#but displaced is already an AU so eh

[mangoguy]

Displacement (1/2)

John "Soap" McTavish(2009) x Reader x John "Soap" McTavish(2022)

Warnings: Mention of Modern Warfare 3 (2011), Some fluff, they/them used once other than that no pronouns are used.

You recall your relationship with your John while in the hospital.

Another entry For @glitterypirateduck Soap It Up challenge!

This was heavily inspired by the Multiverse AU by shotmrmiller. It's been on my mind for a while lol

"Right, what the hell kind of name is 'Soap', eh? How'd a muppet like you pass selection?"

You heard Price state, looking up from cleaning your gun you saw the new guy who was set to join. Fresh faced and ready for battle, you wondered how long that would last. You watched as he passed the C.Q.B with a pretty average time, but he passed nonetheless. After that Price quickly briefed the team on the mission, infiltrating and assaulting a cargo ship in the Bering Strait. He dismissed us to get ready, deciding you wanted to try and get to know the new guy. You walked over to him and fell into step with him. 

You remember it wasn’t hard to get him to open up, which was surprising, most of the guys here were not up for much conversion. After a while, you decided to ask the biggest question on your mind, you asked him about his hair. 

“Why did you decide on a mohawk?” You heard him huff.  

“Because it was cool…” He mumbled.

"I love ye, y'know that right?"

You could faintly hear Captain McTavish mumble those words under his breath but the sound of the helicopter made you wonder if you heard it at all. What affirmed that it was indeed said out loud was when he took his hand in yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand in a soothing gesture. Who he was comforting, you weren't sure, but you had an inkling it was to ground himself. 

You recall It was his first mission as captain and if he was nervous he sure as hell didn’t show it. But you knew him, he often sought some small physical contact as comfort when he was nervous. 

It's funny how you remember these things.

You also remember his first mission as captain went off without a hitch, of course, there were hiccups but like he promised nothing happened to you. It was oddly sweet in its own way, he knew you could take care of yourself but he often fretted sometimes (even if he didn't entirely show it).

Another moment you recall with John McTavish was when you two were outside. He was smoking and you were just keeping him company. It was a nice evening, a bit cold but nothing you couldn't handle. You two were talking about anything and everything as you two normally do. Then the topic of living together came up.

"Y'know... I've been thinking after all this is over we need to... do couples things" he chuckled.

"Oh yeah? Like what? I thought fighting in battlefields was good date material," you joked.

"Ah, that's gettin' old... we could get our own place," he suggested. 

"Get our own place? What are you suggesting?" You turned to look at him, he was already looking at you with a grin.

"Aye, I'm sayin' we should live together once this is all over and done with, I'm thinkin' out in the fields near a small town, just the two of us," he stubbed out his smoke before leaning against you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and brought you closer. 

"Hm, that sounds wonderful... We could get a cat... maybe two so the other one wouldn't be lonely," you suggested, planting a kiss on his lips as you both thought about this fantasy. You'll never forget the way his cheeks turned a bit rosy after that. 

Though before house buying the one important thing on John's 'Couples things' list was getting married. Of course, you both talked extensively about it, making sure it was something you both were on the same page on. The ceremony wasn't anything special, just you, John, and a few friends and family to celebrate at John's Parents' house. It was a sweet time, filled with talking and laughing (Ghost and Roach were both raiding the snacks John's mom made). 

"Look at you, my little brother gettin' married! Never thought I see the day, thought you were married to the military life for a sec," John's sister teasingly bumped his shoulder. Though she was teasing, she seemed pretty proud and happy for him. 

"Aye, never thought I get so lucky, knew I wanted to marry them 6 months in but didn't want to scare them," John chuckled while wrapping an arm around your waist. You just rolled your eyes and nudged his rib, and he responded by pinching your hip before kissing your cheek.

But things didn't turn out like you both planned. Luck had to run out someday.

'I won't let anything happen to you,' rings in your head, he never failed to mention it before missions you both went on.

Is that why you were here?

You weren't sure how to explain it. One moment you were with John and Yuri, in that building, something went off and you woke up with someone looming over you.. before it all went black again.

You felt like you were in a different body, and you say that loosely since it still felt like you but a bit younger, less tense. You weakly opened your eyes, the blaring lights of the hospital flooding your vision. You groaned, wincing away for a moment before it felt safe to look again. The bed you were lying on was much softer than the ones back on base.

"Ah, you're awake," you saw a nurse to your left side checking your vitals, she gave you a reassuring smile.

"You were out for a while, almost two months! Had some bloke worried sick about you... Johnny, I think his name was," she started explaining. You never really heard people refer to John as Johnny but whatever at least you knew he was alive.

“Is he okay?” You rushed to ask.

“Yes he’s fine, was discharged a while ago, you were the one to take the most of the damage,” She paused to resume her work.

“Actually he should be coming back soon, doesn’t leave your side unless he needs the restroom, you definitely have a good one,” She chuckled.

Oh, thank god he was okay.

The nurse left you to rest after and you started mulling over what happened.

An explosion happened, you were falling alongside Yuri when it happened. But you couldn't remember much else.

You began to feel uneasy, like you lost a big part of yourself and yet you couldn't explain why. Which was weird considering the nurse just confirmed he was, in fact, relatively okay. While you were mulling it over some more you didn't hear the door opening and the sound of hurried footsteps rushing over to your bed.

"Yer awake!" 

You whipped your head up to see your husband, so grateful he was okay. You were almost ready to jump on him but you froze when your eyes finally landed on him. What looked like John, though he was a mildly younger version of him. He was a bit shorter than your John as well, along with sounding vastly different. 

That was definitely not your John.

He looked worried and relieved at you. Placing a hand on yours but also trying not to hover around you, you noticed a tattoo on his right arm, John didn’t have an arm tattoo. He decided to just sit down on the chair that was pushed near your hospital bed. Not knowing what to do you took your hand out of his and placed it on your stomach. 

That’s when you noticed your simple wedding band was gone.

Replaced with one that had a pearl and a few diamonds.

Whose ring was this?

You were confused and dare you say scared. Scared more than you ever have been in your life and that's saying a lot considering your line of work. But where exactly were you? 

"Yer looking at me like ye don't know me, Bonnie," the man broke the silence. 

But you didn't know him, you assumed this was the bloke the nurse mentioned.

Johnny. 

Wearing the face of your John.

Just what exactly happened?

Words: 1,347

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[raisans-art]

For the Human illusion au- I am like, totally confused. Is Emmet alive or dead? Is that why the zoroarks crunched their noses, because he already smelled dead, like one of them?? I absolutely adore the idea of him being a wild man but then in some of your sketches he had a very convincing fluff around his neck, his posture is weird and his legs also seemed weird? I am constantly wondering if he's a mistaken identity case of the ghost of a man that has not fully realized they've died and I <3 it!

OH NO NO NO DON'T WORRY EMMET IS ALIVE! Alive and well!

Sort of

Eh, the "well" part is debatable.

But he is for sure alive, I can guarantee that!

While I don't want to reveal everything and explain it because I feel like you all can piece together the whole story with enough time, I can for sure say, with confidence, Emmet is not dead. He does smell weird to them.

Some things I would like to highlight when considering this story are that: Emmet and Ingo are Unovan train conductors, speaking Unovan-accented Galarian, and have been displaced into Hisui. Hisui, where people from the Galar region are still very new additions, and stay in safer areas. Even for people like Laventon and Kamado, Ingo and Emmet would be weird and foreign.

The fluff and posture will develop later in the story! This is a bit of a long project so it'll take a hot second to get there, but all will be developed eventually! Think of the previous sketches I've done of Emmet in aggies and drawpiles as Emmet towards the end of this story. A glimpse into his future.

[pandaknife91]

what are your thoughts on the fatui harbingers reveal? i remember in fading starlight you implied the jester was heartbroken over aether -- will you keep that detail in in your AU? i have to admit im kind of living for the image of a big gruff bearded DILF like Pierro pining after Aether lol and I'm not sure anyone else will write it

from the start I've approached the AU with the knowledge that I would absolutely yeet tf out of the canon if I decided it didn't suit what I wanted to do, and this is kinda the first instance where it'll really be applied. if more information is revealed about DILF pierro that makes me reconsider, then good on mhy, otherwise I'll be keeping to my headcanon of pierro's identity. which is a character we've canonically met already.

I'm huffing HARD on the copium that dilf pierro is just a super shitty body double of the guy I've been HCing as pierro tho lol

[contentwerewolf]

[The fall] [Fun doodles] [Keyblades]

Fun fact: This was the only thing planned to do w/ this AU haha; how do I not know myself by now ;w; Also, here’s Anti!Qrow w/ Harbinger (I’ve never noticed him holding scythe form that way, so I thought it would be an interesting thing for Anti to do ^^)

Watch me cry, all my tears

After months of being trapped in Disney purgatory the Dark Realm, barely sleeping, not eating/nor needing to, near constant fighting, and being haunted by visions of friends/family/regrets. Qrow reaches a “dead end” (yes I’m ripping off part Aqua’s plot don’t @ me) there he’s attacked by a Demon Tower. Now, if he was at full strength and not so mentally exhausted, he would’ve had a high chance at escaping the void but, unfortunately, he’s consumed and is lost to the darkness. Clover feels that in his heart of hearts

It’s only a couple weeks (days?..weeks..eh) following that, that the displaced group of hunters have found their way to the door of darkness.They’re swarmed by Heartless, and when the door opens Clover, Ruby and Yang are practically forced through (they don’t want to leave everyone else to fight the hoard).

Since Clover, literally, holds Qrow’s heart (you know, w/o context that is super grim jfc) he basically has Qrowdar. What unnerves him is the feeling he’s held thus far had mostly been warm, turbulent and pained at times, but still strong. Now it’s cold, hazy and barely hanging on. Clover’s a sad boy but keeps a facade of optimism for the girls :,).

It’s takes a few days but they finally find their way to the shore where Qrow fell. They’re on edge from all the battles and visions that bombarded them. When DT appears they consider falling back to rest. That’s when Anti!Qrow appears from the void, drawn back by the strength of their hearts, destabilizing the tower causing it to disperse.

Qrow: What happened to me? You want that list alphabetical or chronological?

Anti!Qrow doesn’t want to fight them, he’s subdued and resigned and just wants to be left alone. His whole angsty speech boils down to: “I hurt everyone I love��� “I belong in the darkness.” “All that’s left in my non-existent heart is despair. Leave me be, before I ruin you too.” :)

Yang is just done w/ this whole realm, and the terrible visions it creates. Believing this is just another illusion, she lashes out. Only to be blocked by Qrow’s own keyblade; all the others illusions faded as soon they were touched. Now she’s determined to beat some since into him and this is where the fight starts. Even though Clover and Ruby don’t really want to buuut...

Shamelessly stealing the duplicates from Aqua’s fight lol. Only because it would be creepy. Also, Qrow’s bad luck is strengthened (now turning this into a video game mechanic) has bursts at random. Anyone who gets hit suffers for it; either getting stunned, knocked back, or (as intended) getting a bad luck status infliction.

The way I played out the fight in my head; Qrow’s already a strong huntsmen (you don’t get a legendary title for nothing) who’s known to fight ruthlessly, combine that w/ keyblade powers and well. It’s in their favor that Qrow is tired and he’s also reluctant to fight them. It takes a while, but they finally whittle down his health that he enters phase 2  they can get a good few hits in. With a combination of Yang disarming him, Clover immobilizing him w/ KF’s line and Ruby using her silver eyes; they are able to dispel the darkness. The dark ocean tries to drag him down but, everyone’s hearts reaching out to him is what saves him from falling again. ^^

They end up back in Destiny Islands after that with Disney magic. They have no idea where the rest of their group is at the moment, but they’re confident they’ll be alright. Being back in the realm of light causes all the exhaustion and hunger hit them hard. So they rest while they wait for Qrow to wake up.

Once they get past Qrow having a near break down over Clover being alive, they explain all the craziness of what has been going on.

Qrow is one stubborn, old crow, so he insists that he’s alright; just in need of a nap and some food that’s all. He goes to stand up and would’ve hit the ground if Clover wasn’t ready to catch his bird. Unconsciousness doesn’t count as a nap buddy.

Also, Qrow’s heart hasn’t returned to him juuust yet 83c

💕 Feel free to send me any questions or shoot me ideas for my AU(s). 💕 

[ryqoshay]

Putting on Hairs: Favorable Dress

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Hinted: KotoUmi Words: ~2.4k Rating: G? Maybe mild T for one of the implications...? AU: Theater, Werewolf, Werebeast, Monster, Cryptid, Angelic, Demonic

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Author’s Note: I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve written this much in this short of time...

Summary: Riko is hoping Kotori and Yoshiko can make a dress for her. But nothing is free...

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Riko approached the costume department with severe trepidation. Her heart was actively trying to pound itself out of her chest at the thought of facing her. Well, not her specifically, she knew she would feel this way about anyone of her kind. But right now, she was the one here.

But, of all the places in this amazing, wonderful world, why did she have to fall here? In this country? In this city? And now she was working at the same theater where Riko had just recently been hired.

Of course, the very same thing could be asked of Riko herself. Why did she have to flee to this particular island off the main coast? Choose this particular city? Accept a position playing the piano in the orchestra pit of this particular theater?

Was this all His idea of a cruel joke?

It was bad enough that she had stood so close during the meeting earlier in the day where the theater’s premiere patron was introduced. Why did she have to do that? Did she not sense Riko like she sensed her? Was she not uncomfortable with Riko’s presence as Riko was with hers?

Riko sighed. Why was she even doing this? Well, she needed a dress. But surely, she could just go find one at a local shop, right? Did she really need to deal with her to have one made special? But the examples she had see so far were just… otherworldly; so much better than anything she had seen window shopping around the area.

“Ah, Riko-chan!” An ashen blonde head poked into the hallway, startling Riko. “Yoshiko-chan was right when she said you were coming. Welcome! Come on in!” Kotori ushered the redhead into the room.

“Pardon the intrusion…” Riko said as she stepped through the door, immediately needing to resist the urge to turn back and run.

There she was, black wings spread wide in all their glory and looking as powerful as any other angel, despite her fallen status. And she was… trimming fur from a black kitten in her lap? What?

Yoshiko looked up with a surprisingly cheerful smile. “Welcome to Hell Zone, Riko!”

“Hell… Zo… eh?” Riko’s gaze flitted fervently around the room, seeking hellforged artifacts or demonic runes or something, anything that might imbue the area with the powers of Hell. And while she certainly sensed auras radiating off most of the equipment and tools, nothing appeared to be of infernal or divine origin.

“Or would you prefer I call you Pirum?”

“Eehhh?!” Riko aborted her vain attempts to scour the room as Yoshiko uttered her true name.

“Kind of a strange name for a demon, though…” Yoshiko continued as if she hadn’t noticed Riko’s reaction. “Do you guys even have pears down there?”

“Now, now, Yoshiko-chan,” Kotori chided playfully “we shouldn’t scare our clients like that. Now, what can we do for you, Riko-chan?”

“Uhm…” Riko fidgeted with her fingers, trying desperately to resist fleeing. “Kurosawa-san recommended I check with you about having a dress made for an upcoming recital?”

“Of course!” Kotori chirped. “We would be happy to make something for you.”

“She, uhm, didn’t give me an idea about pricing though…”

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” Kotori smiled. “You’re in the orchestra here, right?”

“Yes… but…”

“So, we’ll make the dress for you and you can just owe us a favor.”

Something about the sparkle in the costume designers eye made Riko feel a bit ill at ease. More so than she already was.

“I’m not sure…”

“Surely you know about favors, right?” Yoshiko spoke up. “Your boss’s boss is fond of them, right?” She offered a decidedly devilish grin.

“Uhm…” Riko felt her knees start to shake.

“Don’t mind them.” A deep, masculine voice said from… somewhere. Riko couldn’t readily identify the source. “They’re just teasing you.”

“Phobetor.” Yoshiko gently swatted the kitten in her lap.

Wait, that had been the cat that spoke? But its mouth hadn’t moved. How… Then again, it wasn’t the strangest thing Riko had seen, here or down below.

“Sorry if we scared you.” Kotori giggled. “I am serious about the favor, but don’t worry, it won’t be anything beyond what you’re capable of giving.”

“What… did you have in mind?”

“Hrm…” Kotori considered for a moment. “Would you mind show me your wings?”

“Eh? My… my wings?”

“Yes, please.” Kotori nodded. “You’re a demon, right? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a demon’s wings. Are they feathered like Yoshiko-chan’s or leathery and bat-like or skeletal like in some movies?” She seemed to be getting pretty excited about the concept.

“Uhm… could we maybe… close the door first?” Riko requested meekly.

She realized that was closing off her easiest route of escape, but unless it was imbued with some anti-demon inscription or blessed or whatever, it wouldn’t actually prove much of a barrier to her. Also, despite her persisting fear, something in the back of her mind had begun insisting she could trust these two. Or three, really.

Yoshiko hadn’t attacked her on sight. Kotori obviously knew her nature and wasn’t afraid or hateful, rather she seemed genuinely intrigued. And while they had both teased her, neither had been malicious. Even Yoshiko’s mention of her true name had seemed more like an honest, if again teasing, question than some attempt to wield power over her.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Riko unfurled her wings.

Kotori’s eyes grew wide in awe. “They’re beautiful…” She marveled.

Riko blushed. She’d never heard that word associated with her wings before.

“Can I…?” Kotori reached forward.

Riko offered a weak nod before flinching a little as the designer’s hands began exploring.

“Definitely bat-like.” Kotori murmured, moving her fingers gently across the membrane. “A little drier than I expected, but still, lovely material. These will do nicely.”

“M-material?” Riko instinctively snapped her wings back in. “Are you saying you want me to trade my wings for a dress?”

“Not in their entirety.” Kotori replied. “Just a clipping. A little goes a long way, especially when imbued with such power.”

“Uhm…”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Kotori.” Yoshiko spoke up.

“Oh?” The lead designer asked.

“Because demon wings are different than those of an angel, or a crane.” The blue-haired girl explained. “I mean, I’m no expert in demon physiology, but I’m pretty sure she’s got veins and nerves and stuff running throughout. It’s probably hurt her more than when you or I just pluck our feathers; certainly more than trimming Phobetor’s fur.”

“Although,” Phobetor spoke again “with her regeneration, she could very quickly heal the amount I assume you would be taking.”

“Yeah, but…” Yoshiko started.

“And if I recall correctly, that Kanata girl can adjust her abilities to numb rather than put to sleep. She’d be fully regenerated before she actually felt anything.”

Kanata? “Konoe-san?” Riko asked. “I thought I felt another demonic presence here.”

“Indeed.” Phobetor stood and stretched before yawning. “Although she is here for different reasons than you. While she is here to feed, you seem more interested in music. Pray tell, did you grow weary of playing Hell’s music and came to Earth for a change of pace?”

Riko blinked. “How… how did you know?”

“One of my primary duties is to run reconnaissance and monitor all local entities that could pose a threat to my master.” The cat explained. “Celestials, especially demons, are always worth investigation.”

“I see… wait, so you’ve been spying on me?”

“Indeed. And I have determined that you are not a threat to my master, Ms. Pirum.”

“… Oh…” Whatever was left of Riko’s fear was displaced entirely by embarrassment. “I see, well… uhm… Anyway, Riko is fine…”

“Very well. Riko it is.” Phobetor gave a single, curt nod. “Though it must be said that my assessment is not an indictment upon your power. You are still a demon after all. Rather, I have determined you to be far too… demure, for lack of a better word.”

“… Oh…”

“Also, your reading proclivities are quite… interesting, I must say.”

“Eh?”

“Oh? What kinda books do ya read, Riko?” Yoshiko perked up suddenly. “Earth is filled with a ton of strange tomes and some of their ideas on magic and such are utterly baffling. Though there are some amazing artists who create some amazing manga and doujin. Humans can tell such wonderful stories.”

“D… doujin…” Riko felt herself blush.

“Yeah, have you ever been to Comiket? Mortals sure know how to celebrate their hobbies.”

“She has attended.” Phobetor confirmed.

“Phobetor…” Riko whined.

“Really?” Yoshiko became even more excited. “Maybe we should go together this year.”

“… Maybe…”

“I do believe your tastes are vastly different, though.” Phobetor said.

“Oh? What kinda stuff do you like, Riko?” Yoshiko asked again.

“Uhm…” Riko hesitated.

“Her preferred reading material is…”

“<Stay thy tongue, meddlesome furball!>” Riko snarled in an ancient demonic language.

The other three occupants in the room stared at her in stunned silence.

Riko’s hands flew up to clamp across her mouth as heat exploded across her cheeks, spreading quickly to her ears and down her neck.

Yoshiko snorted.

“I’m… I’m so sorry…” Riko cried, her voice muffled through her fingers. “I didn’t mean…”

Yoshiko burst out laughing. Kotori giggled.

“I thought… you said… she was too demure…” Yoshiko managed get out between bouts.

“That seemed like the best description at the time.” Phobetor stated matter-of-factly.

“Are you… sure… she’s not a… threat?”

“My assessment remains unchanged.”

Why in the nine circles did you have to go and do that, of all things? Riko berated herself. She was so embarrassed she felt she could die and go back to Hell. Well, maybe not. She really had no desire to return.

“There, all done.” Kotori suddenly announced.

“Eh?” Riko came back to reality. “Done? Done with what?”

“Your measurements.”

“Measure…”

“For your dress.”

“Yes, I know, but… when did you…?”

“While you, Yoshiko-chan and Phobetor-chan were talking.”

“I didn’t even notice.” Riko admitted.

Kotori smiled. “I’ll draw up some proposed designs and give them to you tomorrow.” she explained. “Once you decide on one you like, we can get to choosing fabrics.”

“Alright.” Riko agreed. “Oh, uhm… about the favor…”

“Oh, don’t worry about the wing thing.” Kotori dismissed. “We’ll think of something else, it’s fine.”

“Well, if you don’t mind my asking, what did you intend to do with the trimmings?”

“Make leather of course. There are a lot of costumes and accessories that need leather, belts, shoes, jackets, all sorts of things.”

“So, it would be used for the theater?”

“Of course!” Kotori chirped. “Everything I do is for Umi-chan’s theater.”

“Unless someone else like Riko comes and wants something made for a non-theater event.” Yoshiko pointed out.

“Well, yes, but the favors we ask in return always benefit the theater.”

“That’s true.” The fallen angel conceded.

Riko steeled herself for what she was about to say. “I’ll do it. You can use some of my wings to make costumes for the theater.”

Kotori’s eyes widened as she inhaled with excitement. “Really?” She grabbed Riko’s hands and pulled herself closer. “You’ll let me make celestially imbued leather?”

“Y-yes...”

“Oh, thank you, Riko-chan!” Kotori surged forward and wrapped her arms around the redhead.

“Hey, Phobetor,” Yoshiko addressed her cat “you wanna go tell Kanata she’s on notice for numbing duties?”

“Will do.”

With that, Phobetor blinked out of existence. Is he a teleporter? Riko wondered.

“Well, we don’t have to do it right away.” Kotori said, pulling out of the hug. “I won’t collect payment until I know my customer is satisfied with the product I am selling them.”

Yoshiko shrugged. “We’re only putting her on notice.”

“Message has been delivered.” Phobetor’s voice sounded before he popped back into the room. “She said it would only take her a second, so we can have her do so whenever we are ready.”

“Only a second, huh?” Yoshiko pondered something for a moment. “I wonder if her sleep spell works that fast too.”

“I would imagine it takes effect quickly, for the sake of facilitating faster feeding.”

“You mentioned feeding before.” Riko said. “She’s not… eating people… is she?”

“Their dreams.” Phobetor responded. “She calls herself a Somnophore, though I believe Somnophage would be more accurate. But who am I to judge such things?” The cat seemed to almost shrug. “I am surprised you did not know.”

“I sensed she was a fellow demon.” Riko admitted. “But I hadn’t had a chance to determine what kind.”

“I’d let her feed on my dreams…” Yoshiko seemed lost in thought.

“Why, do you want her to put you to sleep, Yoshiko-chan?” Kotori asked.

Yoshiko chuckled. “It would help some nights.”

“Well, Kanata-chan seems to love the pillow I made for her.” Kotori explained. “It’s stuffed with a special blend of our feathers and she says it works wonders.”

“A pillow, huh?” Yoshiko turned her head and shifted one of her wings over for inspections. “I never thought about making one of those.”

“I’d be happy to show you how.”

“Alright.” Yoshiko agreed. “Although I’m surprised you didn’t make one for your precious Umi.”

“Of course, I made one for Umi-chan.” Kotori giggled. “But that was years ago, long before I came here. So that one was made with just my feathers. I made one for Honoka-chan then as well.” Her eyes sparkled as she seemed to be reviewing fond memories. “They still have them to this day.”

“Anyway, we should probably get back to work.” Yoshiko hopped up to her feet and moved across the room. “And I know you have rehearsals coming up. It was nice meeting you, Riko.” She smiled and reaching out a hand.

“Likewise.” Riko agreed, accepting the handshake.

“Phobetor tells me you’re quite good on the piano. Which makes sense, given who you serve under.”

“Well, not really.” Riko shook her head. “Not anymore.”

“Ah, I see.” Yoshiko nodded. “I can empathize completely. I haven’t served Him in a good long while.”

“Mm…”

“Anyway, I still look forward to hearing you play.” She grinned. “Maybe Kotori will let me out of this hell every once in a while, so I can head upstairs and listen a few times.”

“Awuuu…” Kotori pouted. “Yoshiko-chan, don’t make me out to be like some hellish taskmaster.” She blinked and turned to Riko. “No offense.”

Riko chuckled. “None taken. There’s certainly no shortage of taskmasters down there. That’s part of why I came up here.” With that said, she turned toward the door. “I’ll see you two… sorry, three, later.”

Words of departure and well wishes followed Riko into the hallway, and as she walked, her thoughts remained on the individuals she had just met. They were an interesting group, to say the least. But friendly, even to a demon like her. Maybe… perhaps, just maybe, working in close proximity to an angel wouldn’t be all that bad after all.

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Author’s Notes Continued in Followup Post

[stirringwinds]

pacific siblings circa ‘43: expanding the Alfred and Matt sibling dynamic to include Aus and NZ? let’s just say i’ve fallen headlong down this pit. 

It’s during the fourteenth year of Victoria’s reign and at the Great Exhibition of 1851 that she first meets her eldest brother. She and Jack had been restless, fidgeting in the formal European dress Father had stuffed them into. Alfred was less a brother than a few blurred memories amidst the bizarre smells and sights of London; a glint of blonde hair, a boisterous laugh and  total lack of deference towards Arthur. Not dead yet eh, old man? He’d become a little more real with the Great War, but remained distant. Unlike Matt, who’d been mired in the horror with them from the start, always a watchful presence by their side, eyes grim as he firmly crammed his extra rations into their hands.

This time, Father is clinging on by his fingernails in Europe, Matthew far away and by his side, as the older nation that had once been Father’s ally smashes the hollow boast of British imperial supremacy. The chaotic escape from Malaya, then Singapore. She and Jack had made it; many of their own hadn’t. And Alfred was suddenly, vividly there—bloodied and furious, roiling with a dark vindictiveness as jagged as the scars that now marred his left cheek. There’s nothing of Arthur in the blue of his eyes or the bronze of his face, but his prideful stubbornness and condescension had set her teeth on edge— so much like Father. She’d been torn between sympathy and frustration, relief and anger. The three of them shambled along the best they could. Then, he’d come back from the Battle of Midway—and he was different. Changed. An unmarred face; the angry scar not even a memory. Sharp calculation and steely calm displacing the reckless fury of before. Seething with a raw power that she instantly knew would blot out the already dimming light of Father’s decaying empire. 

[eorzeanharmony]

Fallout

After the events of a terribly off-track recon mission at a remote Garlean castrum, the infiltrators ended up leaving with one more person than they came with... a near-mortally wounded young soldier kidnapped rescued by Deccan Aurelius. 

With the youth near death from his injuries, the rogue tesserarius had to find someone to help... 

(forgive the back-and-forth tenses; this is a transcript of RP rather than short fiction.)

Adelle hurried out through the door to a hallway in the rear of the house, dressed in her usual brown cloak and skirt. One sleeve looked s bit charred, but otherwise there wasn't so much as a thread out of place. The small raen woman who had greeted Deccan, Naino, bowed at the waist and slipped downstairs to put together a tray of tea and cakes. From the hall was the busy chatter of people, the guffawing laugh of someone amused and a hammer as another person did their best to repair a ceiling. A small green Au Ra glanced their way and vanished out the door trailing pipe smoke, and a raven haired Roegadyn excused herself as she dragged in several planks of dry wood. "Lovely to see you again, Deccan. Come, I have a private office where we can speak. Do you have a preference for tea or coffee?"

The big blond man nods.. he looks a bit different than the last time she saw him; short leather jacket, tank top, denim pants, practical boots but all in shades of dull tan and brown. Instead of the gunner's goggles he'd been sporting the night before, he wears a simple pair of frameless glasses on his aquiline nose. They don't seem very strong, though... the lenses don't distort his pale green eyes much, if at all. Odd. "Ah.... thank you for seeing me...." Dec glances at the few people in the area, "Actually... I think your office is probably advisable, given the circumstances."(edited)

"Certainly," she smiled, and gestured for him to follow down the winding corridors and a flight of stairs. Adelle opened the door and peered in, then urged him to make himself comfortable. The room was quiet, save for the heavy tick-tock of the chronometer, and smelled faintly of citrus and dried roses. A second desk faced them on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by bounty posters, armor polish and hunting gear. "Mist's desk," she explained as she claimed her usual high back chair. "Now please, speak freely. I keep the same privacy and discretion here that I do in my infirmary. Whatever you can tell me about my possible patient would be welcome."

Deccan's pale gaze seems to track around the room with an inordinate amount of care and practiced method, even as he eases himself into the proffered chair. It's like he's looking for.... something. Guards? Wards? Cameras? ...All three, likely. Eventually though, it returns to Adelle. "He was... ah. Rescued from the site of a conflict between Eorzean and Garlean forces. Though..." The man fidgets quietly. "his wounds predate the incident. I've been doing what I can to care for him, but he's got internal injuries and I think he's going septic. He's young, he has his whole life ahead of him... I don't want him to die...."

Adelle leaned forward. With her gloved fingers laced on the desk she frowned, and the branch-like scarring that curled up the side of her face tugged awkwardly at the corner of her mouth. "Which side was this man on? I assure you now, it makes no difference to me other than knowing how to help him." Her brows furrowed. "Well, if he will accept my help. That is a factor as well "(edited)

Deccan sighs, frowning vaguely, and tangles his fingers together. It's this behavior that may well indicate his 'fidgeting' is less displacement activity and more the fact that the scruffy blond man's hands shake nigh constantly. "He's... Garlean," the blond admits quietly. "That's why I was resistant to bringing him to more, eh..." He fishes for a good word, "... commonly accessible clinics, or the Conjurer's Guild. As for accepting your aid, he doesn't want to die either. Like I said, I'm no medicus... but I...remember that the one that had been seeing him indicated his chance of survival was low..." He scowls distantly at his hands. "I don't know, maybe it is too late, but I have to at least try."

"Does he receive aetheric healing without issue, or should I plan for other means?" She reached for a mosaic, gem-encrusted fountain pen and began scribbling on a sheet of loose parchment. "I could always use aetheric means and stabilize him after the fact..." She mused, tapping the pen against the desk's surface. "What are the extent of his injuries as you know them? And does he speak Eorzean?"

"I don't know," he admits, honestly enough. "I haven't really had a problem with it, but I know some people are really prone to aethersickness just from the exposure. As for his wounds... I'm pretty sure they're from arrows, or some other piercing weapon. But either he wasn't recovered quickly enough, or they were poisoned with something... or I don't know, that part of La Noscea is a jungle and who knows what could have gotten to him..." He wrings his hands a little more, "I'm sorry, I don't know more..." As for speaking Eorzean, he nods, though the question surprises him. "He does, yes..."

"Easier for me, then. I can explain things to him. I am unfortunately a bit rusty..." She continues to write, scribbling various tools and medicines and potions. The Elezen lifted a hand to her linkpearl. "Naino? Forgo the tea. Can you see if Silas is available? No, not Cassius. The first Silas. Thank you." She smiled. "You have told me plenty. Who is he currently with? Do you leave him alone?"

Deccan nods slightly. "He's... at my place. He's safe; it's quiet there and I know no one will find him. I don't really have a choice but to leave him alone... but I did set up a bit monitoring system that alerts me if something happens. I don't leave him alone for very long, though." He pulls out a battered Garlean-made tomestone and shows it to her.

She nodded, although the tomestone gave her reason to pause. Adelle seemed to stiffen some in her comfortable chair, and drew in a deep breath as though to steady herself. "We will need to go swiftly then. Naino will let me know if Silas is available, although I am beginning to see that you are...quite desperate. What would you have done if I had reported you to the authorities for harboring what amounts to a criminal?" Adelle capped the pen and slipped it into her desk. "How long has he been ill?"

Deccan fidgets with the 'stone quietly. "I... don't know," he admits, frowning a little. "Milloux knows about my background; I figured if she vouched for you, you would at least be inclined to hear me out instead of just... following the party line." His pale eyes lift, "I'd like to think that was a point of common ground, actually," he continues. "I've been talking to him. Explaining things. He's no criminal, I know that much... just a soldier in a war that was set in motion by forces none of us can stop. All anyone can do is try to stem the bleeding..." He sighs, pushing himself to his feet, "I can't answer that either. I don't have any of his paperwork... but I know he's not doing well. Maybe... about a week?"

"So long?" Her sapphire eyes widened. "Twelve, then perhaps we have even less time to discuss this than I thought." Adelle stood and rounded the desk, hurrying to the door. She left it open as she nearly ran down the hallway and passed off the note she'd scribbled to someone else, then made her way back to the office. On her return she had a weathered, walnut cane in hand. Expertly she clipped it to the mount sewn into the back of her cloak, and beckoned for him to follow. "My apologies. I had no idea it had been so long. I would have suggested I come your way at once. I have my staff preparing my things for me. Is there anything else I should know?"

Deccan jogs after her, now looking more concerned than he did at the start. "Ah... not that I know of. I live... um. You know where the Sultana's Breath is, yes? In the Goblet. I can meet you there..." At least it's not anywhere strange or unfamiliar.

"I do. Which ward?" She glanced briefly back over her shoulder at him and paused briefly at the infirmary door. Her leather medical satchel was already within easy reach, and clinked tellingly as she snatched it up. Dozer perked his head at the sight of her and wagged his tail. After a moment of hesitation she whistled, and the little terrier bolted to her side. A few commands had him sticking close, his attention fully on her. He didn't even go for a sniff of Deccan's boots.

"Twelfth ward," the big man says, stuffing his tomestone back into his pocket. "We can take my airship if you don't mind close quarters. It's not really intended to carry more than one but I'm sure it'd be fine since I didn't exactly arrive with cargo onboard." That said, he goes to head back outside, presumably toward his transportation.

She shook her head. "I will meet you there. I can take aethertyes without complication."

He doesn't seem all that surprised. "Well... all right. Don't go to the front door, go around back. I'll be there as soon as possible." The airship -is- there... small, single-man, and obviously an Ironworks manacutter, although it looks kind of banged up and secondhand. The big blond vaults into the cockpit, straps in, and starts it up, hovering just for a moment before wheeling to one side and lifting off, accelerating into the southern skies.

—————————————

Adelle was quick to bid farewell and, after Naino explained where Silas could be found in the house, hurried to find him herself. Peering in through the doorway, the elezen waved toward him. "Silas! I have a patient I would appreciate your help with. A Garlean man, and it sounds like he has been through more than I would like for a patient. I offered my help before I had the full story, and now I think it might be helpful to have you along. We will be at the Sultana's Breath apartments in Ward twelve. I have to hurry there, but please meet me if you can."

It would take awhile before Deccan manages to catch up.... airships, however fast, aren't instantaneous and can't compete with simply teleporting from place to place. If they go around the back, as instructed, they'll find... well... a small cactus garden, and one of the maintenance entrances. It lacks the ornamentation of the front portal, has a 'NO ENTRY' sign on it, and is, of course, locked.

"seventy and seven hells, Adelle." He sat bolt upright, turning to flash a hint of a panicked glare "what does he know?" Silas stood, closing the notes he had been working on, and began putting together his field kit. "And what do you know of the patient? How old? Is he military? Do you have a name?" He sighed, shaking his head and waving her off. "Never mind, hurry, I get it. I'll see you there, go."

She'd rushed out the door the moment he agreed, Dozer racing at her side. Thankfully getting to the Goblet was a mere blink, and another still to get to the apartments. Even better, she was a familiar enough face to ignore. Most people knew the blue duskwight with her little terrier who went from clinic to clinic, or chased him around the pool. So it meant nothing to simply wave as she meandered with the little alibi to the rear of the building. She lingered there while Dozer sniffed at the sand, ushering him away from the threatening cactus thorns. Now and again she lifted her head to shade her eyes against the sun.

It takes... an unfortunate while for Deccan to get there, around half a bell... though that in itself speaks to how fast he was moving. The battered manacutter has to take a sweeping arc around the apartments before he can bring it down behind the building... there's actually a cleared spot of desert where he's plainly been parking it, and he does so now. He vaults out of the cockpit and jogs over to the maintenance door. Dec pauses, glancing at the unfamiliar face but... he's with Adelle, and she did say she was bringing someone, so he doesn't object, instead moving to unlock the door. "This way. Watch your step..." He waves them both in, checks the exterior, then locks it again, before moving off down the hall. After passing through what's obviously the gardeners' workshop, he moves off down a bare hallway... then another, then past some storage rooms... a low rumble almost more felt than heard indicates their proximity to the great furnaces that heat the building during the icy Thanalan nights. He comes to what looks like the door to yet another storeroom... though this one has a rather more modern looking lock on it, for all that it's nondescript, blends into the wall, and only has a single red light on it. He produces a cermet key and swipes it.(edited)

Adelle followed with some small degree of worry, and let out some of the tension in her shoulders with a breath. The air still moved around her, caressed and whispered against her skin. She could feel earth and stone surrounding them, and water bubbled through pipes and faucets. She kept her attention on her surroundings, listened as much as she was able and then... She stared at the small device in undisguised shock, and at her side Dozer scratched behind one ear. Seemingly no threat, then. "Who knows you are down here, Deccan?"

He shrugs, "The gardeners. The maintenance men. That's all. It's... well... They aren't paid that well by the building supervisor, and I offered to help them out in exchange for a corner no one was using. Everyone's happy..." And the building officials have no record of his presence. He pushes the door open into a narrow cement corridor, unpainted, lined with pipes and slowly-rusting grilles. There -is- light here, filtering through dirty, somewhat cracked windows, but it's still dim, and the rumbling from the furnace is clearly audible. It's also warm and somewhat damp.

Deccan waves the two of them in, and once again ensures the door clicks shut behind them, the light turning back to red from its brief-lived green state. "He's right around the corner here."

Adelle swept her hand forward, and at once the air began to stir. A gentle breeze lifted in the enclosed room, ushering away the promise of mildew and rot. She'd seen what a nasty bit of lingering, damp air could do in the dark: she did grow fungus as a hobby. "Hello?" She called and, after a moment - "[Hello?]"

There might have been the hint of rustling, though it stops at the sounds of voices. Deccan speaks quickly after her, "It's me, I brought help...." The voice that responds is weak, and slightly slurred. [... pyr Aurelius? Did you... find a medicus...?] Dec winces visibly when the speaker uses his title, but just makes his way around the chain link gate to where, yes, a small living area has been set up. As long as one isn't claustrophobic, it's actually fairly comfortable, with a rug, a large cot, a low table with some few personal things on it. It's also occupied by the slight figure of a young man, his blue hair damp with sweat and his color... somewhat hard to determine, actually, in the dim light. It's not enough to conceal his bruise-darkened eyes though, or the unpleasant scent of someone with grave issues. To his credit, Deccan does seem to have propped the windows open here to let in the dry desert breeze, but it hasn't done much for the temperature, only the humidity. The air movement brought by his visitor does seem to help. [Leth, this is Adelle. You're going to have to trust her, even if her methods are unfamiliar. All right?]

"Sea and skies..." She muttered, and all doubt and unease was gone. She hurried forward and bowed as quickly as she could while still being polite. Her Garlean was out of practice and oddly accented to even her own ears. "[I am Adellenne. A Conjurer, but I know healing methods you will be comfortable with. This is my Second,]" she gestured to Silas. "[What happened? I need to know details so I use as little magick as possible.]" Her gaze drifted to Deccan. "Fresh water, boiled, and a lantern with an exposed flame." Adelle spun her hand in a lazy circle and drew in more fresh air through the window. The breeze smelled of spices and heat and sand and - distantly - the promise of a rain shower. "And clean bedding."

"I just changed it this morning," he protests, a little defensively. He -has- been doing his best to care for the youth, and there's a basket of soiled linens shoved up next to a stack of crates to back up his protests. "But... uh. I can probably scrounge up another set, just a moment..." Dec sidles around Silas and goes in search of sheets and the other items. The young man on the cot is obviously beyond the point of really caring who's asking him questions, and is probably just doing his best to stay awake and coherent. [We were ambushed on patrol... I couldn't really even see where they were coming from, it all happened so fast. I took a few arrows in the fight, but... I didn't think it was that bad... at first... they were only arrows...] He sort of trails off into a mumble, then forces himself awake again. [I was in the medical bay... when, um.] He stares at the ceiling for a bit. [... pyr Aurelius sort of, um. There was some kind of attack or something, haywire magitek armor units... I don't know what happened, but the next thing I knew, pyr Aurelius was running out of the Castrum with me. I... he said he was rescuing me...] Leth may or may not be sure this is what happened.(edited)

Adelle explained each step as she did it. She checked for fever, checked his pupils for a basic response, quickly unbound the bandages and even just how much give his skin had to it. "My first thought is cellulitis. This is not poison, it would show in his eyes and gums more than this. Likely just an infection, but very deep." She murmured to Silas, and half to herself. "[Breathe deeply for me, please.]" Adelle was already rummaging through her bag for what appeared to be a simple wooden tube. The elezen worked smoothly but quickly, and all the while slipped back into cooling the room and freshening the air.

Leth seems a bit happier just with the gentle drop in temperature, but it's small improvement. Unbinding his wounds at least proves that Deccan is at least well-skilled in field medicine; they're all packed well with gauze and while they could stand changing at this point, the dressing is probably only a couple of hours old. Still, the wounds are ugly; bloodless in the center, surrounded by halos of bruise-black and scarlet. It's the beginnings of tissue necrosis, although it seems his caretaker's efforts have held off the worst of it. The young soldier makes a few quietly distressed noises as she examines him, but he's too strung out at this point even to complain loudly. Deccan returns some time later, with a couple of (mismatched) sheets and one of the gardeners' lanterns. He hands these to Silas, who is a pair of apparently unoccupied hands, then goes to boil some water. Fortunately... that's not a big deal; Dec is a severe coffee addict, and there's a giant magitek pot in the other... well... 'room' is probably inaccurate, but. 'Space' will do.

Silas sets the lantern within Adelle's reach, but not so close as to be in her way. His grim silence breaks as he sighs, shaking his head at the sight of the wounds. "What in the hells are they teaching nowadays" he mutters to himself, low under his breath as he opens his own supply case, taking out what appears to be a heavily modified imperial shadow's visor, putting it on and playing with several dials on the side, the lenses on the front beginning to glow. " I hope you've something in mind Adelle. I've not got much in my arsenal for shite like this what ain't basically a knife."

Adelle looked at her gloves and stripped then from her hands, then pushed up her sleeves. The roping network of burn scars was on full display now. "Break a window, I need as much air and access to...to everything as I can possibly get. Silas, we need to cut away the dead tissue before I do anything with Conjury. If Garlean medicine could not save this man, then it means traditional means will not work." She reached into her bag and withdrew a vial of swirling purple liquid flecked with unfortunately recognizable pieces of morbol vine. "[I am going to do what I can, but it will hurt. Without my help you are more likely to die than not. Am I being clear?]" She held the vial out to him. "[This will make you sleep without dreams while we work.]"

Deccan returns with what's obviously a paint can, albeit one that's been thoroughly cleaned. Steam curls from the top as he sets it down on the low table by the head of the cot, next to the lantern. That done, he moves back to sit on a crate near the boilers out of the way, watching them. He does seem to be watching Silas more than Adelle... probably because he's got that visor on. For his part, Leth just nods vaguely; he's plainly having visible difficulty staying conscious, his violet eyes drifting closed despite obvious effort to the contrary. He -does- shoot a glance toward Deccan, as if confirming that this is all right, but eventually disengages a hand from under the sheet to take the vial and down it. Apparently he's not too sick to make a really disgusted face, though. "....ugh!" [What was in that st...mmngh...] Well, so much for 'barely conscious'.

Adelle reached out the moment he began to slump, familiar with the potency of her sedatives. The next moment she was laying him back and set Silas with the task of cutting away what was left of his clothes. "We need to cut away the necrotic tissue. It is already setting in, and combined with the fever he has very little time left. I can feel it, even without reaching out. I will be using Conjury on him but...as little as possible." Vials and bottles were withdrawn from her bag as she cleaned the wounds as well as her hands, and a sharply sterile smell filled the small space. "We cut away the tissue here, here and here. There, as well. Surgical debridment. Once the diseased flesh is removed I mean to use Conjury to..." She heaved a sigh and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "I mean to use Conjury for his fever and the infection in his blood. The moment I pull out my cane there is a vial of amber colored liquid with a pink label that you need to force down his throat. I used it to treat aether sickness in the past. It should keep him from going into shock." The elezen looked to Deccan. "After that, I have other treatments I can provde you that will help him recover. We get him through the surgery, keep him from slipping into shock, and we should be in the clear. I think he would prefer aether sickness to a coma or losing any limbs."

Silas cut away the youth's clothes, and turned back to his supplies. He pulled out what once was the core of a magitek bit, rotating it in his hands until he found the right side, activating a thin line of light which he passed around his hands and, rolling up his sleeves, his forearms. "How steady is your scalpel, Adelle?" He lifted the bit into the air, setting it floating, the light still beaming downwards. "If you want to save your energy for the fixing, I can do the cleanup. I've got an extra vial in my bag for y' as well, in case it's more'n you're expecting."

Deccan just shakes his head. "Do what you have to do," he rasps quietly. "Honestly... aether sickness passes, and I at least know how to deal with it. Better some fugitive malaise than... dying slowly on a cot in a warzone because your medicus has better things to do with his time..." His tone remains soft, but tinged with bitterness. A glance to the man standing nearby, then back down to the wounded soldier. Distractedly, he fumbles at a pocket in his coat with shaking fingers, then seems to clamp down on the habitual behavior and lowers his hand. Not that it stops twitching. "I just wish I could've done more for him," he mutters.

"Steady. This sun is fine so far, but I would appreciate having my strength reserved for the finer sealing of blood and organs. I have some concern that the infection is heading towards his heart." She glanced briefly at the bit and offered a wry smile before her gaze lingered on Deccan. "Take a few steps back, please. Once we start working I will need to be monitoring him fully and cannot worry about where you might be standing." She commanded Dozer to lay down toward the entryway, well out of sight and reach, then returned to Silas. "Ready when you are."

Deccan grunts softly. He'd thought he was out of the splash radius, but... he drops off his crate and moves back past the chain link gate before finding another crate to park on. It seems he still wants to watch... probably unsurprisingly.

"He should be fine," Adelle urged Deccan as she looked once more over the wounds. "Silas and I work well together, and I have yet to lose a patient. I even managed to sew the entirety of a man's fingers back to his hand. They even work." Hopefully the words were a comfort. The elezen sterilized the surgical tools she'd brought along, and laid them carefully on the nearest surface. At least she knew what she was doing.

Deccan nods a little, his gaze once more flicking over to Silas. HIs expression drifts thoughtful for a moment, brows furrowing, but then he seems to just shrug whatever it was off and move on. Not for the first time (or likely the last), he goes for his coat pocket... only to once more stop himself. Instead, he just stuffs his hands under his arms. A slight nod, "I figured," he says quietly. "Milloux wouldn't have suggested I speak with you if she didn't think you were good...." He glances out the dirty, slightly cracked window at the desert beyond. After awhile, he adds softly. "....Thank you for agreeing to help."

It was easy for Adelle and Silas to fall into the usual rhythm of surgery. The air continued its steady whirl around the room as it kept fresh air moving in the small space, and the light from Silas' bit cast a bright enough glow to work without difficulty. They worked in tandem with one another - passing tools, cleaning skin, adjusting position - like a well oiled machine. The lack of humidity in Ul'dah barely left enough sweat for her to bead on her brow. She could almost feel the infected pockets of flesh be removed, felt the grip of the fever loosen...Adelle kept her eye on the wounds and the moment she felt they were clear, she thrust her cane over the man's body and stretched out her hand. A new ethereal light flooded the narrow chamber. She could see it even with her eyes closed. There! There was the worst of it! If she could just... Adelle clenched her hand as though she'd crushed something in it. "I-I think...I think that should do it."

If nothing else, the young soldier is... above all... young. And with youth comes a certain degree of resilience and vibrance of life. It was still bad... another day or two without direct care and the likelihood of sepsis and organ failure would have been nearly unavoidable. But care he received, and his body... his aether, still present even if displaying that curious stubborn inertia that his people's do... actually seems to respond without unexpected resistance as she draws out the poisoned aether that remains after the poisoned tissue has been excised. He's going to have some nasty scars, but at least their area is comparatively small. All this while he hasn't stirred, still sleeping the dreamless sleep of the excessively drugged, but his fever-sweat is already starting to dry rather than being replenished. Deccan, for his part.... just watches. He notes the bit, notes the procedure... but says nothing; barely even moving. In truth, he seems a man to whom watching in stillness is... if not natural, then carefully trained. There's not even any sound from him until she speaks. "He'll... recover?"

She staggered back with a nod and the foul taste of rot at the back of her throat. "I have two bottles of a tonic you can give him over the next few suns. No more than one spoonful every four bells, but the fever will break and he should be back to his usual self in no time," Dozer finally approached - the little dog left his commanded place to set a paw on her foot. She looked down at him and sighed, then withdrew a bottle of white pills from her pocket. The Elezen swallowed one dry. "I should be going. If he does not wake by noon tomorrow, get an ammonia capsule and break it under his nose. That should work."

The big blond Garlean nods a little, looking between the two, then rummages a card out of his pocket and a pencil. He scrawls a pearl number on the back, then slides off his crate to offer it to the healer. "I don't have much," he says quietly, looking between her and her associate, "But... I owe both of you. If you ever need anything... information, contacts, even my rifle, for all that I'm not what I was anymore... don't hesitate to call me. Okay?" The card is for the Shroudrose Teahouse... a cream colored rectangle with awfully floral and feminine lacework printed all over it. The pencil marks on the back are rough and dark, as if he had trouble controlling the pencil, but they're legible.

She reached out to take the card, and offered him a small smile. "Information and contacts might be helpful, actually. We will be in touch. I would like to come check your ward within the next few suns, if that is permissible. Unless you have another healer you work with at the Teahouse?" Adelle pocketed the card without a second glance. "If not, just watch for the brightening of his eyes or a return of a fever. You did a fine job keeping him alive. If not for your help, he likely would have died well before we arrived. It is more likely than not that you saved his life."

Deccan nods again. "...Of course. Just ping me and I'll let you in. The...ah. maintenance guys won't let you in otherwise...." A pause, then he looks a little wry, "Well, unless you pay them to. Anyhow..." He trails off, looking at the pale figure on the cot, "... I'll be sure to keep a close eye on him. And give him the tonics when he comes to. "Ah... there is one healer," he admits, "But she's been very busy lately and I haven't seen her in some time. Family business, I think." He ventures a slight smile, "Oh and... if you come by sometime, order whatever you like and tell whoever's on the counter that it's on me. I still haven't gotten them to add bagels to the menu, but they keep telling me it's not -that- far off..."

"I will certainly take you up on that. As soon as he wakes enough to move, have him sit up for a bit and change the sheets. Conjury can make things heal almost too quickly, and we do not want him forming anything that will not flex with his movements." She gave him one last smile. "You did well, Deccan. Get some rest." Adelle scooped Dozer into her arms. "We will go without being noticed. I promise."

Deccan offers her a slightly wry smile, "I will. It... won't be the first time I've dealt with physical therapy to counteract keloid contraction." He sighs, moving aside so they can go. "Thank you again...." A glance back to the figure on the bed, "... though we've both got a long road ahead."

[halfabreath]

stuff i wrote that i like from 2k17

@heyfightme tagged me (!!!!!!!!!) for a “best of 2017″ writing thing so i’m going to take a lil look through the stuff i wrote that i like from this past year. this was the year of writing a lot more than i ever thought i would. i published 13 fics on ao3 in 2017 (which sounds meh but i’ve only published 15 fics on there EVER, so) which comes out to about 64,000ish words?? that’s wild.

Always Halfway to Go (the water aerobics au)

“Fine.” Adam sighs in agreement. Justin moves and they walk side by side to Annie’s, the backs of their hands brushing occasionally. He wonders what would be so bad about taking Adam’s hand. Statistically speaking, there are very low odds of any negative consequences. Hall and Murray are both off campus and the team isn’t anywhere in sight. It’s all Justin can think about when they walk into Annie’s and when Adam holds the door for him. They’re standing in line, pressed together in the small shop, when Justin takes a chance. He trains his eyes on Adam’s face and carefully laces their fingers together.

Adam doesn’t react, at first, but after a long moment he squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling shakily, and tightens his grip on Justin’s hand. His fingertips are calloused but his palm is broad and the heat from his fingers seeps into Justin’s. They wait in line for a long time, their coats and bags hiding their clasped hands, saying nothing. Adam only lets go after they’ve ordered and paid, releasing Justin’s hand just before he turns away to find a table. He selects one in the corner and has one leg propped on an extra chair by the time Justin arrives with their drinks.

This scene, for me, is a turning point in the fic. There’s so much thinking and reasoning going on with Ransom and Holster that I needed them to just do something, and I wanted that something to be small. I wanted it to feel all encompassing for Rans and Holster but minuscule for everyone else in the room, because sometimes love is like that. Holster gets to hold Ransom’s hand and it ruins him, emotionally, and I love the notion of something so insignificant meaning the world to him.

If P Then Q

“Every fucking time,” Ransom mutters, shoving his hand in the cup to grab the ball. Holster’s right behind him, pressed up against his back as he reaches around to pick up the plastic cup. His other hand comes to rest on Ransom’s hip, warm even through layers of clothing. Ransom knows it doesn’t mean anything. If there’s hardly any room in the Haus and the crowd around the pong table keeps closing in around them then Holster has to press close to get to the beer. If playing pong with Lardo is the fastest way to get hammered then Holster’s just tipsy and wants to make sure he doesn’t fall over. If p then q. It’s simple logic.

So, I love the BBB. That whole verse is one of my favorite ideas I’ve developed this year and this drabble in particular is my favorite of the bunch because it was a deep exploration into Ransom’s voice and way of thinking. Writing Holster comes very naturally to me but I had to fight for Ransom’s voice, and that combined with writing Ransom pining instead of Holster was really fun. Will they ever get together? Who can say??

Here’s a Man in Evenin’ Clothes (NSFW)

Holster coughs once, then looks up at him through his lashes. “Bro, you were a sixteenth note off. It was driving me crazy.” His voice is scratchy and hoarse, the sound of it sends a bolt of arousal directly to Ransom’s cock.

“What?” He asks, blinking down at his boyfriend. It’s difficult to concentrate when Holster’s still lazily tracing his thumb over the head of his dick, looking up at him with red cheeks and a broad smile.

“The song, bro! It should have been like, buh, buh, buh, buh.” He seamlessly begins to pump his hand exactly as the bass pulses, popping his lips to accompany the sound. Ransom’s eyes roll back in his head from the sensation of Holster’s hand and how his lips brush against the head of Ransom’s cock with every burst of sound. “But you were like – buh, buh, buh, buh.” Holster pauses then resumes the motion of his hand, this time a half second before the beat thuds through the walls. Ransom’s grip tightens in Holster’s hair as he tries to catch his breath. “It was really fucking distracting.”

This is, and forever will be, the most in character thing I have ever written for Adam Birkholtz. This fic is also probably my favorite thing I’ve ever written, ever. Like, it’s blowjobs in a closet but it’s more than blowjobs in a closet, ya feel?

Titanium White and the Coral Reef

Holster reaches around him to swipe his hand over the mirror, displacing the condensation in a broad streak so he can see his reflection. It’s blurry, just smears of color on a foggy backdrop, but he watches as Ransom turns and places a hand on his cheek. He leans into the contact as Ransom guides him closer, rocking up to press a kiss to his jaw. “Do you want me to shave?” He asks, unable and unwilling to decide.

I was first diagnosed with depression at 16 years old and have been medicated for, fuck, the last 8 years. I’m just recently realizing what kind of effect the longevity of mental illness has on a person and this was 100% me trying to work through having a three day episode where I couldn’t get out of bed because eh, them’s the breaks. Part of me just wanted to know what it would be like to have someone there. I also really like the description in the mirror because blah blah who am I after years of medication blah blah is my personality my own blah blah who would I be if I wasn’t like this. 

all my time is yours as much as mine

Holster’s the only one who knows exactly when gifts become curses. There are gray hairs in his playoff beard and sometimes, at night, he’ll whisper his fears into the dark (what if I’ve lived too long already and drop dead of old age tomorrow, did I spend too much time on the bad things and go too fast during the good times, why can’t I control it,  do you ever wonder what it’s like to not be like this) and Ransom will reach down and offer his hand. Holster always takes it, and Ransom always lets him slow down time for as long as he needs to be comforted. They’ve weathered long nights together, seconds stretched into minutes into hours, hands joined halfway between their bunks.

This fic was 100% inspired by the line “there are gray hairs in his playoff beard” because I tend to write Holster as weary and I was honestly trying to get it out of my system. I also love the notion of Ransom and Holster having perfectly complimentary magical abilities because of course they would, and slowing down/speeding up time fit their characters in a really satisfying way. 

Uhhh that’s what I’m featuring right now. I didn’t pick anything from After the Raven (the poly farm au) because let’s be real, they’re all my favorites.

Tagging: @chocolatechipcookiesplease, @alphacrone, @quidhitch, @dippedinsunshine, and @omgpieplease plus whoever wants to do it!

[greentrickster]

@someoddmix  #OOOHH OF COURSE!! THE ALOLAN PROTAGONISTS AND FRIENDS!!!! #LMAO TRUE PROTAGONIST STYLE INDEED #and immediately distracted by Red. that's fair #OMG THEY DID COME FROM KANTO YOU'RE RIGHT!!!!!

And what a delight it was to discover that, because otherwise I wasn’t going to have them know who Red is!

@someoddmix #'we agreed we werent gonna tell anyone I accidentallytl told you that' LMAO

I wanted Hau to have a reason to remember/know about Red other than just ‘Oh, he’s an amazing trainer!’, so sorry, Sun, your secret crush is now public knowledge, hopefully you don’t find out that Red-sempai knows about it, sororicide is illegal.

@someoddmix #lmao pikachu just hanging out with Galactic Boss Cyrus. pets

If GB Cyrus misbehaves, pikachu can electrocute him into compliance. If GB Cyrus behaves, pikachu gets a leg to flop on and pets, because it knows Trainer Cyrus is prone to petting anything fuzzy that sits in his lap if he gets distracted. It’s a win-win situation, and thinking of it is why pikachu is Red’s best pokemon and his ace! <3

@someoddmix #interdimensional bad guys DO take priority =( #being the Responsible Adult sucks sometimes haha #man the protagonists have a lot of manpower on their side! nice! #BY OUR PROTAGONIST POWERS COMBINED!!

Eh, Blue’s used to it, he’s been being a responsible adult in some way or another since he was ten and took over a gym. Plus, while it means you’re kinda the buzzkill, it also means you’re the authority figure, which he does like quite a lot. He’s still a fairly vain guy, he likes having peoples’ respect and attention. ;)

But yeah, we have three ex-champions, one current champion, three Team leaders, Trainer Cyrus, and Hau. That’s nine top trainers, with Red, Blue, and Cynthia being internationally recognized as having top tier skill even amongst champions and former champions, for a total of Fifty pokemon between them, some of those being legendaries, since each of the bosses from Rainbow Rocket has a legendary from their game with them (yeah, Archie and Maxie have had Kyogre and Groudon with them this whole time and GB Cyrus has Palkia or Dialga (or maybe both in this AU since it doesn’t have to be balanced for a game), surprise!). Though technically, unless GB Cyrus has both Palkia and Dialga, it should only be counted as forty-nine pokemon, since sylveon’s a therapy pokemon not meant for battle (she’s only about level 20 or so, she is not meant to be fighting). Then on top of this we’re going to be adding Sun and his team, and he’s also at champion level.

Rainbow Rocket Castle is set up for maybe one person to try and break in, since that’s how it usually works. They’re not set up for a barrage like this, and Red and Blue are both kinda pumped at the chance to steamroll Team Rocket again like this-

-which is the point where Maxie speaks up and points out that Giovanni is an intelligent man (he has to have been, to have both run a successful mafia operation and invaded another dimension in the manner he has), and that he’s the one who brought all the Team leaders here. A direct, overwhelming frontal assault might be satisfying, but it might not be successful, especially if the mafioso uses ultra-wormholes to start sending people back to their original dimensions - or displacing people from this dimension into new ones.

Moon, slightly miffed that the frontal assault seems to have been cancelled: What do you suggest, then?

Maxie: Myself, Archie, and Cyrus are already supposed to be there, and act as something of a gauntlet along with the other Team bosses to keep any intruders away from the central areas and Giovanni, at least for the moment. If you were to allow us return and take up our assigned positions, then not only would you have eyes and ears on the inside, you could approach the task as though you were unaware what was going on and lull Giovanni into a false sense of security, and also save some time since we would naturally allow you through our rooms without a battle.

Which is a somewhat less exciting but still acceptable idea, except GB Cyrus speaks up at this point. “It won’t work.”

“What?”

“If he’s as smart as you say, Giovanni will be keeping an eye on the path leading to him, and he’ll spot any attempt at subterfuge.”

Which is... a fair point. Drat. Apparently the plan needs some refinement. But refine it they do, and it’s concluded that Maxie and Archie will return to Rainbow Rocket headquarters and act as though they’re still loyal to the organization (or at least as loyal as they were when they first arrived), and Trainer Cyrus will go with them again (because it’ll be suspicious if ���Cyrus’ keeps coming and going with different clothes and personalities (plus, he has the giraphone and can send messages or call for help if necessary)). Moon and Hau will rendezvous with Sun and Lillie to fill them in on what’s what, and Red, Blue, and Cynthia will happen to visit a cafe nearby, having given their phone numbers to Moon and Hau, and act as cavalry and back-up if necessary. Galactic Boss Cyrus will be nearby but not participating, because he’s not hugely invested in this and he’s still busy thinking over his life choices.

Okay, good plan, team, break!

Galactic Boss Cyrus is left with his thoughts for awhile while everyone else is getting to the bottom of what’s going on with Rainbow Rocket and how to use the fact that they’ve coerced Maxie and Archie to their side to their advantage, and it’s… hard. To acknowledge that there’s a version of himself who seems capable of forming powerful bonds with both people and pokemon, when he himself has never seemed able to, and, worse, that maybe… he had formed a few bonds of his own, but somehow didn’t realize, and that it didn’t… help.

He doesn’t realize he’s gotten lost in his own thoughts until Blue’s in the kitchenette talking to him, asking him if he likes eggs of all things.

GB Cyrus: Why?

Blue: ‘cause our Cyrus tends to skip meals if he’s feeling depressed and no one reminds him.

GB Cyrus: I’m not depressed.

Blue: ……..

GB Cyrus: I’m not.

Blue: Okay, you’re not. Still, when’s the last time you ate?

GB Cyrus: (the silence of ‘I genuinely can’t remember but like hell I’m admitting it’)

Blue: Cool. Do you like eggs and how do you like them?

GB Cyrus: …scrambled.

Blue: Cheese or ketchup?

GB Cyrus: Both. Why do you care?

Blue: I’m nosy. And a gym leader/pokemon professor, it’s a job combo that turns you into such a parent. Especially when you accidentally adopt. I LOVE MY SON, BY THE WAY!

Trainer Cyrus, from the living room area: I’M NOT YOUR SON!

Blue: (to GB Cyrus) He’s going through a rebellious phase, you know how it is.

GB Cyrus, who never went through a rebellious phase due to desperation for parental approval and does not pick up on the fact that this is an ongoing joke between Trainer Cyrus and Blue: No.

This ends the conversation for a bit (purely because Blue decides to be respectful and not pry), long enough for the eggs to be finished and consumed.

Blue: Hey, so, important question. When’s the last time you can remember being happy?

GB Cyrus: Emotions and the human spirit are the cause of all strife and must therefore be eradicated.

Blue: …..

Blue: …it is so much darker hearing you say that than reading about it on your Pokepedia page.

Blue: Also, not saying you have it, but just heads-up: severe depression can seriously impede a person’s ability to connect and feel connections with others. Makes it hard to open up enough to accept and feel safe to return them.

GB Cyrus: Why do you insist on bringing up depression.

Blue: ‘cause our Cyrus has it. Doesn’t mean you do, of course, alternate universes and all that, but just in case.

Blue: Anyways, come on, we’re figuring out what to do about Giovanni and seeing about potentially getting you guys all back to your home universes if you want.

[jaywings]

Multi-fandom fic recs

Bolded ones are my absolute favorites!

Invader Zim

- Bitter End by Lael Adair: Dark and tragic with somewhat of a twist ending. One-shot.

- Going On by Dust Traveller: Dib, the last remaining human after the Irkens have destroyed Earth, is exiled to planet Dirt where he must live out the rest of his days. The story is him just... trying to survive through the years. And meeting an Irken OC who he... kind of falls in love with? Kind of. It doesn’t go beyond him considering the possibility and then rejecting it. Dead fic, unfortunately, but still very good.

- The Operator by Donnistar: Dib investigates a monster called the “Slenderman,” but everything is NOT as it seems. A dark fic. Complete.

- Possessed by HeCallsMeHisChild: Another dark IZ fic! Zim is captured by humans; Dib is captured by Irkens. It’s... not happy. Complete.

- Displaced by Plastic Emotion: Invader Tenn must choose between going back to the Irken Empire to face a trial that would end in her death, or trick Zim into giving her refuge. Dead fic, probably.

Portal

- Blue Sky by wafflestories: Yeah, this one... People in the Portal fandom have some pretty strong reactions to it whether positive or negative, but I genuinely like it, especially the whole beginning part before Wheatley turns human (er, well, “android”). Complete.

- Cake and Lies by MVTK42: Another “Wheatley is human” fic, but not in the way you’d expect. Plot twists and turns everywhere. Warning for violence in this one. Complete.

- The Rodent and the Robot by BabyCharmander: Caroline flees before being deleted and takes up residence in a core, at which point she teams up with Doug Rattmann to take down GLaDOS once and for all. Complete.

- Target Acquired by renegademechanic: A slight AU where Chell saved Wheatley from being launched into space; three years later, they have to learn to work together again for one last attempt to escape Aperture for good. Dead fic...?

- Redemption by Silverstreams: A prequel seeking to tie together the events of Portal, the Lab Rat comic, and Portal 2 into one cohesive timeline. In progress.

- Reversal by Obvious Octopus: Okay to be perfectly honest I haven’t read this one in years but I just remember it being pretty hilarious. Instead of Wheatley ending up in the chassis, who should take over the facility but... Chell? Complete.

- A Little Test and A Few Repairs (plus the three follow-up one-shots) by The Fanfiction Core: A look at what it might really take to redeem Wheatley. A Little Test is dark but the rest are a lot lighter. Complete.

Psychonauts

- Return to Thorney Towers by The Great Allie: Someone is going after the former residents of Thorney Towers. All of them. Dead fic, probably, but still good.

- Twisted Hallways by Digitaldreamer: Follows Raz as he climbs up through the asylum. One-shot.

- Cursum Perficio by Digitaldreamer: I’ve got very mixed feelings about this one, but it was a good attempt at something of a Psychonauts epic. The best part of the fic is the beginning, chapters 1-8. Dead fic, but with a summary of the final events at the end of the last chapter.

- Curses! by Threepwillow: Raz seeks to undo the curse put on his family once and for all. Complete.

- Medium by Shadow Wasserson. The campers have a lesson in a new psychic power. Rendered non-canon now, but that doesn’t make it any less creepy. One-shot.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars

- Wake the Storm by bedlamsbard: CW!Anakin wakes up on a Star Destroyer in the midst of the Original Trilogy due to time travel shenanigans. Chaos ensues. The story has a sequel which I never finished reading for various reasons, but this one is really good. Complete.

- Fallen Legends by GreySilhouette: Major spoilers for Clone Wars in this one!! Takes place at the very end of season five. Read the summary to find out more because if I say anything I’ll just spoil the actual series. Complete.

- Time To Go by light_mantled_albatross: Has the exact same premise as the one above. But as good as that one is, I honestly like this one even better. The writing is wonderful and it feels more plausible. In progress (hopefully!)

Other

- Flower Is Not a Good Life Coach by unrestedjade: If you like Undertale you’ve probably already read this one. It’s good but it’s... uh, pretty dark. Complete.

Crossover

- Wild Cards by genalovestoons. A crossover between Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam and Max, where apparently everyone is psychic. Only one chapter so far, but it’s a good chapter. In progress.

- Timelords and Terror by Hephestus: Er, it’s a Doctor Who/MLP crossover, and is better than it probably sounds? Eh, I liked it. The Tenth Doctor helps Twilight and friends battle some aliens that showed up in an episode from season three of DW, but I won’t say which one. Oh and apparently they’re named for (and based on) some villains from the original MLP series or something... Complete.

- That Which Holds The Image by RubbishRobots: Another weird-sounding crossover, it’s Doctor Who/Harry Potter, but it’s done really well. From the title alone, do I even need to say what it’s about? Complete.

- Interlopers, Invaders, Investigators and Doom by Diloph: An Invader Zim/Doctor Who crossover that I love to DEATH. The Tenth Doctor helps Dib and Gaz (and, albeit reluctantly, Zim too) with some trouble going on in their town. Seriously every moment where the Doctor and Zim interact is just golden. In progress (hopefully!).

[fundeadasylum]

He is Beauty, He is Grace, He’s Got Two Holes in His Face

Here, take this. Just take it. I barely tried. Now please stop bothering me about it. I’m not writing any more of this.

Based on @lone-sock‘s demon AU.

-----

Murdoc Niccals kicks the door closed, hesitates, and shifts his armful of essentials so he can flip the locks closed. Then he dumps everything onto the floor and stretches, arching his back until it pops. His gnarled teeth gnaw on his lower lip as he frowns at his work space, hands on his hips, eyes narrowed and squinting.

Windows blocked out with rubbish bags? Check. Particle board laid down? Check. Candles? Check. Chalk? Check. Book? Check. Confidence? Eh…half check. Though if anyone were to ask, he’d tell them to fuck off because he knows exactly what he’s doing, thank you very much.

Murdoc spreads out his materials and gets to work. He takes the chalk (blue, one of Noodle’s that she’d been using to draw on the paved floor of the car park) and the ruler and proceeds to carefully construct a circle in the center of the particle boards. The setup is long and arduous and Murdoc checks, double checks, and triple checks his work. One screw up will cost him dearly. Two would kill him. He’s done this once before. He’s no idiot. He’s got one shot.

The circle and its symbols are completed. The candles are set up. His protective barrier is established with his own circle and carefully laid incense. The bassist takes up his place in his own, smaller circle, squares himself up, takes a deep breath, and lifts an old, weathered book up to begin reading. He’s been practicing these words carefully in private and he can say them in his sleep. And now, in the moment, he’s certainly not feeling them catch in his throat as he speaks them into the dimly lit room.

Murdoc Niccals is summoning a demon.

The air thickens, power building with each word, a cresting wave ready to crash and consume. Murdoc’s pulse rate picks up, an unseen wind lifting his bangs, his eyes dancing with excitement. Here it comes…

The candles erupt, shooting pillars of bright flue flames to the ceiling it a roiling cloud of fire. Pale smoke swells in the center of the circle, twisting and throbbing and pushing at the edges as if it is alive, as if it is seeking an escape. Murdoc snaps the book closed and lets it fall to the floor, unable to tear his gaze away from the scene before him. The thud of the falling book is lost in the roaring, the rushing, the howling of something not of this world.

The fire and the smoke condense, tangling, molding, sharpening into something in the middle of the summoning circle. There’s a heavy whoomph of displaced air and power and then the room is quiet.

Murdoc can hear his heart pounding in his ears, his rasping breaths loud in the sudden silence. As the smoke clears, he grins, rocking on the balls of his feet, eager to get a look at the being he’s summoned to do his bidding.

The eagerness drains out of him faster than he can down a can of beer and his smile trickles away with it.

Perched awkwardly in the confines of the circle is a very tall, lanky, pale creature. It has the top half of a man with goat ears and curling horns parting through blue hair. The lower half is covered in thick, brown fur with sharp, cloven hooves scraping at the chalk lines in the circle. The eyes of the beast are black, void of all light, and the top of its head almost brushes the ceiling from where it sits hunched, watching him. It would have been an impressive creature…if not for the dumbfounded look on its face,

“Where’s this then? ’S not home…’s cold ‘in ‘ere…hey, oi, wot’s goin’ on?”

If he were a lesser man, Murdoc might have cried at the butchered voice coming from the demon. As it is, he’s Murdoc fucking Niccals and he will not put up with this shit.

“What the ever-loving fuck are you supposed ta’ be?” The bassist spits out all his displeasure, his frustration, and his disgust with those words. The demon flinches away from him.

“W-well, I’m a demon, aren’t I?” It insists. It—maybe he?—takes a look around, the void of its eyes sweeping over the room in a way that Murdoc can feel more than see, “Ah. You summoned me? Y-you did summon me, right? Only, see, I haven’ been up ‘ere in…ages. Ages! ’S a lot colder than I remember…”

Murdoc stares, processes, shakes himself, and says the demon’s Name. The demon jerks, black eyes widening, and a strangled yelp squeezing from its throat. He says the Name again and is rewarded with another flinch, blue hair bristling down its back as it draws in on itself. Murdoc’s lip curls in a sneer,

“Sing.” He commands.

“W-wot…?”

“I said, sing.” And he throws the Name out for emphasis.

The demon stutters, sucks in a breath, opens its mouth (oh Satan, its missing its two front teeth, what the actual fuck), and sings.

Murdoc expects fingernails on chalkboards. He expects tin cans in a garbage disposal. He expects grinding gears. He expects something as awkward and tangled as the demon’s speaking voice.

He does not expect beauty. He does not expect the silk and liquid silver that soars from the demon’s throat in an arc of pure, cold marble. It’s haunting, in a way, almost hollow at times, but there is no denying it’s gorgeous. The demon is singing some old love song and it’s enchanting. The damn thing must be some sort of siren because Murdoc is unhelpfully flooded with a raw feeling of nostalgia for something he’s not sure he ever had.

The demon is the first stars at twilight. It is something familiar and yet something so very new and awe inspiring that it touches the heart.

“Enough.” Murdoc whispers and struggles to claim his voice again, “I said, enough! Stop!” The demon snaps its mouth shut, looking a bit putout that it didn’t get to finish singing. Murdoc works his lower lip in his teeth again, squinting, thinking, assessing. He’s already made up his mind but acting like he’s debating is a good way of keeping everyone on edge,

“Eh, you’ll do.” He says eventually, “Welcome to the band, Face Ache.”

The demon frowns, blinking in confusion, “Band…? Face Ache…?”

“Ay, a band, nimrod,” Murdoc plants his hands on his hips, tilting his chin up and putting on a leering grin, “Got me a bassist—that’s me, ‘case you were wonderin’—and  a guitarist and a drummer. Jus’ needed us a singer with the voice of an—well, a good voice.”

“…me?” The demon says hesitantly, pointing at himself in astonishment. There’s a light pink dusting his cheeks.

“Oi, ‘course it’s you! Yer gonna be our pretty poster boy! Well, not lookin’ like that you’re not. ‘Ere now, what’s your best take on a human form then? Go on, luv, show us whatcha got.” Murdoc gestures impatiently and the demon in the circle shifts around, ears flicking nervously before it takes a deep breath and closes its eyes. There’s a soft puff of blue smoke and in the place of the towering demon, is a man.

He’s rail thin and taller than Murdoc by a good head and a half or so. His hair is the same blue as the demon’s, his skin porcelain pale and almost delicate looking. His long fingers twitch and fidget, dancing across his shape, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt and hiking up his pants that are too short on him anyway. He looks like an imbecile. A tall, beautiful, black-eyed god of an imbecile. Twin voids glance up at Murdoc, almost shy in the way they peek at him from under blue bangs.

“That’ll do.” Murdoc says happily, “Now, how’s abouts you meet the rest of the crew, eh, uh…hm.” Jagged fingernails scrape at the stubble on his jawline, “Shit, can’t be callin’ you by your Name in public, hm. Aw, I’ll just call ya’ Two Dents. 2D. That’s a good one, eh? Two Dents ‘cause of those bleedin’ black ‘oles in yer damn thick skull. Nice stage name too, iffin I do say so myself. Aight, 2D, this is my contract…”

Murdoc lays out his plans, his rules, the contract he’d written and rewritten a dozen times to make sure there were no exploitable loopholes. The demon—2D—listens intently, head cocked to the side, restless fingers still roaming the air. He has no additions to make. The contract is sealed. They shake on it. 2D shudders as the power seeps into his blood and then let’s out a sigh as he’s free to step out of the circle and stretch. Murdoc purposefully kicks over a couple of incense sticks and grinds them out under his boots before slinging an arm around 2D’s shoulders.

“C’mon, kiddo, yer gonna love it here! Everyone’s a star, a right family, we are! ‘Course, Russ might decide to make a tosser of ‘imself and try ‘in ditch you straight out the door. But don’t worry, once he hears you sing, he’ll be captivated.”

He leads the demon turned lead singer out of the room, leaving his mess behind to clean up later, regaling the creature with wondrous tales of fame and fortune. They’re going to make it big and there’s nothing that can stop them.

(Russel, as predicted, is none too pleased with Murdoc’s addition to the band. There are a few hours of venomous bickering and swearing but in the end it makes no difference because the two men come back to find Noodle has thoroughly adopted 2D already and there’s no going back now.

Russel definitely doesn’t find them drawing pictures together later and he definitely doesn’t think it’s one of the most adorable things he’s ever seen.)

[theimaginesyouneveraskedfor]

In The Light

This is part of Red’s Love your “Flaws” Writing Challenge by @little-red-83.

Flaws: scars (two on side, one on forehead, one below left eye), short (5’0), body type (thicker build but not overweight), quiet/reserved (around strangers), speech impediment (has faded with therapy but reoccurs in stressful situations), stretch marks, history nerd.

Song-spiration: In The Light by The Lumineers

Character/Fandom: Fili/The Hobbit (Modern AU)

Staring down your own chest, trying to glimpse your midriff without bending to prevent that extra bit of paunch, you sighed with exasperation. Why on earth would there not be mirror inside the fitting room? All you had wanted to do was try something new and see how it looked. You were trying to change your life by taking risks, even if a crop top wasn’t much of one. You ran your fingers along the textured lines along your left side and bit your lip, craning your neck down awkwardly as you tried to examine them.

Garnering all your courage and inhaling deeply, you unlatched the door and swept out into the small area which separated the cubicles from the racks. As you did, you began to call for your friend who had gathered a pile of her own garments, “Theresa, tell me the truth, can you really notice the scars?” You barely finished your question as you found yourself coming face-to-face with someone other than Theresa.

“Um, sorry, I didn’t see you…” You trailed off quietly and looked around the blonde man as your friend emerged from her fitting room, looking much more refined in her outfit than you, “Pardon me.”

You stepped past the stranger before he could reply and scurried over to Theresa, hissing at her in an embarrassed whisper, “Tell me I look alright, please.”

“Y/N, you look fine,” She chuckled and glanced over your shoulder at the person you had almost bowled over, you hoped he was heading in the completely opposite direction, “I told you, you would. You’re much too tough on yourself.”

“You sure my scars aren’t too obvious? And my stomach?” You turned to glance in the mirror on the exterior of a stall door, “I don’t think this skirt is high enough.”

“What are you talking about? You look better than I’ve ever seen, not that you’re not always a beauty,” Theresa assured in her caring way, “The only one who notices your stomach is you…and those scars, barely visible. You’re buying it. And if you don’t, I’m buying it for you.”

“Theresa…” You let your voice dissolve in the air as you huffed at her sparkling eyes, “Fine, I’ll get it. Doesn’t mean I have to wear it.”

“Oh, yes it does,” She turned you and began to usher you back to your cubicle, “Tonight. We’re going out!”

“You know I don’t go out,” You protested and she merely kept smiling, “Theresa, please.”

“This isn’t a dialogue, Y/N,” She waved away your arguments and you cringed as you looked away accidentally catching the curious eyes of the blonde stranger who stood silently by the rack of displaced clothing, “Now go get changed and we’ll get lunch.”

Theresa almost shoved you into the fitting room before she padded away in her stockinged feet and you hurriedly closed the door behind you. You could feel the same man watching you still and you wished he would cut it out. You were none of his business. What was his problem? Did he come to the mall to stare at the weirdos and judge? You could only imagine what he thought of the scars, not that the ones on your face were any better. And the stretch marks? You checked in a panic to make sure none of those pesky lines rose high enough to peak out from the waist of the skirt.

Time, give me my yesterdays, Save it for all you had in your eyes, I have gone away.

You slowly undressed, hoping that the stranger would have disappeared before you emerged, and folded the clothing nicely on the bench as you pull your regular wear back on. You slung your purse across your shoulder and picked up your new outfit, slowly unlatching the door and creeping back out into the store. The blond man remained and you met his gaze once more without intention, a smile coming to his lips before you quickly turned away and whisked down the row of cubicles to wait by Theresa’s.

Another figure appeared to your other side as you listened to Theresa changing, wishing she would go just a little quicker. You looked over to a woman with blonde hair as she emerged from another stall and she brushed past you with a pile of dresses hung over her arm. You listened to the purr of her voice as she greeted the blond stranger and he chuckled at her before leading her away towards the counter. You don’t know why the scene made you suddenly uncomfortable and the bitterness of resent gather in your throat. Of course, he had a girlfriend.

Ugh, why did you care? You didn’t want a boyfriend and you surely didn’t want one who stared at your so endlessly. You shook your head and tried to break free of the idea of fancying the man or any other. People were too complicated…and you were too much of a freak to be of genuine interest to them. Besides, you had Theresa. She loved you in her way and what was better than a true friend?

“So, Y/N,” Theresa emerged from her changing room and brought you from your thoughts, “Lunch.”

“Sure,” You smiled and followed her to the line, waiting just behind the blond man who looked over his shoulder and grinned at you.

Theresa elbowed you as he turned away and you nudged her back sharply. She raised her brow in a silent question and you shook your head with a frown, pointing to the woman beside him. She rolled her eyes and looked straight ahead, her mind no doubt racing with ideas. You gave her another jab to keep her from acting on any of them and shrugged in surrender.

Fate dealt you a tricky hand, Now you’re just left alone in your mind And I have gone away

You looked in the mirror with chagrin, the outfit always setting within you buyer’s remorse. Why did you always listen to Theresa? For such a gentle soul, she was rather manipulative. You squinted under your heavy mascara and the eyeliner was at least flattering as it brought out your irises. Your lips were perfectly glossed though you had never been keen on their shape and the blush highlighted your cheekbones enough that you didn’t look so much like a chipmunk. Theresa sure knew how to use make up to her advantage.

You tried a smile but it still made you cringe and you adjusted your breasts as your top began to sag. If you weren’t already worrying about your midriff, you would have to be mindful of your chest. Your one redeeming quality did look rather nice however and you turned to admire your behind. You had been teased about it in school but you had never minded the extra padding.

“Oh, Y/N, I told you you’d look wonderful,” She preened and looked you up and down, “We’ll be fending of the guys with sticks…or at least, our purses.”

“Sure,” You replied dully and took your borrowed jacket from the vanity chair; you didn’t have anything stylish to keep you warm and so Theresa had kindly offered the leather jacket, “Let’s just go before I change my mind.”

Memory’s old but I just can’t let it go, The idea’s gone but I just can’t let it go.

Ready to go at last after waiting for Theresa to find her keys, you were in a taxi and your anxiety was growing by the second. Stepping out, you were surprised to find that you were allowed into the venue without ado and inside you were bombarded by cacophonous music and flashing lights. You followed Theresa to the coat check and left your jacket before finding your way to the bar, the line a crowd.

“Looks like we’ll be waiting a while,” Theresa crossed her arms, her elbow almost at your eyeline despite your heels.

“Whatever, I don’t even drink,” You check your hair to make sure it had not slipped from its bobby pins and felt a shoulder press against yours, “What the--”

You looked over at the figured crushed up against you in the hoard and found the blond man from earlier. What were the odds? Recognition dawned on his face and he smiled, bending to talk into your ear over the load music.

“Hey, I know you,” He said in a rather striking voice, “From that boutique.”

“Yes, I wemember,” Your speech quavered and you cringed at the return of your old impediment, “I mean, I remember. Uh…I see you didn’t buy anything.” You quipped as he had been an odd sight in woman’s store.

“I was there with my brother’s girlfriend, he was at the food court…as usual,” He grumbled and the tip of his nose brushed up against your ear, “Would it be rude to ask for a name?”

“Y/N,” You answered looking over at Theresa as she grinned back at you; you rolled your eyes and turned back, “And yours?”

“Fili,” He answered, “It’s nice to meet you. Again.”

“Yeah, you, too,” You offered; you weren’t very good at conversation and you weren’t keen on the idea of a hook up, “What a coincidence, eh?”

“That it is,” He agreed and despite your awkwardness, he seemed interested, “I’ll buy you a drink. What are you having?”

“Oh, no thank you. It’s nice of you to offer, but really,” You waved your hand in the air, “I don’t really drink.”

“Then a ginger ale?” He asked, refusing to let you deny him, “And your friend? What does she drink?”

“Please--”

“I insist,” He stepped forward as a spot cleared at the bar, “All I ask in return is a dance.”

“I, uh…” You felt bad for being rude so your turned back to Theresa and asked her what she wanted, “Vodka cran.” You called back to Fili and he nodded before yelling his order over the bar.

“Y/N, you’ve lucked out,” Theresa commented as she stood beside you, “Seeing the same cute guy twice in one day…and now he’s buying you a drink.”

“Because you painted me to look normal,” You scowled and she shook her head.

“No, because you’re beautiful, Y/N,” She corrected you and looked up as Fili neared with drinks in hand, “Thank you so much…”

“Fili,” He supplied and she returned her name before he glanced to you once more, “So, a dance? After our drink, of course.”

“Okay,” You answered nervously and sipped your ginger ale; you had never been much for dancing, especially the club-type of dancing.

“Oh,” Theresa perked up as she looked over your head, “Excuse me a moment, Y/N, I think I see someone I know.”

“Please, Theresa, don’t--” You protested but she brushed past you and left you in awkward silence with Fili.

“Look,” He leaned forward to talk in your ear again, “If you don’t want to dance, that’s fine, but just know, I dance like a gentleman. I don’t do whatever it is these other guys do…I’d prefer talking just as much.”

“Um, well, I don’t have much rhythm,” You admitted meekly, “And it’s kind of hard to talk in here.”

“The patio,” He pointed over his shoulder, “We can sit and have our drinks. No dancing, I promise.”

“Alright,” You accepted and he motioned you ahead of as he followed and you read the signs as you navigated your way to the patio.

You found a table for two in a corner of the patio and Fili sat across from you with another smile; it was infectious as you found yourself doing the same. You bit your lip as you traced your finger through the condensation on your glass and shied away from looking at your new acquaintance. He cleared his throat and you glanced up at him, embarrassed at your loss for words.

“I was going to tell you how nice you looked earlier but you look even better now,” He commented and you couldn’t help a blush, “You don’t have to return the compliment.”

“Uh, you look good, too,” You stuttered out, “I’m sorry. I’m no good at these things, to be honest, I don’t really do…clubs.”

“Me neither, I was just trying something new,” He leaned forward with his elbow on the table, “Earlier, you said something about scars? I didn’t even notice.”

“Yes, I did,” You confessed and rubbed your neck, “I don’t usually broadcast my deformities.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He assured you gently, “I just was wondering, if it’s not too personal a question, what they’re from?”

“Surgery, I know, boring,” You answered greyly, “It’s not personal, just not something I’m keen on.”

“I’ve got scars, too,” He offered and set down his drink, unbuttoning his shirt as if it was completely normal, “When I was in high school, my brother got really into archery…well, it wasn’t exactly safe.”

He pulled back his shirt and showed a thick scar along the top of his right pec and you raised your brows curiously. You could not help but admire the muscle of his chest and looked away shamefully, realizing your perviness.

“Not too bad and I don’t get show it off to often,” He buttoned his shirt as he spoke, “Especially not to pretty girls.”

“Ha,” You scoffed at his words and his brow crinkled.

“You shouldn’t be so tough on yourself,” He chided, “Maybe it’s hard to see it because you look in the mirror every day, but I’d kill to see a face like that every morning.”

You were struck by his words and the genuine tone behind them. Without a response at your disposal you kept quiet and stared at him mutely.

“Sorry, I’ve always been told I’m a bit forward,” He laughed and for the first time, seemed nervous, “I do come on a bit strong.”

“No, I’m flattered,” You assured him and let yourself smile, “Really. I’m just not use to it, is all.”

“Well, could you get use to it?” He asked with a grin, “At least for another night? Tomorrow? I’ll take you on a proper date.”

“Um, sure,” You accepted, never having been prepared to say yes to such an offer, “It sounds great.”

“I hope,” He lifted his drink to his lips and you saw him release the breath he had been holding in, “I can’t wait.”

“Me, either,” You agreed and took up your own drink, resisting the urge to become lost in flowery daydreams.

In the light, right here in the light, Right here in the—hold me and don’t you ever let this die.

[magical-gull]

So since in your AU Setsuna replaces Luna in the mentor role and considering how "all knowing time lord overseer" Pluto tends to be how would you handle her reaction to the girls' questions during the early DK arc where no one has a clue wtf Tuxedo Mask even IS or why Mams is the anomaly that he he, cause I imagine they'd be fielding tons of her questions her way. What about when the other Outers show up? How does she react to questions about THEM? (especially world-destroying anomaly Saturn)

Hmm.In the interest of keeping this “"short”“ (and totally not because i don’t have a lot of it worked out)… in vague order.

Guardians are the “natural” state of senshi and a few other supernaturally powered folk in the setting, while the Sailor Senshi are ones organized under a specific cult/ruler, complete with uniforms and some shared gimmicks. AU Silmil-Pluto in the past didn’t wear the uniform and probably insisted on not being referred to as a sailor senshi to maintain some impartiality in her duties, though she did work with the SilMil in general, similar to the way Helios was a guardian working with the Golden Kingdom but not really *part* of it. TL;DR Setsuna isn’t surprised by senshi “anomalies” like ENdymion or Saturn, because she already was one

My Setsuna is a Minako-style reincarnate deal, probably the “closest” to her alternate self of any of the senshi but not exactly the same person… which means she isn’t particularly all-knowing, and even a lot of the stuff she’d specifically know isn’t of much practical use to the girls in the modern era; it’s stuff provided to make a more interesting story for the audience. How much does Minako having better memories help the other four, for comparison? Eh. At best, Setsuna might find out a little sooner than the others that Mams is going around as something called “Tuxedo Mask”, but that’s it. Whatever ‘familiar’ feeling she gets from Mams (enough to warrant tracking them over a period of years), Pluto wouldn’t remember Endymion as anyone particularly important besides another of Beryl’s nondescript lackeys in her court. Pluto did, on separate occasions, suspect Beryl was siphoning power from somewhere and that Beryl might be intentionally hiding a guardian from Serenity’s eyes, but the connection between any of those wouldn’t exist.

In… some version of the future arc, Setsuna encounters the equivalent of the Wiseman character, who’s she suspects might be *a* future Pluto gone rogue, as it’d explain the time shenanigans and a few other coinicdences. Among other seemingly outrageous claims, this heavily-degraded, time-displaced person claims to specifically BE Setsuna herself. More confusingly, they have the remnants of Sailor Pluto’s regalia, which from Setsuna’s perspective she doesn’t have “yet”. Setsuna helps stop the BMC in a broadly similar manner as canon - possibly from an impressively fatal use of latent senshi abilities in an untransformed state, suspects Ami - and “dies”/vanishes under mysterious circumstances. Setsuna ends up back in the past and spends a while recuperating and getting her mental bearings Gandalf-style away from the others. Usagi and co. are glad she’s apparently alive but confused as to why she’s keeping her distance via weirdly vague correspondence.

Turns out it’s spooky apocalypse dreams along with needing to find two OTHER girls who’ve already been in altercations with “strange creatures” keeping Setsuna apparently busy, and her fears are confirmed when Setsuna realizes she can transform now. It’s time for Sailor Pluto and.. the other two, to sort some things out. Something big is coming, but it seems to be just this spooky crew and weird monsters and eldritch horror, the three can handle it... but once you get away from all the eldritch monster physics bullshit, the stuff that’s so much static in the way of what seems to be actually there, it hits her. Oh it’s THIS instead. Well, that’s much worse. I don’t think Setsuna knew going in that Saturn (who I do think she was vaguely aware existed in the past) was going to be specifically involved in this thing now, though being the first senshi to figure it out didn’t exactly give her a smug feeling obviously.

Setsuna being distant and weird and seemingly attaching to herself to a new team is just the start of problems and a gulf between her the Inners thats gonna grow soon. As for the Outers, Minako would probably tell the girls as much as she knows about them before Setsuna gets a chance to. Trouble is, what she recalls don’t seem to be good memories.