#and gave me a big stick of charcoal as a present

[keelt9]

BIGNONIA

Masterlist

That’s why I always like to have a plan B ready to be executed, most of the time. 

“Y/N.” I still heard my name in the distance. “Y/N!” All I had to do was speak, I know that. “SISTER!”

But I ran away.

“WHAT?” Collin raises his hands like he surrenders. 

“Jesus! I've been calling you for 3 minutes. Breakfast is ready.” He closed the door of my room, not before sticking his tongue out. 

I bluff, closing my eyes and scratching my forehead, looking at the calendar next to my bed; a week already.

In the kitchen mom is serving juice as dad is taking his coat, the cold wind of the morning is increasing. 

“Y/N, darling, do you mind…” I nod, Collin and I are in charge of the purchase for the game of this night.

“I got it.” She smiles, kissing my cheek, as Collin lifts his cheek for a kiss, but mom just smiles at him, patting his hand, laughing as she keeps walking.

“I hope when I come back on my first holiday I receive at least one kiss.” He screams giggling, taking the plates to the dining room. “You left two months, not a year.”

He left the plates and went to hug me tight, shaking me side to side. “But we missed you like hell.”

I giggle as I see the drops of jam now on the floor. “Ok, ok, you’re messing up my pancakes, move.”

Collin laughs as he kisses my cheek too. “You better text me like always, I’m a big guy now, but you're kind of special.”

My days passed like usual, just like I've been working all those years; from a distance, keeping updated Lilian, but in a few days we made so many changes.

Gael was in charge of the florist’s for a couple of days until Lilian contacted the woman she already had been talking to before I offered to go, and she agreed right away after all it only will be three weeks, until she goes back.

“Grandpa likes these ones, right?” I point the glass donut through the cristal.

“Yeah. I'll take two of them.” He pointed to the chocolate one. “Do you ever tell me?”

I lift my eyes from the counter. “Tell you what?”

Collin saved his phone in his pockets. “One week ago you were happily in the middle of a big game, then on Wednesday night, you arrived home with your bags.”

He remembered something before I spoke. ‘Ah! And with a squidward pumpkin in your hand, that is still in your room!”

The girl who is attend us gave me a box of donuts, I sigh and softly kicked him with my feet. 

“I arrived a couple of weeks earlier, GOD! Why must there be a reason behind that?” Collin takes the boxes of my hands, bluffing.

“Ok, you have that but, Y/N, you are terrified of seeing your phone.” He points to my back pocket. “It's been 10 minutes with the lighter on.”

I turn it off, just barely seeing in case I missed texts or calls from mom or Lilian.

“I'm not terrified, it's a detox.” Inside of the car Collin opens his eyes.

“Someone did something to you?! I'll ki…”I chuckled, grabbing his hand and calming down.

“NO! Collin your imagination, it's working too much.” I engine the car, if I want him to be calm I must give him something. “I need to be at home, and keep work kind of far away.”

Collin rolls his eyes. “Hey, take charge of something you didn’t even dream of and you'll be drained.”

“Are you sure?” I nod, stopping in the red light.

“I'm fine, give me a couple of days and I'll be me, one more time.”

After all, I didn't lie to him, just keep the truth short and concrete.

When we arrived home, dad and mom were laughing as they got inside of the house with dirtier clothes and bags of charcoal.

“You're fast.” Dad said getting inside.

Mom stops for a second at the door. “Honey, you have a package.” Collin points to himself. “No, my other honey.” 

I cleared my throat, winking at him, as he got inside with things we bought.

“It's in your room!” She screams as I get inside walking upstairs.

On my bed there is a small box; Lilian already told me she planned to send a small present, it could be useful for Collin in college.

“Where are the beers?” Collin asks on the frame door as I open the box without putting so much attention. We forgot the beer.

He reads my face like a book and giggles. “Let's go.” I put aside the package but he shakes his head 

“Don't worry I'll go with dad.” He said before going downstairs.

Where is the little kid who refuses to leave my room if there is a package on my bed? 

I look inside the box where there are a lot of yellow papers that cover another small box, inside of that a crystal ball, like the christmas one, just this one has a small bignonia inside of it.

A nice detail of Lilian.

I called her right away. “Hey, it’s beautiful, thank you so much, he will love it.”

“What?” I heard her excuse herself before the noise disappeared. 

“The crystal ball.” I giggle, repeating one more time.

“I don’t send anything.” I narrow my eyes, and see the andress on the box, yeah, the address is from the floristi’s. 

I tilt my head smiling. “Come on Lilian, the address is from the florist’s.”

Lilian stayed in silence for a couple of seconds. “Oh, it must be Gael, he asked me your address a couple days ago, he said a package arrived for you in the florist’s so he would send it to you.”

“Ok, am, I’ll call you back thanks.” I hang out quickly, but if my suspicions are correct that kid will be in trouble.

I move side to side from my bedroom waiting for Gael to pick up but it’s the second time he didn’t.

I sit on bed one more time watching the crystal ball and my phone at the same time, that brings me flashbacks of that day, one more time.

After Joe whispers, all fade away in a blink, I technically take my eyes off him and all the people surrounding me are already gone.

He tried to talk to me, but I feel so overwhelmed and observed that I panicked, I raise my hands every time he tried to approaches to me or speaks to me; when I recover the enough energy to make a movement I turn around as he keeps calling me, it only make it worse because as I tried to leave the stadium with a nothing more than Joe Burrow calling my name a lot of eyes were on us. 

Thankfully as we stepped outside of the stadium people who were there or passing by when they saw him, ran to him asking for a photo or autograph.

Inside of the cab, I realized that I didn’t know where I was supposed to go.

I found myself in front of Mr. McNeill house, in panic and a constant buzz of phone due to Joe calls and text, after acting in the worst way I could do it.

After a long talk and an endless cup of tea, Mr. McNeill words were enough for me to definitely run away.

<I told you my little girl, sometimes comes into our door.>

I called Lilian the next morning trying to explain something I didn't fully understand but as I told her I realized about my own feelings. 

I fell in love without doubt. The talks on the florist’s, the nights when even he looked tired he waited for me to close, the encouraging words and support when I was about to give up, the laughs, the details, it’s him being him.

I took the first flight to Carolina where Lilina was waiting for me, we explained to Gael something urgent came up and the instructions he must follow.

Like we expected, he called Lilian that Monday morning, Joe was at the florist’s and he said he needed to talk to me. Lilian took charge of that.

Just as Colline said, I arrived at my house on Wednesday night, defeated and embarrassed about my behavior. 

“Darling?” I didn’t even notice my mom. It's at the door looking at me with suspicious eyes. “Do you mind giving me a hand?” 

Shit, I shake my head trying to get rid of these toughs, as I stand at the door, mom stops me and caresses my hair.

“Everything is alright?” If I speak, she will know something is in my mind, I just assent. “Is that what are you waiting for?”

She sees the box over my bed. 

“Yeah, it could be.” Both of us smile going downstairs where in a couple of minutes my grandparents will come.

Gael answered me until Monday night, he said in his defense, <The poor boy looks so frustrated and overwhelmed.> How he can not do a few favors, besides Joe paid everything, he called it, a spare to a five star customer.

“Will you use your boxes?” Collin asked, looking at his phone with his test in his hands, he’s a genius in chemistry, and his A+ in his exam on his lap is just a small way of teasing me about how bad I was in that grade.

I just picked up Collin from school. “What boxes?” He's helping in a collection for Thanksgiving, I must say, he’s helping the girl he likes in her collection.

Collin bluffs. “Come on Y/N! You have a pile of small boxes in your room. It's a recycling collection, help you little brother a little bit.”

That’s the favors Gael refers to, every two days a same little box came from the florist’s, by the third box I refused to open it, in all of them a small crystal ball with that bignonia of different color.

“I thought mom gave you like 20 empty jars, two days ago.” I parked in front of our house.

I went back to my routine from work at home and helped mom with her small business of candles. 

“She did, and I already took them, but… it’s all for a good cause.” I laughed seeing my brother so nervous. 

I stop outside of the car, seeing him to the other side. “Why is it so hard to invite her on a date?” 

He fakes a big laugh. “You think I don’t think about it?”

“Well…” He lends his head on the top of the car.

“I tried, believe me, but it’s like when I see her all fade away. I can play cool, yes, but I’m literally fighting for not melting on the ground.” His words leave me thinking more than I would like. 

“I’ll empty it for you, can I give it to you tomorrow night?” Collin faces lights on and nods. 

That night after all were in their rooms, I put my 9 boxes on my bed. I take my time to open them one by one, like I suspect, each one has bignonia of different color all in a small crystal ball. 

“It will last at least two years, they are under a special process that makes them last.” That’s what Lilian told me, when I asked her how I was supposed to take care of them.

I grab one putting over my forehead, unintentionally shaking trying to put my thoughts in order, as I open my eyes, a soft light comes inside of it, I shake it one more time and turn it off.

He remembered, being alone in the dark makes me feel quite uneasy. 

“I’m crazy.” I whisper, opening my phone and his chat, which was archive.

And endless photographs of the most random things, like his morning milkshake disaster until a photo of the score of the game of last game, they won.

>I’m sorry, let’s talk about this face to face, ok? I’ll be in Cincinnati in a couple of weeks.

That’s all I could send that night, observing the crystal balls on my bed and the soft warm light that comes from them.

“She’s cute right?” Collin said with his eyes stuck to the window, a blonde girl who’s taking note of all the things they’re collecting is waving her hand to my brother.

I gave him the empty boxes the next morning and offered to take him to deliver it, and without saying give him a little push.

Or at least that’s what I tried because the girl took a step ahead, inviting him for a coffee. 

I didn’t even know since a month ago, he’s the main contributor of this collection.

I smile at the girl and my brother, what a scene. “Where do you collect that much?” 

Collin's face turns red. “Mom, dad, you, grandma and my friends.”

I laughed when the engine started; we must be home by dinner, with a happy Collin in the passenger seat.

“All I’m saying is he could find another way, that was so predictable.” It’s the third time Collin complained about the missing touchdown of the 49ers in the third quarter. 

“Collin, Purdy had like 5 big guys over him, how could he do that?”

As we enter the house, my dad finds us in the hallway with a smile that practically covers all his face. 

“You’re in trouble!” He grabs Collin by the shoulders as he points to the backyard.

I look at Collin who raised his shoulders. “Go!” Dad pushed me. 

I barely reached to avoid a crash with my mom who has a red face. 

“Do you kn…” She shook her head and pushed me to the backyard, didn’t even let me finish my question.

“You’re crazy people.” I shout as I practically sway in the door of the backyard. “There’s nothing here.” 

But I swallow my words when I see in our small “living room”, stand rubbing his hand on his tights to the guy I have treated awfully, Joe Burrow.

He only whispers, hi and it was enough for me to take a step back, one more time.

“Sorry, sorry, it's not you, believe me, it's not you.” I cover my eyes and take a deep breath.

“I'm sorry, I don't tell you anything, it's just… I thought in a thousand ways to tell you but… I simply couldn't do it.” I feel my heart squeeze and remember Collin's words.

“No please, no.” I look him into the eyes. “It's not you. I got through a lot of things in a couple of months that I never paid attention to my feelings, don't take me wrong, I'm so happy for Lilian but I was overwhelmed and well, an abrupt confession no confession took me out of balance.”

Joe closes his eyes and presses his lips together like he's preparing for the worst.

“So, all these weeks after treating you in the worst way I treat someone who's only nice with me, I take my time to realize my own feelings.”

By the time Joe opened his eyes I'm standing in front of him, making him blink.

“I like you too. I already told you, I'm not good with this but give time and who knows I could be pr…”

Joe kiss me.

He leaned on giving me a kiss that left me blank. A calming kiss.

Joe smirks and his rich boy laughs are slowly becoming my favorite sound.

“Whoa.” I nod slowly, pressing my hand against my lips.

I turn around, the living room is empty and knowing mom as I do, she probably has locked down Collin and dad in their room.

“I'm sorry, but I have to use my last 3 seconds of bravery.” Joe chuckled as he put his hands on his waist. “Y/N, I like you very much. Could you go on a date with me?” He gives me a towel. “I'd like to take things slowly but with you all can happen in a blink.”

I grab the towel and cover my face. “Is this one of the last time?” 

Joe nods. “You have to see it to understand.” I see a classic towel from a game, the logo of the NFL and the team. “To the other side.”

I turn it around and I see it, a small red heart. “I planned to speak with you and give you this but the guys understood I already talked with you; the talks in the locker room could be kind of messy.”

“Thank you, I feel worse now.” I joke, scrunching my nose, covering my face with the towel. 

“I mean, yeah, it would be nice if you wait but this is so much better.” I roll my eyes before seeing him one more time. “I was able to add some extra details.”

I choke my head. “Do you like flowers?” I giggle as I nod.

“Suits you one more time.” A bignonia represents tenacity and perseverance, things that scream Joe Burrow.

Lilian on multiple occasions told me about the feelings she had being with Jason, always resume in… <We create our own world just being next to each other.> I don’t know if this is what she means but right now it feels like that. 

With Joe eyes on me, I feel I could lose in the moment.

“My mom went crazy when she saw you right?” Joe giggles and bites his lips.

“A little bit.” He makes a funny gesture with his eyes, a sign that my mom probably freaks out.

“So, it’s my bye week, I'm hoping to relax and spend time with my girl.” 

I grip the towel tighter. “Your what? I’m sorry but I haven’t said yes.” 

Joe kissed me one more time. “Jesus and your three seconds of bravery.” It’s amusing.

One more kiss. “Ok, ok, ok.” And one more. “I’ll go!”

His idea of a date turns out in 4 days of dates; every time he comes to my house I bet Collin screamed deep inside as me the first time I met him.

Mom and dad act more comfortable by day two, at the end of the week they look more calm and cool around him.

And Sunday after watching the game where the 49ers will bring back the win against the Cardinals, my family is relaxed around him.

“Thanks for receiving me these days Mrs and Mr. Ivory.” Joe said to my mom. “I had wonderful days.”

“Please Joe, feel free to come anytime you want.” Mom smiled at him.

“Like he isn't in the middle of season.” Collin claimed, winning a small pinch of my mom. 

“Bring the container of the table Collin.” Dad giggles pushing him softly to the kitchen. 

“Thanks for coming Joe. I guess we'll see you next week; from far away, but see you.” Dad looks so excited.

I tilt my head. “What?”

“It's Thanksgiving. Joe…well, Bengals will come to play.” Collin said, giving the container to my mom. “Duh!”

“Right! I forgot.” Collin was about to keep mocking me but mom caught that tricky eye, taking a step ahead of him.

She gives the container to Joe. “I don’t know if you can eat more of this but I notice you like them very much.”

The container has her mini tarts, Joe ate a lot of them last night. “Have a good flight Joe.” Dad added shaking his hand too.

“Thanks Joe for the talk, it’s really helpful.” Collin has something to say for the way he sees me. “I bet that my sis…” 

Mom pulls Collin inside of the house with an apologetic smile rolling her eyes. “Take care Joe.”

I shake my head giggling. “I guess that means, I won’t have any chance to see you, right?” He said looking down the hill, my house is set in a classic hill with a lot of curves on the way.

“On the other hand, you probably will see me.” Joe opened his eyes. “Dad bought tickets for that game, a way of recreating old moments. He used to take Collin and me to Thanksgiving games, until we became older enough that our schedules didn't fit.”

“At least I see you there.” Joe clicks his tongue. “On the opposite team.”

I laughed, seeing his tricky eyes. “It’s a familiar lineage, sorry.”

“I know, I know.” He rolls his eyes, that gives me an idea.

I walk searching one of the small benches on the porch. “Wait a second.” I go up on it. 

“Do you mind giving me a hand? I feel like I'm going to fall.” I extend my hands.

Joe walked until I was standing with narrow eyes. “You’re strong, right?” He nodded with a curious smile on his face as I laid my hands on his shoulder. 

Even standing here, I’m 2 or 3 cm shorter than him.

I’m crazy, that’s what I am.

“Extend your arms.” This time he tilted his head with the same curious eyes. “Just do it.” 

Joe extends his arms, at that moment I jump right to his arms taking him by surprise but with a quick reaction he holds me as my legs surrender his torso grabbing me by my thighs.

“Unexpected.” Joe smiles as I feel my face heat. 

“It's a big hug for the trip and for the one I won’t give you next week.” I untangle my legs to get down but he easily puts it on around his torso, one more time. 

“Are you that sure that I won’t get a hug, huh?” Joe giggles. 

“You can put me down, it was a small thing I wanted to do.” But he didn't move, instead he kissed me, longer than usual.

“Yeah, this way you’ll probably need to lean down a little bit from the stands?” I look at him with open eyes. “What? Is a small thing I want to corroborate; the way I’ll kiss you after winning that game.”

I mumble a few words as he smiles at me. “Now you’re confident?”

Joe threw his head backwards laughing so hard. “I’ll be so damn near to perfection.”

“I hear a bet?” I said, faking an offended expression. 

“Let's bet.” Joe smirks. 

“You can put me down.” I untangle my legs but he refused to let me go. 

“It works for my curls, keep talking.” I laugh, putting my hands on his shoulders 

I look into his eyes. “Ok, let’s do it.”

[demonslayedher]

Thoughts on Charcoal Lore in KnY

I really love Japanese charcoal. I give myself full permission to think into it too deeply. Kikuzumi, made with kunugi oak trees that take about 6~10 years to mature, is especially beautiful, and noted for this chrysanthemum-like pattern. They're used in the tea ceremony because they don't give off smoke or fragrance, and it has a sound so kind and gentle it makes you want to cry. It's also generally thought among the Japanese fandom that the hand guard of Tanjiro's charcoal-black sword is based on this appearance.

Due to bug infestations, as well as a lack of charcoal farmers, kunugi charcoal is getting more and more precious and expensive. I have said it many times over the course of this blog, but I am upset that Kamado Kanata and Kamado Sumihiko are not charcoal farmers. Granted, Tanjiro and his forefathers weren't necessarily artisanal charcoal farmers, they just made a good quality product, even if it didn't have the same pretty design. But, to borrow from a longer post about how this may have contributed to Hinokami Kagura:

Maybe lesser known, but very deeply entrenched in Japanese culture, is the purification element of charcoal. While it may be known around the world for soaking up undesirable elements and therefore used in everything from fish tank filters to treating food poisoning, in Japan, there’s a bit of a spiritual side to it as well. For something so closely tied to the way of life for citizens throughout hundreds of years of history for everything from cooking to heating the home, it’s unsurprising that quality charcoal would receive as much emphasis as good water and rice. Japanese charcoal is especially known for not producing undesirable smoke or odor, making it appropriate for use in a lot of settings. Charcoal farmers have often not just been that; they’ve been caretakers of the forest. Keeping the right trees, at the right sizes (both for use as charcoal and for how you pack it together when making charcoal), and in the right numbers to ensure you have stock for coming years, requires management of the forest.

That means the Kamado family not only had careful management of fire in the actual days of charcoal production, but of a wide variety of natural resources to ensure the trees were healthy. Natural weather phenomena, clean water, pest control, minerals from rocks getting into the soil, hmm, so many elements to pay attention to. Hmm. These sure sound a lot like other Breaths. And Breaths all stem from Sun Breathing. That means there may be certain elements of Sun Breathing that have been emphasized in each of them, but none of them encompass so many qualities of the natural world. The natural world which Yoriichi saw with such clarity that nature accepted him with open arms, practically, in how well animals took to him. Sun Breathing, while especially using that all-important purification aspect of sunlight which burns evil demons, is like an all encompassing embrace of nature. While being closely tied with fire is hugely important, there’s more to it than just flames.

This may also play into why Sumiyoshi was so quickly able to grasp the essential of Sun Breathing.

Back to real life, in arranging charcoal in a hearth, you consider different sizes and shapes, and the air flow between them, almost like breath. You want to arrange it for the right strength, but also for how long you want it to burn. After all, once one piece of charcoal is lit, it will spread quickly to other pieces very close to it, like someone who has attained a mark lighting the same fever in swordsmen around them. I've also gushed more than a little about how beautiful the glowing red of charcoal is, as well as all the different symbolism behind the color red in KnY. I feel that the red of Red Blades is the same glowing red that charcoal gives off. But, what struck me the other day was how fragile a piece of charcoal is when burning its brightest. At the beginning of Chapter 193, Muzan reflects on how, although they don't bite quite like Yoriichi's did, Tanjiro and various Pillars attained Red Blades. Of Tanjiro, Muzan thinks that in order to have achieved this without borrowing his sister's power, Tanjiro must be on death's door. Muichiro and Iguro likewise achieved it in the same state of desperation, and Giyuu was in a similar state when he and Tanjiro both used what was left of their grips to attain that burn again in Chapter 199. While the same temperature of the blade can be attained by applying the precise amount of pressure or by using Nezuko's flames, to achieve it through one's will and physicality alone, it may be like an even more pronounced effect of the mark, which likely works by borrowing against a swordsman's lifespan for a temporary increased in power.

The Red Blade may be like the last burst of strength a candle emits right before it goes out. It takes that last reserve of strength, and for a piece of charcoal to get to that brightest glow, it has to have already undergone enough burning that it's about to crumble to ash.

[powdermelonkeg]

Symphonies of Time

This is a continuation. You can find the first part, Secrets in the Breeze, here, and the second, Where the Wind Doesn’t Blow, here.

Small breakers indicate swapping worlds. Big breakers indicate timeskips.

I’ll make better breakers soon.

I also included a few music cues! I don’t know if it’s something I’m ever going to repeat; I kind of just felt like it, but it was fun. Click on the music note when you see it!

Sky gripped the Master Sword’s hilt tight, his knuckles white as he spoke to the younger hero. “Look around. What do you see?”

There was a pause. “...The sky is dark. Everything around me is bluish.”

“More specific. Items, patterns, things moving.”

Another pause. “There’s a circle beneath my feet. It’s like the one I stabbed with the Master Sword.”

Sky gave a sigh of relief. That was all the confirmation he needed. “Good. Stay in that circle for now; as long as you’re in there, the realm won’t wake up.”

“...Sky? I’m sorry.”

The hero’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Wind repeated, hugging his knees. He grit his teeth, fighting to keep from crying. “I took the Master Sword from your stuff, I played that song when I shouldn’t have, I broke the tablet—that wasn’t mine.” He felt the lump rise in his throat. “If I don’t make it out of here—”

“Woah, hey, calm down,” Sky said gently. “You’re not going to die, okay? I’m right here.”

“But...the Phantoms—”

“They won’t hurt you. They’re agents of the Goddess—they’re just trying to protect what she made,” Sky replied. “The worst they can do to you is send you back where you started.”

The spoke softly, doing everything he could to be comforting in the terrifying situation. It was a technique Wind himself had used with Joel and Zill back on Outset. And yet, even still, he found it reassuring to know there was someone more experienced guiding him through this. But, still...

“Do you forgive me?”

“Of course I do.” Sky didn’t hesitate to answer, speaking firmly and sincerely. “I know how the Master Sword calls more than anyone; if she didn’t want you to take her, she wouldn’t have let you.” He gave a soft sigh. “We’re all just glad you’re not hurt, and we want you to come back to the Realm of Sound.”

“...Okay.” Furiously scrubbing at his eyes, Wind fought for his composure, taking a deep breath as he slowly stood up. Time to be a hero and face the new challenge. “How do I get back?”

♪

“Look around you. Do you see any guardians?”

Wind looked around the clearing, alert for silver glints of armor. “...Two.” He frowned. “No, three. There’s a light through the trees.”

“That’s a Watcher. If you need to go near them, you need to be very quiet and sneaky; they can only see what falls into the light underneath them, but if they catch you, they’ll wake the guardians up.”

Wind gulped. Worse than Forsaken Fortress... “Okay,” he replied.

“Now, there should be something colorful and glowing in the clearing. The Goddess never places one too far from the start.”

This one took Wind a moment to spot. Everything around him was gray, but...He spotted something among the dull colors, tucked behind a tree. “I see something pinkish!”

“Pinkish? ...Okay. When I count to three, I want you to run out of the circle as fast as you can and grab it. If it is what I think it is, it’ll put the Guardians right back to sleep.”

Wind frowned. “And if it’s not?”

“Then I want you to book it back to the circle. We can try a different direction.”

The colorful sparkle behind the tree called to him, almost as much as fear did from the direction of the Silent Guardians.

“Okay,” he said decisively, eyes narrowing as he braced himself for a sprint. “I’m ready.”

“Three...Two...”

“...One.”

The instant Wind left the circle, Wild saw his ghostly form materialize in a teal shimmer. He watched with wide eyes as the younger hero darted through the clearing, ducking behind a tree and snatching something up, holding it in the air with a pink flash.

“I got it!”

Sky side-eyed Wild, watching him track Wind’s movement with interest. “Did the sky turn back to blue?”

“Yeah, it—” he paused.

Sky’s ears perked. “Kid?”

“...There’s a flower. On my arm.”

Wind stared at the blossom as it unfurled, the petals spiraling out on the back of his hand as a vine spun itself around his arm. A pinkish-orange light illuminated one of the many buds along its stem, and one of the petals slowly started to turn brown.

“That’s your spirit vessel.”

“What’s that?” he asked, poking the glowing bud cautiously.

“It’s how the Goddess tracks your progress and time. One of the flower petals should be darkening.”

“It is. Should I be worried?”

“No, it’s supposed to do that,” Sky replied. “As long as that flower’s intact and you don’t walk into any Watchers’ lights, the Guardians will stay put. There should be buds along the stem of it.”

“There are. One of them’s lit.”

“Good. Count them for me.”

Wind took a moment, twisting his arm to count the little glassy bubbles. “...9, I think.”

Sky sighed in relief. “Oh, good. It’s a short one.”

“I have to find eight more of those? In the Lost Woods?”

Sky blinked. “...The what?”

“Like the others talked about—the forest tries to spin you around and put you back where you started. It did that with me when I was being chased.”

Sky frowned, then turned to the others. “...Do you guys know what he means by ‘Lost Woods?’”

Half the party present looked at him like he was crazy. Sky narrowed his eyes. “It’s important. I need an expert.”

“I’m an expert,” Time said, raising a hand. “I grew up right next to the Lost Woods. They’re a pain to navigate.” He glanced over at Wild. “...I think we need to strategize.”

Wild looked back, eyes wide. “...We?”

Wild held his torch carefully as Time scribbled down on a map, his eyes trained on Wind’s transparent figure. It was already night time again; Wind had failed the trial more times than he could count. If Wild had to guess, the “lower number” Sky had talked about when explaining the Spirit Vessel was only a small mercy from the Goddesses to account for the sheer confusion that was the Lost Woods.

Wind scaled a tree, then jumped down, rapidly fading pink light in his hand. He turned in the direction he thought his companions must be and gave a thumbs up, unintentionally showing them his shoulder instead. Wild held back a snicker—if the situation weren’t so nerve-wracking, it would almost be funny.

“The kid says he found another one,” Legend’s voice came through the Sheikah Slate, jolting Wild out of his thoughts as he fumbled the torch. “Can you confirm?”

Time caught the torch before it could fall. “Give us a second.” He raised his eyebrows at Wild expectantly.

The blue-clad hero caught his breath and pulled the slate off his belt, coming face to face with Legend’s eye. Wind’s Gossip Stone needs a volume slider... “I can confirm. It was in a tree.”

“Great. That should be all 9. How’s the map?”

“It’s good.” Time peered over Wild’s shoulder. “I’ve marked all the Guardians he’s come across and all the borders the woods has.”

“Then we’re ready for the final run?”

Wild glanced up, watching Wind count on his fingers and no doubt doing his own calculations. “We’re ready. Tell Sky.”

“Got it.”

Wind’s ears perked as he listened to Sky tell him the plan. He lit up, jumping for joy as he realized it was going to finally be over, then waved for Wild and Time to follow as he raced off in a random direction.

Wild sighed in relief. “Tell Sky to tell Wind to wait for us at the gate.”

“Will do. Signing off.” Click.

Time looked over the map critically as the others crowded around him, rubbing his chin.

9 tears, 14 guardians, 6 watchers. 9 minutes of time to spare between each tear, provided Wind wasn’t caught.

His eyes followed possible routes, running the times in his head. This was just like his adventure with Cojiro back in his own time; the amount of times he’d failed to deliver a bottle of eyedrops in time and had to go get another dose had made him an expert at routing.

“...Alright.” He finally said, after a long period of mental puzzle solving. He pulled a charcoal stick from his belt and started drawing the route. “The first tear is the easiest to get; from there, he’ll need to go northeast and grab the one in the lotus pond. There should be enough time to wait out Watchers.”

The others listened intently as Time explained the plan to its completion. “From the last tear here—” He tapped a circle on the map. “—he can just walk off to the right and be warped back to the clearing here. There’s no watchers on that edge of it, so it should be an easy run back to the circle.” He pointed at Wild. “You can see him, so you’re going to run the route with him. Whenever he grabs a tear, tell us through the Gossip Stone where he needs to go next, and how many Guardians are marked.”

Wild saluted. “Yes, sir.”

He pointed the stick at Sky. “Sky, keep the kid up to date as much as you can. He needs accurate information as fast as possible.”

Sky nodded, fierce with determination. “Understood.”

“Great. Let’s do it.”

Wind snatched up his seventh tear. “Got it!”

“Great! Just two to go. Turn left—the next one is the one inside the crack in the ground.”

“Alright. Going left.” He gave Wild an invisible thumbs up, then jogged off after the tear.

After this was all over, he was going to ask the older hero how that spirit vision of his worked.

“There’s a pair of Watchers up ahead, so be careful.”

♪

Wind’s ears twitched as he heard the telltale bell sounds of the Watchers, and his eyes narrowed. Stealthily, he snuck his way through the forest, pressing his back up against the tree trunks one by one, face scrunched up in concentration.

He was so close. There was no way he was going to fail, not this time. He wanted out of here.

A light passed over his location, and he froze, the watcher’s lamplight bleeding through the branches. Wind held his breath in anticipation. Don’t move. Don’t move. They can’t see you.

...A moment passed, and the Watcher departed, returning to its route. It was all Wind could do not to collapse with relief then and there, but he had a job to do. Slowly, he crept towards the fissure in the forest floor, the pink light of the tear seeping through the leaves. He knelt down and reached his arm in, snatching it and booking it back to his post, just in time to avoid the return of the two Watchers.

He peered around the corner, watching them move, his heart pounding in his chest. Their lights overlapped directly on the crack, and they both paused.

Wind swallowed. Did they notice the tear was gone?

After a moment of eerie silence, the watchers looked at each other, then turned around and departed in opposite directions, resuming their patrol. Guarding the tear was not their job, catching intruders was.

With a sigh of relief, Wind gave a thumbs up to Wild. “I got it,” he whispered, voice cracking in stress. “Which way now?”

“Go right. The last one’s under a rock, it has a Sky Guardian in the tree above it. As long as you get there in time, you’re home free.”

“Okay.” Carefully, he made his way away from the Watchers’ patrol routes, then broke into a run. Freedom was so close, he could taste it.

The rock came into view, pink light seeping out from under it, and the cloaked guardian hovering menacingly above it. Gritting his teeth with courage, Wind charged forward with a shout and shoved the rock, practically falling onto the tear.

The flower on his hand shone, the pink light leaving the little glass buds and flooding it with energy. Wind gasped happily, leaping to his feet. “I got it!!!” He exclaimed. “That’s all of them, I’m done!!!”

“Great! Come on back, let’s get you out of there!”

Wind beamed, heading for the woods’ edge to warp back home.

And then...it began to rain.

When the first drop hit Sky’s head, he froze, looking up at the cloudy heavens with a look of sheer terror on his face.

When the second hit, he panicked.

“Kid!” He exclaimed “Get shelter, right now!”

“What? Why?! I’m coming back!”

“It’s raining!”

“So?”

“Water and the Silent Realm don’t mix. If even a drop of that touches you—”

♪

“—the guardians are going to wake up.”

The words hadn’t even fully left the hero’s mouth when a shiny, metallic drop hit Wind’s arm.

As he watched, horrified, the glowing flower on his arm shriveled away into nothing, and orange flooded the Silent Realm.

“Kid? Kid, answer me, did any of it touch you?”

The Sky Guardian behind him drew its blades.

“YES!” Wind shouted, taking off into the forest as fast as he could. He just had to get lost, he just had to get lost, he couldn’t lose this now!!!

The mist faded in around him, and the clearing came into view with an eerie light. Wind raced past the two Earth Guardians, his lungs screaming at him for air as the swing of a massive club just barely missed his shoulder, and dove into the circle—

Wind awoke with a gasp, eyes wide, bolting to his feet and ready to take off like a wild rabbit.

“Hey, kid, it’s okay!” Warriors grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. “You’re alright! You’re safe.”

Wind stared at him, then sat down with a heavy thud. “I...” He looked at his arm.

His skin no longer shone silver, the flower gone. The chirping of crickets and gentle patter of rain filled the silence that had only been occupied by Watchers and his voice for the past day.

It was over.

He’d won.

Wind collapsed back onto the ground, staring up at the sky as the other heroes approached with a hot meal and blankets. “...It’s over.” He finally breathed, relieved. “It’s done. I made it.”

“You sure did.” Warriors offered a hand and a smile. “Proud of you, kiddo.”

Wind glanced at him, then at his hand, before taking a deep breath and grabbing it.

“It’s good to be back.”

Wild slurped up the hot soup happily, bundled up in a blue scarf and furry hood, and glad to finally have something in his stomach.

“I don’t get it” Sky frowned. “The flower should have turned into an item as soon as you went back to the Gate, not sent you back immediately. The Goddesses wouldn’t make a trial for nothing.”

“Wouldn’t they?” Time asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sky’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he said. “They wouldn’t.”

Hyrule put up his hand quickly. “Maybe you did something different?”

“There isn’t exactly much to do different.” Sky crossed his arms, thinking. “When I went into the Silent Realm, I played the harp to summon the gate, then knelt and stabbed the Master Sword into it. When I came back, I just drew it and went on my way.”

At the last sentence, everyone turned their eyes to the purple-hilted sword.

It still sat, resting in the gate.

Waiting.

Wind stared at it for a long moment, then looked at the others. “...I...should probably go get that.”

Four put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure? One of us can.”

“I’m sure.” Wind puffed up his chest. “Whatever it does, I can take it. Nothing’s worse than the Silent Realm.”

Time looked over at Wind with worry, the fears from that morning returning full force.

“Hey.”

He turned, coming face to face with the hero of Twilight. “He can take it,” Twi said. “He’s drawn that sword before.”

...He has, hasn’t he? Time sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Despite everything...he wished he knew what that sword could do consistently.

Why had it singled him out?

He shook his head, tossing the thought away. A question for later. He turned towards the camp. “Hey.”

Wind looked over, eyes wide.

Time offered a small smile. “Finish dinner, then let’s see if this trial of yours was worth the effort.”

♪

Wind stood in front of the Master Sword, the same as he had all those years ago, in the basement of the submerged Hyrule Castle. Squaring up, he grasped the hilt of the sacred blade firmly, bracing himself against the ground as he drew it from its pedestal.

The Silent Realm Gate withdrew into itself as the sword left it, the blade itself glowing with heavenly light. Wind pointed the blade skyward, determination in his eyes, then raised it above his head, its might not lost on the young hero.

Wind took a deep breath, then smiled, swinging the blade twice then performing a spin attack, then sheathing it with a flourish.

The Chain clapped in approval, and he bowed, then turned and offered the Master Sword back to Sky. “Here you go,” Wind said, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish smile. “I think I’ve had enough of that sword for a little bit.”

Sky chuckled, taking the blade back and slinging it onto his back where it belonged. “Next time the sword calls to you, tell me.” He ruffled Wind’s hair. “I’ll help you figure out what’s going on before you get stranded in another realm.”

A sharp crack startled the heroes out of their exchange, and everyone turned to look at what was left of the stone pedestal.

The rock split in two, its purpose served. It dissolved into dust like the tablet before it, revealing yet another stone artifact to follow. Immediately, Legend snatched it up for examination. “...Hm.” He rapped his knuckles against it. “This has some strong magic in it,” he said, “but I can’t tell exactly what. It feels almost like song magic, but...” He offered it to Wind. “Any ideas?”

Wind hesitated, worried for a moment, then took the tablet and flipped it over to study it. He shook his head. “No. I’ve never seen this before.”

Just then, Four’s ears perked. “Kid, does your baton normally do that?”

“Huh?” He looked down at his belt.

The Wind Waker sparkled, begging for attention. Wind frowned. “No...Hold this for me,” he said, handing the tablet off to Hyrule and pulling out the magic artifact.

No sooner had he done so than the new tablet lit up, markings like before appearing on its surface.

Wind looked up, then stared in shock. “Eight notes?”

“That’s new?” Hyrule asked.

He nodded quickly. “I’ve never conducted any higher than 6/4 time!” He looked up at Time. “...Can I...?”

Time hesitated. Following destiny’s call wasn’t the safest move, and they’d nearly had a close call with this whole Silent Realm business. And yet...he knew meddling with the Goddess’ plans was a surefire way to incur disaster. He’d learned that the hard way.

Reluctantly, he nodded. “Go ahead. Just be careful.”

Wind lit up excitedly, then drew himself up to conduct, playing the notes as directed. Everyone watched with baited breath, waiting for whatever the Goddesses could possibly give them next.

...Nothing.

Wind frowned. “Come on, that’s not right. You’ve gotta do something for all that work.” He tried again, attempting to time it better. “Maybe it’s just a repeated 4/4...”

As Legend watched the conductor’s attempts, he squinted. He recognized it, he was sure of it, but...

He snapped his fingers, eyes wide, then quickly grabbed Sky’s bag and fished out the Skyloftian’s golden lyre.

“Wh- HEY!”

“I’m borrowing it.” He shoved the bag back into Sky’s arms, then stepped in front of Wind. “Kid. Conduct me.”

“What?”

“Conduct me.” He held the Goddess Harp to his shoulder, fingers on the strings. “I know that song, but I don’t know what it does. I want to find out.”

Wind’s eyes widened. With a nod, he held his baton up, then began to conduct. Legend watched his movements closely as he played, the tune matching his memory exactly.

It was...almost scary.

♪

It didn’t take more than a second for the melody to click into place; he’d only heard it once, but you don’t exactly forget a meeting with the Oracle of Ages easily. As he played, blue flecks of light shimmered at his fingers and the Wind Waker’s tip, the etherial music filling the air.

The rain froze, water droplets suspended midair all around the heroes, as time itself ground to a stop. A cerulean glow pulled itself through the newly made prisms, filling the air with rays made of sapphires. They wove themselves together in a net, then spun, before shattering to bits at the song’s conclusion.

The fragments rebuilt themselves into a blue archway appeared before them, a dark vortex of midnight blue spinning into nothingness.

The Chain looked at each other in shock.

They recognized this.

Even if it was different.

You learned Nayru's Requiem! The power of the Oracle of Ages fills the Wind Waker; you can now travel through time at will.

[peterxwade24]

Jonc de mer and Acropora

For Maribat March 2021 day 3 prompt Warmth. (If you squint hard enough).

This is part one of an I don’t know how many part fic. I hope you stick around because it’s going to be a ride.

Jonc de mer is French (I think) for Seagrass while Acropora is a type of coral (purple coral actually). Sticholodinae is a subcategory of Ladybugs that, as far as I can tell, have either no spots or one big splotch surrounded by smaller spots. The email address in this is fake, please do not send emails to it because they may get redirected to a very real person named Menene.

Of course a big thank you to @maribatmarch-2k21 for putting on the event, now lets get on with the fic.

The only thing Marinette remembers of her mother is the warmth she provided against a harsh cold. She remembers very little about her mother’s family, only that she seemed to be surrounded by purple anytime they were close. She only remembers so little because her mother, and her mother’s family, were slaughtered by the false king and she was left for dead. Thankfully, a pod of passing merpeople heard her cries and carried her to the closest shore. She tearfully waved goodbye to the pod as the surf carried her ashore.

She was taken in that day by a wonderful man, stocky in build with short brown hair and green eyes. She knew her life would change, beginning with the man renaming her. The name her mother gave her would always be what Atlanteans called her, it was as much a part of her as her purple eyes and her permanently tan skin. The man, named Tom, renamed her Marinette because she seemed to rise with the sun.

---

Marinette and Tom met Sabine in Paris, France. Sabine was a beautiful woman of Chinese descent with black hair and grey eyes. She smiled at the father-daughter duo sweetly and when Tom wasn’t within hearing range Sabine told Marinette that whomever her mother was, she was one lucky lady.

Sabine was aghast at the sight of little two year old Marinette struggling to hold herself together while she has to tell the kind lady that her mother is no longer with her.

Sabine walked right up to Tom afterwards to demand he married her right that instant so they could raise Marinette together.

They were legally married by the end of the day and Sabine had started the process to legally adopt Marinette.

---

Marinette had always felt drawn to the Seine, it is what drew her parents to purchasing a building just down the street from the river. Tom and Sabine wanted to always be close by when she had access to the river. One of them would always accompany her, needing to know she wasn’t going to get swept away in the Seine.

Marinette was five when she met him. Tom was sitting a few meters away on a nearby bench reading a newspaper.

The boy, who could only be the same age as her, had short blond hair cropped close to his head, deep brown skin and pale green eyes. His eyes reminded her of seagrass, the way they seemed to be hundreds of different shades of green all at once.

Marinette smiled, her eyes following the lines his gills left as he began treading water. “Hello.” She bowed her head in greeting and was delighted when he bowed his head in return.

“Menenne. I am Kaldur’ahm, it is a pleasure to meet you.” The boy, Kaldur’ahm, extended his hand in greeting.

Marinette simply clasped his hand and shook it in greeting, tucking away that name for later. “It is certainly a pleasure to be meeting you.”

---

They continued to meet up for years, Kaldur’ahm getting more and more comfortable around her, eventually enough so that she could introduce him to her Papa. He introduced himself as “Kaldur Durham” and Tom is hard pressed to find anything he doesn’t like about his baby girl’s new friend.

In the end the two Dupain-Cheng’s introduced Kaldur to Sabine, who simply smiled and asked if he was staying for dinner.

The Dupain-Cheng family simply gave him what he needed, time to tell them about himself and the opportunity to relax. However, Marinette continued to feel a pull to the Seine.

---

They were eleven when Kaldur, who Marinette had taken to calling Jonc de mer, told her that his mentor, Arthur Curry, was joining a conglomerate somewhere in America and that he was going with him. Kaldur held Marinette as she cried, not knowing that he was surrounding her in a familiar warmth.

The very next day, when they were saying goodbye, Marinette looped a scarf made in orchid, black, melon green and pale yellow yarn around his neck. “This will keep you safe, no matter where you go. No matter how far away you are.”

Kaldur grabbed her hands and nodded. “I will have you with me wherever I go, Acropora.”

Marinette smiled and pulled her hands away so she could quickly write something down on a scrap piece of paper. “When you get settled in America, email me.” She handed over the piece of paper and smiled as he looked over what she’d written on it.

“menenne@gmail.com ;) look me up Jonc de mer”

---

Since Tom had found her on the beach of Sicily, they took family vacations to Italy and it was on one of these family vacations that Marinette made a friend.

Marinette was eight, as was the little girl, when they met. The two were just running around and through the waves. They played for hours, just smiles and laughs passed between the two no words needed. The next day they finally introduced themselves before they continued to play.

They spent everyday together, so much time in fact that Marinette felt comfortable enough telling her about Kaldur, however whenever the duo were around someone who hadn’t been given special Marinette friendship rights, the duo referred to him as the boy with blond hair and green eyes.

---

When Marinette was eleven she finally became friends with Chloé Bourgeois. It was a few days after Kaldur had gone to America when Chloé happened across her while she was sketching something for a client.

“What are you making?” Chloé asked.

Marinette closed her sketchbook with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “It’s a commission and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t attempt to steal it.” Marinette would feel bad about being mean to Chloé later but for now all she cared about was making sure that her sketch was finished in time to present it to the client.

---

Marinette was sat next to Chloé in the classroom on the day she received her Miraculous. Chloé was being her usual bratty self when a girl who was classically pretty walked in the room and visibly stuck her nose up at Chloé.

“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing.”

Marinette gave her a once over, noting her lack of sense. Why would anyone pair an orange flannel with light blue jeans and black shoes with giant tongues? Marinette let out a nearly silent “tsk” before placing her hand on her friend’s arm. “Don’t listen to her Blondie. I know you aren’t evil.”

---

Marinette debuted as Sticholodinae, although all of Paris just called her Ladybug while Chat just called her M’Lady, a day before Stoneheart. She was photographed and seen swinging over the Paris streets testing her capabilities and her limitations.

Her suit, which Tikki said was not what she was expecting because every past Ladybug’s suit was mainly red, was mostly black. While her body was encased in black fabric, it was Kevlar enforced and didn’t shimmer in the sunlight. She had what appeared to be a bulletproof vest under a thick leather jacket which was black and faded to a very dark red at the bottom hem and the cuffs at the ends of her sleeves. Her legs were reinforced with a pair of joggers which had a very dark red waistband and were tucked into a pair of black reinforced combat boots. Her suit looked segmented like a bug to the untrained eye, however she knew that her suit wasn’t segmented but actually appeared to be scaled like a fish. Her hair was pulled up and back into a bun that looked like a work of lattice on the back while her face was obscured through several methods. Her eyes were obscured by a pitch black mask with white eye lenses while she had a charcoal gray tactical half face mask covering the bottom half of her face so that all anyone could see of her face was her forehead.

She knew her suit wasn’t what most thought of when they pictured a Ladybug, but she would do whatever it took to stay safe so that she could reunite with her Jonc de mer.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Male!Werewolf x Human! Reader (Modern AU)

So I’m back with another monster post. Werewolf boi is Rhys - tattooed bad boy with a bad boy and hubristic personality; there is more to him but is more of an enigma. ENJOY!

Warnings: mentions of blood and comfort. LONG CHAPTER AHEAD!

PART 2  - PART 3

A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

You had seen him many times in your small neighbourhood; a man you knew little of. You always saw him in the front of his garage of the front of his home, a heavily tattooed man wearing always some jeans and a white tank-top, always stained with oil with the rest of his muscular body.

You didn’t always like to stare, but the man literally stood out always when you caught him working on his bike or a rusty car. You noticed always his olive skin: greasy and sweaty from working under the hood, his dark hair messy as he finger-combed it out of his deep-caramel eyes.

There wasn’t much to know about him, and although you knew everyone in your small town, the man who lived not too far down from you was someone you knew nothing of.

People spoke whispers of him and his family: that he was the runt compared to his younger brothers, rebelling in many ways and always finding himself in the back of a cop’s car.

Other rumours went to him dealing with drugs, to being part of a mafia gang in the following town; some more absurd to outlandish than the next. The mysterious guy would be in your mind and remain the mysterious hunk with an unknown past and present.

You - on the other hand - were in the minds of some a goody-two-shoes, obeying rules and always tending to stick to them. You finished your education and got good grades, never stuck with the wrong crowds, and always seen as the angel in a world of negativity.

Sometimes that could be tiresome. Sometimes you thought, you would want to break the laws and reform from a life of the good side. Maybe once you could go and break free of the mould you had known all of your life.

Your day was usually the same; wake up, go jogging then head for work for 7 hours. It was the usual. Today seemed like all the others, heading out the door in your gym gear and with the dog leash in hand. 

Toby was a large grey-charcoal great Dane, and indeed, a pain in your backside most days when it came to walking him. He was certainly a hassle when it came to walking and controlling him, and when it came to holding him, it seemed like he was the one always walking you and never the other way round.

“Come on boy.” You cooed, holding the leech tight in your grip as you began to jog down the narrow side of the road.

You lived just outside of your town, dense forests and few small houses lined up on the side of the road, where few cars came. 

Walking down the long stretch of road, you were always anticipating for the lovely sight of the mysterious stranger working already in his open garage; always a sight that made your mouth water like you were picking a sweet treat in a bakery.

Holding Toby on a long lead, you jogged along the road, headphones in as you tried your best in controlling the large dog on your left. 

His large house came into view to your left, and when you were waiting in joy for the lovely sight of the man, you were left in disappointment when you saw nothing but an empty and shut garage door, no sight of anything out of ordinary.

Toby yanked on the lead rougher than you had expected, and you nearly tripped in your gym shoes over the road, and you tried tugging the reigns in before you could fall.

It wouldn’t be the first time that I’d fallen on the side of the road. You reminisced, cringing at the event; the fall had left your knees bloody and palms of your hands scuffed and scratched up, leaving you shaken up.

“Toby, stop.” You grunted, something catching or gaining Toby’s attention, the sheer weight and strength of him was something that made you feel more pressured into trying to stop him.

“Toby.” You pulled him back, expecting for once the dog the size of a small pony, but when you saw that familiar sight of his large ears pinning up and standing straight up, you knew that you were not in any way able to stop him.

He had spotted a squirrel.

Gunning it in the bolt of lightning, quick as silver, Toby sprinted and you had underestimated whether you would be able to hold him back. You were pulled forward from the force as if someone from behind had shoved you to the floor.

The leash fell from your grip when you made contact with the hard concrete, knocking the wind from your lungs as you tried to get some air into you; a burning sensation kicks in through your entire body starting from your fingertips and spreading.

“Toby!” You spluttered, blinking in the realisation of where you were and what could’ve happened to your dog. There were cars on the road, and Toby was sprinting with no care in the world.

You stood shakily to your feet as you went about chasing after him, the adrenaline pumping in your veins, all thought running out your mind with the dread of too many questions?

What happened if he got hit? Or I did? You could barely afford vet bills and the thought of how much it could cost was something you couldn’t deal with, nor the fact you could lose Toby if someone was recklessly driving or needed to swerve.

Heck, I could get someone else injured because of this. Your day seemed to be getting worse the more and more you went with how badly it was going already. You didn’t believe it could get any better.

But then, your saviour, your hero appeared.

The short cut off of an engine caught your ears: a passing motorcyclist coming shortly to stop just before Toby could get past. Casually, almost magically, the anonymous motorcyclist coolly opened a palm out just before Toby sprang like a coil past.

And just like magic, Toby stopped dead in his tracks of running and trotted with no hesitation to be taken in and held by his attached lead.

Your mouth had dropped, as you sprinted down to catch up with the two, luckily, the roads hadn’t been too mad with other vehicles, and those were more interested in getting on with their days to stop and check if everything was fine. They had seen this countless times once over.

You were heavily out of breath, no matter how many times you went out jogging, this one had really knocked all your sense and air out from you, and you wanted to no more than to go and lie down in a darkened room.

“Toby, thank God-- hey, um, thank you.” You took back Toby by the lead that the stranger - now that you could tell was a male - and back into your own grip, making sure to be extra careful not to let him loose.

The male didn’t respond to you at all, and you knew that he had gone out of his way to help you, and it made you feel more embarrassed than you had taken time out of his day to help you; all thanks to you not having a good hold on Toby.

“Uh, I’m sorry about all that, Toby’s a big dog, I should’ve known that he was going to bolt-”

“You can barely even hang onto him, it’s no wonder he got out.” You were cut off from your ramblings, blinking owlishly and unexpectantly by the obscured male in front of you, casually leaning back on his motorcycle.

“I-I’m sorry?” You took more than a good insult before, but this guy was more than good at throwing them at someone like you, and you were certainly not prepared.

You looked over his clothes from what you could tell: all leather and onyx as ink, he wore a leather jacket and black jeans, a white t-shirt underneath. The man went to stand, and before you, you witnessed the helmet he wore come off.

The first thing you spotted that was familiar was the eyes: caramel, and bright and clear, and held so much irritation. You gawked at the neighbour you never knew anything about; the supposed bad boy who was linked to drugs and gangs.

The mysterious man before you was taller than you from what you could see, and from this close, you could see all detail in his face from when he was always working. You could see the freckles on his cheeks and nose, the nose piercing septum that glinted silver and how his eyes poured like the caramel that was poured on top of ice cream.

He was simply gorgeous.

He blinked, looking you up and down with scepticism, “You’re welcome?” His voice was deep, rich and honeyed, perfect and expectant from him. “You have no control of your dog.” He bluntly said to you.

You felt a prang in your chest from being merely and rudely spoken to by this man, and all secrets and rumours about him you had heard all seemed in your eyes to come true. He seemed like an asshole.

You gripped at Toby’s leash tighter in your fingers, looking away and anywhere to not meet his eye line. “Y-yeah, he’s not really my dog, my brother wanted a big dog, and he’s our family dog--”

“Cool, anyway, I’ll be off.” He announced with no warning, starting the engine once more as it roared to life beside you, making you almost leap out of your skin. He noticed, but said nothing, eyeing you silently.

“Thanks once again.” You softly spoke, looking to his body, his tousled dark brown hair and his eyes, already looking you over as he gave no expression nor smile. Those eyes were already looking you over once more, and he must’ve seen you look at him up and down.

“Sure.” He bluntly said, not giving a goodbye as he put his helmet down and hurtled down the road and away, his fleeing figure disappear off the road.

You watched him ride off, breathing out shakily as you heard Toby whine beside you, nudging your bruised and bloody knee. He gave you a look that any other human would’ve described as ‘shit-eating’.

“Yeah, whatever.” You mumbled, limping off to get back home.

-

“You’re telling me he just sped off with no care in the world? Damn, and you’re telling me he might be single too?” The roar of laughter beside you brought you to groan as you wiped down the surface area in the diner you worked at.

“Yeah, can we stop talking about it? He really embarrassed me, Max.” You grumbled, keeping your head down to hide the blush on your cheeks.

Maximus, the half-elf who looked more like something from Game of Thrones snorted beside you, clicking his tongue in humour. “Damn, if I had a neighbour like him, you would see me looking out my window every day. All I’ve got are orcs and faes doing yoga and smoking weed.”

“That sounds better than living in a wasteland.” You muttered, going back to work, thankful that it was getting closer to closing. There were two customers, a couple chatting quietly to each other in the corner and an old man by the counter with a cup of coffee.

“Honey, I’m just saying, you should’ve asked for his phone number, then if he had rejected you, you could’ve given his mine.”

“The cheek!” You faked dramatically, earning a wink from your coworker and a good friend. “I’m sure you would’ve had better luck with him than me.”

“You said he had tattoos too. Maybe I may have to get my car checked out by him.” Max chortled, earning a slap to his shoulder. “I don’t think he even does proper work for others. He’s always working on the same cars and his motorcycle-”

“Now, you didn’t tell me he was a mechanic too!” Maximus beamed. A harsh glare was given a customer in the back, Maximus ignoring it. “He’s mysterious, Max - like he’s an enigma.”

“Those types of guys are always doing coke on Wednesdays and seeing 10 different girls on the weekends.” Max hummed in thought, “You’re playing with your fantasies! The hot neighbour, the innocent angel living next door who comes to him to get his help to sort out her car-”

“I’m not innocent.” You blurted in a whisper, careful to not get anyone else hearing your conversation. “He helps you out, and not just the car.” Max winked cheekily your way, making you groan into your hands, hiding the blush.

Your chatter died down when you heard the door chime with the knowledge of another customer walking in. You removed your hands to look over to your right, seeing in the far corner the person walks in, and all blood draining from your face.

No fucking way.

Maximus noticed your pale face and wide eyes, nudging your shoulder and mouthing what was wrong before his lavender eyes darted back and forth between you and the muscular man coming over to the counter. The elderly man with his coffee cave the man in leather a glare, before he scoffed and continued with his own business.

You watched in horror as the same neighbour who had saved Toby and not your dignity came strolling to lean up casually against the counter.

“Hey,” he spoke, and for the first time since you encounter and a week of avoiding him, he gave you a grin. Your heart fluttered at the sight of sharp canines in his mouth, sharp for any human, “table for one?”

“You’re here... why?” You gaped silently, watching in your peripheral as Maximus slipped off to clean some tables, leaving you to it with the sexy stranger.

“Can I not come to get something to bite?” He spoke smoothly, the same grin never faltering from his olive skin face. “I have a sweet tooth, and nothing says anything like having something nice, right?”

“Right--” You blinked, trying to control your feelings and emotions as you tried to resume the usual employee’s bubbly and friendly exterior. “What can I get for you then, sir?”

He snorted softly at the title, rolling his eyes as he drummed his fingers on the counter. “Anything you got. Heard you do quite good milkshakes.”

I’m not going to get him embarrassing me once more. You thought, feeling both sweaty and light-headed. “Strawberry or vanilla?”

“Strawberry.” He mused, removing himself from the counter as he got himself a booth alone to your right and far away from the door and everyone else before you could ask him to grab a seat.

You watched from your spot, glancing back at Maximus as he mouthed back to you in an exaggerated way. “With a cherry on top.” He mouthed, giving you a thumbs-up as he resumed working.

You sighed, getting to work, silently and carefully making a strawberry milkshake with all the works - whipped cream, strawberry sauce and a cherry on top in a tall glass - and carefully made your way to get to his booth.

He was pressed in the corner, jacket removed as he looked out the window, silently looking out as if he was thinking to himself. He took notice of you as he saw you coming closer, and you slipped the glass on his table with somewhat ease.

“Cheers, sugar.” He thanked you quickly and charismatically, and when you had thought your job had been done, did he speak up to you again.

“Say, wanna sit and chat?”

You turned back to look at him as if he had ten heads. “I’m working?”

“I can see,” he raised an eyebrow, but he still looked to you as if you were mad. “but there’s no-one here.” You breathed out through your nose as you quietly agreed, slipping into the same booth and sitting opposite him, watching as he took a sip of his milkshake through the straw.

His caramel eyes lit up at the taste and he groaned to himself, his eyes rolling into the back of his head dramatically and deliberately, taking another large gulp. The sight alone, made you feel like you needed an exorcism, for allowing such lewd thoughts to come to your mind.

“This is good,” He grinned, eying you almost like a snack, “but not as good as you.”

“Really now, because I don’t think our first meeting went down very smoothly.” You retorted back, trying your best to not allow his sweet words to affect you.

He laughed at the remark, unexpectant but he seemed impressed. “Hey, I’m sorry about it, if it makes you feel any better, I am enjoying this milkshake you made me, and your company.”

“You don’t know me that well,” you began, resting your elbows on the table, “and I don’t know you.”

“True,” he chimed, “but it doesn’t mean we can’t start over, huh?”

You watched him but didn’t respond. He held out a large hand to you, taking the initiative. “Rhys Pearson.”

You told him yours, and finally, you could now put a face to his name. “How long you been working here for?” He asked, his eyes drifting from the tiles to the unkempt ceiling, “You could be working in a nicer place.”

“The pay is cheap but it gets me money, especially for my family.”

“Why?” Rhys questioned, swirling the straw between his fingers. A lump formed in your throat at the given words you wanted to speak. “I just do, nothing else.”

Rhys held his hands up defensively, “Hey if it makes your life feel any better, my home life is pretty shit.”

You raised an eyebrow quizzically, “How so?”

Rhys sighed almost sincerely, “The youngest of four brothers, I never got much attention. Ma and my old man were always pining for work and money, and I always made sure to get their attention in other ways.”

So, the rumours are true. You pondered. You didn’t want to believe them so so quickly, after all, it was wrong to judge a person’s character only from what you had heard, and from what you had seen already, Rhys was deemed different.

“You had four brothers? That does sound shit.” You rarely swore, and sometimes the realisation made you more surprised than your own closest friends.

Rhys leant back into the booth seat: he’s looking at me again, trying to read me once more. “Do you have a ride?”

You blinked. “A ride?”

“Yeah, to get home.” He slurped the rest of the drink down in little time. “I get the bus home, takes a while but I don’t mind the journey.” You shrugged. 

Rhys threw some dollars onto the table whilst he scrambled some from his jacket pocket, before sliding out from the booth to stand. “Let’s go then.”

This guy is mad. “Rhys? Go where?” You wanted to laugh, to think this guy was playing with you and your feelings, but he was interesting, to say the least. 

“I don’t want to say it again, do I? I’ll try you home. I’m not entirely the bad guy, ya know.” He grinned, giving you a wink as he headed to leave.

“I’ll be in my car.” He waved back on you, swinging his jacket over his bare shoulder as he walked out, and the mere sight of that made you nearly swoon and your knees buckle.

You headed back with the empty glass and change leftover, looking back on an observant yet intrigued Max. “What was that all about?”

“I’ll tell you when I get home.” You threw the change into the register, going to head to the back to get your things. “Apparently, he wants to take me home.”

-

You stepped out into the cold yet refreshing air, the coolness hitting your skin as you hurried to take a relaxing breath out through your mouth, taking in the smell of the nearby pine and fresh salt from the coastline. 

It was good to get out of work, notably when you had had a rough day, and it was even better not having to get on a bus all the way home when you could get a free ride back from the hunky neighbour who you still knew nothing about.

That was still the thing, he was still some guy you had just met, and he could’ve been a serial killer or some creeper who liked taking snaps of girls when they weren’t looking.

A nearby honk brought your attention back to who was waiting for you: Rhys’ head hanging out the window as he waited for you. You smiled faintly, more out of nerved, gripping to your jacket you wore as you walked over to his beat-down truck, red as a rusty copper.

“Took you long enough.” He mused lightheartedly. it was better to see him in a good mood than he was irritated with you. “Sorry, got caught up with a coworker.”

Rhys didn’t reply, starting the engine as he drove off, and you told him your address, the two of you silently sitting in the car as he drove.

It was peaceful to look out the window, but not to be sat in silence with no conversation. Your mind was going 100 mph, doing cartwheels and trying to find anything to say to him.

“I’m sorry about our first meeting you know?” Rhys spoke up after some time of just driving and following the road. You looked to him confused, waiting for him to elaborate. “I don’t get on well with people, I tend to stick to myself. Usually, people owe me something and I don’t like getting involved and shit.”

“It’s fine.” You replied, “Thanks really for helping. I didn’t want you to think I was weird or weak for being able to hold me down.”

“I couldn’t just let a pretty thing like ya go on being dragged,” There it was again, his sweet-talking, “plus, it was quite hilarious watching it all.”

“How’d... how did you do it? Get my dog back without even having to chase him?” You pondered aloud. Rhys paused for a moment, “I used to look after my aunt’s dog when I was young. I always liked working with animals more than people; especially dogs.”

“Huh.” You were impressed, that he could that so easily, and you knew that it must’ve been some sort of talent to work with dogs and get them to behave.

“This is mine, uh, thanks again, Rhys. It was nice speaking with you and getting to know you more.” He pulled over just outside your house and outside your driveway.

You observed him and noted quickly his posture and how he sat, almost leant back and curled over the steering wheel. Something seemed up, something he wasn’ t telling you.

“There’s more to me that you should know.” He begun, more roughly spoken as he took your forearm in surprise, roughly grasped as you stared in mild nervousness and fear.

He sensed it, not letting go entirely, but loosening his hold on you. “Rhys, I need to get in-”

“I’m... I’m a...” He nearly confessed too quickly, opening his eyes wide as he saw the way you looked over to him; they want to know more but too fearful of what he had to say. He shut his mouth, shaking his head as he let you go. “Nothing, just go.”

You reluctantly left and didn’t say anything else again to him as you left to get into your home, hurrying to get your shoes off as you run up to your room. By the time you had gotten up there, Rhys had gone, and you were sure that same evening as you were getting ready for bed, you heard the distant sound of a howl; a wolf’s howl longing call through the night.

You didn’t hear or see from Rhys for another week, then another, until a month had gone past. It worried you how quickly someone like him could disappear under the radar and not even be seen again by anyone again. 

And of course, it being a small town you lived in, people were quick to assume and speculate.

They guessed it was him running away from home, running to another town, or having to go get more drugs for himself or his gang. The guesses from others made you sick; you felt that they were all lies.

You didn’t want to believe you were smitten with the guy, but Rhys did seem to always appear in the back of your mind, even when you were getting on with your life and work. He always seemed to be there.

You were in your kitchen alone at night, sorting out the bins that needed to be taken out for the next morning, but you had left it all to the last minute, and now it was too late and dark to head out to put them out.

Sighing and begrudgingly doing it, you tied the last of the bags and unlocked your back door to throw them away, no much really light helping you see; only from the large full moon that was out.

People were always so quick to spread tales in your town, of myths and monsters, and it wasn’t the first time they mentioned wolves. Wolves bigger than horses, hungrier and more fierce, raiding people’s homes or destroying lands.

There were apparent disruptions and mentions of raids of bins but you only assumed it could’ve been from foxes or even coyotes.

You had just thrown the last bin in when you had heard it; the most guttural sound that sounded like a blend of a growl and snarl.

It thrummed in the air and shook the ground you stood on, the sound more fierce from what you had heard from Toby when he was protective or scared, and more so deeper than a dog.

You turned round to face the sable backyard, of utter blackness and nothing but leaves and bushes and endless abyss of the woods, your eyes finally adjusting to something that could’ve made you believe it had been just a cat.

But what cat had eyes so big?

The house rattled with the shaking of an earthquake, that shook through the ground like a rising wave waiting to crash, through your entire being. Whatever it was, it was big.

And these eyes, they were wide and bright as ambers and honey, the colour that contrasted greatly through the darkness. They were large and squinted and the sound of snarling brought you to know you were being threatened.

You gripped to the stairs back to get to your door, the first step always seems too high and too far for you to reach, and one mistake could send the creature hurtling towards you with more speed than when Toby sprinted.

The creature’s fur was contrasted with a slight difference in the darkness: its fur was large and shaggy, the colour of ink the more your eyes adjusted to its shape appearing in front of you.

A wolf, the size bigger than anything you had seen before, slinked into the small light of your back garden, paws bigger than your entire head. Its head was hunched forward, prowling muscular arms treading slowly and carefully towards you, black fur the texture of a garden brush.

You leant back as far as you could, aware that you were letting off a pheromone that brought out your fear: and you knew this wolf was aware it could smell it on you.

The wolf stared you down, not doing anything to warn you off now the closer it got, and those amber eyes were enough to make you almost buckle to the ground in fear.

Slow and steady. You needed to remind yourself. You were dealing with a wild animal, one that acted differently to other domestic pets, and you didn’t know nor want to imagine how it would act if you did something out of order.

It was practically towering over you, all muscle and height and it made you feel powerless underneath it, trapped under its hardened gaze and intensity of its possible strength.

You left a small whimper out, as its large head came to nudge at your shoulder, the sound you didn’t want to let out to let it know you were rather scared, as you watched with no knowledge of what it could do next.

It inched closer to you, its warm wet and pink tongue suddenly started lapping at your arm, then your neck and finally and rough lick from your jawline up towards the end of your brow.

You grimaced. Was it now tasting you for taste? You pushed at its brawny chest to get some space, as the soft sound coming from the wolf as you pressed your hand away in dread.

It was a warning, one to make sure you didn’t do it again, and when you looked down, you saw flesh, bare flesh to the bone, some that looked to be flaking underneath the sable fur to reveal itself to you; red and bloody.

You realised it was injured, from the lack of wanting to attack you and the growl from earlier was merely just from not knowing if you were a threat or not.

But what about its skin underneath? It looked... so human.

Before you, the onyx wolf collapsed in a giant heap without any warning, and you yelped back in warning. Its large head was resting just before your feet, its eyes drooping as they looked up to you in question. 

Please. They were warm and full of emotion, and it gave a long whine when you went to gently touch at it again, hot and blotchy to the touch, you didn’t know what to do.

You stayed with it outside for as long as possible, getting water and blankets when it was needed, but it didn’t drink nor get cold.

You remained, resting into its chest as you waited, waited for any chance it would get better, but you didn’t know if it would be possible.

You were scared, but something was calming and proving to be sending of protective vibes to you as if they would never really hurt you now that you thought about it.

You felt the wolf stir behind you, as if ready to quickly lunge up to its feet, but you felt nothing of it. Again, it stirred and slowly shifted, but nothing more. That was when you heard it, softly and begging, the familiar call for your name.

“Help me.”

“Rhys?” You sat up and bolted like a hare in a field, looking back until you felt like your neck had snapped from the speed. The large beast was no longer laying there, instead, a very naked Rhys, bruised, dirtied and caked in mud, he was bloody and sore all over.

You gathered the blanket up and took him safely indoors, where you took him to your couch and got him as warm as possible, all whilst your mind was swirling and spinning with so many questions.

Rhys must’ve sensed your lack of words, speaking up for you. “I get you’re confused.”

“A bit, or more so I am a lot.” You slowly walked over to sit beside him, a few metres away. “You’re... you turn into a large wolf?”

He grinned softly, as if pained. “I’m what humans call a werewolf. My family and I are the only families that live here.”

You went silent, too silent, and Rhys was leaning closer to you, taking your hands into his cold and dirtied ones, he squeezed on them tightly. “Say something.”

“What is there to say, Rhys?” You blurted, “You’re a werewolf, why were you in my garden?”

“I... I had a fight with one of my brothers... got into a fight with him and he won. I was sent off for the night to go find shelter.  thought your place would be the only option.”

You paused, mouth dry with lack of words. You suddenly felt aware of all little details and everything that was going around you, of what you wanted to so badly crawl into a hole and not come out. “You thought I would come and look after you?”

“I dunno. I just thought... you wouldn't judge me, for who or what I was.”

“I wouldn’t.” You squeezed his hands back for emphasis, aware of how small your hands were in his. “But why didn’t you tell me earlier? I was never one to judge anyone.

“I didn’t know how you’d react. Wolves are outcasted from society. I didn’t want you to think I was some... was some kind of monster.” Rhys grumbled softly. 

“You’re not a monster, you’re far from one.” You breathed, leaning into him more. “"God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I like you. I like everything about you, even though I don’t know you that well, but I want to know more about you.”

Rhys blinked, taking in your words, a smile gracing his tanned skin, one that wasn’t a smirk nor arrogant in any way, it looked genuine. “I like you too, and I want to get to know you more.”

He carefully took your face into his hands, cradling you as he lent in first, capturing your lips to his in a nervous kiss. You reciprocated, kissing him back in a sweet kiss, one that you didn’t expect from someone like him.

It was nice to kiss him, to feel wanted and loved, and you could imagine Rhys liked it too.

You pulled away first, much to his dismay, laughing softly as his reaction; the classic puppy dog eyes.

“Come on, I’ll run you a hot bath and get you cleaned off. Then pizza and cuddles, how does that sound?”

He took your hand as you led him out your living room, smiling broadly.

“I’d like that a lot, sugar.”

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[bold-writing]

The One With Silver Scars || 1 || Prologue

Summary: Adelais Benoit knew that she wasn't normal. Her upbringing, her sanity, her reaction be being abducted by the monochrome man; it set her apart from what the world would consider normal. However, her abnormalities may finally play in her favour for once in her life. Blackmailed into her cousin's birthday party, she will soon realize her differences. 

Words: 4000+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, swearing, violence, kidnapping. Does Dennis count?

A/N: Also available on AO3, Wattpad and FF.Net under the same name.

Next

~ 1 ~

Adelais sat at the end of her bed, hunched and fatigued, as she looked across the small space between her and the cheap mirror mounted on her wall. Her dark blonde hair was washed, brushed and braided back in a neat, meticulous French plait that her mother had been sure to inspect for loose strands or uneven lines. Once she had deemed it perfect, she had sent Adelais to her room to finish getting ready. She used cover-up to hide the dark shadows beneath her eyes from lack of sleep, thankfully matching with her ungodly pale skin tone. Adding just enough eyeliner and mascara for her mother to approve, she looked more put together and tidy than she had remembering being in months.

She never left the house; her parents had assigned her to online courses at the nearby university, stating that she had agoraphobia and therefore could not attend classes in person. There was no escape from her parents; the invisible chain around her throat was too tight to pull off, too strong to break.

“Your uncle will be here soon,” her mother’s voice came through the door suddenly. It surprised the young woman that she hadn’t just walked in like she normally would. “You better get out here and show me that you’re presentable.”

Presentable. Of course. Couldn’t have the child most people didn’t even know they had embarrassing them. Rising from her bed, Adelais glanced at her reflection in the mirror one more time. It was cold enough outside that she was able to get away with wearing a scarf and sweater over her other clothes; her black jeans stretched over long, thin legs and her modestly heeled ankle boots gave her even greater height than she already had. They were considered to be her ‘public’ clothes, the ones that were saved only for when her parents were letting her leave the house.

The green eyes of her reflection stared back at her, murky and dull. She had nothing on her to carry; no phone, no wallet, no keys. So, with only the clothes covering her, Adelais walked out of her room to meet her mother for inspection.

Her father was sitting in front of the fireplace while reading the newspaper, but he glanced up at her with calculating eyes as soon as she emerged from the dark hallway. Her mother, however, had been waiting expectantly with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “That took you too long. When I tell you to come out, you come out.”

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” Adelais promised dully, lacking any true emotion in her voice. Once upon a time, it would have trembled in fear at the thought of a possible punishment. Now, she couldn’t feel any fear through her numbed soul.

Her mother glared critically at her before she walked forward and forced Adelais’s head down so she could double-check her braid. Then she snapped her jaw back up, her small, thin fingers holding surprising strength, and looked over the light layer of makeup on her daughter’s face. Her gaze lingered a moment longer on the cover-up beneath her eyes, but she said nothing about it and proceeded to go over her clothing. Her scarf was tightened around her neck and her charcoal grey sweater was straightened and pulled lower at her wrists and waist. Forcing Adelais to turn in a slow circle, eyes taking in every detail of her, she gave a critical, but approving nod just as a horn sounded from outside 

“That’s your uncle and cousin. Now, you will be polite and speak when spoken to, but otherwise I want you to be silent. Am I understood?”

“Yes, mother,” Adelais responded automatically. 

Turning on her heel and marching toward the front door, Adelais followed without a word—already knowing what she was expected to do. Her father watched her pass with a glare, eyes barely cusped over the newspaper. “So help me god, if you break those rules…” he warned cryptically, turning eyes gaze back to his reading as her mother pulled open the door to greet her younger brother.

“My, Adelais, you’ve gotten so big!” he cheered in surprise, stepping forward to give her a hug. Adelais did her best not to tense up at the action and lifted on hand to rest on his back, giving the illusion of returning the embrace. She offered a tight smile as he pulled back from her, looking over his niece’s appearance. Adelais could feel her mother burning holes in the side of her head.

“It’s good to see you, too, uncle. How have you been?”

“Just perfect! And Claire’s very excited about her party, so I think it’s best we get going. Is that alright, Sarah?” he turned to ask Adelais’s mother, who gave a fake smile so believable that it made Adelais’s skin crawl.

“Oh course! You have fun, sweetie, alright? I’ll see you this evening.”

Adelais nodded to her mother, feeling her stomach turn at the false kindness her mother showed as she followed her uncle out toward the car. Her cousin was sitting in the back seat, talking adamantly with a dark skinned girl that must have been a close friend of hers. They both turned to look when her father and older cousin approached the car, Adelais walking around onto the street to get into the passenger side.

“Claire, you remember Adelais?” Glancing into the back as she slid into her seat, Claire’s gaze met Adelais’s briefly, her once natural smile tightening slightly. “You two haven’t really seen one another since you were kids, but your Aunt Sarah wanted Adelais to get out for a bit while she was visiting from University.”

“Yea,” Claire answered tightly. “Hi, Adelais. How’s school been?”

“Busy,” Adelais answered quietly, turning forward again as she focused on buckling herself in. “Happy Birthday, Claire.”

Claire shared an awkward look with her friend before she offered another hesitant smile. “Thanks. Glad you could come to the party.”

Adelais turned her attention passed her uncle to look at her house. Most wouldn’t be able to tell, but Adelais could make out the form of her mother standing beyond the mostly-closed blinds of their living room window. She was watching her even now, making sure that so long as Adelais was in her sights, she did as she was told.

Swallowing against a suddenly dry throat, Adelais looked down toward the glove-compartment as her uncle pulled away from the curb slowly and merged into traffic. She kept her gaze on that exact spot as they made their way into town, heading for the restaurant that had been reserved for Claire. She listened as her younger cousin rattled on about who was coming, whispering to her friend about how she couldn’t believe they had invited the ‘emo girl’. Adelais wasn’t sure whether or not she her father could hear her, but if he did he wasn’t saying anything.

Bitch, she cursed in her head. She forced herself to swallow the anger that rose in her chest, burning her like bile as she fought against the urge to punch the glove-compartment. Closing her eyes a moment and taking a deep breath, Adelais forced herself to push aside the anger and vengeful thoughts. If she lost her cool when she was away from home, her mother would beat her into a hospital bed and never let her leave again.

“Looks like we’re not the first ones here,” her uncle stated suddenly as he pulled into a half-filled parking lot. Claire shrieked in excitement as she leaned toward the window, calling out the names of the friends she recognized from her class. Adelais flinched from the noise, the action so small that the other passengers of the car didn’t even realize she had moved.

Once the car was parked Claire and her friend piled out of the back like their asses were on fire, rushing over to a small group of other girls that were also shrieking at an ungodly volume.  “Hey, Adelais, mind giving me a hand carrying in some gifts?” Knowing better than to refuse, Adelais nodded silently and let him load gift bags into her arms, picking up what she guessed to be a cake before he closed the trunk of the car.

Some strange looks were thrown her way from the girls that Claire was talking with, but Adelais paid it no mind as she walked with her uncle into the restaurant.

Adelais put the presents down where the rest were already clustered on the table, bright pink wrapping paper glaringly obvious in the large room. Claire and her classmates steadily filed in, the sound volume of the room skyrocketing because of it. “I know it’s a bit awkward since you don’t know anyone here,” her uncle started, keeping his voice low as he stood next to Adelais, “and you’re a bit older than these girls. Just stay close to me, the adults need to stick together.”

The kind smile that he offered her was a true one, not like her mother’s fake smiles. However, as honest as his kindness seemed to be, it made Adelais’s skin crawl with discomfort. She couldn’t even count on one hand the number of times she’s received kindness from anyone.

“Thank you, uncle.”

“Ah, just call me John,” he advised with a wave of his hand. “You’re not a little girl anymore, seems strange to hear you call me ‘uncle’.”

Adelais nodded her head slowly. “John,” she repeated, getting another smile before he excused himself to go and try and corral the clusters of teenagers. Adelais had been able to pick up that it was Claire’s art class that had been invited—all of whom were her friends, except for the one they had called the ‘emo girl’ on the way over.

Even as far back as she was from everyone, keeping her distance as she sat at one of the farther tables where John had placed his coat and keys, Adelais could pinpoint exactly who the odd-one-out was when she arrived. The other girls were dressed quite fashionably, most of them wearing a shirt that was probably more money than the other girl’s entire outfit. Adelais’s keen eyes examined the brunette when she arrived; simple pants and boots with several layers of shirts and sweaters on top—the last one being an oversized plaid sweater.

She did not seem enthused about being there, immediately stepping away from everyone else as she fidgeted with the hems of her sleeves. Claire was polite enough to greet her and thank her for coming, but after that the new girl blended quite effectively into the background. Adelais knew the feeling; wanting to disappear and pretend you weren’t there. Kind of like the childish ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ kind of thing.

It never actually worked.

The brunette’s dark eyes lifted to meet with Adelais’s suddenly, both women wearing no expression or emotion as they stared across the room at one another. Green eyes narrowed. She looked nothing like the younger girl, yet it was frightfully similar to how she had looked into the mirror only an hour before. The brunette looked away first, taking a seat near the window so Adelais could still see half of her face, lacking true expression.

It was a long couple of hours, remaining at the table with John as the rest of the girls laughed and yelled. They were served by the staff at the restaurant, catered to and cleaned up after. Adelais’s hands were gripping the end of her scarf in a white knuckled grip as time wore on, John chatting away across their table as he told her stories about family events that neither she nor her parents could attend.

Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up.

A waiter walked passed them with a stack of dirty dishes, raising the pile higher so there was no chance of him bumping John as he spoke adamantly of their last summer barbeque. A steak knife, teetering on the edge, drew Adelais’s attention. What if it were to fall? It was too close to kill him, but it would certainly hurt him and that would call off the birthday party. He was her ride, so she wouldn’t have to go home.

However, even if it wasn’t her fault, her mother would be furious if she wasn’t back by that evening as she had agreed.

Looking away from the waiter as he continued toward the kitchen, Adelais took a shuddering breath and turned her focus to the brunette from earlier; Casey, as she had overheard from some of the other classmates, had not moved from her seat any more than Adelais had.

“Are you alright?”

Looking back to John, Adelais realized that she had been glaring in concentration at the younger girl without knowing. “Yes, sorry, just a bit of a headache. Not used to teenagers, I guess,” she lied quickly—well, not entirely, since the unnecessary yelling from the group was starting to make her temples throb uncomfortably.

“Ah, right. I guess your classes at the university are more controlled, hm?”

Adelais twitched in annoyance to have him trying to actually make her talk, but she knew that it would be both rude and suspicious not to answer. So, she commenced with telling him an intricate weaving of lies, some of which her mother had orchestrated while other bits were thrown in just to make it sound real. “And you know mom,” she finished, “she likes quiet.”

John laughed as he nodded in understanding—it made Adelais want to sneer. He had no idea. “Yea, she’s always been someone to stay inside and read a book.”

He was called away before he could try and continue the conversation, Claire demanding that he take a picture of them all before some people needed to be heading home. Adelais remained where she was, thankfully out of the frame of the shot, as she watched the teenagers cluster together and smile at the camera. Casey had been drawn in as well, most likely out of obligation alone, but she didn’t smile as the flash from the camera went off.

The last hour of the party gave Adelais an excuse not to talk to John; she was collecting Claire’s presents and helping the staff put food into take-away containers. The discomfort behind her temples was blooming into a full-blown headache from the noise, yet Adelais was also beginning to feel the ache in her chest as she thought about returning home. Which was worse? The room full of snotty, noisy teenagers or her parents?

Lifting a hand to her neck and massaging the tender skin beneath her scarf and shirt, she figured that a pounding migraine was better than going home.

“Adelais, why don’t we get one with you in the shot?” John suggested as Marcia and Claire stood together for another picture, taken with Claire’s cellphone.

She stood frozen for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of it, but Claire went along to appease her father and ushered Adelais over to stand closer to the windows, in the sunlight. She grabbed Adelais’s forearm to pull her along, forcing the taller blonde to repress a noise of pain as she gripped directly over a healing bruise.

Standing on Claire’s right with Marcia on the left, she mimicked the same fake smile she had used for most of the day as the camera flashed again, leaving a splotch in her vision. She stepped aside and tried to blink it away as Marcia pulled Claire away to say goodbye to the last girls there. Casey was a few yards to Adelais’s right, her cellphone to her ear as she seemed to be waiting for it to stop ringing.

However, as Adelais looked to the screen of the cellphone, she could see that it was not on a call screen at all, but the home screen.

She was faking the call.

Turning away before Casey could notice, the blonde went over to pick up an armful of presents as John handed Marcia a stack of take-away containers. “Did you at least enjoy yourself?” John asked as he helped drape one of the present bags over her arm, once more pressing on the bruise.

“I did, John, I promise. It was nice to get out of the house for a while.”

“I’m sure you’re still excited to go home,” John urged on, turning to his daughter. “These teenagers can be exhausting.”

“Hey,” Claire protested at her father’s teasing dig. The light, playful banter between father and daughter made Adelais frown for a moment before she controlled her expression. They attention soon turned to Casey, however, who Adelais noticed had switched her phone to her other ear so they couldn’t see the screen. “That’s what happens when you do a mercy invite.”

“I believed you wanted to invite everyone,” John pointed out, looking to his daughter with a faint frown.

Claire gave her father a look, one that Adelais knew would only lead to a beating if she ever dared to do such a thing. “Dad, I can’t invite everyone in my art class except for one person, without social network inflicting more pain on that person than was intended. And I’m not a monster.” Claire’s response only made Adelais hate her more, yet she also had a strong suspicion that Casey was also selfish and had only come to the party to escape something.

Or someone.

“I’m proud of you. I think,” John answered.

I hate you all.

“She gets detention a lot, and she yells at teachers sometimes. And there was that rumour that went around that she just kept running away from home.” The more that Claire spoke, the more Adelais felt like she was dying on the inside. She knew those signs; when she had been younger than Casey is, she had been the one exhibiting them. Up until her parents had learned how to keep a handle on her and model her to be the perfect, fake daughter.

Fucking idiots.

“I seriously think she can Uber,” Marcia suggested, glancing from Claire to John.

“I really think that we can go home now-”

“I’m sorry,” John interrupted. “Did I mistakenly convey that this was a democracy? We are not going ‘til she gets picked up.” As he was speaking, Casey finally hung up from her ‘phone call’ and made her way over to meet the small group of people. Adelais was staring again, looking over the brunette with a look even more calculating and analyzing that the one when Casey had first arrived.

Dark eyes met hers briefly, that strange sensation of looking in a mirror returning.

“Uh…the car…broke down,” Casey lied hesitantly, sounding like she had struggled to come up with a valid excuse for her ride not coming. Her voice sounded rough and unused to Adelais. “I’m just gunna take the bus.”

John was already shaking his head. “You’re not taking a bus, I’m gunna drive you home. Claire has almost saved her half of the money she needs for a car, isn’t that right?” Spoiled brat. “This might be one of the few times left I can drive you guys around.” He sounded far too enthused to be willingly surrounded by the annoyance that was his daughter and her friends.

Adelais looked away from them and forced herself to take calming breaths.

Idiots. Idiots, idiots, idiots.

Casey finally agreed after Claire threw in a pathetic excuse about dad jokes. “It’ll be a bit of a tight squeeze,” John explained as they finally turned to leave. “You’ll have to get in the back with Claire and Marcia; I don’t think we’d be able to fit Adelais in the back, she’s too long.” He smiled at his own joke as he looked over to Adelais, who gave a pinched smile. “You got your height from your father. Sarah’s a short little thing.”

“Yea, I’ve been told,” she responded lowly, opening the door with her hip and holding it for the others to leave.

The cold air was a nice reprieve after having sat inside with Claire’s art class. John took the lead with Claire and Marcia just behind, Casey and Adelais bringing up the back of the pack. Casey discretely glanced at Adelais from the corner of her eye, taking in the blank expression on the older woman’s pale face. Some of the cover-up beneath her eyes had faded, showing the shadows of insomnia that marked her, and a strand of dark blonde hair had slipped from the braid at the top of her head to fall down and frame one of her dulled green eyes.

When said eyes flicked over to meet her gaze, Casey held them for a moment before looking away.

No words were exchanged, yet there was a silent understanding that passed between the two as they approached John’s car. Marcia handed over the food before she and Claire slipped into the back seat, chatting away while completely ignoring the others presence. Casey didn’t seem to mind, however, and rounded to the other side of the car while sliding into the free seat in the back.

Adelais put the bags down on the ground as John opened the trunk; it was empty after they had taken the cake and presents out earlier, leaving lots of room for Claire’s ridiculous amount of presents. “You can lay the presents down further to the back if you want,” John offered as he turned to take the food he had placed to the left of them.

Picking up the larger of the bags, Adelais leaned over the truck to slide it as far back into the truck as she could manage, leaving plenty of room for the rest. “Can I help you?” John asked suddenly, speaking to someone else as Adelais pulled away from the trunk while carefully ducking her head so as not to bang it on the metal.

The sudden hiss of what sounded like an aerosol can caused her to pause, inhaling delicately. Like sugar and chemical cleaner. Her eyebrows pinched in a frown for a moment; she could swear she knew that scent from somewhere.

“You little brat, when I tell you to sleep, you sleep!”

Adelais’s mouth went dry when she remembered where she’d encountered that smell before. Turning to look over her shoulder, the figure standing just behind her was definitely not her uncle. Shaved head, glasses, and a serious look contorting his features like a scowl, Adelais did nothing more than stare for a moment as her heart began to beat faster in her chest. Blue eyes, pale skin, a shaving nick near the left ear, ironed shirt—all grey.

Her eyes darted down to the small can he was holding, the one she had just heard. At his feet, John lay motionless with the food containers tipped beside him. It left a mess on the concrete. He’d made a mess.

Looking up again, the man’s blue eyes had hardened as they watched her. He was large—not quite twice her size due to her bizarre height, but she could see the muscle definition in his arms and neck. She didn’t have experience running, always locked inside an enclose space, so she knew he would be faster than her. She was also still sore, and therefore wouldn’t be effective with defending herself.

Releasing a long, tired breath, Adelais let her eyes fall closed in resignation.

The hiss of aerosol can sounded again, followed by the sugar and chemical smell as her face was sprayed. Her lungs reluctantly inhaled the fumes, immediately taking effect and leaving her dizzy. Gravity pulled her down, causing her body to tip backward toward the concrete. Strong hands caught her before she could make contact, hoisting her up as the weightless feeling of her body disappeared into the abyss of her mind.

Next

[jaybug-jabbers]

Review: Pokemon Gold and Silver 97: Reforged

The Review

What a fantastic game. I went looking for a hack that fully realized the sort of pokemon game we glimpsed in the Spaceworld ‘97 demo, and I was not disappointed. 

This alternative version of Gold and Silver takes that Spaceworld demo and builds on it with loving care and attention to detail. All the beta pokemon sprites were freshly made from scratch or edited to update them for the final, polished Gameboy Color look. The pokemon movesets and stats were crafted so that they were balanced and didn’t contain placeholders, and the pokemon were populated throughout the world in a logical fashion. Dex entries were written and the pokes were integrated smoothly into the world. There are even different sprites and different encounter rates for Gold and Silver-- although you can ‘catch them all’ in either version, an excellent choice.

Meanwhile, the world map was colored, tweaked and polished, allowing us to explore that beta world that was stunningly different from the final Gold and Silver. It’s a place that in many ways seems even more vibrant and varied than final Gold and Silver, and is truly exciting to explore.

Along with this fully realized map, this hack’s creators also gave us a fresh new plot for Gold and Silver. This one was inspired by the differences glimpsed in the demo, including Oak’s increased involvement in the story, Silver’s different personality and role, and the inclusion of an Imposter Oak. The plot stays true to the style of pokemon games and doesn’t seem out of place. 

All of the exciting little beta details were included too-- including the original Type alignments, the original Gym Leader designs, beta pokemon moves, new hold items, access to the Skateboard, being able to name your Mom, and even the minigame on the game start screen. The attention to detail and the polish on this hack is truly impressive.

Essentially, I feel like this hack can be considered the definitive edition of the beta Gold/Silver that we never knew. It gives us a chance to experience this alternative world, and breathes life into these wonderful pokemon that never were. Giving us a chance to know and love these beta creations is truly a gift for pokemon fans.

Perhaps the only downside is the sadness that this is not the official version of Gold and Silver. I experienced Pokemon a little bit differently then my peers. As a child, I adored Red and Blue, but once I’d finished with those games, I moved on from pokemon. I have no nostalgic memories of Gold and Silver to hold onto. I only returned to pokemon years later as a teenager. At that point I played several generations, one after another, at the same time, as a sort of “pokemon binge.” While most would call it blasphemy, I was never too terribly fond of Gold and Silver. I think it was largely because I didn’t happen to like a lot of the pokemon designs in those games. In many ways, this ROM hack presents a Gold and Silver that I adore and can love even more than the originals. 

That’s not to say the official Gold/Silver games are all terrible, of course. There are still definitely some beta pokemon that I feel were axed or altered for good reason. Not all of them are better then the final cuts. And there are other elements that are an improvement, too; for example, I actually really like Silver’s storyline in the official games and the fact we dealt with a character who actually stole pokemon and treated them poorly. 

That said, there is an awful lot to love in this ROM hack, and I’m grateful that we have it. Pangshi, Bellrun, Warwolf, Madame, Volbear and others may not be officially recognized by the Pokemon franchise . . . but they will always be very real in my heart.

The Team

Cinnamon (Flame Wheel/Crunch/Scary Face/Earthquake - Charcoal)

Selecting the starter was difficult, because both Honooguma’s line and Kurusu’s line appealed to me. Ultimately I think I went with my old Fire bias. Cinnamon was everything you’d expect a Fire starter to be-- powerful, intimidating, and very reliable. My only real complaint would be that I happened to strongly dislike the sprite the team had created for Dynabear. This isn’t really anyone’s fault, because the team did an excellent job with spriting-- for example, their sprite for the mid-evolution, Volbear, was incredibly good and I adored it to bits. I think it was just a matter of personal taste; I just didn’t like the final evolution’s face. (I’ve actually replaced the sprite in this picture with the original sprite, because I don’t want it to dampen my love for this species) Other than that, seriously, they did this evolution family justice. It was a joy to have on my team.

Doomsday (Curse/Confuse Ray/Body Slam/Shadow Ball - Power Wings)

The second member of my team was found in Brass Tower, to my great excitement: Kurstraw. This was possibly my favorite evolution line to come out of the beta discoveries. This pokemon’s stats were not exactly breaking any records; he went down pretty easily if I wasn’t careful. However, that never really mattered. Doomsday still did his job anyway-- pulling his weight just fine, relying on Confuse Ray and Curse a fair bit to take care of foes. He often was an excellent team player, messing with especially troubling pokemon before passing them over to an ally to finish off. His Normal Immunity also was a strong advantage at times, which I made sure to make use of. Basically, he was a fantastic companion, who helped me all the way through to the Elites and Champion fights.

Rumtum (Slash/Thunder Wave/Thunderbolt/Crunch - Leftovers)

Along with a Rinrin, this round good boy was added to the team next. I was slightly wary of Kotora because it seemed to be one of the most popular beta pokemon among fans. But, the pokemon does seem to be worthy of praise, as it turns out. It is an excellent, cute, cheery little creature and seems to do Pikachu’s job just as nicely as Pikachu, both in fighting and in charisma. Where Pikachu is focused more on speed, though, Kotora and its evolution focus a little more on bulk. The tanky tiger was able to take hits long enough to outlast the competition, even when working with relatively low basepower moves. When he *finally* learned Thunderbolt, though, man, look out -- he was quite a force to reckon with.

It’s funny, actually. When I first saw this tubby tiger, I assumed it was a fire type. Electric was somewhat surprising, but I quickly grew to like it as that typing. Most electric type pokemon are rodent-focused, as Pikachu clones, or Magnemite’s kin. Having a big, bulky tiger is unexpected for the archtype of electric pokemon, but it’s a very refreshing change.

Poprocks (Fire Blast/Surf/Body Slam/Flame Wheel - Mystic Water)

Next on the team was this awesome fellow. Well . . . sort of. Technically, next on the team was TRICKY the Bomsheal, which I traded a Rinrin for with an NPC. Later on, I felt like being able to name the pokemon myself, so I bred Tricky with Cinnamon and trained Poprocks up from scratch. This seal was the cause of some angst for me. I loved Manboo’s evolutionary line a lot, but I also loved the fire seal. They both vyed for the position of the water type on my team. For a while, I used Manboo (and Anchorage) . . . intent on keeping it. But I missed the seal so much, eventually I went back for it to retrieve it from the PC. Yes, it only added to my team’s Rock/Ground weakness, but I didn’t care. I loved this guy too much.

I’m not sure what it is. The freaking amazing typing of Fire/Water? That was definitely a big part of it. But there’s also just something so appealing in its design, simple as it may be. He’s just a cool seal with a fireball. And boy . . . I sure learned how INTENSE its stats were. This seal was RIPPING through the competition. Using it was basically pushing the win button. Honestly it might need to be nerfed a little, it was nuts. But yeah, Bomsheal is a badass and doesn’t need any evolutions to be cool. Best surfer ever!

Darkwing (Slash/Fly/Swords Dance/Faint Attack - Stick)

Right around when I was handed the TM for Fly, I ran into an area that had two types of birds available, depending on the time of day: Hoothoot at night, Farfetch’d at day. As cool as beta Noctowl looks, I eventually decided I needed to have a Madame. I just had to. Like many others, I always, always felt Farfetch’d deserved an evolution and was kind of screwed over. Learning it used to have one was a revelation.

Madame on this team was kind of funny, though. Next to all of these exotic beta pokemon, Madame seemed so . . . normal. She had moves and performed pretty much the way you’d expect a Normal/Flying type to act. It was much like using a Pidgeotto or Fearow. She couldn’t take many hits but usually could take out one pokemon. Her typing had her as an ideal Generalist pokemon-- something that could be used in various situations, not to any amazing effect but usually to a passable one.

That may sound a little underwhelming to you, but honestly, it’s what you’d expect of this cool-looking swan; it’s a Normal/Flying type. It fills that archtype as a familiar, dependable generalist. And I am someone who can really appreciate a generalist pokemon. I think the pokemon world’s richer for having Madame in it, even if only in our dreams.

Alpha (Strength/Blizzard/Screech/Ice Punch - Nevermeltice)

The final member of our illustrious team. You have to wait until fairly late into the game, when you reach the snowy towns, to get a hold of one of these fellows.But the wait is well worth it. What a beautiful pokemon design these two are-- mysterious little creatures hiding inside their wolf pelts, a perfect mix of cute and creepy. Wolfman/Warwolf actually struggled for quite some time on my team, unfortunately, just because of its movepool. I was left with the very weak Icy Wind for a long time. To compensate, I taught Strength, which worked somewhat, but I could still tell Warwolf wasn’t reaching its full potential. I taught it Blizzard, but the poor pokemon had a rough time ever landing its hits. What I SHOULD have done from the start is buy and teach it Ice Punch for a reliable STAB move with decent base power. I FINALLY decided to do that around the time I reached the Elite 4. I kind of had to-- its learnset wasn’t providing it with reliable, decent Ice moves, for some reason. Once Warwolf was properly equipped, he did great work. Admittedly, a pure Ice type pokemon isn’t the best, defensively. They have four weaknesses to some very common move types-- Rock, Fighting, Fire. (Steel moves weren’t really implemented in this game). That said, when used wisely, a pure Ice type can still be a valuable team member.

There was one hitch, though. Warwolf was mainly a physical fighter. This makes sense if you look at him. Of course he’d be a physical fighter. Thing is, in gen 2, Ice moves were all special. So I suppose technically Warwolf still isn’t hitting at his full potential-- not until the special/physical split in gen 4 so he can take true advantage of physical-type Ice moves. Still, despite that fact, he did a great job anyway. He landed the final blow that defeated Lance and won the game, after all.

I think my only real regret is how relatively little time I spent with him when compared to the others. This is, of course, just the nature of the game; you find some pokemon later on when you’re nearing the end of the game. If there’s any sort of post-game, perhaps I can spend more time with him.

And the Ones Who Didn’t Make the Cut . . .(This Time)

There were so many beta pokemon that it was impossible to have them all on the team, of course. I was especially sad about leaving my Bellrun, Tibbs, behind. I adore Rinrin and Bellrun’s line, as yet another set of pokemon that should have been included in the final cut of the official games. Alas, ultimately I removed Tibbs from my team, though. The reason was simple enough. With the beta Type alignments, Dark type was heavily disadvantaged. It was weak to Normal-type and Dark-type moves (as well as Bug), which was extremely significant. Pokemon’s movepools were positively saturated with Normal and Dark type moves, and it was impossible to avoid. With her already weak stats, and her lack of any decent basepower moves for so long, there was just too much stacked against her. It’s my hope that Rinrin/Bellrun get a bit of a buff in future updates, because they really seem to struggle. 

In any case, there were also plenty of others not on my team: Aquarius, Noctowl, Belmitt, Jumpluff, Turban, Plux, Grotess, Girafarig, Leafeon . . . and so many more. Honestly, that’s fantastic. It gives such replayability to the game. I have no doubt I will return to do more runs and get the chance to try out other pokes.

And, who knows? Maybe in the future they’ll even update this hack to include even more beta pokemon that were uncovered last year. If they don’t, I’m sure someone else will.  

(This hack is largely the work of lvl_3, who created ‘Pokemon Super Gold 97.’ Then, the hack was further changed and refined by a team into ‘Pokemon Gold and Silver 97: Reforged.’ Both can be found at the PokeCommunity as patches.)

[slashermom]

How do the Sinclair bros celebrate their birthdays with their s/o? And what if there s/o is like super into birthdays and wants to make it special for them?

Bo

Truth be told, birthdays never really mattered to Bo.

Why should they when they were never truly about him? Attention was always fixated on Vincent and how it was Vincent’s special day.

He only kept track of them as he got older so he could know when he could legally buy his own smokes and beer.

But even now they’re not particularly a big deal to him.

You: It’s your birthday Bo! :D

Bo: *ducks head out from under the hood of his truck with a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth* Well ain’t that sumthin’. You think I can get a free meal at Hooters?

He’s pretty adamant about keeping the celebration down to a minimum.

A drink and some birthday sex will suit him just fine.

But if you’re hellbent on giving him the birthday he deserves he’s not gonna stop you.

Not like he could if he tried.

Just as you suspected, Bo woke up completely forgetting that today was his birthday and went about his normal routine.

This gave you more than enough time to decorate the kitchen and part of the living room with birthday decorations and bake a good-sized cake.

You actually commissioned Vincent to make some little candles for the cake. You reminded yourself to make sure he came up and enjoyed himself and give him the gift you picked up for him. It was his birthday too after all.

You laid everything out neatly and triple checked all your little decorations and placements before the sound of the front door opening pulled your attention.

Bo went to let out a noise of question but you didn’t let him process the thought and shouted a joyful ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’

Raised eyebrows and wide eyes scan the Sinclair house with disbelief. You really went out of your way to do this for him?

Believe it or not, Bo may be prideful and confident but he also considers himself more trouble than he’s worth and knows he doesn’t deserve good things.

So this sentiment leaves the quick-witted man speechless for a moment.

You push him into the kitchen where all the gifts and cake are while you mention something about Lester stopping by.

You shove three presents toward him with a smile. You felt bad that you had to wrap them in old newspaper, completely forgetting about wrapping paper but it’s what in the wrapping right?

Bo will protest he doesn’t need anything. That you’re already making a man blush but you shake your head and tell him to open the damn presents already. So he does.

A pair of new work boots, a cap, and a shiny new lighter. Nothing too extravagant but all things he could use. Practical, you reasoned with yourself. You wanted to get him more but your budget was already stretched thin as it was and-

Bo didn’t allow much time for you to feel guilty about what you couldn’t give him. Quick to show his appreciation with a kiss and a genuine smile.

You make his heart feel so full.

You’ve done more for him in these few moments than anyone has his whole life and if this is how all birthdays are he’s gonna have to start paying attention to them more closely.

Vincent

Birthdays slipped away from Vincent after he left Ambrose.

With nobody there to wish him happy birthday or show any sort of appreciation for his day of birth he just let them slip away.

He knew how old he was or had a rough idea, but just hadn’t truly celebrated since he was a young boy.

Vincent wasn’t oblivious to his twin’s dismay at the day and wondered if he could ever make it up to him for all the years Bo was swept under the rug.

Most of the time, he spent his birthday hiding away in the basement from Bo. Vincent knew Bo probably didn’t know it was their birthday but he didn’t want to risk it and piss him off.

But you weren’t as weary about Bo as he was.

You were gonna give Vincent (and by extension Bo) a fantastic birthday!

You started off his birthday by waking up the sleeping artist with some breakfast in bed. A meal he often skipped or grabbed the bare minimum.

He was startled at first.

Didn’t know why you were being so generous to him before you explained that it was his birthday and he felt heat spread throughout his cheeks.

You remembered. You knew.

He wanted to jump right up and snatch ahold of you and never let go.

But Vincent settled on a lovely kiss.

You tried to convince him to take the day off but he reasoned that he had to get another wax figure in the museum. You eventually gave in and told him to take it easy today. It was his birthday after all.

It gave you some time to make sure you had everything.

As Vincent sat in his workshop long after your surprise this morning, he could still feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Vincent considers himself a very stoic person, but you are able to pull emotions from him almost effortlessly.

You checked on him multiple times that day.

Each time you would wish him a happy birthday and leave him with a kiss or a nice back/shoulder rub.

You did most of these things on a normal day but they felt more special today.

As the day came to a close and the night crept in, you began to get restless.

To kill some time, you ran down to the service station to drop off a piece of cake and Bo’s gift but he seemed to be preoccupied in the basement and there was no way in hell you were going down there.

Once you returned to the house and puttered around a bit more you grew tired of waiting and decided to bring the party down to Vincent.

Balancing his presents in one hand and his piece of cake in another you thumped your way down the stairs into his work space.

Vincent just stands there in shock for a few seconds as he asses the situation before him.

You mean to tell him you did more for him?

Vincent’s heart is beating so loud in his chest that he’s pretty sure he’s just gonna keel over.

Placing everything on a clean space on his workbench you usher him over to sit at the stool and open his gifts.

Vincent tells you that you didn’t have to do this, that he’s more than happy with the breakfast and all the birthday wishes.

You only shake your head and push the gifts closer.

He’s careful unwrapping each gift and each gift he pulls free of its wrapping he feels his breath gets caught in his throat.

A few sticks of charcoal, some nice new color pencils, two hardcover sketchbooks, and some paints.

A bunch of small items that made it seem bigger than it really was.

Vincent could only stare at the gifts.

He’s pretty sure that even if he was a big talker he would still have trouble finding the right words to express his appreciation and love for you.

He plucks your hand from his shoulder and presses it to the lips of his mask.

Vincent quickly decides that this contact is not nearly enough and stands from his seat to pull you closer.

You might not be able to tell but he’s got the biggest grin on his face. Even though it stings and aches he can’t help it. You make him so happy.

Lester

Much like the harsher of the two twins, birthdays were tricky for Lester.

He didn’t get to have too many at home before Trudy got sick and the ones he could remember were very brief and cold.

He had a few birthdays here and there in the system that were somewhat memorable but nothing special.

Lester did see other kids at birthday parties with their friends and family and did always wonder what that was like. But he knew better than to stare for too long.

As he got older, he would maybe treat himself to a meal out but besides that, it was just another day.

He spent many of them alone but that was gonna change this time around.

You knew Lester would get up early and be at work for most of the day if not till early evening.

Giving you the opportunity to go out and get everything. You had waited to pick up what you needed until now because you knew that Lester would be inclined to snoop. He always did during Christmas.

But you did make sure to slip his birthday card into the front seat of his truck for him to find sometime during the day.

You were left the rest of the just wait for the scrawny man to return and you couldn’t wait for him to see his reaction.

You had thrown up a few decorations but nothing too extravagant. You understood that simplicity was key.

After spending the day impatiently waiting for Lester to return, you finally heard the telltale squeak of the front door and his boots hitting the floor.

You rounded the corner to see Lester staring in awe at the decorations as well as the cake and gifts laid out in front of him.

He had the birthday card held tightly in his grasp.

“You do all this for me?”

You chuckled and nodded, going to pull him closer into the room but he instead pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your cheek before grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the gifts.

Lester raised his eyebrows as if asking permission to open his own gifts. You told him to get on with it and he did frantically.

First, he unwrapped the new long sleeve shirts.

He definitely needed some new shirts. His old ones were forever stained with his work. Not to mention, they reeked even after you washed them more times you could count on both of your hands.

Lester was so excited he was already trying them all on.

Making comments about they’re so soft and you got just the right size and how he’ll never take them off.

But he was most excited about the new Bowie knife you had presented to him after he got done trying on all the shirts.

His old one was getting dull and although you found it comical watching him struggle against the hide of some poor dead critter it was time for a new one.

He cries.

Wraps his arms around you and whispers thank yous and I love yous into your neck. He really, truly, absolutely means it.

The moment was broken up by the sound of Bo kicking open the front door with a loud: “Happy Birthday you smelly son of a bitch!”

Lester pulled away to go meet his brothers and you laughed watching the three men converse in the entryway.

Lester spends the rest of the night glued to you. Every once and awhile turning to get a look at you and smiling to himself about how lucky he is.

[ineffably-good]

Prompt: Holiday

Summary: Aziraphale has a least favorite holiday. 

This is part of Good Omen’s 30th Anniversary Celebration prompts! Read the whole set I’ve completed on AO3.

---

Aziraphale woke up early, checked the time and date on his phone, and flopped back down to pull a pillow over his head. “Oh for Heaven’s sake,” he moaned loudly.

Crowley opened one bleary eye. “What’s that, angel?”

“It’s September 29th. And you know what that means,” came an aggravated but muffled voice from under the down cushioning.

“That… it’s nearly October?” Crowley said, removing the pillow blocking his access to his partner.

“No, dear, try to keep up,” the angel said a bit tetchily. “It’s Michaelmas.”

Crowley wracked his brain for the significance. “And?”

“And you know,” Aziraphale said. “It’s a big deal, Above. It’s kind of like – what do the humans call it? Bosses Appreciation Day?”

Crowley snorted. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” the angel sighed. “I wish I was. Technically it’s the Feast of Michael and All Angels, but somehow over the years it turned into a day to celebrate the archangels in particular. There are presentations and speeches and everyone below that level is expected to provide some sort of token of thanks to whichever of the Archangels in whose jurisdiction you work.”

Crowley couldn’t help the bark of laughter that burst out of him. “So, it’s essentially ‘suck up to your wanker of a boss’ day up in Heaven?”

Aziraphale grimaced. “Well I suppose that’s one way of putting it. You have no idea the ways I’ve had to grovel to them all in years past. Every year, even if I was terribly busy down here on Earth, I’d get some sort of officious, team-spirit reminder from one of their underlings reminding me to be sure to attend the Michaelmas celebration and to have a comment or two prepared if the occasion arose. I had to bring them gifts! Gifts, Crowley!”

He broke off with a shudder.

Crowley did not like seeing looks like this on his angel’s face. Aziraphale’s face was meant for smiles, or at least a contented repose. He wasn’t meant to frown (although he was quite good at it), or to look unhappy, or to appear vaguely sickened by the memories of having to kowtow to beings who treated him poorly. He looked, the demon thought, like his stomach had gone sour at the very memory of it.

“Good thing,” Crowley drawled, leaning over to press a kiss against his temple, “that you no longer work for them, then, innit?”

A genuine grin appeared on Aziraphale’s face. “That’s a very good point. It’s my first year free of it, actually! We should – we should celebrate!”

Now that was more like it, Crowley thought. “What would you like to do to celebrate your first year of non-celebration?”

Aziraphale gave it a moment’s thought and then broke out in one of Crowley’s most favorite expressions – one of pure delight.

“Well,” he said, “since we’re celebrating my separation from the angelic hierarchy, perhaps we could, oh, I don’t know, aim slightly hellish today?”

“Well – that sounds fun,” Crowley said, “but what do you mean, exactly?”

“Oh, you know –” the angel said airily. “Go cause some minor mischief? Perhaps I could help you tempt someone in some harmless way? Or, we could glue some more coins down in Hyde Park. There’s always a motherlode of tourists to pick them near Speaker’s Corner.”

Crowley felt an overwhelming rush of love and adoration for his partner. “So basically you want to raise a little havoc with me today, to stick it to Heaven?”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “That’s exactly what I had in mind! Absolutely delightful!” He hopped up and began puttering around performing his morning routine. “Let me just get dressed and we’ll get started. Perhaps I can find something slightly darker than beige to wear today. Would I look more demonic in a nice charcoal gray?”

Crowley stretched back out in the bed, hands behind his head, and began planning the most fun they could possibly have on a day when the angel wanted to be just the tiniest bit bad.

He had a feeling this was going to be a day to remember.

[bigruntheory]

            “To everything I’ve ever lost, thank you for setting me free.” 

This event happened in Tony William's backyard, Mount Victoria, NSW. Fri 27- Sun 29 November 2020.

This report will swing from serious to joking, but will at all times be genuine with the best intentions; you will just have to try your best to navigate the subtle or dramatic changes for yourself,  bearing that in mind. 

This report is a true (made up on the spot then heavily edited) account of events I experienced within the beating heart of endurance running, the true spiritual home of ultra, the best concept to emerge in running since putting one foot in front of the other:  A Last One Standing Endurance Race. (LOSER)

The Blue Goat Backyard LOSER is a little shorter than the official distance of 6.7 something kms, at just 5.23km a lap, but what it falls short of in distance, it more than makes up for in rugged, uneven, highly technical terrain-  which pretty much makes it Australia’s toughest LOS event. 

Whatever its comparable status, agreed or not, or however you approach it personally, it’s definitely an authentically challenging, scenic course, held within a supportive, fun, party atmosphere: 

 The buzz at the Blue Goat & Fatboy Slim’s Big Beach Boutique II - 

         equally awesome & hazy in my mind- and I was at both. 

These LOS events will work for anyone who enjoys to run.  The Blue Goat Backyard will work for anyone who enjoys to run challenging trails.  And if you don’t like running or trails or a challenge, then they will suit anyone who likes to party while other people do.�� So they’re great events for everyone. 

The LOS format will especially suit you if you are on a path to self-discovery, self-transcendence or to just see how far you can personally go and run for, in one go.  You might be surprised to find that in just turning up to have a go, you discover new things about running, runners & yourself.  

 LOS event vibes & hubs will differ somewhat in style, and you can expect them to be as diverse and unique as their hosts-  they should all provide a brilliant gateway for some amazing personal journeys in running & in life.  This one delivered. 

The LOS format, and specifically the way that AAA racing & BMF organise events, means ANYONE of any ability, can come and enjoy the experience of their running lifetime, seeing how far they can go, or set a target of laps or distance and create a PB in a unique, supportive, safe and fun setting.  

When I say party and fun, I mean it. They had the most amazing Britpop and other timeless classics (Creedence/Stones/Beatle’s) blasting out the speaker all day and night; there was also a Robbie Williams song in there.....

Training and attitude will only take you so far- a lairy shirt must do the rest. 

In spite of the bushfires & the pandemic, this event still happened, as seen & predicted by me, which in part is why I felt so deeply that I had to be there. You can’t escape your destiny, really, so you had better make it double awesome when it arrives. 

After last years event ,which slipped under my radar for some reason, Tony’s backyard pretty much got burned to the ground in bushfires which massively damaged the whole Blue Mountains & Hawkesbury areas. There were also floods, which actually helped stop some of the fires but which bought their own destruction. This all happened during the end of 2019 and early 2020, after which everything went tits up, particularly for gyms, trainers & organised racing- due to the reaction to the COVID 19 bullshit pandemic.

                Fun on one of the Blue Goat Bees, earlier in the year.  

Getting involved behind the scene for this years event was great fun.  Seeing it transform gradually until the race day was awesome, it went from burnt sticks, charcoal and indistinguishable trails to looking like a nature trail again by race day.  It still has a way to go, but it’ll get there; it’s still a beautiful course which i parts feels like you are in the Grand Canyon at Blackheath, or the Grose valley, which are only just down the road.  

If I’m correct, I don’t think anyone really thought this event was gonna be on, due to the COVID, but I had no doubt at all… . I knew I had to be there helping out and I knew I had to be there on that starting line and knew I was definitely going there to be the last one standing.  This is not to say that it was time to put my feet up and just waltz in there like it was easy and in the bag - far from it.   I trained hard. Really hard. 

So call me mystic Steve if you like, but months prior to the event I bought a ticket and started manifesting, which is a pretty simple & powerful practice, not to be underestimated at all….it’s very much like goal setting to be honest, except there is a spiritual dimension and much that you can’t explain or prove scientifically.  It works very well with the art of training your body mind & spirit for tough challenges and healing, too, which really go hand in hand. You basically write your story then walk into it. 

                                                                             Law of attraction/ manifestation. 

This write up will cover some matters of running & strategy but mostly matters of the mind, heart & spirit. I present this to the world in genuine gratitude for the experience and I hope that it inspires others to be on that starting corral of an LOS event, wherever that may be, whatever your age, ability or experience.  

                                        How does it all work, this LOS?

Every hour on the hour, you have to be ready in the starting corral to go and run your lap, then back in time to do whatever you need to do-put your feet up, go to the loo, refuel or maybe have a banana & dance like no one is watching you- or in my case, like you are Bez from the Happy Mondays - whatever you do, however you roll, you have to be back in the staring corral to go do just one more lap, again.  It’s really as simple as that. One loop, one hour, make of it what you will and what you can; bring out your soul & enjoy!

  Should you do just one lap, you might find yourself in the position of saying, well why not see if I can do just one more? And so it goes…

These events are happening now, they are quite new & fresh and trust me, they will stand the test of time, because as I keep saying, there’s nothing conceptually better than the Last One Standing Format - it really is the Rock n Roll of endurance running & every event that happens has been a living testimony to that in one way or another.  

Even during a global pandemic, nothing could hold the LOS back; in fact it just got stronger & rose to another level.   While other events we imploding, postponing, being moved virtually and seeing reductions in numbers and interest, the annual Big Dog’s Backyard Ultra, usually in Tennessee,  went ahead, on a satellite basis, across the world, live on the internet, and made history with record breaking performances & a once in a lifetime twist to the team dynamic; a twist so good, and a global audience buzz so great, that even the satellite event format will definitely go forward in some form or other into 2021 and beyond…..so many benefits to keeping things local and compet8ing more widely.....

      The Australian Team sporting their AURA gear ready to take on the world.

Each country put a team together, which lifted the LOS format into another dimension. Instead of competing against your own team mates & globally in Tennessee, each country had their own teams on their own loops, competing against other teams. So in effect, this bought teams together and made the connection between the assist & the Last One Standing less of a battle of breaking the other down and more of a battle of building the other up, supporting them and remaining strong for the team.  How good is that to see in  competitive endurance running!?

                  Clint Eastwood, still cool after all these years.

I fell in love with the LOS format when I watched the Clint Eastwood Last One Standing, hosted by AAA Racing in Oxley Park Queensland and it was great to watch many of the same familiar faces, with the same party atmosphere, running together and taking on the world at the World Champs.  Massive, genuine kudos to the whole team from the Clint Eastwood  & The Big Dog satellite event, all runners and behind the scenes – and Sam Penny needs special mention for the GoPro awesomeness, without which I may never have had that fly on the wall buzz of being at the event.

So, runners of all ages and abilities, whatever your goal, this is your opportunity to get up and at it & be part of something life-changing, challenging & massively fun, one short lap at a time.

Don’t go thinking you have to be superman, genetically gifted or even an ultrarunner or even a ‘runner’ Basically just ditch any thought or label that creates doubt or fear or holds you back and simply get up and go for it. You just need to be willing to turn up and have a go & enjoy the experience.

        “Anyone can do anything”  Tony Williams, Blue Mountains Fitness.

So, there was this running race my running mates told me about & I can’t remember when I made the decision to be there but it was also around the time a running mate was talking about helping out building trails and tracks and I know this must sound vague and I’m probably getting my wires crossed but I somehow put these two ideas together & they gave birth to the idea that I needed to be at the Blue Goat Backyard. And that’s how it all began….

Thanks to Tony & Alun – the whole BMF & AAA Racing collective , Fabiano & Sean for being on hand to help and support and look after us through the night and day and Keith for the awesome photos- popping up all over the course to catch candid snaps- all the sponsors, too. T8 for the awesome shorts and underpants, Papadino’s for the Pizzas & the prize voucher even made peace with Tailwind and had a recoverite after the event.

Thanks to all the people I met and worked with on the several bees & for all the care, imagination & spirit that put energy into making this happen- the whole event- not just the LOS; all the work that goes into delivering a vision into reality, planting the seed & helping it grow.  

                            Hawkesbury Trail Runners

Massive shout out to the Hawkesbury Trail Runners!  So glad you all came to support the event you fell in love with last year before a period of tragedy hit the area and awesome to see you at the event (well, sort of -in the heat of the moment and the day, socialising was very short lived due to needing to cool down, fuel up and get back out;  and after the event, I puked up & conked out!) Managed to wave and mumble to a few of you and had a chat with regular run buddies Mike & Vicki.

You all did so well, especially in that fierce heat and I’m  quite fond of the memories of just blurting random stuff out in the zone- the Britpop running the event of your lifetime zone….

Congrats to Jackie and Claudio in their runs, had a brief chat with Jackie in the fierce heat....also to Matt & Jen from Plus Fitness running the marathon and half respectively on a tough course in tough conditions.

All any of us really need to do is turn up and make the most of it, and that’s exactly what everyone did; and that’s how a great event works, really, so let’s all do it again next year!  Mystic Steve predict big things happening in the Blue Goat Backyard for 2021…..!

Whilst I was busy running and didn’t get to join in the party for too long & during the later phases and the high heat was stumbling around like a bull in a china shop, it was huge fun singing, dancing &, running all night and day. The energy I drew from Britpop was out of this world!  I’ve never sung & danced at an Ultra or race before to my knowledge. It just got better with every lap!  

Massive thanks for all the runners I had a chitchat with and shared a song joke or story with, however mish mash it all was, it was great fun all night and day - and apologies for the audible fart and swearing- it was quite challenging keeping this under the radar at times.  

 Everyone who stepped up to that course was a winner whatever the goal, distance or outcome. Sorry if I missed you on the day, or if I didn't miss you but wasn't making much sense in the delirium of hot endurance. Here’s some awesome photos:

Rob heads up to the Corral.

It is said, when you blow this horn, Beer & Pizza arrives

The drone, sounds like a swarm of bees.

In all the excitement I forgot to get a t shirt. 

   Got some awesome car stickers though and part of a Goat’s skull. 

When I’m in the zone I often adopt a different persona and mindset-  I’m not the same often reserved introvert as when you see me under normal conditions; I guess the animated extroversion gets magnified , as you’d expect from anyone giving the performance of their life up on stage.  

There are moments of surrender, where I’m in total alignment with higher self, emitting my frequency with a genuine smile & peace into the world and that is where the practice creates the art.....

    Endurance running is all about finding your inner peace, well, sort of....

        I think Alun’s singing Tom Jones here- I’ve zoned out to Oasis classics

I missed the presentation- seems to be a trend of mine (happened after the Hounslow Double when, after accidentally busting in on the elite presentation, did I mention bull in china shop already? I went and nodded off in the car!) That was the inaugural year when Tony took out the first place in the Double by a long, long way.

After it was all over, I puked up then momentarily imploded and had a lie down.

                         Deep relaxation is really good for you.  

The medics gave me ice packs and aimed a big fan on me (was really nice to have a fan at one of my races, actually, i could get used to that) They took good care of me, so thank you for the care and the cups of tea and water I recall there were two of you and you were lovely.  I had a power snooze for a couple of minutes, which I think actually lasted a couple of hours, and I cooled down, which brought me back to life.

Before this, I fondly recall running up to the corral giving the goats a wave the final time and being greeted by everyone going wild.

                                                   Hello gorgeous.

I blurted out a speech, that I know would've made total sense to everyone if it actually left my lips the way it was written by my heart- the former not sure, the latter no doubts.  Basically gratitude, peace & love, keep going, never give up and things will get better- as in running so in life. ❤️

In spite of it being the hottest day of the year so far and genuinely a tough course we had a lot of laughs and fun moments in the middle of it all. Some of it is a Blur but most of it was Oasis and also notable tunes also from the Stone Roses, Muse, Radiohead, Prodigy, Rolling Stones, The Verve, Doves, Manics, REM and many many more

             Music is medicine & I’m so grateful to my musical brothers & sisters.

There were several different events happening at the same time during the heat and middle of the day and it became a little confusing at times with all the different energies going off around the hub, but once back into the peace & calm of focussing on the running every hour, everything made sense and came together. The music fired me up like a second wind every lap, I thought I was dreaming at one point, like I could not have scripted the day better if I’d have sat there and made up my own story about a perfect day out running around with Britpop classics in the background, because that’s exactly what it was like!  

Again, never underestimate the power of manifestation, positive thinking and the art of raising your vibration so that you attract good, positive people & experiences into your life.

I can’t wait to go to Queensland now and join in for an all weekend running party at the Clint Eastwood. I can see myself dancing and singing my way round that course al day and night and day and.....well, if they’ll let me in!

                           Correct, you also swear and sing a fair bit as well.

I’ve said it before I’ll keep saying it and you heard it from me first: There is nothing conceptually better in running than a Last One Standing Endurance Race. It’s the Rock n Roll of endurance running.  It’s raw, simple, pure & true and it happens in the now. It provides a stage for you to give the greatest performance of your life-  every present moment-  every hour, on the hour & all the minutes in between. It really gives you the opportunity to be loud & proud and really turn up, (not just to be fully in the present moment) your training and turn up your performance to the next level.

                                         Turn up, turn it up & BE LOUD!   

As in running so in life; God calls upon you to bring all that you are to the starting corral and step up into the very highest version of yourself. All your experiences, the culmination of physical mental & spiritual training, as you step into space, out past the music (of Britpop!) into the blinding lights, then the darkness & then the many winding turns that lead us to who knows where, because there is no finish, is no end….. the end is just the beginning, of another loop, another lap- another chance to shine.

                            Competitive mindset bypass. There is no finish, there is no competition, there is no advantage to being the fastest runner, no disadvantage to being the slowest. Anyone who can complete a lap in time to be back ready to go out on another, has an equal chance at being the last one standing to complete that beautiful, identical repetition of what we all love: simply running in nature; one foot in front of the other, moving forward, fully grounded in the present moment; putting the practice of our meditative flow state into effect as best we can.  

The reality of endurance trail running is that it is a tough struggle and your achievements are hard earned.   Such is anything worth doing.  And I’m sure anyone who heard me stumbling, swearing singing & shouting through the dark and the day, will  attest that I am not the exactly an oasis of calm- I’m probably more like Oasis the band.

As many of you may already realise or guess from reading this, I don’t take the competitive, type a personality,  or egoic side of running at all seriously.  I do genuinely regard running as part of a spiritual practice. It can at times be done purely as a spiritual practice, like meditation or Yoga or making music. Running can bring us together, individually and collectively. 

Not every time that  run do I run spiritually, just as not every time I sit down do I meditate or every time I pick up my guitar do I make medicine music; sometimes I just make a noise or just sit or just go and run and zone out to music, However, there is a great light to be found  when you just get out into nature and breathe and move gracefully, gratefully and in complete alignment with the flow of the universe and everything in it. 

The Bluegoat track, like a spiritual path, is rocky, uneven, twisting & turning, it requires total concentration & surrender to the process; still you may trip, slip, maybe fall; there will be blood, sweat  & tears….you need to climb & descend, there are milestones, you meet others at different stages in their journeys and there is no finish in sight; there are surprises, tests and you find yourself back at the beginning with each cycle….

There are tears and laughter and moments you don’t even comprehend at the time. It can be dark and ugly and chew you up and spit you out many times, all day long in fact....until you surrender to the process and let go.....Then you may see, there are obstacles and trials, but they are not in your way; the only thing standing in your way is you – and that’s really more of an illusion you created than a real living person, so you just get your unreal self out of the way and let your best self shine-  & shine it does…. 

You can tell this is lap 1 - my legs are the still the same colour as my shirt.

All you need to succeed, at whatever you turn your mind to, is a single-minded determinism- pure focus & intention of putting one foot in front of the other and deciding not to stop until you have succeeded.  May you spirit drive your machine wherever you may roam, knowing within you , is where you are home,.

So now we know the power of manifestation and endurance and the value of community &  service to others, the plan must be created to use apply energy skills to seed & grow something of genuine, lasting value in this world.  So that’s what’s gonna happen….it’s out there in the Universe, God is my witness, momentum is building,  so watch this space….like, not literally here this is just a web page. 

Whilst I train & participate in events during all conditions, phases & biorhythms, I do love a full moon.   Clear full moon nights are magical & highly energetic; Blue Moon rising at the Blue Goat was perfectly poetic!

I'm not knocking a new moon, by polar contrast, or any other phase, but the energy was just right and I guess I was feeling lucky.

Let’s talk about feeling ‘lucky’ as I’ve already stated my predictions and what I positively manifested with my energies & intentions form the moment I made the instant decision to be at this race.  

I basically created my own luck through being completely honest with myself whether this was something I could achieve.

Did I have what it takes to run at an LOS event? Of course, I did, no doubts at all. Why? Not arrogance or confidence, but the format itself.  You can’t really lose in an LOS unless you are the last one standing!  So going to win is going lose, and losing is glorious in all its forms.   There is no shame in the DNF (Did Not Finish) at all if you’ve given your all. The DNF in other events is nothing to strive for or celebrate, but the DNF in the LOSER is a test to see how far you can go….what could be more pure? And the only one who doesn’t get to fully reach their potential on the day; reach the peak of what they can do on that day, during their race time, is the Last One Standing.

I created my own luck by setting my intention and my energy to creating & following a training program that would enable me to achieve my goals.  I visualised being the last one standing for months and I trained like it was in the bag already, because that was what I felt deeply.

I knew it was my time & I had the God given ability to create my story & walk right into it.  I said many times during the event that it was just perfect and that I couldn’t have scripted it better myself.  I stepped into a higher version of myself that I’d created through some very tough training & some heartfelt actions; in another sense it felt like I was on stage performing.  

Apart from key milestones that marked out the path of consistent focus and intuitive training, as I regained fitness from hiatus, there were some very specific and tough challenges that I set myself in order to prepare for a race of this nature. A race that just goes & goes & goes interminably requires you to leave no stone unturned regards you physical body, your mental ability your nutrition plan & your spirit. Someone once said runners don’t’ run with their legs they run with their arms.  I believe runners. once the body is trained sufficiently, run with their minds- and the mind is fuelled by limitless energy & power of the spirit.  

So you go through every motion of training and preparing your physical body and you feed you mind and your spirit with positive thoughts and genuine love for self & for others. If you don’t see this kind of thing in training programs, then you soon will do just as soon as I can get my shit together…..

I’d watched the Clint Eastwood & I’d watched the Big Dog & I fell in love with the concept of the LOS. I fell in love with all the people in the front row. The runners slogging it out in the Clint Eastwood LOS & the Australian team at Bigs Backyard Ultra satellite event. I decided in a moment that I wanted to be part of it, so I made it happen; the moment I’d made my mind up, everything started falling into place and I was sent signs and opportunities that I had to take without a moments thought. I knew that everything surrounding this journey had to be  centered on other, something outside of, larger than self.

 An ex Army bloke from the UK RunGrahamRun was doing a mental health charity treadmill World Record helping blokes with mental health and suicide prevention.  The run was to complete 21  marathons in 7 days – on a treadmill! . He invited teams to rival of beat him in the challenge. So I supported this and set out to do just 7 marathons in 7 days.

This set me up very nicely for the next opportunity in my path, which was to support Mark Avery doing a 20 marathons in 20 days challenge for Gotch4Life and Run4MentalFitness- an Australian blokes charity helping with suicide prevention and setting up places for blokes to engage in ways that deal with the root of bloke issues.  Safe places to share stories, feelings and concerns without judgement. 

Instead of just marathons,  I actually did ultramarathons and also added in a lot of cycling. I know how to listen to my body and push it through adaptations with fasting, nutrition & specifically focussed rotations across all terrains and relevant speeds and intensities.  You are really just calibrating a complex God driven physical body through a series of experiences in order to achieve a specific goal. 

The goal in this instance was conceptually perfect in that it was technically interminable, ie. kind of eternal.  You simply had to train to go as far as you could go; so you had to see how close to the edge you could get to that point in the training, without breaking yourself.   

I genuinely pushed my limits and discovered more about running and endurance than all the hours my studying had taught me, and infinitely more than debating with ultra coaches online could ever have revealed. I trained and pushed harder and longer than ever before and also balanced that with more rest & recovery and fine tuning than ever before. I applied every technique I knew and discovered exactly what nutrition worked best in all situations. 

After all the training and the experience of others doubts, I thought it would be quite amusing to win one of the toughest ultra endurance challenges in Australia while singing and dancing & wearing a lairy pink shirt and cargo shorts I got from Big W, fuelled up with honey water, bananas and hemp and walnut oil .   I had a plan, a 50 hour plan. It consisted of 30 litres of honey water (1kg raw honey per 10l)  25 ripe bananas, 250ml x Hemp seed oil 250ml x Walnut oil, a few vitamin e capsules and  a few coq10 capsules. 

So let that be a cheeky lesson to all you very serious runners in your expensive compression gear, with your gadgets & gimmicks and fancy nutritional products & lord knows what else you use, slogging away to the beat of your watch, as I did before a great meltdown of over training and loss of genuine joy-  in running and in life.  In many ways the way I run today is a result of hard lessons and failures, or going too far too son, and burning out. I’ve been obsessed with a quicker this a quicker that, gotta beat the last time every time.....lets set an unrealistic goal....it slowly takes all the joy out of your passion like all addictions inevitably do. 

Let this light shine on those who talk the talk so readily in their little cliques and so called training groups, especially those who have personally attacked me and tried to shut me down or censor the story of my training and my experiences for reasons best known to their egos and projected issues. I forgive ya. 

 May the light of my achievements and those of my brothers & sisters- everyone walking the walk- everyone saying I can-  illuminate the dark attitudes of the ‘can’t’do this ‘can’t’ do that-  and the put downs and rationalising words of so called science, and disbelief in your training, thinking , fuelling, wider wellness strategies..... genuine experiences......May my brothers & sisters who are in doubt, or disliking, hating, fearing, not loving, put down the ego, and find a better way.  May my walk inspire others to walk the walk and to never say they can’t do something, or be held back by others as to what they think they can or can’t achieve.  And may I long take all my own best advice back to my own heart as well and never forget it.  

Everyone, today, just get outside  and get moving and enjoy what you are doing and be grateful that you can do what you can do; and you’ll find that you can do a lot more and a lot more and a lot more......  

             Genuine footage from an online Ultra running research conference.

 I know what it’s like to lose things, we all do, but there’s no use banging on about that old story; a great spiritual teacher recently told me that I had to put that down and never pick it up again.... and so it is.  So know this - an event that celebrates losing in all its glory is of divine significance when you are running on a spiritual path.  You ether win or your learn ; and in a race/journey with no winners, everybody learns, which is a glorious & pure win win paradox. 

It takes the biggest fear in endurance running - the dreaded DNF (Did Not Finish) and turns it into a glorious badge of honour. A badge that says you gave your all. You went as far as YOU could go on that day, in that place. There is nothing to fear in the LOS regarding a DNF.  You really cannot lose.....

......unless you win!? Ooops, well, oh well, I think I can handle it. 

I wasn’t quite ready for my glorious DNF just yet, so I became the biggest LOSER.  And I’ll just have to wait and see where my glorious limits truly lie.....

                    I caught quite a tan out there. 

So, after an extended power snooze I revived myself and had some pizza and some Goat’s pish, and enjoyed the hospitality and company of Tony,Alun & Susannah, thereafter kipping on the sofa for the night, where upon I made a swift exit the next morning, before the England v Wales Rugby came on....I think I might’ve predicted the score and dIdn’t want to hang about for it.

Truth is, I had to get back to talk to my son Jack (also race strategy/challenge consultant) on the phone and then on Zoom and told him the news.. He was pleased I won, and notwithstanding the pep talks about the true nature of taking part, he  rightly likes it when I win.  I think it has a positive effect when your son knows that you’ve gone and done something a bit special, even if it might not make full sense to him now, it may well help him in the future, so that's a win win. I actually asked him during one of the training cycles (20 maras in 20 days) whether I should beat everyone on the leaderboard or let the organiser take the top spot. He said nah, beat him, I don’t think he’ll mind if you win. So that’s what I did.... thanks for the tip matey! 

So here endeth the tale of a fantastic weekend and experience, can’t wait for next year, see if we can get double the numbers starting and smash some course records. Hoping to see more of my running buddies on that starting corral with me having a dance and a song and then heading out onto the endless, beautiful loops of our own personal limits...... anything can and always does happen in a race- sorry journey- of this kind.  

You may be next years LOS, with me to help you to go as far as I possibly can, leaving YOU to do just one last loop and be the biggest LOSER on the day?  You know it makes sense.   Big love from Steve. :)

[judehayward]

lady gaga voice slowly fadin in: ju-Das juda-ah-ah… this depressed goblin bastard is honestly my fav male muse like i dnt typically stick w male muses tht long i struggle bt................. i’ve played him the longest of them all n always seem to return to him. jst cnt stay away. way 2 attached to this absurd little man. it’s nai btw!!!! (josefine on the main). launches right in to jude’s intro without further adieu..... (u can also find his playlist here) 🧙‍🎨

「douglas booth & cis-male」⇾ hayward , jude, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he is a pisces and 23 years old. he is studying ART, living in moris and can be protective, laidback, nonsensical & apathetic. when i see him i am reminded of wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects, lead marbles instead of eyes. ⇽「nai & 23 & gmt & she/her.」

he pinterest:

me in the voice of a card magician performing on the street: round up round up pick a pinterest any pinterest!

ta-da it’s aesthetics:

lead marbles instead of eyes, a stolen hearse careening down the wrong lane, wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, bags under the eyes that are so big they could pack enough clothes for a three week vacation, a cigarette wobbling from your bottom lip as you squint against the sunlight, passing out on a stranger’s rooftop, placing sunglasses over the eyes of a biology lab skeleton, gangling around the place like shaggy minus his scooby snacks, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects

about tha Bitch:

born in sheffield in england, bt they went back and forth between there n san fran a lot

jude was an unhappy accident. his parents never rly used protection bc they were super Liberal n Au Naturel n believed in the pull out method bc… they were maniacs. bt then the ONE time they used a condom in an effort to b safety conscious it broke n hence…. jude was born

they just kind of ran w it bc they had such a passionate relationship tht they were like What The Hell…. may as well! itll be fine we’ll learn to be good parents n love him like normal ppl do

spoiler alert: tht didn’t work out

they were ok to him like they weren’t fully Bad bt they just found him to be a massive burden n hindrance to their plans. pretty absent n irresponsible. they literally….. had sex all day every day n acted like a pair of teenagers. it ws a super weird environment for a kid to grow up in bc he literally had no role models or… guidance or…. anything rly. occasionally they’d joke around w him or pretend they properly knew what grade he was going into but for the most part they just Didn’t Care the way parents shd. they lost his birth certificate n dnt remember what they put as his middle name so he’s jst kind of like hmmmm............. n gives himself a diff one every time ppl ask. past variations hv included: jude pauly hayward, jude maureen hayward, jude van winkle hayward. says all of these w a very straight face

despite this he does hv some nice memories w them. usually he definitely sees them fr holidays. frm being rly young their christmas tradition hs been to get a bunch of chinese food like a Banquet Feast n spend all day smoking n drinking into the early hours. perhaps not the healthiest or most responsible bt 😔 jude rly likes it it’s kind of the one time of yr he feels he has a proper family

they r both suuuuper into the arts. rly good sculptors bt they paint too n they actually own a successful gallery in sheffield n san fran

(trauma tw) as a result he grew up around a lot of creative n sometimes pretentious ppl. the friends of his parents were more present in his life than his ACTUAL parents bc they were always jetting off to diff countries to scout out new pieces fr their galleries n just have a gd time in beautiful places without…. the annoyance tht ws being responsible n looking after someone. tbh some of his parents friends were rly damaging too bt….i won’t go into that just yet. it doesn’t rly…need properly explaining bc jude never talks abt it anyway n it….is rather triggering so i’ll jst….leav it for now tbh. basically they just were Not Nice n jude had a lot of bad memories he keeps repressed bt he also??? has some gd ones..... it was a strange environment bt he’s a survivor

(death n grief tw) he hd to do community service bc he kind of… hd a bit of a breakdown before the funeral of his elderly neighbour who bsically raised him bc her kids rly didnt care abt her they jst wanted her inheritance?? so he… stole the hearse w her casket still in it n ws jst like… drivin around the place sort of… tryin nt to cry…..KJJFHSFKJGHKFG i mean. it isnt funny its actually sad bt :/ in a very bizarre n jude way. he gt caught n taken in fr questioning bt her son kind of realised hw… broken up abt her death jude ws n had a heart n didnt press charges. regardless he stil hd to do community service bc it ws like taken seriously even tho it ws his first proper offence. doin it rly exhausted n depressed him so when he wsnt doin tht he ws just hibernatin in his room……. this ws like 4 months ago nw............ just some fun lore fr u all

bc of how he ws raised he has a p cultured taste. he luvs classic lit n p much anything artsy. he can play piano 2 n sometimes gets rly high n thinks he’s mozart level gd at composing he’s jst going fking wild on the keys in a trance...... i mean he’s gd bt… chill

he’s rly sarcastic n so deadpan like he’ll say smthn completely ridiculous bt he’ll say it w his whole chest so sincere.... it’s rly hard to tell when he’s joking or serious honestly. has an overflowing secret sketchbook n if he cares abt someone he’ll probably secretly draw them. does NOT share these drawings w the person he hates being openly sentimental. at heart he is jst a very Sad Boy w lots of repressed issues like depression genuinely just does NAT giv him a single break bt he plasters over this w wise cracks n never discusses his emotions ever. he’s actually p decent or at least tries to b. he’s kind of like tht bit in superbad where michael cera gets rly drunk n makes a toast to women like tht energy...........

he has rly bad insomnia so he like never sleeps idk how he’s Alive straight up. please go to bed sir............. he always has rly sleepy eyes n rubs them tiredly mid conversation. he smokes a lot of weed to try n compensate fr this n make him tired bt he still struggles a lot

ANYWAY that aside he’s at radcliffe doing art, focusing on fine art like painting is............... the thing he luvs most...... his style is kind of.......... taking normal things n painting w surreal colours.... he likes A LOT of colour in his paintings which is kind of a stark contrast to his personality bc his world’s so.... washed out n grey............ lovs art n philosophy n literature n photography n music.... 

ummMMMMmm honestly idk i’m blankin on what else to say. ull find him smoking weed reading an american classic or gnawing at his thumbnail n getting charcoal smudges on all his clothes. wandering the streets in plaid pj bottoms n dr martens eating frm a cereal box without care in the world. he’s p broody n scruffy n he’s mostly here fr a laidback time....... doesn’t rly like when ppl take themselves too seriously........ likes strange ppl thinks the world is mde richer by them n likes when ppl can jst bounce back jokes at him without being like erm. u dont make sense mate. bc frankly he can come up w some strange stuff sometimes.............. talking to him cn b like navigating a dark n bendy road without a flashlight....... 

(drugs tw) once did shrooms n woke up naked in the woods curled up in a pile of leaves. to this day he recounts this as his werewolf transformation. hs no idea hw he ended up there n when ppl r like are u not. concerned jude. tht is so strange? he jst shrugs like.............. dunno....................... suppose i’m jst a werewolf upon occasion. so casual abt it. jst truly does Not care abt most things at all..... almost to the point tht it’s concerning (sometimes way past the point tht it’s concerning too :/)

this is the desc on an aesthetic i mde of his style once n sums it up well!! ‘additionally: too many pairs of trousers, a hideous amount of white t-shirts all somewhat stained with charcoal, a jumper so thinly knit it almost looks sheer, chipped teale nail varnish, a cream corduroy jacket with a cigarette hole singed onto the cuff, vintage wiry reading glasses he almost never wears, a freshly rolled cigarette behind his ear, a thrifted t-shirt with a warped bart simpson wearing a stethoscope with the caption ‘bard knwos cardiology’ and two crops hacked that way with kitchen scissors that he sometimes wears to paint.‘

EXPERT at rolling spliffs like jst. mkes them so precise n neat....... it’s his super power. his fav thing to smoke frm is banana flavour papers.................... linking 2 this he’s like. bad w emotions bt he does try..... once his friend (maggie) ws sad so he brought her a spliff wrapped in grape flavoured paper bc it’s her fav fruit n jst like. wordlessly gave it to her. it’s the thought tht counts.....

PLOTS!!!!!

plays bass in a band which cld b a fun connection to get together??? i picture the music being like surf rock type like........... mac demarco...... bt he also luvs elliott smith n glass animals n the cure n metronomy n neutral milk hotel n talking heads n radiohead n mazzy star n wolf alice...................... idk jst like.... within tht ballpark i suppose i imagine it being................

mayb ppl he shares classes w?????? i’d like someone tht does a similar course n they hang out tgether when it comes to trips fr the module to museums or exhibits or wtever................ they both stand in front of paintings analysing it rly wrong n saying stuff like hmmmmmmmmm....... i do declare i see a, uh..... large phallus protruding from the centre of this image...... moves something in me.......... n some elderly person looking at it besides them is like Ergh. sickened n disgraced. leaves w a brow severely furrowed

someone he smokes w on the moris rooftop late at night when he cnt sleep??? mayb they’re up n cnt sleep either fr whtever reason n it’s become an unspoken kind of ritual where they always clamber out n find each other there n jst wordlessly keep them company

jude is kind of like. protective almost to a fault sometimes........... mayb some guy he’s punched......................... if they hurt someone he cares abt........... typically it wld hv been a girl he ws kind of like. affected by his first relationship bc she had a bad home situation n ever since jst wnts..... to Protect it’s kind of like an automatic instinct ingrained in him nw 😔 all sounds very noble n well bt sometimes it cn b a bit of an escalation i wnt lie

perhaps a few hook-ups??? jude doesn’t tend to sleep w ppl he rly knows bc he just..... likes it to b an impersonal thing doesn’t like getting attached fr various reasons so mayb they only kno each other via this OR mayb he bent his rules a bit..... cld either work seamlessly or hv added drama if one side hs mre feelings or whtever

currently living in moris w 2 roommates bt i’d love some neighbours perhaps..... mayb someone tht lives directly nxt door to his room n is like ://// bc he plays music loud n weeds always drifting frm his window n mking their room smell if theirs is open too................. or mayb they get on..... mayb there’s a rly mean seagull tht lands on a branch n poos on pedestrians n they both commentate on it frm their windows like david attenborough...... they’re like he’s at it again. they’ve named him n everything

HONESTLY anything if u have an idea hmu i’d love 2 hear it.......... rubs my hands tgether in excitement to plot up a storm w u all

[demonslayedher]

Tanjiro Is Not Hot Stuff

 and this is a good thing

It's easy to dismiss Tanjiro as overpowered, but in this post I'd like to disagree. For all his ability, Tanjiro is still a scrappy fighter, and his abilities have concrete reasons within the context of his shounen manga universe. Furthermore, despite Tanjiro's unique connection to the legendary Yoriichi, Gotouge continually drives home that he is just one character among many united in a common goal to eliminate all evil demons.

That phrase, 悪鬼滅殺, being the backbone of the Demon Slayer Corp, is engraved into each of the Pillars' swords. On that note, I'd like to first address that this may not be Yoriichi's sword. EDIT: On further reflection, because the color of the sword is only dyed once and being held by another swordsman doesn't change it, I've recounted on this theory and feel pretty certain it's Yoriichi's. But it was fun to consider other possibilities, and I'm going to italicize everything that I now consider an incorrect theory.

It's praised for it's Warring States/Sengoku era craftsmanship. This was a time with the swordsmen were first learning the Breath techniques (despite the Corp already having been around for centuries already). It’s also praised for its use of the singular "eliminate" idea encapsulated in the lone 滅 character. Haganezuka himself states that the person who wielded this sword must had been extraordinarily skilled. It's implied that, since Yoriichi also used a black blade (when it wasn’t red), and since this was inside the Yoriichi Zero Type battle doll, it must had been Yoriiichi's sword and therefore well suited to Tanjiro’s Hinokami Kagura techniques which he focuses on for the remainder of his battles.

However, let's think backwards a moment. This sword was produced in a time when Yoriichi, as an outright genius, had profound influence on the Demon Slayer Corp. Although everyone tried, no one could quite pick up his Sun Breathing, but they took the parts that worked for them and the Flame, Thunder, Wind, Water, and Rock techniques took form. We know that since the quality of demon slayers decreased after this generation (my guess is this is due to the mark killing them all off and therefore the lack of a mark in following generations made them seem less skilled over all). 

It's unlikely that Yoriichi, the Sun Breath user himself, would have had any use for this training doll; instead it must had been used by one of those early Breath creators trying desperately to match Yoriichi's skill, and probably using a sword that was modeled with the ideal Sun Breath in mind, and not yet taken shape to suit the Breath that user would later polish. It was perhaps after further definition of their new techniques that they left the old sword behind.

Two more reasons I don't believe this is Yoriichi's sword: Yoriichi, a genius who probably didn't allow his sword to break with improper technique, was still using a sword with a single 滅 inscription when he faced Kokushibo in his old age, and we only see him use a sword with a hilt guard of this shape.

So then who used one with this shape?

We don’t quite see if any of the other Sengoku era swords are likewise inscribed with 滅 (and the lack of the swordsmith’s name implies that this was the swordsmith’s creative choice), but we do get a peek at a few other swords. None of them have a hilt guard quite the same, but this is as similar as it gets: 

The character whom we see using a sword like this has hair in a black ponytail. It’s a little different from the Water Breath user who makes a few appearances, but not that different, and we never see what blade the Water Breath user is wielding. 

I theorize that Tanjiro inherited an early Water Breath user's sword, which made it extra suitable for his techniques. Despite the differences between Hinokami Kagura and Water Breathing being stark enough that switching takes a huge physical toll on Tanjiro, I believe that Water Breathing will always have an influence on his performance of Hinokami Kagura, or at least draws out the aspects from which Water Breathing was based.

That brings me to another thought: Tanjiro’s seemingly overpowered ability to pick up other people's techniques, like the Thunder Breathing speed he heard about from Zenitsu. With Sun Breathing being the root of all other Breath techniques, Tanjiro has grown up already practicing the formative basis of all the other techniques, including Thunder Breathing. His speed (no pun intended) in adopting new techniques does feel more than a little overpowered, but Tanjiro has long shown a history of adopting new techniques and strategies in the middle of a fight. It's also a characteristic of Tanjiro to be constantly analyzing his fighting style and battle experiences even in his sleep, so that shows it's the result of his hardworking, eldest son personality to rely more on perseverance and practice than on natural ability.

That being said, the family history under the influence of tending fire does seem to give Tanjiro some innate suitability for Sun Breathing techniques, as implied by other characters like Haganezuka pointing out his red eyes and Shinjuro noticing Tanjiro's supposed mark right away and immediately interpreting this as an unfair amount of talent. Bring a humble charcoal farmer as opposed to a hardened swordsman may be what gave Sumiyoshi the ability to grasp the essence of Sun Breathing so thoroughly and efficiently (though we know Yoriichi taught his technique to others whom Kokushibo later eliminated, we don’t know if they could perform it as accurately, especially since the rest of the swordsman had so much difficulty with it). This point was so important that Gotouge even considered including charcoal references or the name of the fire god Kagutsuchi (commonly associated with hearths and purification) in the title of the series (see more about that here.)

But, get this, Tanjiro was not originally meant to be the main character. According to an interview in the first official fanbook with the first editor, Katayama, the following exchange took place after reviewing Gotouge’s sketches for a manga idea, “Kisatsu no Nagare,” in which the main character, Nagare, is a quiet, stoic type with fake limbs in place of ones he lost in the Final Selection (he feels a lot like Giyuu, in my opinion):

What changed it from “Kisatsu no Nagare” to “Kimetsu no Yaiba”:

(Continued from criticism of Nagare being a difficult character to build a series around:)

“...after determining that with these small changes we still wouldn’t be able to change the impact much, we threw around the idea of changing the protagonist. Since [Gotouge-]Sensei hadn’t yet moved to Tokyo from the countryside, I asked one day on the phone, “Is there any other character besides Nagare (in the world of “Kisatsu no Nagare”) that’s may a little more cheerful and normal?”

Sensei answered, “There is, but I don’t know if he’s interesting or not.” When I asked, “What sort of character is he?” the response was, “He’s a boy who sells charcoal, and his little sister got turned into a demon, so he enters the Demon Slayer Corp to try to turn her back.” And I thought, that’s it, that’s THE protagonist, and said, “Let’s go with that! A normal kid is good!” 

I think we can all agree that Tanjiro’s oldest son personality is a big part of what makes him stick out as a protagonist. But, for as hard as he works and strongly as he feels, he is constantly aware of everyone else’s efforts and wishes, and he states over and over throughout the series that even if he should die in pursuit of his goals, someone else in the organization is absolutely certain to accomplish them in his place. We see the same sentiment among other characters who meet their doom, even powerful characters like Pillars, so it really drives home that this series is about the Demon Slayer Corp more than it is about any single child who has lost his family to demons. It’s for reasons like this that I really, really appreciate how the fanbooks, in how they present basic info, refer to Tanjiro like he’s just one example of a Corp swordsman; he’s not even worth introducing right away. It’s because of this focus on on everyone’s collective efforts that even if Tanjiro as the protagonist, I think it totally could have fit the story to have him die like implied in chapter 200, or proven right about his faith in everyone and be killed when he’s a demon.

Finally, a Taisho Secret around chapter 193 specifies that although Tanjiro has made a significant amount of progress in Hinokami Kagura, he's still not such Hot Stuff. If you break it into three levels, being able to go through the motions of something, then being able to refine and adapt it, and then being able to perform something in a way that maximizing its potential is all different. Even deep in the battle again Muzan, Tanjiro is only right about at the beginning points of being able to refine and adapt his techniques. 

So there you have it, Tanjiro is special, especially for his naturally positive, hardworking, and empathetic personality. But, he's no Pillar (yet), nor is his will and experience worth any more or less than all the other Demon Slayers, swordsmiths, Kakushi, wisteria house owners, crows, Ubuyashiki Clan members, and all the other supporters across centuries of history working toward one common goal, one eternal feeling: eliminate all evil demons.

[goindownshipping]

"here, take my jacket" for starker, please! Really enjoying your fics :)

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

Pairing: Tony Stark/Peter Parker (Starker)

Rating: Teen (T)

Notes: Thanks for this lovely prompt, Anon, I hope you like it! I struggled with this a bit, so thank you @ohwereusingourmadeupnames for helping me get the creative juices flowing!

Word count: 2k

Summary:

Peter knew that Tony had a thing for wearing his sweaters and jackets, and Peter would certainly never complain about seeing his husband in his clothes. In all their years together, Peter had started grabbing an extra coat, sweatshirt, or sweater whenever he and Tony went anywhere. It all started at that wedding years ago, and it became normal for them. Peter started keeping an extra layer in his car after that, and it just continued from there.

Present day

Peter sat in his car in the Trader Joe’s parking lot, waiting for Tony to meet him to do their weekly shopping. Usually, they made the trip together, but this week Tony had stepped in for a lecture on his day off and planned to meet Peter on his way home. As silly as it was, doing the shopping together was one of their things, it was a habit.

Peter heard Tony’s Audi before he saw it and didn’t bother to look up until he heard the engine come to a stop in the parking spot next to him. He looked to his right and was met with the smiling face of his husband, tinted glasses perched on his nose. Peter smiled back before exiting his car and meeting Tony around back.

“Hey you,” Tony greeted with a smile and kiss to Peter’s cheek.

Peter quickly wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist, holding him close for an extra moment. “Hey yourself. I missed you today,” he murmured in Tony’s ear.

They pulled back and started walking toward the entrance, their hands tangling between them without thought. They separated when Tony went to grab a cart off to the side and Peter took a moment to take in his husband. Tony had left the house early that morning and Peter was too groggy to remember much of it.

As much as he loved their lazy days at home in sweats, he loved it when his husband was in full professor mode. There was something about seeing his husband in those slim-cut slacks and a blazer that tapered at his waist. Today, Tony was in one of those very outfits, except-

“Is that my jacket?” Peter asked with a sly smile.

“Huh?” Tony looked down at himself as they entered the store. “Oh, yeah I guess it is. I was in such a rush this morning I just grabbed the first one I saw in the closet. Sorry, babe.”

“Since when do you apologize for wearing my jackets, huh?” Peter smirked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tony said with a wink.

With that, Tony led them inside and pulled up the shopping list on his phone, leaving Peter shaking his head and smiling, just as in love with Tony as he’d always been.

--

Seven years ago

“Tones, we’ve gotta leave in five minutes if we want to make it out there on time!” Peter called to Tony.

Tony was in the hotel bathroom, meticulously grooming his ridiculous goatee and spending an exorbitant amount of time on making his hair look naturally tousled. Peter loved it when a wedding gave them an excuse to take a mini-vacation and get away from the city for a while. Traveling up to the Oregon coast from Southern California felt like they were entering a different world, and they loved it.

“I know Pete, I’m almost ready!” Tony shouted back.

Peter glanced at himself in the mirror, pleased with his charcoal gray slacks and matching jacket paired with a deep maroon button-down. Tony stepped out of the bathroom and stopped in his tracks.

“Peter,” Tony breathed. “Wow, you look- you always look incredible but, wow.”

Peter smiled at Tony, equally blown away by his boyfriend’s look. Tony was sporting a forest green short sleeve button up and slim-cut black slacks. Peter couldn’t take his eyes off of Tony’s arms, his muscles clearly on display where the sleeves ended. After nine months of dating, Peter still couldn’t believe that he and Tony were together.

“Right back atcha, Tony. But seriously if we don’t leave now, we’re going to be late. Do you have your jacket?”

“The wedding’s on a beach, Peter. I’m not bringing one, let’s go!”

Peter gaped at Tony. “Babe, this isn’t Malibu, you’re gonna freeze, please tell me you have a sweater or something you can bring?”

Tony stepped closer to Peter and wrapped an arm around his waist. “I’ll be just fine, I promise,” he said softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Peter’s lips. “Now let’s go before we’re actually late.”

Peter sighed in defeat, knowing how stubborn Tony could be. “Alright, alright. But don’t complain when you start freezing out there!”

Peter and Tony made the short trip from their hotel out to Cape Meares, the quiet beach where the ceremony was being held. They arrived in plenty of time, thanks to Peter’s perpetual fear of tardiness, so they took a moment to explore the beach before the ceremony. Even in the middle of the day, the breeze was cool, cutting through the warmth of the late afternoon sun. Peter smirked in Tony’s direction, knowing it was only a matter of time before the other man would be shivering.

Sure enough, by the time the reception was in full swing and the sun was setting in the distance, Peter noticed Tony’s arms covered in goosebumps. Even with the champagne running through his body and the amount of dancing Peter dragged him into, Tony couldn’t hide the chill running through his body.

Without a word, Peter slid his jacket off and stepped behind Tony, holding it up for Tony to slip into.

“Pete, you’ll be cold now,” Tony pouted.

“I have sleeves, Tony. Come on, here, take my jacket.” Peter slid the jacket over Tony’s arms before turning the man toward him, grinning at the sight of his boyfriend wearing his slightly too big jacket.

--

Five years ago

“Alright babe, I’ve gotta swing by home first, but I’ll come straight there after. Love you too,” Peter hung up the phone with a smile on his face. 

“Someone looks chipper,” MJ smirked as she passed his desk.

“Yeah yeah, Tony’s taking me to dinner tonight. I have no idea what he’s got planned.”

Around 4:30pm Peter packed up his briefcase and headed for his car, hoping he wouldn’t be too late for dinner if he ducked out early. Tony didn’t plan surprises all that often, so Peter knew it must be something important. He tried not to let his mind wander too much, but Tony had been hinting at proposing for a few months now. Shaking his head, Peter slipped into his car, and began the battle through traffic back to their house.

Tony told him that he was picking up dinner and for them to meet at their favorite spot at Rocky Beach. Peter knew he couldn’t go to the beach in his work clothes, so he figured a quick stop at home wouldn’t hurt. By the time he’d pulled into the driveway, he barely had time to change into jeans and a t-shirt, knowing traffic would be bad down the PCH. 

As he dashed out the front door he paused at their coat rack. He grabbed a sweater for himself and eyed Tony’s favorite jacket. Peter laughed to himself, grabbing it before leaving to meet his boyfriend. In the nearly three years since they’d met, Tony was notorious for forgetting a jacket. At first, Peter thought it was because Tony wanted an excuse to wear Peter’s jackets, but he quickly learned that Tony’s brain often moved too fast to remember those little details. Now, Peter didn’t go anywhere without an extra sweater or jacket for Tony, knowing he would inevitably get cold at some point.

Sure enough, when Peter arrived at the beach, Tony was already shivering and making grabby hands at the jacket Peter brought for him.

“I got your favorite,” Tony sing-songed, handing a takeout box from the Reel Inn across to Peter.

“Thank you Tones,” Peter said with a kiss to Tony’s cheeks.

They settled into their picnic blanket, taking in the last bits of sunlight reflecting on the ocean, sharing bites of food, and sipping the wine Tony hid in an honest to God picnic basket. Eventually, Peter pulled out his phone to capture the beautiful scenery around them and when he looked back up, Tony was propped up on one knee with a small black box opening toward Peter.

“Tony,” Peter choked out as tears sprung to his eyes.

“Peter, I could say so many things right now, but I’ll stick with thanks for the jacket since this little box was in the pocket,” Tony chuckled through his own tears. “Since the day I met you, I have been happier than I ever thought possible. Marry me?”

“Yes, Tony, always yes!” Peter tackled Tony to the ground, grateful for the blanket beneath them. Their tears mingled as Peter pressed his cheek against Tony’s holding him close. “Wait, did you say that was in your jacket?” Peter asked.

Tony laughed as he slid the simple band on Peter’s left hand. “You know I’m forgetful!”

Peter just shook his head and smothered Tony’s face in kisses, pulling away to look at his ring every few pecks.

--

One year ago

Peter knew that Tony had a thing for wearing his sweaters and jackets, and Peter would certainly never complain about seeing his husband in his clothes. In all their years together, Peter had started grabbing an extra coat, sweatshirt, or sweater whenever he and Tony went anywhere. It all started at that wedding years ago, and it became normal for them. Peter started keeping an extra layer in his car after that, and it just continued from there.

Although Peter was used to bundling Tony up in extra layers, there was one piece of Tony’s clothing that he had commandeered as his own. Tony’s old, worn, MIT sweatshirt was Peter’s favorite lazy day attire. He didn’t often wear Tony’s clothes, but this one item lived on his side of the dresser for those rare moments.

This morning when Peter snuck out of bed to make coffee without waking Tony, he slipped into the sweatshirt, relishing the feeling of the soft fabric. He figured celebrating one year of marriage was as good an excuse as any to bundle up in his husband’s sweater. 

When he tiptoed back into their bedroom, coffee in hand, Tony was sitting up against the headboard, blearily rubbing his eyes. Immediately, he broke into a soft smile. He loved it when Peter wore that sweater.

“Happy anniversary, baby” Peter mumbled as he handed a steaming mug to Tony.

“Happy anniversary, honey,” Tony replied.

Peter climbed back into bed, snuggling into his husband’s side, settling in for a lazy day together.

“I thought I was the one who stole your clothes,” Tony joked.

Peter snorted. “You love it when I wear this, don’t lie.”

“Mmm yeah, you’re right,” Tony said with his face pressed into the top of Peter’s head. “Thanks for letting me steal your jacket all those years ago.”

--

Present day

By the time they made it home from Trader Joe’s, Tony was exhausted from his day of lectures so Peter sent him to relax while he took care of the groceries and started on dinner. With Tony down in his study doing whatever he considered relaxation - Peter had long given up on getting that man to actually chill out - Peter took a moment to glance around their home. 

His eyes stopped on a photo of him helping Tony into his suit jacket at their wedding. No one quite understood why they insisted on seeing each other before their ceremony, but they knew. As silly as it was, when Peter helped Tony into that jacket right before they walked down the aisle, they both felt tears spring to their eyes. Tony soaked up the feeling of his soon-to-be husband taking care of him and Peter marveled at the fact that this man chose him. He never imagined a life like this; the comfort of home with his person, the feeling of calm that settled over him when he was around Tony, and the boundless love he held for his husband. 

He was shaken out of his thoughts when he heard Tony calling up the stairs from his study.

“Pete! It’s freezing down here, can you grab me a sweater from our room?”

[alkhale]

modern au ace modeling???? PLEASE????

you caught me in an ace kinda mood, anon, u sneaky u

“You know it’s four hours, right?”

Ace’s cocky little satisfied grin settled over his lips. Hoku snorted in amusement, setting up her work station.

The art room toward the west wing of the high school building was fairly spacious enough. Windows lined the outer wall of the room, curtains pulled up for privacy in particular to today’s focus of study. Her fellow classmates and club members were somewhat acting in usual fashion, the few unaffected by the new presence helping to hand out easels and boards, sharpening their pencils and getting ready for the four hour anatomy study.

The rest however, were lost.

Majority of the girls in Hoku’s art club–majority of which had been the ones always eager to rifle through her sketchbooks and swoon and sigh over her choices of drawings–she did join in when it was the occasional Shanks though–were gathered in clusters around the room. They watched with adoring eyes, fixing their skirts and their hair, whispering and chirping back and forth to each other as they watched today’s focus of study.

Who, clad only in a red satin silk robe that actually complimented the sun kissed tan of his body ridiculously well and also revealed the muscular ridges of his chest and the toned muscle of his arms and calves and that he was naked as the day as he was born under there–

Portgas D. Ace.

Her–metaphorical brother? Friend? Housemate? Kin? Very important person. One of the very important people in her life she happened to somehow manage the hassle of living with.

Ace scratched his neck. The robe shifted, revealing torso and abs and more Ace.

A few of her classmates swooned, cheeks flushing and one flustered boy rushed from the room.

“Your teacher’s paying me twenty bucks an hour for this,” Ace said, lips curling as he crowded her station and Hoku continued setting up all her stuff and getting comfortable. “With a break and food–this is the easiest job ever!”

“And you’re fine with the fact that you’re only getting a sheet up there, right?” Hoku added, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. Ace’s hands instantly went up in grabby motions. She sighed through her nose, relenting and handing him her hairtie. Ace shuffled behind her, gathering up her hair with long, larger fingers carding through bright white locks.

“I always wear the same at home–”

“That’s right, dumb question, you’re an exhibitionist at heart.”

Hoku squawked when he pulled back on her ponytail a little harder. She reached to smack his arm, but Ace simply grinned, the constellation dusting of freckles along his cheeks and nose more prominent. “Come on, you love having me here! Isn’t it a nice change of pace? You’re always drawing us at home anyway, now you get the real deal.”

“I’m foaming at the mouth,” Hoku said. Ace pulled at her cheeks. She swatted his hands away. “I only told you about the request cause they kept asking and you could make some cash, try not to fall asleep, yeah?”

“Sure, sure,” Ace drawled. He finally relented with one last tug to her ponytail–Hoku hissed at him and he grinned, crossing his arms behind his head as he sauntered off to the platform like one big cat. “Get my good side, shooting star.”

Hoku mimicked him behind his back. Her teacher came up, explaining to him the different types of poses he could consider. One of her classmates took a seat down beside her, finally in place.

“He’s so hot,” she whispered, face flushed.

Try not to get mauled by the high school girls. Hoku considered mouthing to him. Instead she laughed, shaking her head at her classmate.

“He’s the biggest, narcoleptic dork you could ever meet.”

“But he’s so hot.”

Hoku shrugged.

She tried.

Ace was an absolute bastard.

And she was absolutely going to get back at him when this was all over.

It had all started the way it normally should. Ace took position on the platform. Their teacher explained today’s assignment, four hours, four different poses meant to be captured, an hour for each. Hoku settled that she could probably finish them sooner or try something new while she was at it since she’d drawn Ace plenty of times as it was.

Their teacher gave him free reign of his choice of poses, saying to do whatever made him the most comfortable.

Ace had scratched the back of his head, looking around curiously while the entire class watched with avid, waiting eyes. He finally shrugged, grabbing the folded bedsheet and holding it up to his waist.

Ace let the satin red robe fall to his feet with a flourish, pooling around him like a ring of fire.

People swooned.

Hoku adjusted her easel, waiting for him to pick a pose. There was a bit of shuffling on the platform until Ace finally settled down. Hoku looked up.

Charcoal black irises smoldered right back at her. Straight at her.

Hoku blinked once. Twice.

Ace had one hand tangled in the thick mess of ink black locks, fingers propping up his head. He’d stretched out along the platform like a large jungle cat soaking up sun, bed sheet pooling dangerously over the sharp dips of his his, following a defined ridge line and teasing anything else. People positioned behind him were furiously working at the line of back muscles presented before them and Hoku stared back in disbelief.

Ace continued to stare.

Right fucking at her with that ridiculous face and those stupid hooded eyes while he was butt ass naked because he knew she’d get pissed off and–

You’re so stupid. She mouthed at him.

Ace merely winked, keeping still, looking absolutely content with himself.

An hour had passed since then–Ace had switched positions as asked, seating himself on a chair and turning it around so his legs hung on either side of the back, the chair’s back the only thing shielding his very naked front while he propped his arms on the top of the chair, leaning his head on them and dogging her down. His eyes smoldered mischievously, watching her intently and refusing to look anywhere else.

Hoku was almost certain the girl beside her was about to pass out. Or lose blood. Or both.

Stupid Ace with his stupid jokes and his stupid fucking staring. Hoku grumbled.  Knows I hate being stared at for no good reason, asshole. Hoku glanced back to where chips of coal kept watching her and she almost groaned something ugly aloud, turning a page.

She’d drawn four of the ugliest figures she could possibly manage at first out of sheer pettiness. She contemplated drawing a ridiculous, gross caricature of Ace to top it off, but she had to turn something in and…

Hoku frowned at the blank paper in front of her. She glanced back to Ace.

He waggled his brows briefly, obvious grin hidden behind his arms before he returned to his intense, stoic staring.

Her eyes flickered to the potted flowers in the corner of the room. Hoku sat there for a moment, playing with the worn down pencil in her hand before she sighed through her nose, setting to work.

She might as well try something new out then.

She’d just tell Sabo on him later.

“C’mon, lemme see, how’d they turn out?”

Hoku ignored Ace, shoving her supplies back into her backpack.  

A break–where many of her classmates rushed to Ace offering to bring him food and water and he promptly fell asleep three times before responding (he fell asleep four times during the modeling)–and two more hours later, they’d finally finished.

Ace had promptly chosen a cross-arms-behind-the-back look as his third pose, flexing a line of muscles and ridged abs from all the hard work he poured outside into all his jobs. The sheet had almost come undone until the teacher hastily rushed to reknot it (to some of her peers’ disappointment and her uncontrollable laughter). His final pose had been a simple one, sitting down with his legs spread–and the sheet over his hips to cover–and his arms resting on his knees. A comfortable position he fell asleep in until someone managed to wake him up.

And he’d never stopped staring at her.

Fucking once.

“Come ooooonnnnn,” Ace wheedled, crowding in her space. Hoku searched the room for a moment before crossing past him to her designated spot. Ace trailed behind her, sheet trailing behind him like a long train. “What’s it look like? Did ya like the angle I gave ya? What’d you draw–”

Hoku shoved his discarded clothes at him. Majority of the class had already dispersed, eagerly thanking Ace and graciously declaring that he had to come back and model for them. 

“Put some clothes on, you dork,” Hoku said. “I’m hungry, so let’s get going.”

“Hoooookkkkuuuu,” Ace whined. “I wanna seeeeeee.”

Hoku reached for her sketchbook. Her stomach demanded retribution, reminding her that Sabo was making hamburger steak tonight and Luffy would be home before them.

Ace’s eyes lit up like an excited puppy, crowding even closer. She shoved at his chest, rolling her eyes and flipping the page he could see.

A stick figure with a triangle as the bedsheet and a stupid smile stared back.

Ace stared at it for a minute before tipping it down so he could peer at her over the top. Puppy eyes flashed at her as his lip wobbled, a pout on his face.

“You’re stupid,” Hoku said mercilessly. “I can’t believe you got paid just to be a naked idiot.”

“All bark no bite,” Ace teased. He played with the edge of her sketchbook, peeling back the next page. Hoku didn’t fight him, humoring him this time as she leaned back onto a desk and Ace turned it fully so he could see.

Ace stopped. 

The other paper hovered in the air, blocking his face from her view.

“I draw you guys a lot,” Hoku said, only a bit sheepish. “I figured I might as well try exploring with something new with it. Your poses were pretty unoriginal.”

Hoku had sketched out with soft shading, Ace’s grinning, laughing face. The rounded curve of the wrinkles around his eyes when he laughed because he could only laugh fully and heartedly–just his kind of laugh. His head was half turned, eyes half peering back as though to talk to someone who’d just said something to make him that happy.

Ace turned the page.

His lips pursed into a sort of pout, head tipping to the side as though in deep thought. He looked dumb. Stupid. Arms crossed over his chest and–

Ace turned.

Several sketches of his face–different versions of himself perhaps from her imagination of what he might look like older. Different angles and grins and his older visage laughing about something and the future and the last one–

Ace stared at the drawing. A heartbeat. Two. He quietly lowered the paper.

Hoku was already turned around, shoving the rest of her supplies in. Her shoulders were relaxed, face content.

“C’mon,” she said. “I’m starving–”

“Hoku, c’mere.”

“I’m going to get–huh? Why?”

Ace set her sketchbook down. He stretched his hands out, fingers curling in grabbing motions. His face was set in utter determination, facing her down.

“C’mere.”

“No,” Hoku said suspiciously. “What the hell do ya want–I swear if you–”

“I really need to freaking touch you right now or I’m going to explode.”

“No! You’re making a gross face–no! Ace–no! Put some fucking clothes on first, I swear to god–ACE IF YOU COME ANY CLOSER I’M CALLING SABO!”

“JUST LEMME–”

“ACE–”

Ace laughing, in the last drawing, lips pulled wide, eyes shut from the force of it. His head was tipping forward a bit, hair curling all around him, hugging his chin and brushing wild and wavy like it always did. He looked alive and bright and full, full, full of life and–

Hoku had sketched a flower to tuck itself behind his ear. She’d started inking it in with red and pink ink, not quite finishing.

Bonus:

“Sabo, I have to thank you again for getting your friend to come in last minute for this shoot–it’ll only take a second! It’s for the midnight summer line and her tan is just like Ace’s, so she’ll compliment the color really nice with her eyes and–”

“It’s no problem,” Sabo laughed, walking into the shooting floor with his clipboard in hand. A pencil was tucked behind his ear–one of Hoku’s left lying around and she’d found it recently and thrown it at him to hold on so she wouldn’t lose it again but forgot to get back from him, so it was his now–white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a dark, navy blue tie knotted impeccably around his neck. “She said she could use the spare cash anyway.”

Hoku had also come rushing to him from the dressing room–wearing a bunch of clothes with curlers still in her hair where hair dressers rushed out after her, frantic about how to make her white hair look right–freaking out and gushing about the free cakes on the table outside and ah, Hoku.

“When you smile like that, it worries me,” Koala said absently, checking her own clipboard before glancing to the photo shoot set up. “Alright, let’s get started everyone! Is Hoku ready?”

“All dressed!” a worker shouted.

“Good to go,” the photographer for today said, fixing his lens.

Sabo heard Hoku’s muffled voice, asking something about a to-go box. He chuckled, turning on his heel as the door opened and she stepped out and–

Sabo blinked.

Satin white silk draped around Hoku’s bare arms. A few thin scars peeked through. Soft, thin straps of fabric looped around her neck like a halter, cropping short dangerously and loosely below the curve of her chest. Bare, smooth stomach showed for what seemed to be miles on end. Finally a pair of silk shorts hugged her hips, riding dangerously low and stopping just a short–thin straps started where the shorts ended, tight to her thighs before they stopped above her knees in thinly laced–wasn’t that basically a garter belt? Wasn’t that a–

The entire outfit, little that was there, was colored entirely in dark, satiny navy blue and–didn’t he love that color? 

Sabo stared.

Hoku turned. She met his gaze and offered a lazy wave. Her eyes brightened and she pointed to the snack table in the back.

“Try raising your arms over your head,” the photographer suggested.

Hoku promptly raised her hands up as though she’d been ordered by a cop to do so.

Her top inched up.

“No, no, like behind your head, cross ‘em, hun.”

Crack!

The clipboard in Sabo’s hands snapped in half.

“Sabo? Oh my gosh, Sabo! What the heck–” Koala started, turning wildly. “Someone get some water and a tissue–Sabo’s finally cracked!”

- :)

[ladyvegeets]

Uncharted Waters -2-

Written for 2019 Brolai-week hosted by @saiyan--tales.

-2: Casual / Scars-

Cheelai led them towards a stall selling clothing and other wearable souvenirs. It was going to be a challenge finding anything in Broly’s size, especially without the engineering of the Frieza Force’s incredibly stretchy suits. But Broly wasn’t the only big alien in the universe. Surely they could find something.

“What have you got in our sizes?” Cheelai asked the squid-faced stall handler.

It eyed them over but if it had any qualms about their Frieza gear, it kept them to itself. Long purple tentacles slunk up to the roof of the stall where its items hung and started pulling a few options down. It offered her a skimpy yellow two-piece swimsuit.

Cheelai’s face seized in horror. “Uh… I was thinking something more casual.”

The handler frowned but put the bikini aside and fished out some casual-wear for bipedal mammalians to peruse.

“What do you like?” Cheelai asked her tall companion.

Broly wasn’t even looking, his attention drawn elsewhere down the beach where he people-watched.

Not a fashionista then, not unless it came to Ba’s ear. Cheelai dug through their choices until she found a large charcoal-blue top with long sleeves that looked like it might fit him. It was lightweight, and had a cute picture of the beach on the front with the planetoid’s name written in the galactic alphabet. She held it up to Broly’s shoulders to gauge its fit.

“What do you think, big guy? Would you like to wear this?”

He glanced down. “I am comfortable as I am.”

“I know that, but we’re trying to be a little less obvious here with what we’re wearing.”

He frowned and his hand defensively curled over the knot of Ba’s ear.

“Oh, not that. You can still wear Ba,” she reassured. “But our armor is making us stick out like sore thumbs.” 

Broly looked down at his hands, puzzling over his thumbs while Cheelai took matters into her own hands. She gathered some clothes and thrust them at the handler. “We’ll take these, please!”

After settling their debt, she led Broly by the wrist closer the water. Dozens of people had already set up picnic blankets to relax and watch the sun go down. 

Broly let Cheelai lead the way, taking the opportunity to watch couples and young families walk the beach hand-in-hand — or whatever passed for hands among their species. He looked down at his own, Cheelai’s white-gloved fingers wrapped about his wrist-guard.

“Here should do!” she announced, coming to a stop. He almost walked into the back of her.

From the bag of newly bought goodies, Cheelai fished out a towel and fluffed it out, laying it down on the sand. She pulled off her boots before sitting cross-legged at one end, and beckoned for Broly to join her. His sheer size — and the towel designed for one — meant they had to sit knee-to-knee. 

“I hope this all fits. It’s a shame they didn’t have pants in your size” — his had ripped during his battle on Earth — “Those prices though, wow. Remind me to get into the tourism industry,” she said conversationally as she sorted the clothes. Broly smiled listening to her. The sound of her voice was pleasant, even if he didn’t always understand everything she said. His father had rarely spoken, and when he did it was mostly to bark orders or rant about King Vegeta and injustice.

…Vampa had been a quiet and joyless place.

Cheelai finished sorting her newly bought items. Grabbing the hem of her breast plate in both hands, she pulled it off in one smooth gesture, the armor stretching over her curves and revealing her simple purple top beneath. She placed the plate on the sand, soon followed by her gloves and socks. Somehow it made a big difference in her appearance. Without her armor she looked so… small. Easily breakable. Broly felt his brow furrow against an uneasy sensation stirring his gut.

“I’m going to change,” she announced, grabbing her bundle of new clothes in her arms and standing up.

Broly stood with her.

“Oh no, you can stay. I’ll be right back.” She started jogging up the beach. The uneasy feeling grew worse the further she went. Broly’s fists curled at his sides. Half-way up the beach, Cheelai turned on her heel and gave him a big grin and a wave. “Watch our stuff, okay big guy?”

His stomach eased, and his hands relaxed. He watched her the rest of the way to where little changing shacks and restrooms had been set up for public use. When Cheelai disappeared inside one, he finally sunk back to the towel, cross-legged and back upright.

She wanted him to guard. He was good at that. His father had him do it a lot.

The breeze was gentle on his skin, tugging at his hair much more pleasantly than the howling winds of Vampa usually did. The sand here was soft and white, not the coarse yellow-brown of home. There were no giant killer beetles, and the place was lush with vegetation and water. Never could Broly have imagined that such a place existed. He never had the chance to.

Nearby, two people cuddled on a blanket. The bigger of them was threading a flower into the smaller one’s hair as they stared adoringly into each other eyes.

It made him think of Cheelai’s eyes. They were pink. He had never seen pink before, or purple, until he met her. He didn’t even know what the words for those were until he’d brought them up to his father on Frieza’s ship. It had been a shock to learn Paragus already knew them.

“They’re just colors, Broly, what does it matter? How would it have helped your training any?”

Broly had let the matter drop, but it had bothered him ever since. How much of the universe had his father known yet never bothered to share with him?

Cheelai and Lemo weren’t like that. They didn’t tell him to shut up and train. They took their time, carefully teaching him new concepts and encouraging him to ask questions. Lemo gave the clearest explanations, but Cheelai’s were the most interesting and passionate, her pink eyes burning with emotion when she spoke of things that really excited her. Her moods were contagious, and Broly often found himself seeking her out over Lemo.

She was nice to be around. She didn’t leave him feeling that heavy anxiety he carried with him when at his father’s side, ever fearful of criticism or an electric bolt. When he was with Cheelai, he felt… at ease. Accepted.

Happy.

Someone got too close to the towel. Broly narrowed his eyes, muscles tensing, and glared at the person who dared encroach on his territory. The alien did a double-take and nearly stumbled over its own feet, scurrying to give Broly and towel a wide berth. Broly relaxed and enjoyed the sun and breeze, watching the cuddly couple on the blanket until Cheelai returned.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Cheelai dropped her purple outfit on the towel, newly dressed in cut-off shorts and a loose pale pink t-shirt. It had a wide scoop neck and hung half-off her shoulder, a little beach image printed on the front with symbols he couldn’t read. “Hey, you didn’t put yours on yet?” she asked.

“Mine?”

She plopped down in front of him, her tiny green toes pressing to his legs. She picked up the dark long sleeved top. “This. Let’s get it on you.”

Without fuss, she took his arms into her lap and tugged off his wrist guards. He allowed it without complaint. It reminded him of when she and Lemo first arrived back on Vampa. She had insisted on patching up the worst of his injuries. He had still been in shock then, deeply troubled after everything that had happened. Losing his father, his friends, most of his memories… He’d been forced back to Vampa to nurse his wounds without knowing if he would see anyone ever again. 

Without knowing if any of it had even been real. 

It had been an unpleasant few days.

Cheelai and Lemo had been very patient with him on their return. Cheelai spoke to him as normal, her voice a lifeline in his distress. She talked to him about this and that, treating his wounds and encouraging him to respond by asking about his scars. He liked the sensation of her hands on him. They were so gentle. Soothing. 

“One of those bugs did this to you?” she had asked, ghosting her fingertips over the large scar on his pectoral.

He had nodded, watching her delicate fingers on his body. Her touch had been so light it made his skin prickle.

“Arms!”

Broly snapped back to the present, seeing Cheelai holding up the long-sleeved top. He lifted his arms, and she slipped the top over him, laughing when his head got stuck in the collar. “There you are.”

Smoothing the top down his front, she cocked her head to get a better look at him. The picture on his top matched the one on her t-shirt. This pleased him. 

“Well, it’s a bit snug, but still. Very handsome,” she said.

“What is handsome?”

Her eyes widened, and a soft pink blossomed over her face. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he liked the look on her. 

“Ah, well…” Tucking her hair behind her ear, she looked down and replied, “It means, you look nice.”

He followed the line of sight to their bare feet, his easily twice the size of hers. There was another piece of clothing resting on the towel: a small cap which matched the color of his top. It was no flower, but he carefully put it on her head, tucking a few stray strands of her hair into place under it.

“Very handsome,” he announced, looking into her eyes.

Cheelai turned red. She tugged the cap low to hide her face as her toes curled against his shins. For some feeling he had no name for, he smiled.

~xoXox~

[searchingwardrobes]

I Get to Be the One

Happy Birthday, @pocket-anon ! Talented author, sweet mother, and a physician to boot! Darling, I don’t know how you do it! I know how much your family means to you, and since your birthday is so close to Mother's Day, I thought some CS family fluff would make the perfect gift. I also threw in a few Easter eggs just for you. Have a great day!

Summary: A slice of Emma and Killian’s white picket fence life – on Mother’s Day. Based on the song by JJ Heller.

Words: Around 1,500

Triggers: Sugary sweet fluff may cause cavities :)

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist.

Tagging @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @thislassishooked @kday426 @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @shireness-says @xhookswenchx @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @distant-rose @wellhellotragic

 I get to be the one to hold your hand. I get to be the one. Through birthdays and broken bones, I’ll be there to watch you grow. I get to be the one.

 Normally, if Emma Swan was abruptly jarred awake, she would lash out in anger. But the crew bursting through her bedroom door on this Sunday morning was the exception. Killian was carrying a tray of food, complete with a little vase of buttercups, and the girls were marching in with smiles on their faces. All four were singing the tune “Happy Birthday to You,” but swapping the words with “Happy Mother’s Day to You.” The only one missing was Henry, but he was likely doing the same thing across town with Lucy for Jacinda. She still could hardly believe her little boy was all grown up and she was a grandma. Curses and wonky timelines aside.

She sat up, suddenly wide awake with a bright smile on her face. That wasn’t her normal morning state, either, but how could she not smile? Killian had that goofy grin on his face, the one that made him look more like a nerd than a fearsome pirate captain. The one she was pretty sure he only gave to her and their three little girls. He settled the tray across her lap just as they finished their song.

“Pancakes?” Emma asked him teasingly, and he winked.

“We can have . . . the other kind later,” he whispered in her ear.

He reached inside the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out three pieces of construction paper with crayon scribbled across them. The girls grabbed them eagerly, bouncing around the room. Elizabeth tried to make a flying leap onto the bed, but Killian caught her before she could knock over her mother’s breakfast. Hope handed her homemade card to her mother first with a hesitant smile on her face.

“Thank you,” Emma told her taking the simple piece of paper from her seven-year-old's hand. Hope wasn’t very good at drawing, so the picture was just two crude stick figures labeled “Mommy and Me.” Hope had no need to be shy, however, because it was the words she had written across the top that stole Emma’s heart.

Mommy you’re the best mom I could ask for. No one could ever replace you in my heart. I love you.

Emma pressed her hand to her mouth as tears threatened.

“She wrote every word of that by herself,” Killian told her with pride in his voice.

A tear did slip out then, which Emma wiped away with her palm. She pulled Hope close, pressing a kiss to her temple. “My little writer,” she whispered. When Hope pulled away, her blue eyes shone with pleasure at her mother’s praise. Emma brushed her fingers through her daughter’s blonde curls and gave her a watery smile.

“Here’s mine, Mommy!” Amy piped up in her high-pitched five-year-old voice.

Amy was their little artist, so Emma wasn’t surprised to see an elaborate rose made out of bits of paper on the front of the pink card. Inside was a drawing of Amy hugging her Mommy which, while still done with sticks and circles, was much more elaborate than her older sister’s.

“This is beautiful, sweetheart,” Emma told her, drawing her close. She glanced up at Killian over the top of her daughter’s dark head.

“Don’t worry,” he told her with a wink, “I vacuumed up all the bits of paper.”

Elizabeth crawled carefully across the bed to give Emma her card. Though she had the same dark curly hair and green eyes as her twin Amy, Elizabeth was more rambunctious and less likely to sit long enough to carefully make a card. Sure enough, the green piece of construction paper contained merely a scribble labeled “Mommy” with a heart around it.

“Oh look, you wrote your name,” Emma commented, pointing to the top corner.

Elizabeth snuggled against Emma’s side. She was also the cuddler of the three girls. “Actually, Hope wrote that for me.”

“Oh,” Emma said as she bit her lip. Her mind struggled to find something else to praise Elizabeth for about her card, but came up empty. The child didn’t seem to care, though.

“I love you, Mommy,” she said, snuggling into Emma more and putting her little arms around her.

Emma embraced her in return, breathing in the slightly sweaty smell of five-year-old.

“And now for your present,” Killian declared, pulling a gift bag out from somewhere and plopping it down on the bed.

“There’s more?”

“Hope helped me shop, so you should like it,” he said, scratching behind his ear.

Emma looked tenderly at her husband. “Of course I’ll like it.” He should know by now that just getting a gift at all was enough for her, especially considering the first 28 years of her life.

Emma yanked out the tissue paper, and inside was a large, charcoal gray bag. It was simple and classic in its design, the perfect style for her personality. She grinned as she pulled it out.

“Hope said you were looking at bags for weekend trips on the Jolly. Ones that were smaller than a duffel but nicer than a backpack.”

Her smile softened at the hesitancy in his voice. She clutched the bag to her chest as she looked up at him. “I love it.”

She loved the bright grin Killian gave her more than the bag, to be honest.

“Well,” he told her, scooping Elizabeth up and tossing her over his shoulder as she giggled, “enjoy your breakfast and take your time. Watch TV, read, whatever you want to do. I’ll check on you in a little while and draw you a bath.”

“Daddy says today is all about you,” Hope explained.

“He says we’re going to paper you,” Amy added.

“Pamper,” Kilian corrected, leaning down to brush a kiss across Emma’s lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she told him, brushing her nose against his.

They tramped downstairs, closing the door behind them, and Emma enjoyed her breakfast in the peace and coziness of her bed. Then she settled back under the covers to binge watch some episodes of Sherlock. She followed that with a few chapters from her well-worn copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

It was nice having time to herself, but when the clock read eleven, she was a little bored. She slipped out of bed and made her way downstairs. She paused before reaching the bottom, her heart flipping at the sight that greeted her from the living room.

The girls had made a tent out of blankets, pillows, and the kitchen chairs. Killian must have helped, however, because the top was suspended from the ceiling fan with fishing wire and fairy lights lined the edges. The entire thing looked like an enchanted teepee. The opening faced the stairs, so Emma could see Killian inside with the girls, propped up on pillows, reading to them.

“They were cozy and comfortable in their little house made of logs, with the snow drifted around it and the wind crying because it could not get in by the fire.” Killian’s voice was warm and lilting, and even Emma sighed hearing it.

Her sigh must have been louder than she thought, for Killian looked up at her with surprise on his face. “What are doing down here, love?” he asked, tossing aside the copy of Little House in the Big Woods. “I was just about to come up and draw you a bath.”

Emma shrugged and smiled as she made her way down the rest of the stairs. “It’s Mother’s Day. I wanted to be with my girls.” She got down on her knees and wriggled her way into the tent. All three girls jostled to get to her, and soon she was sprawled against the piles of pillows with little girls draped across her like a pile of puppies. Killian smiled down at her.

“Keep reading, Daddy!” Amy begged.

“Yes, Pa,” Emma teased, “keep reading about the little log cabin in the woods.”

The book series was Amy’s favorite, but Emma delighted in how much Killian seemed to enjoy them too. They weren’t stories from the Enchanted Forest, and he said it helped him understand the history of his new home a little better. He took her current teasing in stride, clearing his throat to continue. It wasn’t long before the three girls were softly snoring.

“I got them up early,” Killian explained, laying the book aside. He laid out on his back, his feet sticking out of the front of the blanket tent. Silence descended around them, filled with contentment.

Emma reached to trace his jaw. “Killian?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love that I get to be the one . . . “ she trailed off, her brow furrowing as she struggled to find the right words, “that I get to be the one to live this life with you.”

Killian turned his head to kiss her palm. “I feel the same, love.”

 I get to be the one to hold your hand. I get to be the one. Through birthdays and broken bones, I’ll be there to watch you grow. I get to be the one.