now with her hand outstretched.

   I looked at her hand and then up and her little cherub face and then shook her hand reluctantly.

   “Kinsley.” I stood and immediately went for my things. “How long did I sleep. What time is it?”

   Tilly titled her head to side as she thought. “Well I think it's been about four hours since Ursula dropped you off. I just came back from dinner. I'm your roommate by the way, if you didn't guess that by now!”

    I found what I was looking for, my hair brush, and sat back on the edge of my bed. “Great, I am going to have some major jet lag.” I sighed and then looked at Tilly again. “I'm sorry, but I'm still a little weirded out about the whole someone carried me in here thing.”

    Tilly laughed. “Well, that's Ursula for you! She treats us all like her children. She is such a sweetheart!”

    I made a non-commital grunt as I hit a snag in my hair. “Sure.'” 

   “Well, I can show you the dinning hall if you're hungry!” Everything this girl said was bright and cheery. I was not sure how I was gonna last with her as my room mate for a year.  She was the kind of person I usually avoided. I didn't have the stomach for twenty-four seven optimism. Here was hoping we weren't in any of the same classes.

   I pulled the hair brush through my hair in one last stroke and then dropped it to my bed and stood. “Do we have curfew?” I asked. 

   “Ten o'clock!”

   “Right, okay. Uh, thanks for offering, but I'm gonna just... go by myself.”  

  Tilly's smile faltered just for a moment, but then was back. “Okay!  The dinning room is on the floor level. All the dorm rooms are on the top two levels. The classrooms are in between. We are in the east wing, room 23!”

    “Thanks.” I looked around for my purse, which I found on the dresser that stood next to my bed and grabbed my phone.

    Without another word I left the room and started wandering around for an elevator.  This place was huge, I soon realized. I mean, I had seen the pictures on it's website, but I was guess I thought it was deceiving. After going down hallway after hallway of rooms I finally found an elevator. I pushed the down button and waited.

   When the doors opened one other person was inside. It was the first person I had seen since Tilly. I had heard some people behind doors, but not a single person had been in the halls. It was strange.

   I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for ground level and then eased myself onto the elevator wall. I glanced at the other person with me. It was a young man, probably roughly my age, who looked maybe Mexican? He had wild curly hair that came to rest just above his shoulder and the longest eyelashes I had ever seen on a guy. I only noticed them because his eyes were closed.

   He had earbuds in and must have been listening to music. I don't think he even noticed me get on.  I looked back at the panel of buttons and saw that we were on the eighth floor out of ten. That was ridiculous. I swore under my breath. 

  “You're new here, aren't you.” The voice definitely held a Spanish accent.

   I rolled my eyes. “How can you tell?” 

  “You're leaning against the freshly painted wall.”

  “What!” I cried jumping off of the wall, throwing a look over my shoulder. Sure enough there was yellow paint on my shirt. I groaned. 

   “That's great.” I muttered. “Who paints a wall and doesn't put up a sign?”  

  The boy shrugged, a small smile on his face, and puts his ear buds back in. 

    I frowned and  looked to see what floor we were on. Two. I sighed; I wanted to change my shirt, but I was also hungry. My stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Dinning hall it was. The doors opened and I stepped out, the boy following me. Thankfully he headed in the opposite direction. 

   I wondered briefly how many people he was going to tell that the new girl just branded herself as much with a coat of paint. I sighed and kept walking down the hall I had chosen. Thankfully the Dinning hall was not far and still open. 

   I checked my phone. It was six and a couple of kids were still eating. The dining hall was not like any cafeteria I had been in. It actually gave me Harry Potter feels as I surveyed the area. There were long tables in rows, but instead of a head table, it was a food bar with what looked to be the kitchen peaking through a hole in the wall. 

  Dinner was uneventful. No one came up to me and I approached no one. I wandered around the ground level a bit, finding the main entrance and a library before I backtracked to the elevator and returned to my room. 

  Tilly was still there and was sitting at her desk (there were side by side desks facing out the windows, I assumed the other desk was mine) using a sewing machine.  After I changed into some pjs (I doubted that I would be going out again) I sat down on bed once again and watched her. I suppose I should know some things about her so that I could be prepared. 

   “So, Tilly.” I started.

    She lifted her head from her sewing machine and stopped, turning in her chair to smile at me. “Kinsley! You found your way back!”  

  “Yeah. So, how long have you been going to school here?” 

   She hesitated and then answered slowly, “Well... I've been here since I was ten. I actually live here.” 

   My eyebrows rose in question. “You live here? What, do your parents teach here or something?”

    She looked down at her hands that were  gripping the back of her wooden chair. “Ah, no, actually. My parents passed away when I was young. The board thought this would be the safest place for me.” 

   Now I was really confused. “What?”

   Her eyes lifted to mine and realization seemed to pass over her face. “Oh, right. You're new. Completely new. Don't worry, tomorrow at Assembly everything will make more sense.”

    I sure hoped she was right because at that moment I was confused as hell.  Assembly was at eight thirty in the morning, which normally would be fine, but I was messed up with the time difference. I missed breakfast, but I had some gushers in my purse that I quickly consumed. Unlike the night before I didn't want to wander my way to Assembly and miss being late so I went with Tilly whose pony tail was definitely hair sprayed and barely moved.

   We found seats in the back which surprised me because Tilly seemed more like a front row Teacher's Pet kind of girl.  However, I did not complain as I slid into my seat and looked around.

   The room was actually an auditorium, it looked like it could seat at least five hundred people, though there was definitely not that many people. There was stage where two tables sat with eight people sitting behind them. One person was at the microphone. It was a large, tall man wearing a very sharp suit. In fact, everyone sitting at the tables seemed to be dressed really well.

   I looked down at my clothing, which was a pair of skinny jeans and a white and black striped shirt. I wasn't slumming it, but I also wasn't tea with the Queen. I shot a glance around the auditorium just to check out everyone else, but they all seemed to be dressed pretty normal was well.

   “Hello, and welcome everyone to Sudbrink Academy!” The man at the microphone's voice boomed throughout the auditorium. Everyone's head swiveled to the stage and a hush fell over the room.

   “Most of you are returns, but we do have a few new students joining us. Six to be exact, and I just want to personally welcome you. I am the Head of Council, Dr. Jansen.  After Assembly all six of you will join me in my office, for a more in depth briefing.” 

  Tilly grabbed my arm and gave it a squeeze, giving me an excited smile. I forced a smile back as I yanked my arm back, frowning as soon as she looked away.

    “For everyone else, we are glad you decided to come back and learn another year with us. It is important to always learn and perfect your craft and here at Sudbrink you are learning from the best. As usual protocol, all traveling must be approved by a member of the board only, no exceptions. We do not want any trouble. Now, I would like our newest students to join me in my office, while everyone else, please give your full attention to Professor Lin.”

   I hesitated for a moment. I was not really in the mood to stand and draw attention to myself, but I had a feeling if I didn't get up, Tilly would do something, so I eventually stood and followed two other kids that were leaving the auditorium.

   None of us said anything as we followed Dr. Jansen to his office. As we were walking  I counted in my head and only came up with five of us. I wondered where the other student was, though the thought quickly passed when Dr. Jansen called me to his office first.

   “Kinsley Bennett.”  It must have been alphabetical.

   Once we were seated in his office he began. “I am so glad you could join us Kinsley.”

   “Thanks for having me... I just have a few questions-” I started, but he held up a hand to stop me. I shut my mouth, irritated, but I wasn't about to make a fuss. I was here on scholarship; I could be shipped home at any moment. And no matter how weird this was, I just got here and I did not want to leave just yet.  

 “I'm sure you have lots of questions, Miss Bennett, and I am hoping I can answer them. I am going to just go ahead and tell you why you are here. A couple of years ago we took notice of  you. We could sense a Traveling, but it was never constant so it took us a while to find you, but when we did we knew you had to be here. Had to be trained.

  Miss Bennett, you are what we call, a Traveler.” He took a pause here as if he was waiting for a reaction. I felt void of all emotion. What the hell was he talking about? I was really stuck on the whole, they had been watching me a while thing. 

   “What?” I finally said, because it did not seem like he was going to go on until I expressed interest in what he was saying.

    “You are a Traveler. You Travel.” Again he paused. I think he was getting some weird sense of joy from my utter lack of understanding.

   “Um, no, I stay at home and watch tv. This is the first time I've even been out of my hometown.”

    He laughed then and I narrowed my eyes. “No, no, my dear girl. Travel as in, time. And space. And parallels.”

     I knew it. I knew this whole scholarship thing was a scam. This was some kind of cult, or a big kidnapping scheme. I stood up, ready to flee.

    Dr. Jansen did not really seem all that fazed. “Miss Bennett, do please sit. I understand you may be experiencing confusion, but let me explain further. “  

  Again he waited for me. He was not going to speak until I sat, and I small part of me wanted to know how he was going to explain away all the bat shit crazy he just spewed. So I sat.

    “Miss Bennett, have you ever been somewhere, maybe alone, maybe with a group of people, and then all of a sudden you are not where you once were? Have you ever been in one place, and then it seemed to fade away and then you were in another? Have you ever felt like, you were being erased from right now?”

    My mouth became dry as he spoke. It was like he had sat in on my therapy sessions. My therapist was the only person I had every told any of that to. So unless he had some how gotten a hold of her and tortured confidential information out of her then...  Then what, I wasn't sure. But it was something. It had to mean something.

    “I have never traveled through time, or space or whatever.” I finally said,  and just saying that out loud made me feel like an idiot.

    “No, you are right about that, but that is only because you don't know how. It's in your blood, your body knows what it was meant to do, but your mind has been hesitant. Here at Sudbrink Academy we will teach you all you need to know about Traveling.”

    He seemed to earnest and sincere, but like, weren't cult leaders like that? And Tilly...  

  “So... everyone here can time travel?” I asked.

   He nodded. “Yes, everyone who teaches and attends this school is a Traveler. For many people this is home. I am not sure if you noticed but we have people of many different ages here. Travelers are all family.”

    I had not noticed the age difference thing, but I didn't really pay that much attention to the people. I didn't know what to do. I didn't have the money to go home,and no outdoor survival instincts to be heard of so I couldn't just run away. 

And what if...    What if he was telling the truth?    I know it sounded crazy but it would explain a couple of things. It would definitely explain the feeling I had of not being all quite here.  Then, without another thought, I decided to believe him. To trust him. 

   “So... I'm a Traveler.” 

   As if he could hear my decision in my voice he nodded and smiled. “Yes, Miss Kinsley. I know you may have a plethora of questions, but that is what this school is for. To learn more about yourself. Now, unless you have any supremely pressing needs, I will need to speak to the next new student.”

    I thought for a moment. What qualified as a supremely pressing need? “Um, I guess not.” I stood and he did as well and shook my hand. He opened the door for me and I exited, letting the next person go in. 

   Once in the hall a smartly dressed man who sat at a desk (he looked like a secretary?), called my name. I walked over to him and he handed me a folder with my name on it. I took it and opened it, leafing through the pages. 

   “That holds your schedule for this first semester and some basic rules to follow and a brief history.” He said this all kind of monotone, like he did it all the time and was sick of it.  

  “Thanks.” I said as I walked away. I took out some stapled papers that read: Schedule, on the front. I read the first page and realized that school didn't technically start till tomorrow. I was relieved. I still wanted to wrap my mind around all of this crazy, and read the rules and history. The history for sure, maybe it would help everything make more sense. 

[jencey86]

Trials and Tribulations (Beautiful/Iridescent continuation) Chapter 2

Note: It seems to me that SOME of you are in fact, still around. 7 notes on the first chapter tells me that lol. I’m in the process of working on chapter 3 right now. I want to wait until I’m like half way through chapter 4 before I post 3, so it’ll be a few days. Also. I HAVE reread through Take My Pain Away. I’m actually reading it again, so we’ll see how things go with that.

Trials and Tribulations

Chapter 2

 Two weeks had come and gone. Dani did her best not to focus on the impending pregnancy test, but it was the only thing on her mind as she pulled into the driveway. Thankfully, Santana had told her she’d be at the office late working on the paperwork for Quinn’s newest best-selling book. She had the house to herself. While she wanted her wife around for the test, she also wanted it to be something that she did alone in case it was bad.

 Heading inside, she locked the door behind her out of habit and carried the bag into the master bathroom. She’d stopped on her way home from The Lounge to grab a fresh box of pregnancy tests since she’d used her last one the month before. Taking a deep breath, she opened up the box and grabbed one of the tests to take it. In order to keep her mind off of it, she left it on the counter in the bathroom and washed her hands before heading out to gather their laundry basket to get a load started.

 What if it was positive? She would be scared but so excited about it. But, what if it was negative? Dani wasn’t sure she could handle yet another letdown regarding a pregnancy.

 Once Dani finally got the laundry sorted and the first load in the washer, she took a deep breath to compose herself. She’d purposefully taken her time to make sure the test would be ready as she headed back to the master bathroom. She closed her eyes for a moment and leaned against the edge of the counter, whispering a prayer to herself before she glanced over at the stick.

 XXXXXXXX

 Santana grabbed her bag from the passenger seat after she shut her car off. She hadn’t heard anything from Dani and she didn’t know what to expect when she walked into the house. “Baby, I’m home. How was your day?” She stopped just inside the door and slipped off her shoes before putting her bag and keys down on the table to head further in.

 “Dani? Where are you at?” Santana called out again when she didn’t hear a response from her wife. She could smell the Chinese food that Dani apparently had delivered for their dinner, but what she wasn’t expecting to see was the woman slumped on the sofa with a large glass of wine. Her eyes then landed on the stick on the coffee table in front of her and she sighed. “I’m so sorry baby.” She whispered as she moved around to sit beside her.

 “I’m just not meant to have a child with you,” she whispered and took a long drink of her wine. Dani had already eaten some of the food she’d ordered, but not at lot as she wasn’t really hungry.

 Santana wrapped her arms around her wife to pull her close and was happy when Dani didn’t actually fight her. Instead, the brunette put her glass down and turned to cling to Santana. “I’m so sorry too. My body is broken. Why didn’t the doctor just tell me I couldn’t have children?” She whimpered as she suddenly broke down in tears in Santana’s embrace.

 “Stop, baby. Stop being sorry. These things happen. Even straight couples can try and try again and never get pregnant. Maybe you just need a little bit of help with medicine?”

 “Or maybe you should just do it, I can’t handle anymore heartbreak, Santana. I can’t. I feel like a total failure of a wife. I can’t even get pregnant and that’s normally what women worry about.” Dani pulled back and ran her fingers through her hair before reaching out for her glass to down the rest of it.

 Santana watched her for a moment. Her internal struggles with alcohol were still there. Especially after Kristina died. Santana had slipped a few times over the past four years, but her wife and best friends were always there to pick up the pieces. Seeing Dani drinking the way she was only brought Santana back to the night of Kristina’s funeral and how drunk she’d been.

 “Baby, slow down, please.” Santana pleaded with her.

 “No! God, this is the only thing I can apparently do right anymore.”

 Santana pinched the bridge of her nose. It always looped back to the same argument. “You’re not a failure, Dani. There’s so many options for us still. Just because this didn’t work doesn’t mean something else won’t.”

 “I really wanted to do this Santana…” she hung her head, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn’t even look at her wife then as she reached out to refill her wine glass and took another long drink of it. “I wanted to do this for you… for us.”

 “Dani, honey, look at me, please.” She reached out for her hand. “Please slow down a little bit on the drinks. This is what I used to do, remember? I had a problem and went right for that bottle, I don’t want to see that happen to you because of something that’s out of anybody’s control.”

 Dani paused as she looked at the glass in her hand and swallowed thickly. Santana was right. Without another word, she put the glass down on the coffee table and turned her body to curl into her wife. “We’ll talk to the doctor at my next appointment and see what tests she recommends me doing and we can decide from there.”

 The Latina ran her hand slowly along Dani’s arm as she leaned back and propped her feet up on the coffee table to get more comfortable. She hated knowing that Dani was feeling as helpless as she was in that moment. There was nothing either of them could do. Pregnancy was a fickle thing. It wasn’t something that could simply be forced onto someone. Some women were just luckier, or unlucky to be more fertile and get pregnant easier. As she sat there, just rubbing Dani’s back, she started to wonder if she would have a better chance at getting pregnant than Dani would.

 “I’ll go through the tests too, baby. Just to see if I can carry a child, that way we won’t have to worry about setting up an appointment for the testing again later on down the road if it comes to that.” She felt Dani nod against her chest and chose not to say anything else after that.

 The brunette in her arms reached out to grab the TV remote to turn it on. Dani didn’t really feel like talking anymore. Not at that time at least.  Santana kept her eyes on her wife. Her own heart was aching for Dani and the entire situation. She started to wonder if it had something to do with all of the stress Dani was putting herself through. The pregnancy was all her wife thought about and focused on. She worried too much about what the test would say. It had become worse over the past few cycles and Santana was starting to worry about Dani.

 “Let’s go away.” Santana whispered to her. “Just forget about everybody for a while and spend some time alone.”

 Dani lifted her head from Santana’s shoulder and smiled softly. “What about my next appointment?”

 “After that. Let’s go away after the tests are ran. We can go to Florida or something. A week at my beach with my gorgeous wife, just us. We can escape the realities of tests and endless cycles of in vitro.”

 Dani leaned up to kiss Santana’s jaw. The idea and an impromptu vacation brightened her up some. “Go get your laptop baby, I’ll heat up some dinner for you. Are you sure Quinn would be okay with you taking time off right when she’s about to release another book?”

 Santana untangled herself from her wife before she stood up. “I’ll just put in the extra time this week and next in order to get the papers ready.” She watched her wife head out to the kitchen to heat up some food for her. Smiling softly, she went down the hallway to their office to grab her computer off her desk.

 Dani took a moment to compose herself again. A trip would do them both good. It had been nearly 2 years since the last time they went away. Given everything that had been happening, it would help her to relax and forget for a few days.

 “What’s on your mind, beautiful?” Santana stepped into the kitchen after she placed her laptop on the coffee table. She watched her for a moment longer before opening the fridge for a bottle of water.

 “Just thinking of how much we both actually need to get away for a week. We haven’t been anywhere since our honeymoon.”

 Santana glanced back to her wife and nodded. They hadn’t even considered a trip. It was shortly after their first anniversary that they started the in vitro treatments. “Our anniversary is coming up next month. It’s the perfect time for a trip.” She accepted the plate that Dani gave her before she went back out to sit on the sofa to eat.

 Dani picked up her wife’s laptop and turned it on as Santana started eating. Now that she’d calmed down a little bit, she decided to pick up her wine glass to at least finish it off, even if she didn’t have anything after that. “Where in Florida?” Dani asked as she typed in Santana’s password to log in. When the desktop loaded, the brunette laughed softly. “I can’t believe you’re still using that picture, baby.”

 The Latina leaned over some and chuckled at the old picture, their first picture together in Dani’s bedroom, trying on her hats. “It’s in my pictures folder, look, it changes randomly.” She pointed to the screen when it changed to a picture of their first dance at their wedding. “I’m thinking Miami. We both enjoyed it when we went for our honeymoon.”

 Dani smiled and brought up some flights to search for. “That will have us going down there during spring break.” She noticed the prices on the calendar of the web page and how they jumped up for that week.

 “Oh that should be fun. See if we can find a nice suite, high floor, on the beach. Baby, you know we’re both hot enough, nobody will ever know we’re 32.” She wiggled her eyebrows, causing Dani to giggle at her.

 “Just as long as you don’t run off with some sexy 21 year old.”

 “You never have to worry about that, D.” Santana met her wife’s eyes for a moment before she grabbed her wine glass and took a sip from it. She immediately handed it back to her. “The best part is we won’t have to worry about rowdy college students because, more of them can’t afford a $300 a night room on the beach unless there’s 10 of them in the room, and the hotel would never allow that. So we’ll have nights of peace and quiet.”

 Dani shifted a little bit once Santana put her plate down on the coffee table so she could lean into her and share the screen. “The flight will be the easy part. There’s always flights from JFK or LaGuardia down to Florida, especially this time of year.” Dani pulled up a hotel list and narrowed down the searches to include ones with a whirlpool and small kitchenette for them. “Well, you were right on the $300 part.” She laughed as she scrolled through the options, seeing everything ranging from $300 and up.

 “How about one that has room service. Because I have a feeling that there’s going to be a day or two where neither of us wants to get dressed.” She hinted and walked her fingers along Dani’s arm gently.

 “Stop that.”

 Santana laughed and kissed the top of Dani’s head then rested her own against hers to look through the options. Reaching out, she tapped the screen to bring up a bigger picture for them to look at. “What about this one?”

 Dani’s jaw dropped as she looked through the pictures. “Look at that view. Baby, it’s gorgeous.” She whispered, looking up at her wife. Glancing at the price range of the rooms available at that hotel, she knew they wouldn’t have to worry about many, if any college students being loud and obnoxious. “Let’s do this one. Call Quinn and make sure she’s okay with you taking some time off. You know I can take time off whenever. Perks of owning my own business.” Dani chuckled before she put the computer aside and went to grab her wallet. “Which card should I use for this?”

 “The one with the most points.” Santana chuckled. It was a wonderful reminder that they were both adults and actually worried about those things. “Wait a minute, let me check my Sapphire. I think I have enough points for some flights.” Dani joined her on the sofa again as Santana grabbed the computer to log into her account. She slowly smiled at her point balance. “Our flight is covered baby.” She brought up the rewards to see what kind of limitation there was on when she could use the points. “Looks like we will be able to use them that week.”

 Dani leaned into Santana again and reached down to slide her hand into her wife’s pocket to retrieve her phone. “You do that, I’ll text Quinn for you.”

 Dani (Santana’s Phone): Hey Quinn, It’s Dani. We wanted to talk to you about Santana taking a week off in two weeks. We want to go away for a week

 Dani was pleased to see Quinn respond almost immediately.

 Quinn: Of course that’s fine. Is everything okay?

 “I feel so bad because we haven’t told them yet. But I don’t want them to get their hopes up.” Dani sighed and typed a reply. “She asked if everything was okay. I want to tell them.” Dani leaned into Santana after she replied. “I just told her everything’s fine, we’ve just been itching to take some time for ourselves.”

 “We’ll tell them. Maybe when we get home we can have dinner with them and tell them that we’ve been trying. It’s tearing me up too baby. They are our family too. They do deserve to know.” She kissed the top of Dani’s head before getting up to go and grab one of their credit cards so they could book the hotel room. “I got the flight booked, just have to get the room. Do you want a car too or will we just Uber everywhere?”

 “Uber. Let someone else deal with driving.” She curled into her wife as she sat back down with one of her own credit cards to get the room booked for them. “So, two weeks from now, we’ll be lounging on a Miami beach with cocktails?”

 “Absolutely.” Santana closed the laptop and put it on the coffee table again. “You know I let myself go, within reason on vacation.” She whispered softly. It was really the only time Santana didn’t worry about how much she had to drink. It was a vacation and she let herself enjoy it, within reason.

 “I know baby. You had some drinks on our honeymoon. And we both got completely drunk that one night. God that sex…” she giggled some. “Lets go watch a movie in bed.” Dani wanted to just spend the rest of the night focusing on her wife and not thinking about the pregnancy test that let her down yet again.