#Mia has never once had a sense of self preservation

[cryptidcrone]

Alcina is appalled that this wretched little Yankee goblin creature can make her blush like a lovestruck girl

(ur honor i love them)

Smoochin tax

[resident-leevil-old]

okay well anyways somebody asked me if i felt like talking about my raccoon city survivors au with mia and ethan again and the answer is YES.

> AU MINI FACTS <

- Ethan's mother died while giving birth.

- Ethan Winters and his father moved into Raccoon City when Ethan was a baby, around 3-4 years old.

- Ethan trans ftm because im trans and i said so.

- Mia trans mtf because im trans and i said so.

- Ethan & Mia are childhood friend to lovers in this au.

- Ethan's father worked for Umbrella, and Mia's father worked for the Connections while her mother also worked for Umbrella.

- Mia was born in Texas, but her family moved to Raccoon City after she was born. They still owned property in Texas, though.

- Mia & Carlos are related because I said so.

- so yknow the "dude its been three years" guy? that's their childhood friend and his name is Kyde because i said so.

- Albert Wesker Personally was ordered by Spencer to kill those scientists btw.

- a lot of this au is because i said so tbh

> AU SUMMARY <

Ethan Winters, Mia Oliviera, and Kyde Wells work together to survive six days of the Raccoon City Outbreak. In the process they uncover secrets and encounter many obstacles that just nearly cost them their lives.

> CHAR.BGROUND <

ETHAN W, SR - A scientist who worked for Umbrella. He lost his wife during the birth of his child E///// Winters. Struggling with the death of his wife and the harsh decline of his mental health, he began to experiment with viruses and vaccines in an attempt to bring his wife back, even using his child as a subject at certain points due to the child having strong genes from the mother. He acknowledged that he was a horrid father, but justified his actions by claiming he would bring back a better mother. He thought of Albert Wesker as a friend, and told him the truth of his research.

ETHAN W, JR - A quiet 14 year old that had a hard time making friends. Due to experiments from his father, Ethan is a culmination of infections and viruses that each impact him in different ways. As he grew up Ethan refrained from talking too much as to not interrupt his father's work, causing him to become selectively mute.

MIA OLIVIERA - Younger sister of Carlos Oliviera. Mia skipped a grade due to her intelligence and advanced knowledge on many things kids her age normally didn't. She very easily got sick as a child, though she seemed to outgrow it as she got older. She was schooled both at home and at school before the outbreak. She shared classes with Ethan Winters (Jr) and Kyde Wells.

KYDE WELLS - A friend of Ethan & Mia, known for his cowardice. Kyde has a heavy sense of self preservation, but a weighted sense of compassion as well. He only ever has risked himself for his two friends.

JAMES HARISON - Mia's father. He worked for the Connections as a scientist and a researcher. Harison and his wife often exchanged information they learned from their jobs, aiming to and succeeding at "fixing" their daughter's proneness to viral sicknesses.

MARISA OLIVIERA - Mia's mother. He worked for Umbrella as a researcher. Oliviera and her husband often exchanged information they learned from their jobs, aiming to and succeeding at "fixing" their daughter's proneness to viral sicknesses.

JAKE VERANO - An Umbrella worker who had been trapped in the underground facility for a week, listening to the sound of his coworkers being eaten alive. Unstable because of his experience, he tries to create a cure using the intel of Ethan W (SR).

> FULL AU <

[September, 25, 1998.]

Ethan Winters walked home from school when his father failed to pick him up. He walked through the streets, paying no mind to a big fight breaking out near him. On the way home, he meets up with his friend Kyde who had also been walking home. They talk and walk together for a bit, before splitting up.

When Ethan arrived home, he noticed the front door of his house had been opened slightly. Confused, but wary, he entered the house, knowing it was uncharacteristic for his father to forget the door was open.

He entered the living room, and found his father laying on the ground dead, shot twice in the head, having just been killed moments prior. Ethan moved over to his father, before Albert Wesker walked out of his father's office.

Ethan barely has much time to react to him, overwhelmed by his own panic and the death of the only adult in his life. Wesker - wanting no witnesses - shoots him three times in the chest, and leaves under the impression the child is dead for good.

Ethan Winters dies for the first time that evening.

[September, 27, 1998]

For the past two days, Mia and her parents have been barricaded in their home, unable to leave safely. Mia sat in her room for most of the time, unable to look out of the windows due to boards covering them. During those two days Mia tries to call Ethan and Kyde several times in hopes that they were safe. Neither of them answer.

Until this day, the 27th, at 2:00 am, when she calls Ethan. And he answers.

{TRANSCRIPT OF THEIR CALL:}

Ethan: h-hello?

Mia: [Ethan]! You're alive! Are you okay?

Ethan: I'm breathing. [Pause] I'm breathing. You okay?

Mia: I'm boarded up in my house, we can't leave safely. Everything is a mess. I'm so glad you're alive, [Ethan]. Are you safe? I'm guessing you're safe.

Ethan: Not sure. Not sure. Find you soon, here alone. Alone.

Mia: Alone? What happened? Where's your dad?

Ethan: [Pause.] [Loud sound in the distance.]

Mia: [Ethan]? Are you okay?

Ethan: [Dial tone.]

Mia speaks with her parents about the call, expressing worry about her friend. She spends a while trying to convince her parents that Ethan may be alive (purposefully omitting the dial tone) and need their help. Finally, they agree, and at 12 pm, they head out with all the resources they could gather.

Managing to stay out of sight, the family make it to the Winters' household. They find Ethan hiding in his bedroom, one infected laying in the hallway with a pole through its head and Ethan's father laying in the living room dead.

They rescue Ethan, and flee from the house. Mia's parents explain that they need to evacuate the city, but that they wouldn't be able to drive, so they'd have to move on foot. They returned to their house and rested for the night.

[September, 28, 1998]

The family and Ethan head out again, this time aiming to evacuate the city. After several close encounters with large groups of infected, the kids and Mia's parents are unfortunately separated. Given instructions by her parents, Mia leads Ethan through the city, having to take detours due to infected blocking pathways.

Eventually, during the night, they run into Kyde, who has lost his parents trying to escape the city. The three of them take refuge in an empty abandoned house, and rest for the walk in the morning.

Ethan sits up for a while, thinking about what happened to him, and trying to figure out how to explain it to his friends. Eventually he falls asleep, unable to figure it out. In the morning they head out again.

[September, 29-30, 1998]

During another detour taken due to large groups of infected, Ethan is kidnapped by a man in a white lab coat.

Mia & Kyde go after them, refusing to leave Ethan behind. They manage to find him after roughly half a day had passed.

Ethan had been in a hysterical state and through tears he explains to Mia and Kyde what had happened to him in his house a few days ago, confessing that he had died and revived two days later. He warns the two of them that whatever Jake, the white lab coat man, did to him, it made him dangerous and unstable.

Mia and Kyde refused again to leave him behind, and spend hours gathering information from files and research left scattered around. They manage to make Something that was able to calm him down and cleanse what they had learned had been called the "T-virus" from his body.

As soon as Ethan had woken up again, they fleed the facility, Mia & Kyde both making sure he didn't collapse on the way.

[October, 1, 1998]

They don't stop running when they're out. A broadcast goes out saying that the city will be blown up in four hours due to being unable to contain the outbreak. The three of them realize they won't be able to get out if they take anymore detours unless they find a vehicle with gas in it and a clear road to drive on.

Three hours later, out of options, nearly to the city boarder, and faced with another group of infected blocking the only straight shot out, they decide to risk a run through. However, just as they were pushing through, a helicopter flew overhead and spotted them. Calling to them, the pilot tells them to attempt making it up a building nearby if they could.

Through pure bullshittery and luck, they manage to make it up, and they board the helicopter. Just as it begins to take flight, the city starts to blow up bit by bit. In the distance, they see other helicopters flying.

> AFTER THE AU <

Mia and her parents reunite, her parents having managed to get out before the children did. Kyde goes to live with his relatives in Texas, and Ethan is offered to live with them as well.

Mia's parents move back to their texas home, and everyone who had been in the city were given therapy. Eventually the three grow up and graduate from highschool, and move on to other things, never once separating.

The three of them eventually move into a single house together in California, and some time after that Mia and Ethan get married. And for a while they live happily

And then, Mia witnesses Ethan having some sort of attack in the middle of the night one time, and realizes that he hadn't been completely cured of whatever had been infecting him in the city at all, and that it had only gone dormant for some years. While he wasn't vicious or attacking anyone, Ethan had just been really plagued and didn't even remember the fits that only seemed to happen every other night.

Out of worry and fear, Mia begins to work for the Connections, hoping there was something she could learn from them in order to help her husband finally be cured. And years after, RE7 began.

And THAT, my friends, is my Raccoon City Survivors au with the Winters, also known as Raccoon City Winters.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

I really like Tequila from Lee's world. What would that weird Tom/Ginny combination be like if Lee had never returned to the HP universe? Would they become more like October Tom? Or something else entirely? How would Tequila handle the mad creature their main soul has become?

Oh man, you give Tequila far more credit than I do.

For simplicity’s sake, I’ll refer to Tequila below as “he”, mostly because it’s really Wizard Trotsky at the wheel in “Minato Namikaze and the Destroyer of Worlds”. He just happens to rock Ginny Weasley’s adolescent body.

Tequila’s a hot mess, a dumpster fire, and it doesn’t matter if he’s pining after Tom Riddle’s childhood friend Ellie Potter, if Tom is stuck in a diary only to be released to confront Ellie/Harry Potter, or if he’s stuck in a diary and released only to find out Ellie Potter isn’t even there. Tequila will always be a mess.

Let’s say Lee never showed back up. Tequila’s life would be one of hilarity and woe.

Wizard Trotsky likely would have continued masquerading as Ginny, i.e. being Tequila, out of a sheer lack of ability to answer the question “what the hell do I do now?” That’s why he stuck around as Ginny in the first place. 

So Tequila goes to Hogwarts, milks “I’m an invalid, woe is me, I can’t go to class cough cough I am traumatized by snakes on planes” excuse for as long as he can get away with it (which is forever) and ends up with decent marks (having gone through Hogwarts twice now) but not nearly as good as he once had or, say, Hermione has because he’s gotten profoundly lazy. Sadly, this still puts him ahead of 50% of Hogwarts’ population.

Similarly, Tequila’s effort at impersonating Ginny Weasley is half-assed at best. However, because Ginny went through an incredibly traumatic experience, no one gives him shit for it or wonders “Hey, is this really Ginny?” Due to this, Tequila’s soul is dying inside even more than usual. He doesn’t even have to try around these assholes. He could walk up to the wall, spray paint “I am Voldemort, bitch!” and they’d probably just try to console him.

Lee showing back up out of the ether is the most exciting that has ever happened to Tequila possibly ever. It’d be better if Lee wanted to do epic ninja battle, so Tequila could prove how cool and not useless he is and defeat his prophesied enemy, but even Lee just being in the castle, insulting everybody, and lighting all of Hagrid’s pets on fire is amazing.

But anyways, Lee never shows up.

Tequila gets a pretty good idea of who the original Death Eaters were thanks to gossip but there’s not much he can do about it as all the Death Eaters (aside from the ones in prison) have disavowed Voldemort out of self preservation. His showing up as an adolescent schoolgirl just doesn’t have the same effect  and it’d be a little hard to prove who he is given that he doesn’t even really know these people.

Not to mention that Voldemort was this distant thing in the future for him and he has no idea how to actually go about doing any of that. The actual Voldemort has many years experience on him in recruiting, guerilla warfare, logistics, etc. 

Tom Riddle was in dueling club one time, it was great, he learned things.

So Tequila likely wiffle waffles a lot, telling himself, “One day, I’m going to run out on all these assholes, return as Voldemort, and then Granger will cry” only to sigh and realize it’s far more realistic to start from fresh. Besides, why just try to redo what his other half did, he wants to be his own person (a better more competent version! He won’t get blown up by any toddlers!) and that means finding his own cause. And if he can make Dumbledore’s Order his Order, then great.

Not to mention there’s the disturbing possibility that Voldemort’s not quite dead. Now, Tequila can give this credence as being the horcrux, he knows that Voldemort’s not really dead. He’s amazed Voldemort managed to blow himself up with a baby, amazed, embarrassed, and offended, but Tequila isn’t willing to completely throw out the idea that Voldemort’s this evil wraith who occasionally possesses muggle studies professors. Not exactly on Tom Riddle’s bucket list, but clearly, the original screwed up everything and doesn’t even deserve Tequila’s respect.

(Tequila went through a brief, extremely brief, period of wondering if he should seek out the main soul and help him return it to power. Being the horcrux, technically, he should probably serve the original soul.

Then he remembered that asshole had one job, only one job, and he ruined it. Tequila was shoved into a diary for nothing and look what happened. Now there’s a national Harry Potter Day. Clearly, the wrong half of Tom Riddle was put out of commission and if you want it done right you’ve got to do it yourself.)

So, in 1994 without Lee’s involvement, Voldemort returns from the grave. Because I’m realistic, Neville probably dies. Sorry, Neville, you lived a good if short life and I’m sure you gave it the college try. Dumbledore falls into despair and “THE WORLD IS DOOMED!” mode now that all his even remotely prophesied children are MIA and immediately gets the Order of the Phoenix together.

Ginny, being thirteen at the time, isn’t allowed because that would be ridiculous. Despite it being ridiculous to include thirteen year olds, Tequila is pissed that he’ll have to wait another god knows how many years before Molly lets him do what he wants.

Offscreen Dumbledore probably goes through varying levels of extremely horrifying solutions to the Tom Riddle problem.

First, he probably goes horcrux hunting. Unfortunately for Dumbledore, in “Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus” and “Minato Namikaze and the Destroyer of Worlds” there are only two horcruxes and only one was intentional. Tom had originally planned to make seven but the hangover from the first one was so mind breakingly awful he went “New plan, I will make one horcrux, and then I will think of something else”. He never really got around to thinking of anything else.

Dumbledore, however, doesn’t know this. So he dutifully collects memories, banks on Tom’s ridiculously romantic nature, and starts going to places of importance. Not to reveal too much, but Tom actually laid several traps around for those poking their nose around looking for his horcrux. Dumbledore steps into several of these with not so good results.

Given that one of the horcruxes is Ginny and the other is still stuck in Konoha without any access to magic, Dumbledore is 0 for 2.

More, given that only Neville Longbottom was prophesied to have the ability to defeat the dark lord either Dumbledore has to somehow resurrect Neville or else get himself a new Neville. Because I love terrible, but funny, things let’s say he does both and we get a round of Pet Semetary (sometimes, dead is better, Albus) and pulling in Harry Potters/Neville Longbottoms from other dimensions (but miraculously not Eru Lee somehow, which is great for her because she’s busy having a terrible time in the third shinobi war). 

Back to Lee for a bit and why Dumbledore’s first solution isn’t just to desperately try and find her.

First, she is completely off the map and has been for years. She isn’t even registering as “dead” or “in mortal peril” she’s just gone. Somehow finding her and hoping, miraculously, for her blowing up Voldemort a second time just isn’t on the table.

Second, Lee’s involvement in the prophecy is... a bit wonky. This has been noted a bit in “Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus” but the prophecy in “Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus” and “Minato Namikaze and the Destroyer of Worlds” actually explicitly does not refer to her in that it specifies a male child born at the end of July. This is because the universe is falling apart and we’re all doomed, doomed, doomed, but that’s a different story. Point being, especially in this Lee-less version, Albus has no idea what’s up with Lee but he’s putting his money on Neville. Poor, dead, Neville.

Tequila meanwhile gets to read news of how everything’s going to hell in the dumbest way he can imagine. Voldemort clearly came back wrong and missing a lot of brain cells, even with a body he keeps not taking over the ministry even though they’re practically begging him to do it, and everything he does is not only a) very embarrassing but b) it prevents Tequila from rising into power and becoming amazing.

Clearly, he must be stopped, there can only be one Lord of the Rings.

Well, destroying him completely means destroying Tequila first, and we can’t have that. So Tequila comes up with the only reasonable solution: they have to seal Voldemort’s evil spirit away in some magical artifact.

Tequila drops out of Hogwarts, goes adventuring for a few years, finds some exorcism sword or something and learns how to use it. Comes back and anticlimactically defeats Voldemort while everyone else was busy panicking and Hogwarts was being invaded or some nonsense.

Nobody, not even Tequila, knows how to handle Voldemort’s sudden and very anticlimactic defeat.

Then Tequila recovers and shouts “Weasley is our king!”

Tequila, probably eighteen around this point, is voted the youngest Minister of Magic ever. With Dumbledore dead, Tequila strongarms his way into taking over the Order of the Phoenix, and everything’s coming up Tom Riddle. 

Only then Tom Riddle has that terrible sense of deja vu as the, “What now?” question hovers in his brain. Once again, he has absolutely no answer. Tom is the dog who has caught the car.

Congratulations, Tom.

TL;DR: Without Lee, Tequila would probably end up dealing with the original Voldemort himself/herself. He’s still a mess, he’s learned nothing, and at the end just finds out that actually, he didn’t want to be in power, being in power is stupid.

All he figures out is that he has no idea what he wants.

On the plus side, at least Dumbledore’s dead.

[dust2dust34]

The Right Tools (Olicity, S7)

Summary: Set during the Happy Months (as I’m calling them). Some fluffy silliness - Oliver and Felicity move her desk into her new office at the cabin. (Prompted by Meg)

(read on AO3)

*

“Let me do it.”

“No, I’ve got it.”

And she did, damn it. She wasn’t going to let this thing win. Not now, not after days of looking for the perfect desk, of waiting for it to be delivered, of spending the last few hours putting it together. She was going to do this. It just… it wasn’t supposed to be this frakking heavy.

Felicity hissed as the edge of the desk bit into her fingers, but she didn’t let go.

Never give up, never surrender.

She curled her fingers, tightened her grip, and shuffled back into the little room that was going to be her office.

Their new cabin wasn’t huge, not that they needed huge. It was more than enough for her and Oliver, with space to expand. They were going to make one of the rooms a nursery for Mia. Oliver already had plans to convert part of the garage into a training space. And then there was the space in the attic that could be converted into a large bedroom.

That would be for William.

Someday.

A familiar pang radiated through her chest. He still wasn’t taking their calls, and every contact she and Oliver tried to make with his grandparents seemed to fall on deaf ears. But they weren’t giving up. Even if it took months, they were going to find a way to bring their son home. Or at the very least remind him that no matter what he had a place with them, and he always would.

The momentum on the desk carrying stopped.

“Oliver, come on,” she urged.

“Felicity.”

“What?” She looked at him where he held the other side of the desk. “Come on.”

“Put it down.”

“No.”

“I can do it myself, you don’t have to-”

“I’ve got it.”

“Felicity.”

“Oh my god, Oliver,” she snapped, finally dropping the desk. It landed on the floor with a heavy thud and she widened her eyes at him incredulously. “What?”

He gently set his end down and… and then he just paused at her outburst. She gritted her teeth, narrowing her eyes, waiting. But instead of speaking, he snapped his mouth shut and pressed his lips together in silent acquiesce.

Felicity rolled her eyes so hard they nearly popped right out of her head.

He’d made the mistake once of commenting about pregnancy hormones and she’d almost slapped him silly. Hormones. No, it wasn’t just hormones, damn it. He was being annoying and over-protective and she was sick of it. Her stomach might be getting to the ‘oh hey wow you’re definitely pregnant there, hey, can I touch your stomach’ - that’d been sweet the first time and the first time only - but that didn’t mean she couldn’t lift this stupid desk and get it into her stupid office.

Oliver blinked.

Felicity groaned. “I said that all out loud, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” he replied quietly. Too quietly. He put his hands up in supplication and she huffed. Loudly. “You can’t blame me for wanting to make sure nothing happens.”

“It’s a desk.”

“It’s a heavy desk,” Oliver corrected, already moving to shuffle into the small space left between said piece of furniture and the doorjamb. She rolled her eyes again and threw her hands up in the air as he barely made it through. When he reached her, he gently tried to nudge her out of the way, but she batted at his hands. He sighed. “Felicity-”

“This is so dumb-”

“It’s too heavy-”

“You are being such a di-”

“Is it so wrong that I want you to take it-”

“Don’t you dare-”

“Felicity,” he breathed, dragging her name out in exasperation. “Move.”

They stared at each other, Felicity fuming, Oliver steadfast. Neither backed down, not until Felicity finally snapped. “Fine! Fine, you stupid, stubborn man! Do your man thing. Be the man, lift the thing up with all your manness that your pregnant wife just cannot help you with-”

She was pretty sure he tried not to roll his eyes, but he didn’t succeed as he muttered, “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” she said as he lifted her side of the desk.

She was ready to go on a tirade, a huge, vicious, amazing tirade about… about his stupidity and… and other things, but… But then he started moving the desk and… and oh.

A flush worked its way up her chest and neck, flooding her cheeks with warmth as she watched him work. It didn’t take a lot to remind her how gorgeous her husband was. Especially when he did things like this. Felicity swallowed hard. She was positive he was using his attractiveness against her. When she’d accused him of such during a recent argument, he’d told her she was being ridiculous, which she was absolutely not. He was probably doing it right now. Using his hotness as a sexy argument-winning weapon. And she should be mad about that. But also… he was doing sort of fine. He still huffed and puffed - that desk was heavy, and she wanted to throw a good ol’ “A-ha!” at him - but there was muscle. Lots and lots of bulging muscle, all bunched up under his newly-tanned skin and…

Wow, she loved white t-shirts, had she mentioned that before?

He snorted.

Felicity wondered if she was thinking out loud again. Not that it mattered, because he looked really good in white t-shirts, especially when he had to lift heavy furniture.

Or rather, drag it.

“Don’t scratch the floor,” she told him.

“I’m not,” he retorted with a little more bite than she was used to. Okay, maybe it was warranted considering he was covered in sweat and his face was red with exertion.

The muscles on this man.

She pulled herself out of her reverie. Seriously, self, be less of a cliché.

“You will scratch the floor if you don’t lift it, like… Yes, like that, good job.”

He rolled his eyes, but his sense of self-preservation kept him from saying anything.

Felicity watched him slowly scoot it into the corner where they’d decided it would go.

It was going okay. More than okay, actually, not that she would tell him that, but she did feel some of her aggravation bleed away as she watched him shove the desk into place…

And not move his hand fast enough.

Oliver smashed his fingers between the hard edge and the wall.

“Oh, fu…!” he growled, immediately yanking the desk back just enough to rip his hand out of the spot. His skin was already bright red and she could see the groove where the desk had crashed into his digits. “Son of a…”

“I told you!” was the first thing out of her mouth.

Oliver threw her a disbelieving look. “Really?”

“Well, I did,” she replied as he shoved two of his fingers into his mouth to assuage the ache. His face morphed into a mask of pain that had her melting before she knew it was even happening. “Oh okay, come here,” Felicity said, moving towards him. He made a face at her, his lips still wrapped around his fingers before turning away. “Oliver.”

“No, you’re being mean,” he said, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

“I am not,” Felicity replied, grabbing his shoulder and turning him back around to face her. He didn’t fight her and when he was facing her again, he let his hand fall from his mouth, leaving an incredibly pathetic attempt at a sad face in its place. She raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s being mean?”

Oliver scrunched up his nose at her.

“Lemme see,” Felicity said, holding her hand out for his. He plopped it in hers and she examined the damage. The skin was still damp from his mouth, and it was still incredibly sensitive from the hit considering how he whimpered, “Ow,” when she ran the tip of her finger over the spot. “You know, for a guy who’s been shot, and stabbed, and arrowed, and tortured, and… and all sorts of horrible things-”

“I can say with confidence that getting stabbed didn’t hurt nearly this bad,” Oliver interrupted.

“Okay, Mr. Tough Guy,” Felicity murmured, bringing his hand up to her lips. She kissed his fingers, over and over, making sure to cover every bit of him that she could. His breath hitched and she smiled against his skin. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m here to make it all better.”

Oliver hummed his agreement.

Felicity looked up at him from under her eyelashes to find his eyes had darkened. He slowly licked his lower lip and the sight had another flush racing over her. This one was hotter, leaving her panting slightly, especially when it also spiraled inward. Heat tugged at the pit of her stomach and her thighs clenched as Oliver slowly curled his fingers around hers.

“Much better,” he whispered.

“Good.”

“I think I know how to get the desk back against the wall,” Oliver said, his voice low, throaty. It only had more heat cascading through her. “One that doesn’t include smashing any fingers, or toes, or…” He took his hand back and dragged it down her front, the edges of his fingers ghosting over her beading nipples. “Other very, very sensitive parts.”

She managed to give him a little, “Oh?” through a choked whimper.

“Yep,” he replied before grasping her waist and lifting her up on the desk. Felicity let out a little delighted yelp as Oliver pushed himself between her thighs. Her stomach was definitely getting bigger, but it wasn’t in the way yet. Especially when he hooked his hands in her knees and lifted her legs up to spread her wide so he could press his growing hardness right against her core. She grabbed his shoulders to hold on as he arched his hips closer with a rasped, “We’ll just scoot it right back in there.”

Felicity chuckled, a husky sound that had his eyes dropping to her lips.

“That is a very, very… very good use of the tools we have at hand,” she agreed.

“Right?”

“Mmhmm,” she managed before she pulled his face down to hers.

The second her lips slanted over his, they were done for.

(And it did work. Sort of. Well, okay, not really, because Oliver had to reposition it completely when they were done.)

The End

 *

Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Witches, Chapter 5: investigations will be the death of Apollo one day and he’s not even gonna be surprised.

Either that or they’re gonna kill me, the author, first.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

“What the hell was that?” Apollo asks.

Or that’s what he means to ask, but judging from the quick glance he takes at Phoenix’s face, it came out even more strangled than Apollo thought, the frantic question wedged between his attempts to breathe, to push the pain out from behind his eyes and from the front of his skull. The air outside the courthouse has a chill to it, for once more refreshing than uncomfortable, and Apollo sinks against the railing. It’s the first time in hours he has been free of Blackquill’s haze, but the clarity of his vision is only starting to make him more anxious about how Blackquill did that, what it means, what else can he do, what is he. 

He slowly lifts his head and hears his neck crack - god, he’s exhausted. Athena looks worried. Phoenix - also looks worried, a fashion as unfamiliar on him as that suit. “Apollo, what happened?” he asks. 

Like you could’ve done better with what I had to work with! he thinks, mustering a more tactful way to explain why the case went so wrong, though Phoenix in the gallery should know - and he takes in Phoenix’s expression again, reads the nervous hunch of his shoulders, replays the tone of his voice when he asked the question. That wasn’t an accusation. And for all Phoenix tossed him out to sink or swim, he’s never berated him for the way a case went. Apollo is responding to someone else, and he isn’t quite sure who.

(Kristoph, perhaps? He had an edge, sometimes, passive-aggressive, that Apollo just thought was part of his perfectionism, that Apollo just thought was “normal, until it wasn’t,” which is the way that Klavier phrased it once, in the only text that ever came anywhere close to addressing Kristoph, which Apollo never had the chance to respond to because Klavier followed it immediately by musing on a new limited-edition Snackoo flavor and whether if he gifted a bag to Ema, would she throw the contents of it at his head still?)

“I couldn’t see right.” Apollo presses his fingers against his eye and blinks it several times, still expecting the world to spin out again, still afraid that something broke permanently. “Blackquill did something and I couldn’t - I couldn’t tell if anyone was lying because it looked like everything was - the entire courtroom—”

Phoenix scowls, but his eyes roam about like he’s either thinking deeply or searching for something to scowl at, something to be angry at. “It was something similar for me,” he says. “I can’t tell what he is because—” He waves a hand across his own eyes. “Everything just went warped.”

“It felt like looking through a kaleidoscope,” Apollo says. “Psychedelic.”

“I was gonna compare it to the time I had pneumonia and a concussion and was seeing double,” Phoenix says. “But my Sight is something different than yours and Trucy’s, anyway.”

“You had pneumonia and a concussion at the same time?” Athena asks.

“Fell off a bridge,” Phoenix says. “But Mia wouldn’t let me die that easily. I’d been using the Sight for twelve hours straight before so everything was starting to look like photo-negatives anyway, so the vision issues might not even have been the concussion after.” Leaving them to chew through that, he takes a few steps down toward the sidewalk and stops, tipping his head back to the sky and running a hand through his hair. It spikes up the wrong way like it does after wearing his beanie for too long. “The point is, Blackquill, and he’s been dealt the better hand than us this round.” 

“He broke his shackles,” Apollo says. He has a hawk that holds onto evidence and he cast invisible razors on gusts of wind across the courtroom at Apollo. Blackquill’s been dealt the advantage for this entire game, not the round. How are they supposed to counter him if the iron on Apollo’s hand isn’t helping? “Have you ever seen anything like this before?” he asks. “This - this sight thing.”

“No,” Phoenix replies, without facing them again, his head turned to the side lot watching some commotion there - probably trying to get Mayor Tenma and Prosecutor Blackquill both back to their prison cells. “But there’s a lot I don’t know, and a lot of people I haven’t met before. Magic’s pretty unique, person to person.”

Athena folds her arms tightly across her chest; Widget’s face turns a despairing purple. “The fae can’t lie, right?” she asks.

Now there’s a nonsequitur for this part of the conversation. “No, they can’t,” Phoenix says. “But they’re very tricky and twisty with words. Like lawyers, actually.” He chuckles. Apollo wonders if he got that from Kristoph or came to it himself. It isn’t an untrue statement, coming from anyone. “Why?” 

Athena shrugs. “Well, we’re trying to figure out if Prosecutor Blackquill is human or fae, right? And if you can’t See we’ve got to logic it out some other way.”

“And you think he lied about something?” Apollo asks.

She goes quiet, her eyes falling toward her boots. Phoenix faces them again, still unusually serious. “I mean,” Athena says at last, “look at the way he dealt with the whole Tenma Taro thing. First he’s claiming monsters aren’t real, then he’s saying it doesn’t matter, then he’s willing to agree that yeah, the mayor is possessed, just to get the conviction!” Her anger brings the life back to her voice and color to her face. She clenches her fists and Apollo imagines her trying to pick a physical fight to sort out the case, throw Blackquill the same way she did the officer yesterday. “He can’t believe every stance he took!”

“Of course he can’t,” Phoenix says. “But it all depends on phrasing, whether it’s lies - and I didn’t pay close enough attention to that because—” He rubs his temples. “The most important mystery for us to be solving is our client’s locked-room murder case, after all. We’ll have time to sort out the Blackquill problem later.”

Athena sighs. 

“I wanted to ask you about Mr Filch, too,” Apollo says. “If you could tell what he was, but if—”

“Yeah.” Phoenix cuts him off - not rudely, but with the same kind of exhausted resignation that Apollo feels. “I couldn’t figure out anyone in that courtroom. Filch could be anything or nothing.”

“And Mayor Tenma?” Apollo asks. “We don’t know if he’s really possessed, either?”

Phoenix motions to them to start walking. Athena takes a few seconds to force her feet to move from the stairs and bound down after them. She left her rental car at the office and walked to the courthouse from there because apparently she likes running, she said, which is the weirdest thing she’s said, including anything about her sense of hearing. “I seriously, seriously doubt he’s possessed,” Phoenix says, shrugging out of his suit jacket and starting to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, like he can no longer maintain the level of formality that he was attempting. (Not that Apollo can judge, because he hasn’t worn a suit jacket in two years.)

“How come?” Apollo asks.

“Because nothing about it makes any goddamn logical sense,” Phoenix says. “Break it down, from the start. Set aside the fact that getting possessed isn’t actually easy” - Apollo decides to take that as a reassurance and not inquire further into how Phoenix knows about that - “let’s think, what was Mayor Tenma Taro’s story again?”

“That the mayor opened the Forbidden Chamber, Tenma Taro possessed his body, and then after Jinxie left, he—” Athena skips along the sidewalk to go from Apollo’s side to Phoenix’s. “He - turned fully into bird-yokai form, flew out the window, and then went back before Apollo saw the scene?” Her next footsteps hit the ground hard. “That’s ridiculous! And Prosecutor Blackquill went with it!”

Apollo turns the scenario over in his head, pulls back the mayor’s exact words that Athena has summarized, and imagines every step of the story, start to finish. “Why would he go back?” he asks. “If I were a demon who just got free of my prison, I would just go.” 

Phoenix snaps his fingers together over his shoulder. “Point one!” he says. “Just return to rest near your prison cell, makes perfect sense.” The venomous sarcasm dripping from his voice is enough that Apollo’s eyes don’t even register it as a lie - or maybe he’s still scrambled from Blackquill. “Not to mention, it would make more sense to get far away from the murder. If your host body gets arrested for murder, that’s havoc you can’t go around wreaking. That’s point one-point-five.”

Apollo nods, even though Phoenix isn’t looking at him. His phrasing is still implying that there’s more he objects to, and Apollo considers what else he could reasonably object to. Which, he could object to everything, which seems to be what Athena is doing, but that’s not going to get them any closer to the truth or a Not Guilty. 

(And-or. And. The truth and a Not Guilty. The Not-Guilty because of the truth.)

“I’m not sure I’d want to announce myself like that,” Apollo says. “Without some means of flying out of the courtroom or whatever. This ‘confession’ just makes Mayor Tenma look more suspicious, when you’d think a yokai would care more about self-preservation.”

“Point two!”

“Look at the timing of it,” Athena says. “It’s obvious that he was doing all that to protect Jinxie from suspicion - it should have been obvious to Blackquill, too!” 

“It was,” Apollo says. “That’s exactly what he was trying to get from the mayor, and he got it.”

“Ugh!” Athena cries, throwing her hands in the air and nearly knocking into Phoenix’s face. “That’s such a - a - a douche move! Taking advantage of a man’s love for his daughter to get him to confess to a crime he didn’t commit! Just to get an immediate conviction!”

“I’m sure Mayor Tenma thinks what he’s doing is for the best for Jinxie,” Phoenix says, much quieter than he has been, quiet enough that Apollo has to squeeze in between him and Athena to hear what he next has to say over the sound of the traffic. “Unfortunately, what would really be best for her would be for him to trust his lawyers and not try to handle the situation himself, because his handling is going to get him put away forever, and Jinxie left alone, and among other things I do not have the time right now to adopt another kid.”

Athena laughs, a little awkwardly, and when Phoenix doesn’t she shoots Apollo a wide-eyed look that asks if Phoenix is joking. He shrugs. Sometimes it’s better not asking. 

“So,” Apollo says, “all in all, you’re pretty sure that Mayor Tenma isn’t possessed?” Phoenix nods. “But if there’s a little chance that he is actually possessed…”

“I suppose I’ll go research exorcisms, then,” Phoenix says lightly. His nonchalance is worrying. His concern would also be worrying. Apollo doesn’t know when not to worry. “Or swing by the detention center with you to see him and get confirmation one way or another.”

“They’re probably interrogating him again, the way they whisked him out of the courtroom,” Apollo says. “I was thinking we might go back to the manor and check on my air duct theory.”

“Makes sense,” Phoenix says. “I might head over to the detention center anyway – call you if I’m able to get in to talk to the mayor.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Phoenix, helping personally with a case? Apollo doesn’t know if he should be grateful or not – if this is Phoenix trying to make a good impression on Athena or not. He wishes he could stop second-guessing everything his boss does, accept an assist as an assist and move on, because it’s been a year, almost, a year short two days, since he met Phoenix. And still, here they are, traversing this uneven ground.

-

“You could text”, is what Trucy usually says when Phoenix calls her for forty-five seconds to get a quick answer or tell her something briefly she’ll need to do. This is also something that Edgeworth tells him, as well, that he could stand to update his phone with the times instead of having to hit the same key twice to respond with the affirmative K. 

Which would be fair enough, even for someone as technologically challenged as Phoenix considers himself - he isn’t actually sure if that is something to do with the fae or not - if he hadn’t once tried to actually buy a new phone once (still a flip phone, but one step up from his “brick”) only for it to metamorphosize back into the brick over the next two days. 

And admittedly that might have happened because around the same time as buying the new phone Phoenix had flung the original phone-brick off a bridge (March 2017 was a bad month), and maybe if he kept that phone when he also got a new one they wouldn’t merge into one entity and he would be able to take part in group chats. But he hasn’t wanted to waste the money on a new phone when the old one, fae-enchanted as it is to make calls straight to the Twilight Realm, is serviceable and also might just engulf a new one like Maya eating five dozen raw eggs on an ill-conceived challenge from Pearl who had just watched Beauty and the Beast. 

Apollo, at least, puts up an amenable exterior, and doesn’t say anything directly to Phoenix about a twenty second phone call, that could easily for anyone else have been text, to establish that he’ll be allowed to talk to Mayor Tenma. “Maybe I’ll get the yokai exorcised before you get here,” he says, and Apollo snorts.

The guard in the back of the visitation cell stands cowed, folded up and head ducked to avoid the mayor’s hollow-eyed glare. “Who intrudes now? Have you come to free Tenma Taro posthaste?”

Phoenix meets his eyes, makes sure he is watching when he flashes his own blue to examine the situation in front of him. The iron bars on the window go darker, as do the walls, but Tenma appears almost identical. A faint gold trace clings to his shoulders and flows down, moving with his movements. It isn’t exactly a blessing - it definitely isn’t possession - but Phoenix doesn’t need an answer to that, not now. “Mayor Tenma, this farce is really undignified for us both,” he says. “Can we have a real conversation about this case, or…?”

The mayor blinks once. His face hardens, frown deepening, brow dropping in the same direction. “If my Jinxie had more friends,” he says darkly - not that much different from his usual tone, truthfully - “I would not hesitate to keep you, and by extension, your daughter, as far away from her as possible.”

“Yeah,” Phoenix says. “I hear that a lot. What’s it - the stench of death? Shadow of misfortune? ‘Witch’ is simple but a classic.”

Tenma continues to glare. “I’ll be serious if you will,” Phoenix says. “You aren’t possessed, and you aren’t a killer, but you, what - don’t trust your lawyer to get you to that point?”

“Tell me, Mr Wright - if the threat was to your daughter, and you in the defendant’s chair, would you not do all within your limited power to see her safe, whatever the cost? Could you trust?”

Blood on the playing card. Apollo punches like someone taught him how in theory but he’s never practiced it. Kristoph’s sneer with sharp fae teeth, as if to say I know what you did; see how far I made you fall and now you rot in the grave next to me. Phoenix Wright, forger, hypocrite. Trucy was never in danger of being called an accomplice because if it went wrong Phoenix could sacrifice her brother’s badge and not her.

(Ethical standards for lawyers. Blackquill is prosecuting. Nothing goddamn matters anywhere but Phoenix’s conscience, which has been getting louder lately but still doesn’t speak in his own voice.)

Tenma laughs, which sounds a bit like a crow, at his silence. He’s not a bad actor at the demon-thing. “Can I ask you something about Jinxie?” Phoenix asks, accepting that he doesn’t and will never have the upper hand in any argument that falls along these lines. “About her seeing yokai.”

Tenma stiffens. “I suppose,” he says curtly.

Phoenix holds up his hands. “I promise, this is nothing bad - she’s Trucy’s best friend, she’s a good kid, I know she is.” A miniscule muscle at the corner of Tenma’s mouth relaxes slightly. “And she’s human, and it doesn’t look to me like she has the Sight, either. But do you know if it’s possible that there’s - something else, about her? Anything weird from her childhood, for instance - yokai or fae-type things?”

“That’s a very, very broad category,” Tenma says. “But, I suppose that—”

The door behind Phoenix crashes open. He expects it to be Athena, without looking, and when he does turn his head, it is Athena, with Apollo trailing her, faintly perturbed by the noise. He probably shouldn’t have had that much of a gulf to cross, adjusting from Trucy to Athena as co-counsel. Memories of trying to herd the two girls around Europe rise up unbidden and he sets them aside to deal with Mayor Tenma doing the Tenma Taro voice again.

“So, are you actually a demon?” Athena ventures, creeping up toward the glass divider with certain lack of caution. 

Phoenix sighs. “Mr Tenma, it’s really best to be completely honest with your lawyers,” he says. “And frankly, Prosecutor Blackquill probably knows the truth about this ‘possession’ matter as well, and he’s got enough other advantages.”

“This prosecutor is very strange,” Tenma says. “Carefully though I watched him, never once did I see his eyes change as yours do. And yet he made it apparent that he knew things far beyond any ordinary seeing.”

The fae’s eyes don’t change, not in their glamoured forms, because they see in perpetuity everything and more that humans with the Sight can. But just as well, he could be any other magic user, and the hawk a fae-creature that picks up on those things, instead. God only knows the extent of what Vongole can do, and only god would know now that Klavier has her abilities leashed by just being a fundamentally decent person.

“As for your question about Jinxie, Mr Wright.” The mayor sighs and closes his eyes. “There was indeed a time, when she was six years old, that she wandered off while we were visiting her mother’s family in the Vale.” His eyes snap back open to scan each of their faces in turn. “Many of the hills that surround that valley belong to the Gentry, you know,” he says. “Jinxie wandered into the depths of one.”

Next to him, Apollo inhales sharply, and Athena gasps. “Her mother stormed in after her, stared them down, and retrieved her,” the mayor continues. “It was not long that she was there - we had her back within the same day.”

“But time works differently for the fae,” Apollo says, before Phoenix gets the chance, and he attempts to remember if he ever told Apollo that or he picked that fact up from someone else. 

“She still can’t have been there terribly long by their standards, either,” Phoenix says. “Humans change if they’re there too long and I would be able to See that.” Like Thalassa, and presumably Klavier - Apollo never confirmed or denied if Phoenix’s suspicion was right, and Phoenix is content not to know specifics just as long as he does know that the kid isn’t choosing death. 

“It was after that, that she began in earnest to be concerned and fascinated by yokai,” Tenma adds. “She had learned some of them in our family and cultural folklore, but she began to seek out information on her own, and speak of seeing them.”

So many possibilities that could mean, and nothing concrete enough to bear out of them. “Although, now,” Phoenix says, “I wonder if it’s possible for people to be mildly affected by fae magic, in a way that they start to notice things differently, but no one else can See. That Jinxie might actually be Seeing something, but I can’t tell that.” There are a few stories he’s heard of people who gained the Sight not in a bargain or a blessing or time spend in the Twilight Realm, but from some artefact of the fae. Like an ointment for the eyes, and would that show up the same as the traditional Sight? Possibilities, possibilities. 

“But you still said you’ve never seen a yokai,” Athena says. “But what if she’s - what if it’s both magic and psychology? That she’s seeing fae stuff like you do, but in her mind it’s turning into yokai because she’s so afraid and knows so much about those?”

“That yokai tales might be her only framework for understanding weirdness,” Phoenix says. “That could make a lot of sense, actually.”

Athena beams, but a few seconds later her face falls, and Widget swears. “But she still didn’t see Tenma Taro at the crime scene,” she says. “So this is all a little moot.”

Apollo sighs. “Of course it is,” he mutters, and then looks sheepish, like he didn’t intend at all for that to be heard. 

“I know,” Phoenix says. “But I’d been hoping to figure out some part of it, for Jinxie’s sake in the future.”

“Oh!” Apollo says loudly, over a reply that Athena starts and stops making. “Mayor Tenma, Detective Fulbright said that you’d remembered something you wanted to tell us!”

“Indeed.” Tenma places a fist on the sill and opens it, revealing an old-looking black key. “This is the key to the Forbidden Chamber, which I swallowed to prevent the killer from accessing the chamber.”

It takes Phoenix more effort than he would like to not laugh at the expressions on Apollo and Athena’s faces. This isn’t his case, and right now, the only thing important that means is that he doesn’t have to touch any regurgitated keys. “Well, good luck with this,” Phoenix says, reaching into his pocket and slapping the magatama into Apollo’s hand.  

-

The magatama’s first target is L’Belle. He claims there is a rumor about town that Jinxie is possessed by Tenma Taro, destroys the blackmail letter that they attempt to confront him about, and spritzes cologne straight into Apollo’s eyes. It hurts about the same as whatever Blackquill did to him. Athena, on the other hand, lands an accidental piece of flattery that causes L’Belle to gift her with a tube of his personal brand of hair dye. Apollo lets Athena fumble her way through a less-than-halfhearted thanks, with his hand in his pocket on the magatama, waiting for the man to turn his back. Somewhere, sometime, he’s certain that someone warned him not to be seen when looking at someone through a magatama, that such creatures don’t like to be doubted; but the only person he’s looked at before was Phoenix, who told Apollo to, and gave him little more instruction after that.

(He supposes it must have been wrapped up in how he knew what a magatama is, long before Phoenix, but he doesn’t remember much specific of what Dhurke ever said about anything. He remembers a warning about souls and then the very last thing when he went away, that promise that was broken.)

Even having the magatama in his pocket means that if there are any glamours about, he should already be seeing through them, but he thinks, surely, that through the magatama, he should see some sign of those glamours existing. And holding it up to his eye, L’Belle looks exactly the same. It doesn’t surprise Apollo, really - maybe a glamour would’ve help polished his repellant personality - but it does tell him if L’Belle was somehow the killer, he couldn’t have hidden at the crime scene. It had crossed his mind, briefly, that Jinxie could have overlooked someone if that someone was like Klavier, able to turn into a ghost, be overlooked, but L’Belle is their prime - only? - suspect, and nothing. 

And L’Belle turns back to make one last jab at them, or maybe brag to Athena some more about his hair dye, and Apollo can’t get the magatama hidden fast enough. A part of him has already, instantaneously, laid down and accepted death at fae claws. But L’Belle just laughs and laughs; while he seems to generally hold himself with an attempt at poise, what he must figure for composure, he’s given that up to laugh. “Really, now,” he says between undignified wheezes, unconcerned by the fact that Athena has her fists raised ready to defend Apollo’s honor or something. “You people aren’t even from this backwards burg, and still they have you caught up in all their silly superstitions! You think I’m some sort of magic creature, is that it?”

“Um,” Apollo says, and then he decides it’s better to say nothing at all and let this storm pass. Athena bounces from foot to foot like a boxer, clearly anticipating or maybe hoping that this will turn into a brawl. 

“That my beauty must be too otherworldly? I assure you, I am only what you see, and entirely naturally.” Except for his hair colors, and his shoulderpads. This lecture is worse than just being cursed by fae magic. At least death or a coma would be quick. 

“Of course we were wondering!” Athena says, and Apollo appreciates how she can force a smile and lie through her teeth. “Thank you for clarifying! We’ll be going now!”

“Frankly, I cannot believe the mayor would hire lawyers as small-minded as the rest of this village of peasants, but alas he did not ask me to vet his representation.” And that’s a small mercy, because L’Belle would choose someone who would get him locked up forever. (Like Alita Tiala tried, and god does that still sting if Apollo thinks about it for very long.) “And he of course is quite the strange man himself. You must have realized that by now, or since you are strange yourselves maybe not. So small-minded, so simple, to believe in magic! To think that it is the only source of true beauty!”

“Ja, oui, of course,” Athena says, grabbing Apollo’s arm as though he needs encouragement to flee. “Thank you for the information! Adiós, ciao!” 

-

The Forbidden Chamber is cold, from the moment Apollo steps over the threshold, from that moment and not a second before. Athena shudders, as well, but her objection seems to be to the slow crawling creak of the heavy wooden door’s ancient hinges. The light from the Fox Chamber spills onto the stone path, illuminating black feathers scattered on the ground and to the sides of the rather-spacious cavern, a rack of staves, a stone shaped like a tomb, and stone lanterns. The chamber’s ceiling lies high above them, arched and appearing like it was carved out of the mountain itself. He jumps - Athena shrieks - as their eyes adjust and they spot, looming over them, the massive figure of Tenma Taro. One hand clutches a stave; the other is open, its massive claws outstretched. The way the light gleams off its golden eyes suggests that maybe it’s made of metal, but the rest could be stone. Either way, the ropes bound around its body don’t look like they’d do very much if the beast sprang to life.

“Don’t like this,” Athena says in a sing-song tone that doesn’t mask her fear. “Don’t like this at all!”

“Me, neither.” Apollo experimentally blows out his breath. He can’t see it, and Athena gives him a strange look. “This Tenma Taro statue has a staff, but the Tenma Taro on the scroll doesn’t.”

“Huh.” Athena warily glances around them. “What do you think that means? I’m gonna go find the switches for those lamps.”

“They’re probably lit with actual fire, not electricity,” Apollo says. “Why would they furnish a demon prison with—”

With an electric hum and the crackle of a system that has not been used in a while, a light springs on in each lantern. The bulbs have an old orange glow, but it’s still easier to see than it was. “Huh,” Apollo says.

“Switch was just hidden out of sight,” Athena says, straightening back up. She cranes her neck back further, straight up at Tenma Taro above her. “There’s an air vent up there behind his hand, see?” She points to the rectangular hole. Apollo would estimate that one is big enough for a person, too, though too high up and with no way of reaching it for it to be useable. “I guess even forbidden chambers need good ventilation? Make sure the bird-demon gets enough oxygen? Not that it’s helping this place not be a dusty suffocating mess—” She squints at Apollo. “Do faery creatures actually breathe air?” 

He shrugs, with no idea whether she is mocking him or not. She shudders again. “Let’s just get this search over quickly,” she says.

She keeps babbling as they search, chattering about apparently anything that crosses her mind, and Apollo finds himself doing the same. Their voices echo through the chamber, bounce across the stone walls, but he still likes the sound better than the silence, something to remind him that he isn’t alone in here, that they’re alive in here, with a way out at their backs. And he often found with Trucy that the way to piece cases together, realize what observations matter, is spitballing any thought they have, throwing everything at the wall and hoping somewhere in there, something will stick. 

They talk about the feathers, the statue, the staves. Athena finds, amidst the feathers, a tube of hand cream on the floor, obviously L’Belle’s. In the legs of the Tenma Taro statue, Apollo finds a secret compartment; the light doesn’t reach down into it and against both his better judgment and Athena’s urgings, Apollo plunges his hand into the crevasse and fumbles about until he emerges with some dust-blackened wooden figurine. It is no more distinguishable held close to the light. If forced to label it, Apollo might call it a goblin or an uncomfortably humanoid-bodied pig.

“Don’t like that either!” Athena says. “Non merci.”

“Weren’t you the one saying that the odds of us running into yokai are really low?” Apollo asks. “And now you’re the one shaking!”

“Freakin’ out, right here!” Widget cries and Athena claps her hand over the necklace with a furious look. “Well, you’re shaking too!” she retorts.

“That’s because it’s cold,” Apollo says. Which of course, Athena could be, too, if Apollo in his statement hadn’t been using “shaking” as more of an all-encompassing metaphor to describe all of the shifts in Athena’s demeanor that indicate fear. 

Athena raises her eyebrows. “No, it’s not,” she says. “You can admit you’re scared, it’s okay! That’s what Widget and I are here for—”

“I am not scared!” He’s too frustrated with the case to be scared. He’s almost too resigned to this kind of situation to be scared. 

“This just seems like the kinda place a ghost is gonna pop out, you know?” Athena says, after Apollo has plopped the figurine onto a little wooden table that looks suspiciously like an altar, to examine the curled scroll lying there. 

“You believe in ghosts?” Apollo gingerly picks up the scroll, hoping it won’t crumble to dust at his touch. 

“What, you don’t?” Athena huffs, still standing in the doorway on the threshold, the light spilling in around her, but after a moment her shoulders slump and she returns to Apollo to lean over his shoulder and examine the scroll.

“I didn’t say that, but I’m having trouble getting a grip on where you draw the line.” 

In fading ink, the paper shows a monk - a sharp, stabbing memory of Khura’in, the temples Nahyuta wanted to visit, the religious training he wanted to undergo and couldn’t, pierces through Apollo’s heart and he immediately shoves it back into the abyss from which it rose - carrying a lump of something gold - he wonders idly how they created that shine whenever the scroll was first drawn, gold leaf? - and setting it on a little altar. There it either begins to transform into Tenma Taro or Tenma Taro rises out of nothing to stand before and guard it. 

“Is this how Tenma Taro was born?” Athena asks. “Are yokai born? Are the fae born? Or do they just mold new ones out of, like, flowers and tree bark?”

“I, uh, presume they’re born?” He thinks he remembers Iris speaking of family, in the hazy way he remembers anything she said that wasn’t directed at him. (Those words are all burned into his memory by the adrenaline of sheer panic.) “But they’re also not exactly Tenma Taro, either.” He thinks. He doesn’t know. He’s only ever seen Kristoph and Vera’s fae forms. Maybe ones that aren’t changelings are less human, more monster. “It’s kind of creepy, whatever this scroll is trying to show, anyway.”

“This is all creepy,” Athena says. “Can we go, now?”

“I’d like to talk to some of the witnesses again.” Not L’Belle, though maybe they’ll need to talk to him again, a decidedly frustrating prospect. “Jinxie, Mr Filch, anything more we can get out of them. And I want to check this room over.”

Clearly having had enough, Athena retreats to examine the crime scene again, like they haven’t already combed it top to bottom. Apollo stops on the threshold, just past where the air turned cold, and holds the magatama up to his eye. The Forbidden Chamber looks darker through the magatama, like the Tenma Taro statue sucks up all the light, but nothing else appears out-of-sorts, so he figures they’re probably good to go here. Not that he knows exactly what to look for, but he’s positive it would involve suspicious glowing. Most fae things have.

“Anything?” Athena asks. Apollo shoves the magatama back into his pocket and shakes his head.

-

Filch, in the foyer, tries to pickpocket him again, failing spectacularly when he gets the magatama out of Apollo’s pocket and then shrieks like a rodent caught beneath car tires and flings it to the floor. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Mr Demon Lawyer Sir!” It’s the same way that Apollo reacted to the magatama when Phoenix first handed it to him, dropping it from his hands because he knew it was fae. Does Filch now think that Apollo is actually a demon or fae? “Won’t ever do something like that again—”

Which is when Athena notices that he has Widget.

“Why are you like this?” she demands, while Widget, refastened around her neck, squawks, “Jerk!”

“I can’t help it!” Filch says, nearly wailing, but his voice drops back to a regular pitch when Apollo and Athena don’t stop glaring. “Runs in the blood, y’know. Ever since I was born, what with my grandpappy, the Azuki Kozo, being the Azuki Kozo.”

“You lost me,” Apollo says, checking his wallet and the magatama and his bracelet again even though Filch hasn’t approached again. 

“The infamous bandit, Azuki Kozo! Ain’t you ever heard?”

“Nope,” Athena says. 

Filch slumps but springs back a moment later, hurrying toward his tiny corner office and motioning for them to follow. Which Apollo does, warily, at a distance, and Athena still has one hand cupped around Widget, ready to strike back at any thieving fingers. “See this?” Filch asks, reaching in past the door and removing a figurine from the sill beneath the big glass panes that look out into the foyer. “See this?” he repeats, proudly brandishing a carved wooden figure of what seems to vaguely be a buck-toothed balding little man, hunched over a bucket. “My ol’ grandpappy made these, he did! Azuki Kozo, stole from the rich to give to the poor, and leave one of these behind at the scene! Thieves’ honor, he’s my grandpappy, so I’m his grandson!”

“I got that the first two times,” Apollo says.

Filch doesn’t seem to hear him, instead lost in his doubtlessly-idealized recitation of family history. “Sound late at night of azuki beans getting washed, and dirty money too, to get handed out to the poor!”

“Wait, didn’t Jinxie say that it’s a yokai that washes azuki beans?” Athena interrupts. Filch still isn’t listening. “Your grandfather is a yokai? Apollo, gimme the - the - thing!” She reaches out and still staring at Filch smacks at Apollo’s arm. He presumes, maybe, that she means the magatama, and offers it to her. She takes it and freezes with her arm halfway raised. “Wait, no, the yokai name was Azukiari.” Her hand drops back to her side. “Never mind.”

“Okay, but wait,” Apollo says. “That figure Mr Filch has - that looks like a cleaner version of the thing from the Forbidden Chamber.”

“You’re right!” Athena shoves the magatama back into his hands and digs into her messenger bag, where over the past two days they have stuffed an inordinate amount of papers including two old scrolls, a one-of-a-kind key, the broken piece of the fox-and-yokai statue they found under the coffee table a half an hour ago, two samples of L’Belle’s beauty products, and now a grimy lump of wood. She holds it up triumphantly. “Mr Filch, we found this in the Forbidden Chamber.”

“Maybe he broke in way back when,” Filch said. “Reminds me, Grandpappy said there was treasure in that there chamber! Greatest quick-rich chance in the universe, he said!”

“I didn’t see anything like treasure,” Apollo says. Athena shrugs at him. “Could your grandfather have already stolen it?”

Filch snickers. “Maybe,” he says. “Figure was there, so maybe that’s how he knew. Heh, good ol’ Grandpappy. Never bragged about his good deeds!”

“Uh,” Apollo says.

“Huh,” Athena says.

“There was something else I wanted to ask you about,” Apollo says, hoping he can stop another round of family stories before it starts. “You mentioned having seen Tenma Taro at the scene of the crime—”

“Yeah,” Filch tries and fails to look sheepish. “Sorry ‘bout not coming clean sooner, but you’d know if ya lived here, gotta take that stuff seriously!”

“The village superstitions - er, stories, about Tenma Taro?” Apollo asks. “To not speak of him? You believe in those?”

That was where Filch had started lying on the witness stand - something about believing, or not - and without Blackquill around, maybe he can get to the bottom of it. 

“Course I do!” Filch says. Liar. “Grown up my whole life here and ain’t gonna go anywhere else, and I might’ve had to talk about Tenma Taro today, but I ain’t never going that again! Keep to the old ways, that’s right.”

“So you’re staying here in Nine Tales Vale,” Apollo says. “And you believe all the old tales?”

“Ya got rocks in yer ears or something?” Filch asks. “Course I do! I just said all that!”

“Right,” Apollo says. “It’s just that, we’ve been around asking people about all the village superstitions, and if you actually believed in them, you’d be really afraid for your soul, now, wouldn’t you?” The confusion on Athena’s face has cleared into awed understanding of where Apollo has taken this conversation. It feels a little warmer inside his chest. “Because if you see Tenma Taro and tell someone, he’ll take your soul - unless, I’ve heard, you leave the village and never come back.”

Filch opens his mouth, flaps it like a fish out of water, finally caught off guard enough to be still and silent. “Let’s start this over,” Apollo says. “Mr Filch, you’ve been lying to us.”

“Had to,” he says, resuming fidgeting. “Didn’t have a choice!”

“What do you mean?” Apollo asks. “What was the real reason you woldn’t talk about Tenma Taro?” 

“It ain’t my fault!” Filch protests. Apollo cannot agree with that statement. “It’s that pretty boy, L’Belle!” If he had to pick two words to describe L’Belle, Apollo would use neither of those. (Petty, though—) “Told me he’d make something bad happen, if I said a word. Trying to protect that lil maid gal, he was.” Filch’s voice drops, conspiratorially, and he leans toward Apollo and Athena. They both take a step back, out of pickpocket range. “On account of that rumor, y’know, ‘bout her being possessed by Tenma Taro.”

Athena sighs. “That rumor again. Guess that’s the thing about Jinxie we should’ve talked to the mayor about. Should we head back?”

“I guess,” Apollo says. He doubts Phoenix is still there, but he already did his job as an exorcist in some sense. More than Apollo expected from him. 

“When I give this rental car back,” Athena says, already digging in her pockets for the key as they leave the manor, “they’re gonna ask how I put so many miles on it, like did I do something fun, and I’ll be like ‘nah, just commuting back and forth between LA and this little hamlet out north’.” Apollo snorts. He’d probably have bashed his face into a train window in frustration if he and Trucy had to do this the public transit way. “If Jinxie was possessed, Mr Wright definitely would’ve said something though, right. Like we can definitely count that one out.”

Apollo snorts, louder than before. “He might not,” he says, trying to keep his voice as even as he can, but this is Athena who can surely hear the bitterness that’s down in the bottom of his soul, and she stops dead in her tracks, wide eyed, one hand drifting absently toward Widget as though she means to psychoanalyze him now. And he really, really doesn’t want to talk about this - not with her, doesn’t want to sour her on Phoenix, the way it’s obvious she idolizes him. The way Apollo did. “I had a client who was one of the fae, and he didn’t tell me that,” Apollo adds hastily. Athena’s hand doesn’t move, but she hasn’t activated Widget, either. “It was important to the case - it, and that the killer was one, too - and he just - didn’t tell me any of that.”

Athena’s frown deepens, her brows creasing further, but it isn’t an angry expression, or even that much like she’s concentrating on what Apollo said or his voice. More than anything she looks confused, and a little sad. Widget has turned dark blue. “He must’ve had some reason for that,” she says. “Surely, there was some reason.”

“He did,” Apollo says. Widget turns green, and Athena’s face relaxes, glad to have been reassured of the fact that Phoenix had a plan. (He did have a reason. It was just a bad one, one that clearly only made sense in his own head, paranoid as he is. But Athena doesn’t need to know that part, and Apollo doesn’t want to dwell on any of it any more, either.)

“Wait,” she says suddenly. Apollo braces for the psychoanalysis again. “So you’ve really actually met a faery? What are they like?”

What a question. How to answer? To say that he’s still in occasional contact with one, and the other was his first boss and the doppelganger of a friend (maybe?) - courtroom rival (no) - conversational partner (sure). “They’re people,” Apollo says. “They’re just people.”

And more than that. He wants to explain to her what it was to see Kristoph sprout horns and claws; to hold the magatama to his eye that first time and see a curse branded around Phoenix’s neck and over his heart. How is he supposed to describe to her what it was like to see Klavier change faces when he picked the magatama up; to find Vera wearing a face she didn’t recognize as part of herself? And should he let someone else tell her there is the ghost of a fae queen haunting the office, and a soul locked up in a desk drawer?

“All the good and bad like anyone else,” he adds. 

She nods, but it’s obvious that she can hear more of the tales he doesn’t have words for in his voice. Widget’s color keeps changing, and with it so does her expression, her eyes sad and grown sadder on his last statement. 

“We should probably just deal with the case at hand,” Apollo says hurriedly, before he can dwell any longer on what she might be hearing, and the fact that he isn’t even sure what he is feeling. “And Jinxie’s human anyway - I think. Mr Wright implied that.”

And Apollo knows how to work within Phoenix’s implications. That’s usually all he gets.

-

Athena is confident that Jinxie isn’t possessed, and rather simply sleepwalks; but Jinxie tells them that her father confessed his guilt to her at the scene of the crime, and Apollo again forgot to check if Filch is totally human.

As investigations always go: one step forward, and three back into the grave for the birds, Tenma Taro and Taka, to scavenge.

[dahliafm]

ok i suck SKLDGJDSKGFL

i’m so sorry i went mia yesterday, i had to run errands all day and time got away from me once i got home. but !! i said i’d make another post about dahlia’s personality and such, so without further ado ( also, don’t drag me for not having stats and plots up yet.... i’m gonna be floundering with that for the night, just wait LDSFGKSGD ):

i described her to one of my pals as a “ chaotic free-spirit with a mean streak when she doesn’t get her way, ” when i was first mapping her out, which. could also describe a couple of my bitchier muses tbh fldkgjds

i also insinuated in her app that she hasn’t changed much from her high school days, and i do mean that......... thing is, she shows her negative side a little more readily than before, slowly shook off the shy, passive front she usually had once she went out on her own

she’s stubborn, irritable and has a sense of high self-worth and self-preservation

she has her moments of insecurity and such however, she’s just a rather guarded person

mentioned in the app as well that she’s kept people at arm’s length and has many casual friends, very few confidantes. that’s mostly due to her wanting to have a good time with a side of odd girl out issues from the past and shitty time management skills, so she makes it a hassle to get close to her sdglkfjgdlk

she has an attitude that can and will come out if you hurt her or someone she cares about/someone she thinks doesn’t deserve it

or if you think you’re a god or something, idk KDSGLFJL

and it can get ugly.. as explained above dfskgdgkf

however, we love confident women on this blog and here you have one !

y’know, aside from what i said above DLGSK

she’s chill for the most part, so you ( probably ) won’t have anything to worry about if you stay on her good side

passionate af about radio and music as a career, wants to have a gig like zane lowe’s beats hosting job or annie mac’s one day

although she also wishes she was a decent enough musician to put something out, just once, before she dies dfgsljdfgk

bit of a wild child as i’ve said, likes to party and just do her own thing — partially bc she’s scared of getting older and having to give that all up/being forced to act her age

doesn’t mean she doesn’t like the ( rare ) quiet night in though !

hopes to travel the world one of these days, but she’ll settle for what she has going on right now

doesn’t mean she hasn’t been to a few places already bc of her connections LKDSFG

closet romantic, just wants to be swept off of her feet….. but no one needs to know that, at least she doesn’t think so fsdjkgfd

won’t let you see it anyways, at least unless she’s interested and knows you’re not someone who’s only useful for her in the short-term

despite all of this person you know but not really shit, she’s loyal if she lets you in

quietly doting, will never be the mom friend bc it’s too much responsibility and patience, but will always be a good shoulder to cry on who tells you your feelings are valid before she tells you to toughen the fuck up and amend a situation yourself, might even tell you how

some exceptions may apply fdlsjgsflk

a bit vulgar at times, just warning you now fgldskf

has a pet succulent bc she knows she can’t look after the big fluffy dog of her dreams rn

( i ) named him bobby after one of the characters from the love island game dflkgsjf

once again, mentioned in the app that she has an older sister and younger brother ( which sucks for me bc i made her the eldest in my head.. this is why you proof read — ), plus their dynamics when she was younger

gets on fine with them now, but her and her sister have had an on-and-off contentious relationship that, at the moment, is very much on sdfgfg

........ im gonna be honest, idrk what else to add, especially bc i have a feeling i’m gonna flop on a couple of traits from trying to map it out so much in advance like always SDLGJGFDSKLD so yeah !

[icharchivist]

Re reading everything I can't help but wonder of Road and Wisely have their own agenda? Not saying they're secretly good guys or are plotting against the Earl. They (along w/Tyki and Lulubell) love and are the most loyal to the Earl. Road and Wisely also know/understand the Earl the best too. I'm thinking they know something about the suit and are plotting something against it and Neah's promise. 1) Road loves her family above all else. But it's been implied they all have to die. 2) Road and -

2 Wisely are the only ones in the family who recall most/all of what happened 35 yrs ago. Most likely even more. 3) Wisely is the only one communicating w/a MIA Road and isn't telling anyone of her status. 4) Nea is a sore subject for both of them. Wisely promised to never let Nea near the Earl. Road always looks sad and seemed upset at Nea's return. 5) Wisely knows Allen's past over 35 yrs ago and it's more then likely Road does at this point too. 6) Both are terrified of the Heart and know-

3 w/o the Earl around the Heart will kill them all. 7) They both show care/attachment to Allen despite it all. Wisely more then once (in canon and Komui Talks) talks about Allen like family and likes him. Road risked her life against Apocryphos to keep Allen safe and more then once kept Allen's will to live and keep his sense of self intact (Kanda's memories and sending Cross to help Allen inside Nea's dream). 8) I feel like past Allen KNEW both Wisely and Road too. Since Jasdevi mentioned -

4 the bookman were once w/them and how Sheryll knew Bookman knew Nea and lost his apprentice to him. It makes sense if Allen was bookman Jr then they recorded the Noah like they also did the Order. Nea was w/the family for a time before he massacred them. Allen was w/them too. There Wisely and Road also knew and possibly bonded w/Allen in some way. Now that he's the 14th they also know Allen's full abilities and current status quo shaker role. W/that I believe they want Allen to suceed -

5 and learn the truth. Allen has ties to the Heart yes, but he's also running from the Heart and looking to fix things differently then anyone else. Nea will kill the entire family by destroying their Earl. But the Earl is also losing it and possibly went unhinged from everything that happened since Adam split. Allen might be their hope is finding another way. After all we don't know what the Noah want in the end. Its possibly Allen is the key to something they need to fix whatever is wrong.

I 100% agree with absolutly everything you say

There are things Wisely and Road seems to be hiding to the Earl. I do believe they have Adam’s best interest at heart though, so there is also knowledge that they can’t just drop things on him to hurt him (like Wisely comforting Adam when he’s in full breakdown about “i am not Mana” and Wisely, in his all knowingness, agreeing to calm him down). 

Also even though they are both rather... weird about Nea, Road pushing Allen to cling to his own sense of self for exemple, there is also some softer moments like when Road cried while remembering foundly that apparently “keep walking” came from Nea? 

So there is mixed feelings there and I do think their interests don’t exactly fully allign with the Earl as in, as the entity, and that they would be trying to preserve Adam/Mana as a being instead. Like you mention, Adam is getting unstable because of Nea’s return so it is in their hands to try to do something to help him, as they are the only two to know about his situation in details.

But it does raise a lot of questions about what are their goals. Because they aren’t also people who believe into protecting humans, in fact both of them have shown pretty disregard over human lives. Like you mention it is very likely it’s a question of not wanting to sacrifice the family - but there would be a lot to oppose to there.

If Allen is a wildcard for the Order to destroy the Earl with unconventional method, I could see at least Road and Wisely to consider Allen a wildcard for whatever goal they are most likely to be cheering for. Whenever it is to break the cycle without killing the family or actually walking forward a new Flood on others terms.

They do not seem to be supporting Nea in the ordeal though but specifically Allen - and specifically they seem to be plotting regarding the wellbeing of their family. 

I agree though that it is very likely they knew past!Allen especially if Past!A was the Lost Apprentice. The Bookmen were on the Noah’s sides (which really makes you question why? they were ready to just witness humanity goes down silently just to keep their neutral records? seems like some conflict of interests there too) and we know Past!A was close to Nea (duh) but also has a deep emotional connection to the Musician song as seen by Red’s tear flowing hearing Mana singing it in the last chapter. It feels like whatever connection Allen had with the Noah was far deeper than expected (and i mean Nea must have managed to sneak Allen perhaps in the Ark at least once to make him the Musician no?) so it seems very likely Past!A had been in contact with others Noah. And when it comes to Wisely at least, it seems unlikely he wouldn’t have picked up about the friend that Nea would keep in his mind too. So it gives reasons for Wisely to know about Past!A. 

So yeah honestly I agree with all of your reasoning but it’s very hard to pinpoint.... What are their goals then? It sure doesn’t seem to be saving humanity, perhaps more saving their family, but it doesn’t completely alligns with Allen’s too. Which really puts the whole two sided wars with a lot of shades of grey, after all we do have seen exorcists with different degree of dedications to the innocence/order and some to the point of well, conspiracy even. The same thing on the Noah’s side would make sense.

so orz i feel like i’m both surexplaining what you said and also missing to talk about big things but what I mean is yeah, 100% agreed with you. Just... They’re still too full of mysteries to really get at this point...

[whitecanary-lance]

Disappear || Self

Who: Sara Lance && Mia Queen Where: The Waverider ( circa 2018 waverider )

Mia needed help. Eclipse and Thawne were here and now she could no longer access the WaveRider or Gideon. It all made her feel uneasy. Things weren't making sense. Since she was a little girl there were only a handful of people Mia trusted to help her make sense of things. She couldn't find her Uncle John or Roy. Her Aunt Thea was in denial according the Len and while her instincts screamed to go to her mom and dad she just couldn't do that to them. But who else would be able to handle a kid from the future. Then she smiled, Aunt Sara. Nothing rattled the ex-assassin. She'd probably shrug her shoulders and say it was an average Wednesday. With that she took the Jump-Ship and landed in front of the current WaveRider.

Sara paced the floor of her office--well Rip's old office. All the relics he'd collected through time seemed to insulate the space with the gripping sense of purpose. They weren't all currently residents of this ship for no reason; their purpose was the preservation of time. Currently, the influx of conflict weighed heavily on her shoulders, warranting her sulking posture within the warm four walls. Sara needed to figure out where the rogue posture time vessel has vanished to and what pushed it's crew to descend into this time in particular. A part of her wondered if it had been her team but the implications of their interference seemed all too great a risk to make sense to their future selves. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to suss out the throbbing that clouded her senses. Gideon's voice cut through the ringing in her ears, "there's a jump ship orbiting our location. Shall I engage our weapon system?" The confidence in the AI's voice jarred something in Sara. "Don't. I can handle this," she called out grabbing the .45 off the edge of the oak desk.

Mia landed the ship and engaged the cloaking system before grabbing her katana and bow. She exited the ship with her hands raised. " Aismi aibnat alsahm," her Arabic flawless as she proclaimed herself as Daughter of the Arrow. The name that Nyssa and Sara had agreed upon for her after she had completed her training with the League of Assassins. "I am not your enemy Ta-er al-Asfar. "

Sara move swiftly out of the office, the gun held closed to her thigh. The last thing she wanted was to worry the team but the threat was still unidentifiable. Gideon pulled up the visual and audio of the woman who stood before the cargo slip of the waverider. Her hands rose up in surrender with the sweet rolling sound of arabic radiating through the speakers. Sara knew that tone, the calculated change in key when uttering her former title. "Gideon, open the cargo bay."

 Mia saw the cargo bay open and immediately headed up the ramp. The longer they were visible the worse it could be. Upon entering the ship she headed straight for the bridge."Thank you, Aunt Sara," Mia said quickly knowing her aunt had little patience for beating around her bush.

Her weapon sat idly at her side with the rush of air that escape the airlocks. Sara didn't flinch at the haste in the woman's gait. 'Aunt Sara'...what the hell? She quickly closed in on the woman, " who the hell are you?" Her voice stern with the inching twinge of curiosity. Laurel had a kid in the future? Did that mean she also had finally gotten that happily ever after? Sara couldn't dwell on such niceties when the girl before her was bending the parameters of time but address her in the past. Didn't this woman know that time manipulation was a very potent thing?

"My name is Mia Dearden Queen. I'm the oldest child of Oliver and Felicity Smoak and before you freak out that I'm telling you too much, you should know that my brother and I have somehow been erased from the timeline. It's what brought me and my team here. When I started flickering my mother brought me to you and you sent me with this team."

Sara's brow furrowed at the woman's verbal breakdown. The words flooded from her lips at a rate that most humans couldn't follow. The tone was reminiscent of the pesky blonde hacker that burrowed her way into Sara's heart. The realization dawned on her like a ton of bricks. The travelers that crashed into Central City's Credit Union were the remnants of a /new/ team of Legends from the future. A future where Felicity and Oliver birthed a valiant daughter. "Something's been altered," she turned away from the girl and begun her descent back into the center of the waverider. "...you wouldn't be fading in your time unless something had changed in mine."

Mia nodded, "Yes," she looked around confused, "Where are Jason and Aiden. Aiden would be what, a year maybe? Oh it'll be fun to get a picture of holding Baby Aiden," she laughed.

Sara stopped in her tracks at her mention of Jason and their son. His birth name always hovered around in Sara's mind but had long since been changed once she'd let him go. "I don't know....how do you know his name?" She turned back to the woman with a skeptical look. Had Aiden found a way back to her in the future? Or had Jason made contact with the son that never actually knew the origins of his own past?

"Aiden Todd? My best friend," Mia asked confused. "You remember him don't you," Mia said in a panic. Had Aiden not been born in this timeline? Had something happen to him?

Every part of her wished to strangle the breath out of the girl but it wasn't her fault that she didn't know. How didn't she knew? Sara hadn't realized the shock in the girl's tone because her mind was working a mile a minute. If this girl was from the future, she couldn't have messed up such a crucial detail of her son's life. Aiden had no knowledge of his parents; that's just the way Sara needed it to be to ensure he would have a good life. Felicity wasn't pregnant or even with Oliver. None of this makes sense. "Remember him? I remember my son but he's no longer my son." She turned away from Mia with a sigh. "...I never gave him up, did I?"

Mia was taken aback that her Aunt Sara was yelling at her. Then confusion returned, "Gave him up, no. No. You and Uncle Jason and Aiden. You live in the clocktower. Well Aiden just moved out, but he still calls the clocktower home. You and Jason still live there through," Mia rambled resembling her mother. "Mom teases you that at some point you're going to have to make an honest man out of Uncle Jason. You've been living in sin for so long. Not that how you guys live is bad. I think it's just mom wanting to throw you a party."

 "None of that is true," Sara's head bowed at the thought of the companionship she'd lost in Jason. They had potential to be happy but with all the personal baggage and tremendous set backs, it was best they separated when they did. Nothing good could come of a duo christened by the blood of the slain and shadowed in the grief of their reckoning. "Jason and I parted over a year ago. Long time commitment wasn't going to work out," she shrugged off the complex pang in her chest. "Aiden is with a family away from here...away from us." Sara placed the gun on the curve of her chair, a burden crowding her shoulders. "You're fading because your timeline no longer seems to exist.....Gideon?" her tone darkened with the realization. "Precisely, Captain Lance." Gideon's voice boomed above them. "There's a significant change in the course of Ms. Queen's existence. I am afraid there's no Mia Queen in 2029."

 "Oh," Mia said sounding very young at the idea of her existence ending. She knew immediately she'd never be able to tell her mom who she was. Her mom loved her with all of her heart. Nothing came before Tommy, her Dad, and her, in her mom's world. Not even Smoak Technologies. Mia then raised her head. "Are mom and dad married here," Mia asked quietly. "I mean I saw them together and looked like it but if I don't exist maybe it's because they're not together and that's what is causing all the problems. Mom and Dad have to get together. You always said their love was the epic kind that people wrote stories about."

 Sara knew the truth wasn't always the kindest thing to hear. Her fate hung unnaturally on the whim of time. A time that had been altered and now was slowly eroding the life that Mia had created for herself. She wondered if the girl felt the unraveling of her story in every fiber of her being? Or was the end swift and painless; just a whisper to the wind of their narrative? She stepped closer to the girl with some wayward attempt to soothe the ache that would radiate through her. Nothing would dull the pain that came with an unchanging fate. Sara knew that well. "There's not no," she shook her head. Since Damian Darhk blasted through their city and paralyzed her, the fracture between the two seemed to deepen. It only happened to mend within the last nine months but they weren't any close to marriage. If Sara were honest, she didn't think that they'd ever get there. Commitment wasn't any of their strong suits. "It is but things have been difficult but we’re gonna get to the bottom of this. You have my word."

[quietya]

September 2017’s #quietYA Picks

Hi all! So, YA Interrobang is on hiatus for the rest of the year and I already had a lot of obligations, so I kept forgetting to put this together for y’all without someone giving me a deadline. But I didn’t want to miss out on highlighting these books since September was a HUGE month for new releases (and so is October - that list will be coming out later this week) and I want to make sure y’all didn’t miss some epicness.

The Girl with the Red Balloon by Katherine Locke

Release date: September 1

When sixteen-year-old Ellie Baum accidentally time-travels via red balloon to 1988 East Berlin, she’s caught up in a conspiracy of history and magic. She meets members of an underground guild in East Berlin who use balloons and magic to help people escape over the Wall—but even to the balloon makers, Ellie’s time travel is a mystery. When it becomes clear that someone is using dark magic to change history, Ellie must risk everything—including her only way home—to stop the process.

Glow by Megan E. Bryant

Release date: September 1

When thrift-store aficionado Julie discovers a series of antique paintings with hidden glowing images that are only visible in the dark, she wants to learn more about the artist. In her search, she uncovers a century-old romance and the haunting true story of the Radium Girls, young women who used radioactive paint to make the world's first glow-in-the-dark products—and ultimately became radioactive themselves. As Julie’s obsession with the paintings mounts, truths about the Radium Girls—and her own complicated relationships—are revealed. But will she uncover the truth about the luminous paintings before putting herself and everyone she loves at risk?

Alexander Hamilton, Revolutionary by Martha Brockenbrough

Release date: September 5

Discover the incredible true story behind the Tony Award-winning musical – Hamilton’s early years in the Caribbean; his involvement in the Revolutionary War; and his groundbreaking role in government, which still shapes American government today. Easy to follow, this gripping account of a founding father and American icon features illustrations, maps, timelines, infographics, and additional information ranging from Hamilton's own writings to facts about fashion, music, etiquette and custom of the times, including best historical insults and the etiquette of duels.

She, Myself, and I by Emma Young

Release date: September 5

Rosa—an eighteen-year-old from London—is quadriplegic. Her doting (if a bit stifling) parents and charming older brother are her entire world. But Rosa yearns for more; so when a doctor from Boston chooses her to be a candidate for a risky experimental surgery, she and her family move to Massachusetts in search of a miracle. Sylvia—a girl from a small town in New England—is brain-dead. Her parents have donated Sylvia’s body to Rosa’s cause. Rosa wakes up from surgery as the first successful brain transplant survivor—by all accounts, a medical anomaly. She should be ecstatic, but she can’t help wondering with increasing obsession who Sylvia was and what her life was like. Rosa’s fascination with her new body and her desire to understand Sylvia prompt a road trip based on discovery and a surprising new romance. But will Rosa be able to solve the dilemma of her identity? Who is she, in another girl’s body?

All About Mia by Lisa Williamson

Release date: September 12

"That girl is such a mess." "Why can't she be like her sisters?" Blah, blah, blah. That's all Mia Campbell-Richardson ever hears. From her parents, her teachers, and her never-do-wrong older sister, Grace. So what if she parties too hard and studies too little? Who cares if she tends to end up with the wrong guys or says the wrong things at the wrong times? She's still a good friend (except when she isn't). And she still knows the way things should go (except when they don't). When Grace comes home with shocking news, Mia hopes that it's finally Grace's turn to get into trouble. But instead it's Mia whose life spirals out of control.

Odd & True by Cat Winters

Release date: September 12

Trudchen grew up hearing Odette’s stories of their monster-slaying mother and a magician’s curse. But now that Tru’s older, she’s starting to wonder if her older sister’s tales were just comforting lies, especially because there’s nothing fantastic about her own life—permanently disabled and in constant pain from childhood polio. In 1909, after a two-year absence, Od reappears with a suitcase supposedly full of weapons and a promise to rescue Tru from the monsters on their way to attack her. But it’s Od who seems haunted by something. And when the sisters’ search for their mother leads them to a face-off with the Leeds Devil, a nightmarish beast that’s wreaking havoc in the Mid-Atlantic states, Tru discovers the peculiar possibility that she and her sister—despite their dark pasts and ordinary appearances—might, indeed, have magic after all.

Water in May by Ismee Amiel Williams

Release date: September 12

Fifteen-year-old Mari Pujols believes that the baby she’s carrying will finally mean she’ll have a family member who will love her deeply and won’t ever leave her—not like her mama, who took off when she was eight; or her papi, who’s in jail; or her abuela, who wants as little to do with her as possible. But when doctors discover a potentially fatal heart defect in the fetus, Mari faces choices she never could have imagined. Surrounded by her loyal girl crew, her off-and-on boyfriend, and a dedicated doctor, Mari navigates a decision that could emotionally cripple the bravest of women. But both Mari and the broken-hearted baby inside her are fighters; and it doesn’t take long to discover that this sick baby has the strength to heal an entire family.

You Bring the Distant Near by Mitali Perkins

Release date: September 12

Five girls. Three generations. One great American love story. You Bring the Distant Near explores sisterhood, first loves, friendship, and the inheritance of culture--for better or worse. Ranee, worried that her children are losing their Indian culture; Sonia, wrapped up in a forbidden biracial love affair; Tara, seeking the limelight to hide her true self; Shanti, desperately trying to make peace in the family; Anna, fighting to preserve Bengal tigers and her Bengali identity--award-winning author Mitali Perkins weaves together a sweeping story of five women at once intimately relatable and yet entirely new.

Moxie by Jennifer Mathieu

Release date: September 19

Vivian Carter is fed up. Fed up with her small-town Texas high school that thinks the football team can do no wrong. Fed up with sexist dress codes and hallway harassment. But most of all, Viv Carter is fed up with always following the rules. Viv’s mom was a punk rock Riot Grrrl in the ’90s, so now Viv takes a page from her mother’s past and creates a feminist zine that she distributes anonymously to her classmates. She’s just blowing off steam, but other girls respond. Pretty soon Viv is forging friendships with other young women across the divides of cliques and popularity rankings, and she realizes that what she has started is nothing short of a girl revolution.

Murder, Magic, and What We Wore by Kelly Jones

Release date: September 19

The year is 1818, the city is London, and our heroine, 16-year-old Annis Whitworth, has just learned that her father is dead and all his money is missing. And so, of course, she decides to become a spy. Annis always suspected that her father was a spy, so following in his footsteps to unmask his killer makes perfect sense. Alas, it does not make sense to England’s current spymasters—not even when Annis reveals that she has the rare magical ability to sew glamours: garments that can disguise the wearer completely. Well, if the spies are too pigheaded to take on a young woman of quality, then Annis will take them on. She’ll follow the clues her father left behind and discover what befell him. She’ll prove she can sew an impenetrable disguise. She’ll earn a living without stooping to become a—shudder—governess. It can’t be any harder than navigating the London social season, can it?

Speak Easy, Speak Love by McKelle George

Release date: September 19

After she gets kicked out of boarding school, seventeen-year-old Beatrice goes to her uncle’s estate on Long Island. But Hey Nonny Nonny is more than just a rundown old mansion. Beatrice’s cousin, Hero, runs a struggling speakeasy out of the basement—one that might not survive the summer. Along with Prince, a poor young man determined to prove his worth; his brother John, a dark and dangerous agent of the local mob; Benedick, a handsome trust-fund kid trying to become a writer; and Maggie, a beautiful and talented singer; Beatrice and Hero throw all their efforts into planning a massive party to save the speakeasy. Despite all their worries, the summer is beautiful, love is in the air, and Beatrice and Benedick are caught up in a romantic battle of wits that their friends might be quietly orchestrating in the background.

The Victoria in My Head by Janelle Milanes

Release date: September 19

Victoria Cruz inhabits two worlds: In one, she is a rock star, thrashing the stage with her husky voice and purple-streaked hair. In the other, currently serving as her reality, Victoria is a shy teenager with overprotective Cuban parents, who sleepwalks through her life at the prestigious Evanston Academy. Unable to overcome the whole paralyzing-stage-fright thing, Victoria settles for living inside her fantasies, where nothing can go wrong and everything is set to her expertly crafted music playlists. But after a chance encounter with an unattainably gorgeous boy named Strand, whose band seeks a lead singer, Victoria is tempted to turn her fevered daydreams into reality. To do that, she must confront her insecurities and break away from the treadmill that is her life. Suddenly, Victoria is faced with the choice of staying on the path she’s always known and straying off-course to find love, adventure, and danger.

A Short History of the Girl Next Door by Jared Reck

Release date: September 26

Fifteen-year-old Matt Wainwright is in turmoil. He can’t tell his lifelong best friend, Tabby, how he really feels about her; his promising basketball skills are being overshadowed by his attitude on the court, and the only place he feels normal is in English class, where he can express his inner thoughts in quirky poems and essays. Matt is desperately hoping that Tabby will reciprocate his feelings; but then Tabby starts dating Liam Branson, senior basketball star and all-around great guy. Losing Tabby to Branson is bad enough; but, as Matt soon discovers, he’s close to losing everything that matters most to him.

Starfish by Akemi Dawn Bowman

Release date: September 26

Kiko Himura has always had a hard time saying exactly what she’s thinking. With a mother who makes her feel unremarkable and a half-Japanese heritage she doesn’t quite understand, Kiko prefers to keep her head down, certain that once she makes it into her dream art school, Prism, her real life will begin. But then Kiko doesn’t get into Prism, at the same time her abusive uncle moves back in with her family. So when she receives an invitation from her childhood friend to leave her small town and tour art schools on the west coast, Kiko jumps at the opportunity in spite of the anxieties and fears that attempt to hold her back. And now that she is finally free to be her own person outside the constricting walls of her home life, Kiko learns life-changing truths about herself, her past, and how to be brave.

[jeremyfrechette]

lies told about conservatives -

1) Conservatives are racist! Shall I quote the blissful bigotry of Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, Al Sharpton, or any slew of “socially conscious” crusaders; celebrities included? If I may, which party was founded as the anti-slavery party, ended Jim Crows and spearheaded the legislative movements for citizenship, suffrage and equal rights? Here’s a hint…it doesn’t rhyme with “rat”! Conservatives welcome all races and colors in our quest to defend and preserve America’s founding ideals. Likewise, we unilaterally reject divisive victimization rhetoric used solely to incite animosity along socio-economic lines for political gain. Although racism exist in all facets of America, such hateful attitudes are infectious and only invite future bigotry upon yourself, your peers and your loved ones. Progress is not measured by the number of times race is invoked or celebrated. It is personified by the number of lives liberated from its requirement. Why again would “racist” Republicans support Allen West, Ben Carson, Dinesh D’Souza, Mia Love, Condoleezza Rice and Marco Rubio, let alone spread the transcendent wisdom of Booker T. Washington, Martin Luther King Jr. or Thomas Sowell? Refusing to support a rformer President’s spiteful, anti-American agenda doesn’t make anyone a racist, regardless of their heritage or political affiliation. It makes one increasingly cognizant of the destructive aftermath such deep-seated prejudice inevitably brings.

2) Conservatives are sexist! Naturally, because conservatives don’t have mothers, wives or daughters, nor do they care about their well being. We decry discrimination against either gender, detest violence against women in any form, and support equal rights and pay for all women. Conservatives simply reject the regressive agenda of modern feminism which seeks injustice where none exists – “psychological trauma” inflicted by patriarchal images, the sexism of “mansplaining” or the “rape culture” of “manspreading”, gender identity conditioning of children, free birth control and taxpayer funded abortions, the so-called prosecutable sexual paradox of “yes” means “no” – as a means of degrading the masculine image and traditional role of men in society. This adopted brand of radical activism ensures reverse discrimination by attempting to validate such absurd demands to the detriment of both society and all reasonable, responsible women that desire nothing more than equal opportunity and treatment under the law. Self-respecting women do no want to be coddled, made to feel hopeless and therefore given an emotionally crippled crutch of contempt. Whether pursuing a career of or raising a family full time, they deserve the right to live the life of their choosing without discrimination or the crass exploitation of bitter gender fascists. Parading around in public topless, shouting obscenities and performing vulgar acts doesn’t make you enlightened, let alone noteworthy. It makes you the willing subject of your own stupidity. Empowerment, much like equal rights, doesn’t illicit hatred or reject accountability.

3) Conservatives are Nazi “extremists”! Unless you passed a concentration camp on the way to work, hauled the smelted gold taken from numbered corpses, this is nothing more than media driven hysteria designed to justify progressive policies that are incompatible with our founding ideals, or better yet, common sense. You do realize Adolf Hitler, the infamous leader of the Third Reich, was a rabid German socialist who denounced individuality, capitalism, Christianity, and free speech? He also advocated imprisoning or executing political dissidents and all inferior ethnicities. Do you know what other fascist movement harbors almost identical beliefs? Progressivism. Conservatives aren’t the ones silencing intellectual diversity on campuses, clamoring for state-run media, physically attacking Trump supporters, rioting in the streets over a free election result, singling out Christian businesses for prosecution, mocking traditional values or publicly demonizing white Americans. Liberal fascism, the once fringe element that officially hijacked the Democratic party in 2008, is now the single greatest threat to liberty, tolerance, due process, prosperity, and the survival of America. Considering the Nazis sought absolute control and conservatives loathe intrusive, unilateral government, this accusation is about as wise as a transgender Jewish man asking to be circumcised by a Muslim butcher before he uses the little girls restroom. “Halal No” or until hell freezes over, the left is by far the greatest embodiment of extremism in America today. When the end justifies the means, truth is of no consequence.

4) Conservatives oppose immigration! Hardly. America was founded as a beacon of hope for all races, creeds and colors. On the contrary, we rightfully object to the pardoned excuses of “illegal” immigration and the mass influx of untraceable “refugees”. Not supporting our immigration laws, those protocols every civilized nation enacts and enforces, is a slap in the face to every man, woman and child who immigrated to America legally, not to mention those 3,000 victims who died on 9/11. Abandoning our borders, not shielding citizens from criminally and medically unvetted threats, is a dereliction of duty and a clear and present danger to our country’s sovereignty and security. Encouraging, dare I say “engineering”, illegal immigration solely to win elections and demographically override our founding principles is nothing short of treason. Despite such disingenuous ploys, all are welcome who respect our sovereignty and complete the process afforded by law. Perhaps someday activists will understand this “revolutionary” concept when sentenced to decapitation by an Islamic tribunal or while picketing corporations in the progressive soup lines of socialism.

5) Conservatives are gun fanatics! Like our forefathers, we unequivocally embrace people’s right to defend themselves against all forms of tyranny; Thomas Jefferson’s most profound reason for preserving our right to bear arms. Gun violence isn’t a disease but a sociological symptom that reflects a parenting failing and an obvious psychological disconnect. Rather than addressing the obvious moral erosion infecting our communities – an endeavor Hollywood has worked overtime to achieve by mocking our religious values – progressives are content exploiting national tragedies to justify their insatiable desire to repeal the Second Amendment. Not only is gun confiscation historically the final lynch pin to uncontested subjugation, gun control does little to deter those who truly want to harm others; especially when you realize both the Oklahoma City Bombing and 9/11 were carried out without a single shot being fired. Every day firearms deter crime and save far more lives than the soulless   of any disturbed individual. You can no more regulate human nature than an inanimate object can pull its own trigger and be convicted for murder. When mass death is the ultimate goal, the weapon of choice is moot for people will always find a vessel to deliver their wrath. The fact these mass shootings rarely occurred 50 or even 25 years ago is a costly reminder that parents, schools and our elected leaders have failed to instill our children with the proper values and universal respect for their fellow man. The question isn’t why do so many citizens own a gun. The question is why are so many comfortable ending a human life? Leaving decent, law-abiding Americans helpless against thugs, terrorists and aspiring dictators is never the answer; it’s the broken promise of armed regret.

6) Conservatives hate the poor! Of course…because we never get sick, lose our jobs or struggle to provide for our families. Sorry but poverty doesn’t discriminate and any President that doesn’t create jobs, lower taxes and eliminate waste is no friend of the American people. One of the benefits of living in a nation as resourceful as America is the financial assistance available to those in need. Nearly all people struggle, require assistance time to time, and there is no shame in that. And yes, Americans are a compassionate and generous people. However, Conservatives take great umbrage with those smug parasites who view welfare as a career opportunity and conspire incessantly to defraud the system when they should treat such blessings as a stepping stone to reclaim their life. Stealing bread from the mouth of honest labor – those taxpayers who have watched the number of welfare recipients and the national debt nearly double since 2008 – is a slap in the face to all hard-working Americans, as well as those families that struggle with real misfortune and lingering disabilities. Everyone owes it to themselves, their family and their country to find a job. A paycheck is a means to a means, a self-sustaining gateway to a better life, whereas welfare is a meal ticket to endless dependence, debt and discontent. For when the fog of propaganda and entitlement clears, no economic system has liberated more people from the clutches of poverty than capitalism; that independent engine of ambition most synonymous with liberty, prosperity, and human discovery. However, please note, and much to the chagrin of Marxists everywhere, capitalism only works if you do! A healthy work ethic is the fastest path to personal success.

7) Conservatives are religious radicals! Clearly. What’s the terrorist score card of the century? Which religion has never had a reformation? Yet again, this is but another baseless claim designed to insight fear, hate and paranoia at the expense of dispelling dangerous misconceptions. America, Western Civilization, was founded upon Judeo-Christian ideals; a fact liberals malicious muddle, twist and insistently attempt to discredit. Opposing abortion – the death of a human being even in its most glorified state – or rejecting Gay Marriage – the political corruption of a “religious” institution in Western Society which threatens the family dynamic – hardly makes us harbingers of hate or the equivalent of Islamic militants; those extremists who deny women basic human rights and kill gays for merely existing. As ardent constitutionalists, Christian conservatives advocate the tolerance of all competing beliefs that coincide with our founding values. No, Christianity is not perfect or without historical indignities. Christians simply learned killing in the name of God was a fruitless endeavor that undermined every tenet of their faith. What we absolutely refuse to condone is empowering those ideologies that violate people’s natural born rights, i.e. Sharia Law, or threaten our founding values to the debasement of our culture and national ethos. Not all laws are just or justified; not all boundaries are meant to be broken.

8) Conservatives are war mongers! Yes, because once again, Conservatives, those who are most likely to serve their country or volunteer for during times of crisis, do not have families who sacrifice and grieve so that “We the People” many live free from harm and bask in those liberties so often denied to millions across the globe. Like all Americans, Conservatives detest war and view it as an absolute last resort of recourse. That being said, we do not live in a world were evil does not exist and circumstance can rely on the unwavering good nature of our fellow man. To unconditionally reject military intervention regardless of the prevailing circumstances is the equivalent of watching a rape across the street and doing nothing about it. Frankly, when did we stop caring? The question all liberals should be asking themselves, and that of the entire civilized world, is why aren’t more nations and leaders taking a stand against mass injustice and depravity? No, America cannot be the savior of the free world or right all wrongs of humanity. We simply must refuse to be the doormat of tyranny and criminal apathy. “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

9) Conservatives hate the environment! I’d love to indulge this popular progressive fairy tale, but we too drink from the sources of water, breathe the same air, and educate our children about the ravages of pollution. Rather, conservatives refuse using science fiction as to implement unnecessary regulations, collect more taxes, solely to expand government and claim more austerity over our everyday lives. The same bureaucrats who can’t balance their checkbook, protect our borders, or give the people a straight answer, want to control every aspect of your life out of the goodness in their hearts. No, right-minded Americans aren’t fearful of science, anything but, for we eagerly embrace its universal necessity, power and wonder. What we don’t accept is a political alarmist, i.e., a pseudo scientist named Al Gore and his celebrity salesmen, proclaiming the Arctic ice shelf would cease to exist within a decade and that the entire city of New York would become the lost ruins of Atlantis due to the impending catastrophe known as climate change. Sadly, not to spoil the inconvenient truth about his “D” in Natural Sciences, or his six figure speaker fees, glacier coverage of the planet is now as prominent as it was 20 years ago and the Yankees have yet to give away floaties during a single promotion. Bummer.

As firm believers in empirical data, reputable science, conservatives recognize the existence of global cooling and warming; we merely view both as natural climatic cycles that far outweigh the shameless ploys of politicians. Now that’s not to say mankind has no negative impact on the environment, bio diversity or even global temperatures. I have no doubt whatsoever. It’s just that our presence pales in comparison to the mercurial power of the sun and the instinctive reflux of mother nature. After all, if the truth be known, one of the hottest years ever recorded in our nation’s history occurred in the 19th century during pre-industrialized America. Believe it or not, just as many if not more conservatives live off the land, utilize nature for recreation, and tirelessly work to protect and preserve the source of their greatest blessing…their preferred way of life. Protecting our environment against corporate waste and individual apathy is nonnegotiable. Listening to those politicians who manipulate scientific data for political and financial gain, on the other hand, is entirely optional.

10) Conservatives are out of touch! Or perhaps we’re painfully astute of history and vigilant to the ides of tyranny. As the proud torchbearers of the timeless ideals America was founded upon – individual liberty, limited government, God, hard work, accountability and duty – conservatives pose the biggest threat to the globalist agenda: a secular, soulless paradigm of mass conformity and institutionalized dependence. Progressivism cannot survive without inciting distrust, division and discord to conceal the truth from low information voters; those vulnerable souls most easily cajoled by such sensationalist propaganda. Any ideology that cannot stand on its own merits and is counter-intuitive to the Constitution – statism, Socialism, and Marxism – is inherently radical and a tangible threat to our way of life. If I may, how are any of these philosophies remotely synonymous with our founding creed, not to mention the supreme law of the land? Historically speaking, one must work far more diligently to protect a lie than to simply speak on the behalf of self-evident truths. Conservatives believe, and freely attest, man’s natural born rights are derived from a divine creator and not ransomed by the “benevolence” of centralized despots. At its most rudimentary core, our elected government has three fundamental duties: to protect our lives and liberties, to honor and uphold the prescribed limitations of the Constitution, and to provide transparency in all its dealings. I’m sad to report the corrupt cesspool of polarized bureaucrats known as Washington have egregiously failed on all three accounts. Defending the ideological cornerstones America was erected upon doesn’t make conservatives “extreme” or detached in any sense of the word. It makes our detractors hopelessly ignorant, toxic and irrefutably malicious.