#but yeah even before i got lucky with those three units in particular i was pretty smart w using athena and nemone already

[astrxealis]

dropping by a bit just a bit before midnights and i head to sleep because HELLL am i so glad with my fire units actually. i need to do work on proper teams and grids and shit but ?? wilnas percival michael medusa athena anila nemone etc i am Winning here

[writings-of-dumpy]

Everybody Talks: George Weasley Smut

A/N: Yes, here it is--George Weasley smut. 18+ only. Warnings: unprotected sex and language

Summary: Based on the song “Everybody Talks” by Neon Trees. George is called a player often, but when Y/N overhears that her boyfriend slept with someone else, he has to make her see that everybody talks, but it doesn’t matter.

Fred and George were always the most sought-after pair in Gryffindor house, and Y/N was not immune to that. She often found herself looking at the boys in her year as she got older, and she couldn’t help but gain a small crush on one Weasley in particular. The twins had subtle differences about them that sometimes Y/N thought only she could pick up on. She could hear her fellow housemates talk about Fred and George as a single unit, which made her slightly uncomfortable knowing that they were different people even though they often weren’t referred to that way.

They had a reputation, too. Y/N could barely go two days without hearing about George’s latest sexcapade from a gushing girl in the Great Hall. She couldn’t lie to herself, it stung slightly. She felt like she was the only one George hadn’t paid mind to even though she paid him plenty of mind. He lived in her thoughts almost always.

As luck would have it, at the beginning of their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, she would be lucky enough to finally have the one she’d been crushing on sit next to her in herbology. Little did she know that George had his eye on her for quite some time now and he had practically begged professor Sprout to assign seats with him next to Y/N.

He had noticed that in the brief interactions, Y/N would always address them correctly. He didn’t know how she could tell them apart when their own mother sometimes couldn’t. He didn’t blame his wonderful mum, they were identical after all. But as for the students and even teachers at Hogwarts, they were almost never right when they approached the twins. Throughout the years, they had just been lumped together as the Weasley Twins. George didn’t resent it, though, he just found it annoying sometimes. He felt bad for feeling bad, though, because he and Fred were often together and shared similar interests. But then, when Y/N called him by his name for the first time, he knew she was different from the rest of the school. They were fifteen at the time, and George had craved her attention ever since. He hadn’t had the wherewithal to go with her to the Yule Ball because he was asked by a girl in Gryffindor who he didn’t know the name of. That was the other thing about George—he didn’t like to disappoint. He was a people pleaser and he didn’t want to make this girl sad because she seemed so incredibly nervous to even ask him that he couldn’t help but say yes to her.

But now, George finally had a chance with Y/N and he didn’t want to mess that up. He sat next to her and smiled at her with a charming look in his eye.

“Hello there, Y/N,��� he said. She smiled at him.

“Hi George, good to see you,” she said to him with pink cheeks. The pair became fast friends and George wished he hadn’t waited so long to talk to her. It was clear that they both enjoyed a good joke and had a similar sense of what that consisted of. After herbology, he decided to shoot his shot with her.

“I know we’re not super close friends or anything, but I’d like to invite you to drinks at The Three Broomsticks with me and the rest of the team after the match on Friday?” he asked her with a shy smile. “As my date?”

Y/N blushed and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll meet you after. And I’ll cheer for you, of course.”

George felt satisfied with the answer and he beamed all the way to his next class and throughout the rest of the day. After these past couple years of crushing on her, he finally had the chance to make her his.

Y/N went to the Quidditch match in high spirits. She had heard all week that various girls were asked to the party by George, and she hoped that they were just fictitious because she longed to be the only one George was after. She’d find out soon enough, though, because George had wanted to meet her in the courtyard by the pathway to Hogsmeade after the match. After the match she made her way there and found that she and Hermione were the only ones in that area. She smiled and waved at Y/N politely.

Y/N waved back and smiled. She knew those rumors were false, and she said to herself then that she couldn’t be bothered by the rumors girls spread about George. They waited for about three minutes before Y/N saw a familiar head of ginger hair approach her with a goofy grin on his face.

“Hello, love, are you excited?” he asked, and Y/N’s stomach turned in the most pleasant way possible. She smiled and nodded. George offered his arm to her and she took it with a wide grin. It was nice to walk and talk with George. Y/N asked him about Quidditch rules as she had only attended the matches when her house was playing, and George’s face lit up when he talked about the sport. He made several hand gestures as he explained the game and his role in it as Beater, but his strong arm never let go of her. Y/N hung on his every word and she almost didn’t realize that they were almost to The Three Broomsticks at this point.

“Sounds like you’re an expert on the game, Georgie,” Y/N said with a grin. George’s face flushed at the nickname and he smiled ear to ear.

“Thanks, love. I do enjoy it, so I get a bit carried away,” he explained and reached for the door to open it for her.

“I like it when you get carried away. It’s nice to listen to people talk about the things they’re passionate about,” Y/N said and walked into the pub with a nod of thanks to him. When they were both inside, Y/N scanned the room and found a large table filled with the Gryffindor team and a few others that she didn’t recognize, who she assumed were friends or significant others.

“Hey, everyone,” George greeted. Fred’s eyes went wide in delight upon seeing his brother and Y/N on his arm.

“Well, look who’s finally got a date,” Fred said and took a sip of his butterbeer, and George shot him a look. Y/N smiled and waved to the team.

“Congratulations, guys. It was really fun to watch,” Y/N said to the team and they all smiled at her and raised a glass. George let her sit and he took his place next to her and Y/N felt his arm wrap around her shoulders, which sent butterflies to her middle.

After a few rounds of butterbeer, the table dispersed as the team expressed their exhaustion. George helped Y/N up and she blushed and thanked him. Throughout the night she had felt his thumb gently rubbing the outside of her arm and each time he made the sweet gesture, she felt more confident in being around him and she was sure her cheeks were pink most of the night.

“Did you have fun?” Y/N asked him once they were alone and walking through the corridors towards Y/N’s house common room.

“I enjoyed every minute with you. I hope you feel the same,” George said in a voice smoother and sweeter than honey.

Y/N blushed deeper and nodded. “It was a lovely time.” When they reached her common room entrance, George turned her to him and stood close to her.

“I have a small confession to make, love,” George said in a low voice.

Y/N’s breath was caught in her lungs and her heart pounded. “Oh?”

“I happen to fancy you quite a bit… And if you’d like, I want to take you out more, but just the two of us… exclusively, if you get my drift…” George clarified to Y/N with rosy cheeks and a small smile.

Y/N was dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe that he felt that way about her. She smiled and nodded. “You want me to be your girlfriend?”

George nodded. “If you’ll have me.”

Y/N was ecstatic and nodded her head. “I would like that very much. I’ve never had a boyfriend before, so you better be a good one, Weasley,” she teased.

George laughed and stepped closer to her with a grin. “Wouldn’t dream of being anything but, Y/L/N.”

The pair laughed and even though they were saying goodbye, neither made the move to do so. Y/N felt George inching closer to her as his hand smoothed over her waist. Y/N’s smile turned to a bitten lower lip as George’s face closed in on hers. She could feel the warmth from his cheeks radiate off of him and on to her.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked in a whisper. Y/N nodded and their lips met with gentle desire. The kiss was more than a peck, but as sweet and simple as one. As it went on, their growing feelings drove them to a more heated moment. George supported her against him, and as the moment got more intense, he pinned her against the wall. When they broke away for air, they looked at each other for a second and laughed in glee at the euphoria they felt, but noticed the portraits giving them judgmental looks.

“Erm… I’ll see you tomorrow?” George offered and backed himself away from Y/N. She nodded and smiled with swollen lips. It was when she entered her common room that George noticed his lips aching and he felt them swell a bit.

As the year went on, George and Y/N became closer and closer and their love blossomed, and all was bliss... or so Y/N thought. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew that everybody talked about her and George. Rumors spewed that they had broken up at least once a week, but all of them were crushed when George got wind of them and made a scene of kissing Y/N deeply in the middle of the hallway.

“Mister Weasley, that’s inappropriate,” McGonagall would say and George would wink and smile at Y/N as she headed to class. Y/N would love it when that happened, truly, because it reassured what she already knew to be true: George only had eyes for her.

But one day towards their graduation date, Y/N overheard a Slytherin girl gushing about how she and George had hooked up the night prior. The gaggle of girls around her demanded explicit details, and she provided them. Y/N shot the group a dirty and annoyed look, and the storyteller shrugged and sent back a sickeningly smug look.

Y/N left the room and immediately searched for George. Everybody talks, but not like this. Y/N knew that George had a reputation for being a player, but she had never heard such explicit details. She felt hurt and betrayed, and she didn’t want to believe it.

“Either let me in or send George Weasley out, please,” she said to the Fat Lady.

“Trouble, dear?” the portrait asked in a concerned tone.

“Just… I just need to talk to George,” Y/N said becoming more worried by the second.

“About what, my dear?” George’s voice said from behind Y/N. She turned and his face dropped.

“Come on, let’s go in…” he said and lead her through to the common room. Y/N was lucky that everyone cleared out once the pair walked into the room because the conversation they were about to have was going to be one that Y/N classified in her mind as highly private.

“What happened, my love?” George asked her with concern in his voice and his hands touching her elbows as her arms were crossed. He looked deep into her eyes and Y/N knew she was being foolish. George had never given her any reason to believe he was being unfaithful or that he ever wanted anyone else, but here she was feeling hurt over what she had overheard.

“I feel so stupid, but I just… I feel like I have to hear it from you,” Y/N said. “It’s horrible, I know, and I’m so sorry…”

George furrowed his brows. “What are they saying about me now?”

“That you and Justine hooked up last night. She just had so much detail, it was hard to shut her down… It made me think that maybe it was true, but…” Y/N said and finished her sentence with a shake of her head.

“I never thought I’d see the day when their words would get in the way…” George said in disbelief. Y/N looked at him with worry. George placed a hand on her face and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Are you mad?” Y/N asked.

George shook his head. “No… I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you. It just means I have to show you how I really feel about you, dear…”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, but her confusion ceased when George attached his mouth to hers with fervor. He had never kissed her like this before. Y/N’s chest heaved with every breath she took and her heart pounded in her chest. She felt his hands run from her cheek to gripping the back of her head as he kissed her feverishly. His lips dragged along her cheek to give her jaw and ear deep and sometimes wet kisses.

“See them talk after this,” George muttered. His lips latched onto Y/N’s neck and she felt his tongue caress her throat, then the small pain of his teeth latching on and sucking the flesh into his mouth. She gasped aloud and George pulled her closer and bit and sucked harder at her neck. Y/N thought about how purple and red the bruise would be when she looked at it later. For now, though, it felt too good to be true. The words Justine had used to describe George’s love bites were not only inaccurate but not even a shadow of the magnitude of care he took into placing it.

“Only one for me, see?” George whispered into Y/N’s ear once he had been sated with the depth of purple he had made on her neck. Y/N looked at him with starry eyes and George smirked.

“Come on,” he said and gripped her hand. The two left the common room and George purposefully held onto her tightly as he passed boys and girls alike. When they finally reached an empty hallway, a door suddenly appeared on a blank wall to the left of them.

“Hogwarts, you never disappoint,” he said with a grin. He opened the door for a very confused Y/N. She eyed him with suspicion and walked in to find a simple room with a fireplace, a bathroom, and rather large bed with a canopy. The window showed a wonderful view of the Black Lake and Y/N looked and saw students milling about.

“How did you know about this place?” Y/N asked.

“It’s called the Room of Requirement. Fred and I found it a couple years ago and he likes to take girls here, so I figured I’d give it a shot,” George said with a wink.

“So it’s like a shagging room? No offense, but I absolutely do not want to fuck on a bed your brother has done it in,” Y/N said aghast.

George laughed and wrapped his arms around Y/N. “The room makes it different every time, and perfectly tailored to those who need it.”

Y/N felt better about that reassurance and relaxed a bit in his embrace.

“Now where were we, my love?” George said with a devilish smirk and pulled Y/N closer to the point where she could feel his crotch growing and hardening. She blushed and licked her lips before initiating a deep and passionate kiss. He once more pressed her against the wall in a frantic kiss and she quieted a moan.

“No need for that, my dear. Nobody can hear you in here. But I can and I want to hear you,” George whispered in her ear and sent a chill down her spine. Y/N felt his hands move to her hips and his fingers danced their way to the skin under her shirt. She pressed her hips against him as a signal to continue his movements and George let his hands dance up her shirt. His long and slender fingers made quick work of removing her torso of the clothes she wore. Y/N blushed a deep red and made her way to kiss him more to avoid his lustful gaze, but he moved too quickly for her and attached his lips to her breast. He made quick work of marking the area with his teeth and lips.

Y/N felt vulnerable and tugged at his shirt to take it off to even the odds. George caught the hint and completely removed the garment and tossed it aside next to where Y/N’s had landed. George blushed and pulled her towards the bed, where their mouths found each other once more and he sat her on the bed while he remained standing to remove his trousers and briefs. Y/N felt his lips leave hers as he struggled with shaky hands to undo the buckle of his belt. Y/N smiled then got to her knees and helped him remove the constricting fabric. He freed his penis from the tight hold of his briefs and Y/N licked her lips. George helped her to her feet and laid her back on the soft bed. He removed her panties and crawled over her with a hungry look in his eyes. His pupils were blown and his mouth hung agape as he visually drank her in. Y/N felt insecure under his gaze and felt her body couldn’t compare to the greatness his possessed. He wasn’t all muscle, but he was built well with an athlete’s muscles. She made an attempt to shy away from him, but he locked their fingers together above her head and her eyes were met with his.

“You never have to hide from me. I love all of you. Every single piece,” he declared to her. She smiled and kissed his lips sweetly.

George was nothing but generous in bed. Y/N wasn’t sure how much experience he had, but it didn’t matter because his movements made it clear to her that she was his and he was hers, completely and absolutely. He moved within her with purpose and each time Y/N moaned, he repeated the movement until he could get her to feeling that way once more.

“Feeling good, love?” he asked frequently in a low voice. Y/N would sometimes nod, but sometimes all she could answer with was a moan of pleasure. George grinned when she displayed such pliancy and responsiveness to his touch. Y/N did her best to help him feel good, too and moved her hips along with his. He threw his head back and let out a moan that had they not been in an invisible and sound-proof room, the entire tower would have heard. Y/N trembled at the sound he emitted and let out a small whimper as her climax neared.

“George, please,” she moaned. George smiled at her with love in his eyes. He kissed her lips deeply and quickened his pace within her and buried his head in the crook of her neck.

“Y/N, please… Love, I’m…” he moaned in her ear.

After several moments of bliss, and the only sounds that Y/N could hear were George’s confessions of love and praises in her ear that she echoed into his, she felt George still and tense as she concluded he had finished. Y/N smiled and blushed that she could bring him to completion like that. He sat up and pulled out of her with a questioning look.

“Did you..?” he asked. Y/N bit her lip and averted her gaze while trying to avoid the question. “That won’t do at all.”

Before Y/N could protest, his fingers made quick work of finding her clitoris and Y/N jumped in surprise. He rubbed slow circles at first, then as Y/N became more worked up, he sped up his pace and soon Y/N was becoming undone in front of him. She felt herself writhe uncontrollably and cry out his name as she was washed in pleasure. George held her through it and smiled sweetly down at her. He kissed her gently along her shoulder, then her neck, then her cheek, and landed on her lips.

“Let them talk, but you needed to know that you’re the only one for me,” George said to Y/N, who smiled and laughed.

[minghellafine]

Full interview below.

The first thing Max Minghella does when he joins our Zoom call is ask me about the weather. It wasn't just a conversational cliché though, he really wanted to know what it was like where I was. I tell him I'm in New York City, where spring can surprise you with a day that's colder or warmer than it looks. This particular day was chilly. "I'm always cold," he interjects, "I'm reptilian. My body finds a way to keep me cool." He shivered as he spoke, sitting in his sunny backyard in Los Angeles wearing a T-shirt. I checked the temperature right after our call. It was 80 degrees in L.A.

Despite any discomfort, Minghella is just really happy to be at home. Unlike the millions of people who spent 2020 in quarantine, he was working on season four of The Handmaid's Tale throughout the spring and summer."I'm sort of jealous of people who have this moment to pause and reflect," he says soberly. "Even with all of the trauma it's caused and all the things that obviously were detrimental, I know a lot of people who've had big life changes in the past year."

He acknowledged, however, that creating something in a time when everyone wished they could escape was ultimately a lucky thing. "There was a ubiquitous sense of gratitude," he adds.

Outside of the global pandemic, the dynamics on set had shifted — this season, his co-star Elisabeth Moss (or "Lizzie" as he affectionately calls her), was a director. "She was amazing on set," he explained. "Just very in control and it ran super smoothly. When I saw the episodes she directed, it just kind of blew me away. Her style — it's very cinematic and it really underlines the sci-fi elements of the show. It has a real kind of scope and confidence to it. I think she's a real filmmaker."

RELATED: Marvel's New Face Danny Ramirez Has the Range

Minghella's character Nick has an interesting arc this season too –  he's realizing his role as a senior member of the Gilead ruling class, but also still in love with June [Moss]. It's a complex character that challenges you as an audience member. He is the brooding love interest, and while you may root for him and June to be together, you also have to see him for what he is: an architect of a world that kidnaps women and uses them for childbearing.

What made the previous three seasons of the show even harder for viewers to digest was the fact that people so badly wanted to believe there could be a good guy defector — maybe even Nick — in a room full of bad guys. During those years, many people felt that the dystopian elements of the show were reflective of the nationalist agenda being put forth in the United States by the Trump Administration. So much so that a group of protesters famously wore Handmaid costumes to protest anti-abortion bills and Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh's confirmation hearings. Without saying much about the parallels in the show — other than chalking them up to "pure coincidence," Minghella felt the Handmaid's Tale, whose protagonists are anti-Gilead, are "on the right side of history."  He added diplomatically, "Ultimately, I'm most proud because I think it's really great fiction."

I get the sense that the pursuit of "great fiction" is something that consumes Minghella. He's someone who appreciates art (he got his big break in 2006's Art School Confidential), and his parents are Anthony Minghella, the late award-winning director of The Talented Mr. Ripley, and actress Carolyn Choa. He loves details (see our earlier weather conversation). Even the way he talks about Los Angeles has a story-like quality. He tells me about how he knew when the city became his home after a feeling he got driving past the Silver Lake 7-Eleven. As he told it, I pictured it like a scene in an indie movie starring Zach Braff.

"I had this sort of pathological obsession with movies from birth. [My mother] worked for the British equivalent of the Motion Picture Association, so she would watch three films a day. By three or four years old, I was just kind of an obsessed movie person." It's his favorite movie, Beverly Hills Cop ("I think I saw 100 times by the time I was eight years old," he says) that inspired another big role he was working on during quarantine: Minghella stars as a detective opposite Chris Rock in the Saw franchise spin-off Spiral: From the Book of Saw.

"The movie was so serendipitous for me. I feel like I almost manifested it in my life," Minghella muses. "There's a line very early in the movie where we're investigating these crime scenes and we come to a grizzly one. My character looks nauseous. Chris's [character] says to me, 'Are you okay?' And my character says, 'Yeah. I mean I'd been dreaming about this since I was 12-years-old.' And that was a very kind of weird line because it's just true."

Now at 35 years old, Minghella is feeling settled. He is still a "film nerd" that gets giddy with each new opportunity, but he's less anxious about the results. Next thing on his list? Vacation.

"I'm hoping in May once the movie comes out I can run away somewhere."

Read on for his cheesy would-be campaign slogan, his fast-food weakness, and the time he escaped a tornado while working on a film with Blake Lively.

Who is your celebrity crush?

Mary Tyler Moore.

What's the last thing you do before you fall asleep?

I listen to 1950s radio shows. Usually Dragnet. I was researching a project in that period briefly and got sort of into the radio culture of that time. And now I find it incredibly soothing.

Favorite villain?

Hans Gruber.

Describe a memorable dream.

I had a recurring nightmare as a child in which my grandmother turned into a cat. So Tom Hooper's Cats was very traumatizing to me.

First album you ever owned?

My mother bought me the Top Gun soundtrack on audio cassette.

If you were required to spend $1,000 today, what would you buy and why?

I would do anything to help a distressed dog.

If you ran for office, what would your slogan be?

Some kind of tacky pun using my first name. "Take it to the Max," or maybe "Max on, Max off."

Name one place you've never been but have always wanted to go.

Easy. Japan. I went when I was one, but I don't think that counts.

What's the most uncomfortable outfit you've ever worn?

I did a film called Art School Confidential and I had to wear a beret and I found every moment of it truly humiliating. I remember being completely traumatized by it.

Describe your first kiss.

My first kiss was at a bus stop. I was 14 and I lied and told the girl that it wasn't my first kiss, but I think it was probably immediately evident that it was.

What's one dish you're always tempted to order if you see it on a menu?

There are so many things. That's the sad answer. French fries is the truth.

Favorite on-set memory?

I did a movie called Elvis and Anabelle with Blake Lively like 100 years ago and we shot in Texas. There was a tornado one night that forced us to evacuate the set and we had to sort of drive off in a hurry. I put on this song by The Knife called "Pass This On" in the car which is very dramatic and cinematic. The tornado was sort of in pursuit of the vehicle while we were speeding away. And it was just far enough that it wasn't life-threatening, but also a radical visual. That's one of my favorite life memories.

The Handmaid's Tale season 4 premieres on Hulu April 28, and Spiral: From the Book of Saw hits theaters on May 11.

Photographs by Emily Malan. Grooming by Sonia Lee for Exclusive Artists using La Mer. Polaroid Photos by Max Minghella. Special thanks to Polaroid. Production by Kelly Chiello.

[aria-i-adagio]

Did either of them try to resist their feelings? Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear? What are their primary love languages? Who’s the better cook? (for Handers!) - the-iron-orchid

Thank you, @the-iron-orchid!

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Oh, Anders is definitely the one whispering the inappropriate things in Hawke’s ear. He is the id of this relationship after all.

Not that Hawke is complaining.

What are their primary love languages?

I always have to stop and look up the whole love languages thing. Kinda like enneagram numbers. Cultivating a deliberate agnosis for my own nefarious reasons.

Anders and Adrian are both touch starved cuddlebugs, and Adrian rates very high on giving acts of service.

[Realizing that all my OCs/canon characters I project too much onto are touch starved cuddlebugs... hmm... anyone want to come snuggle and let me make you delicious food and baked goods? I am a very good cook.]

Who’s the better cook?

I - in my infinite wisdom and mercy as a writer - determined that fugitive Anders needed a hobby, and I gave him a cookbook to play around with while in hiding. As of the present moment in my personal little world state, our recovering ascetic is well on his way to becoming a decent, if somewhat rustic, chef. He has also perfected moonshine and if Hawke ever gets his chickens, Anders is definitely going to start aging the stuff

Adrian can scramble eggs and make coffee. But he has to make coffee before trying to toast bread, or he burns it.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Did either of them try to resist their feelings? No, of course not, not for three years of Isabela having to watch them pining. Oh no. Definitely not.

This is begging me to just post the first chapter of Risk. The truly naughty bits are in chapter two and you’ll have to go to the AO3 for those. And then tell me if I should finish futzing with the half-drafted and half daft chapter three.

---

Hawke doesn't know where Varric found this particular tabletop game. Not that it matters, he's thoroughly enjoying the premise of guiding pewter toy soldiers through taking over one region of Thedas at a time. Isabela seems less enchanted, complaining that the rules are attached against her because if she just had a navy, and isn't it cheating that Hawke and Anders have formed a truce with each other to wipe her off the map.

Varric laughs and shrugs off her complaint. "Strategy is strategy."

"What truce?" Adrian smiles innocently enough; although under the table, Anders' left hand has been gradually moving up his thigh. "We haven't discussed anything with each other."

"Nope, nothing." Anders drinks from his third - or fourth pint of beer - Justice must be giving him the night off from the no drunkenness rule. That happens sometimes, when Hawke is lucky "Just roll the dice, 'Bela."

"Sure, boys, no special code you're tapping out with your feet ?" She's down to two units in a region Hawke is attacking with ten. Anders has the region on the other side of hers and wore her down on his prior turn, stopping without taking the region or overly weakening his own position.

Varric crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. "I'm planning to enjoy what happens when they have to turn on each other."

"Oh yes." Isabela picks up her dice and shakes them in her hand. "Who will come out on top? A scintillating question. Drat!" Her roll turns up snake eyes to Hawke's mediocre four, three, and two. "Anders, if I find out you've cursed these dice -"

"We're not even playing for money, 'Bela."

"Yeah, yeah -" She clears her soldiers from the region. "Just honor. It's all yours, sweetling."

"You've still got half of Orlais and the Frostback Basin. You're hardly out."

She smirks and gestures to one of the barmaids for another pitcher. "Aye, and the longer I keep those the longer it's going to take for you two to solve that question of who's going to be on top."

Merrill is barely hanging on to Seheron and a random province in Tevinter. "Oh, I think Anders has the stronger position, he's basically got Hawke's armies surrounded."

Anders hides a blush behind another drink. Varric snorts and Isabela sighs. "Kitten, that's not quite what we're talking about. And you -" She points a finger at Anders like she's reprimanding a sailor. "Are hardly a blushing virgin."

Hawke just shifts his weight a bit, nudging Anders' thigh with his knee. Keep going. He can't actually move his own hand quick enough under the table to slide Anders' fingers further around and up without Isabela noticing. But she's going to give them grief no matter what.

"Well, what are you talking about then?"

"The eventual conclusion to a most drawn out case of two idiots pining after each other."

"What does that have to do with who wins the game?"

"It's a metaphor, Daisy. Not a very good one."

"Does it have something to do with sex? I'm always missing the ones that have to do with sex."

Anders chokes on his beer. Hawke pats his back, then leaves his hand there just above his belt. The Hanged Man is warm tonight, the feathery jacket is hanging on the wall, and Hawke can feel Anders' spine through the written out fabric of his shirt.

"I should make a hand where I can see 'em rule," Isabela grouses. "No idea what little card tricks you boys are up to over there."

"What?" Hawke walks his fingers up Anders' back and wonders how much longer he can stand Anders' fingers tracing spirals over the inside of his thigh before he just throws the game, grabs Anders' by the collar and kisses and/or shakes him until he's forgotten whatever protests he prepared about this not being a good idea, Anders is a dangerous person to be with, Hawke doesn't really know him, et cetera, et cetera. "I would never try to cheat. At least, not with you."

Merrill actually wins the game after patiently building up a massive number of armies in Seheron and sweeping through all of Thedas in a single turn. Never forget to keep an eye on the quiet ones. She smiles prettily as Varric and Hawke start picking up the pieces of the game, and then asks Isabela again if she'll explain the metaphor.

Isabela lays her head down on the table with a groan. "I need more alcohol for this."

Varric, being Varric, chuckles and then enables, ordering another two pitchers for the table.

Hawke gives up any pretense of coyness during Isabela's tutoring session and sits sideways on the bench with his back against the wall and his legs over Anders' lap, giggling as Isabela makes increasingly vulgar gestures with her hands and then steals Varric's notebook and ink to improvise illustrations. She's not a very good artist.

Merrill's wide eyes get wider. "Oh, oh. But -" She blinks rapidly. "What if it's two women?"

"Well, it's kind of a loose metaphor anyway, to be entirely honest." Isabela changes around how she's holding her hands again. "You see not everything comes down to insertions."

"Andraste's knicker weasels, 'Bela!"

"Knickers can be involved or not. Weasels, well, at least the animal type are less common. Now, the Chantry only talks about Andraste's husbands, but I heard this one -"

"You're going to confuse her even more." Anders moves Hawke's legs out of his lap and leans over the table. "It's simple Merrill. In sex, some people really prefer to get, some people really prefer to give, and most people are somewhere in the middle and like doing a bit both. And then you have Isabela, who likes to tease."

"Guilty as charged. In bed and out."

"What does that have to do with a board game though?"

Hawke laughs. Anders covers his face with both hands. "Oh, Maker. I'm done here. And this is as much of an answer as you're getting, 'Bela." He turns toward Hawke, who isn't expecting and had only cautiously been hoping to be grabbed by the shoulders and kissed on the mouth and thus, very nearly loses his balance when he is. He's quick enough to topple toward Anders instead of over the table, steading himself with hands at Anders' skinny waist, and kissing him back before the moment can be lost.

"Finally!" Isabela applauds. "I thought I was going to have to spend the night with Hawke, which would be terribly awkward as he doesn't like women."

Hawke raises a middle finger in her general direction and earns a delighted cackle.

"But Hawke spends a lot of time with you, and me, and even Aveline. We're women?"

Varric pours more beer for himself and Merrill. "That's, um, not at all what she means, Daisy."

Anders rolls his eyes. He stands up and pulls Hawke with him. "Your place or mine is a stupid question, isn't it?"

"A very stupid question." Hawke grabs their jackets off the wall. Honestly, right now, either would do, but it's about the same distance and Hawke has a significantly nice bed. If they make it that far.

"I expect a full report in the morning, Hawke," Isabela shouts as they're walking out. "Might have bets riding on it."

"Fuck you, 'Bela." Hawke says with a glance back over his shoulder and a broad smile. He's closer to amused than annoyed. She had quite effectively forced Anders' hand in the little game he and Hawke had been playing for weeks. Maybe overdone it, but she'd done it. Isabela winks and flashes him two thumbs up before making a 'get going now' gesture.

"No, you won't. Don't forget the electricity thing."

"The electricity thing? Is that another metaphor?"

"Goodnight, Merrill."

[actionnerdgamerlove]

Wolf and Lark: The Case of the Mysterious Underwear

Find it on AO3

Summary: Geralt is doing a load of laundry and finds something...unexpected.

CW: None?  Language?  Suggestive picture?

Geralt NEEDED to do some laundry.  He was down to one pair of black boxer-briefs, one black t-shirt and one pair of black jeans.

When he got home from work that day, he picked up his full laundry basket from the floor in his room, tossing in the few random socks and pairs of underwear he hadn’t managed to throw in the basket the first time.

Realizing his basket wasn’t completely full, he pushed into Jaskier’s natural disaster of a room before FEMA could get there, and gingerly started picking up items off the floor with index finger and thumb.  He threw in a couple t-shirts, a pair of pants, and some socks, calling it ‘good enough’ when items reached the top of the laundry basket.

They weren’t lucky enough to have a washer/dryer in-unit, but having to walk three floors to the basement wasn’t so bad.  Geralt brought the book he was reading and set up in a corner, not wanting to leave while his stuff was being laundered.

Geralt read about the virtues of a Wakizashi vs a Katana. (Generally, a Wakizashi is smaller than a Katana, for those that want to be as informed as Geralt.)

Doing laundry was a chore Geralt didn’t mind – if he timed it right, there weren’t usually other people in the laundry room, so he was left alone with his laundry, thoughts and the sounds of the washer and dryer.  And Jaskier HATED doing laundry, so Jaskier wasn’t there to tease Geralt about the books he was reading.

Not that it bothered Geralt, when Jaskier teased.

Much.

The laundry took the amount of time laundry usually takes, so Geralt had about two hours to himself, to read, or in this case, let his mind wander.  His mind-amblings had started veering into Jaskier territory, as of late.

His roommate was just…so much.  Of everything.  Loud, funny, talkative, sociable, beautiful, vibrant, charming…Geralt could keep going. And going.

At first, Geralt had regrets about Jask moving in.  Jaskier was loud.  Jaskier was made of noise.  And he never stopped moving.  Geralt wasn’t certain the man knew how to be still.

Not even in sleep – not that Geralt had watched Jaskier sleep, mind you.  It wasn’t his fault Jask often fell asleep on the couch, and Geralt felt duty bound to carry him to his bed, so Jaskier wouldn’t wake up with a stiff back and a days’ worth of complaints rolling off his lovely tongue.

Geralt’s reverie was interrupted by the dryer buzzing.

He gathered up all the items from inside the industrial size heat machine, double checking that everything had been retrieved from inside the drum. No sock left behind, and all that.  Throwing everything back into the laundry basket, he made his way back up to their apartment.

Jask still wasn’t home yet, so Geralt flipped the TV on to watch ‘Real Housewives of Temeria’. Jaskier had gotten Geralt into it, against his better judgement.  It was just so…ridiculous.  Who CARED what Elsie said to Ginny about their neighbor Betla?

Well, Geralt did, for one. It was mindless background noise for folding laundry, is what he would tell anyone who asked.  Only Jaskier knew the truth – that Geralt was keenly aware of the political intrigue between the wives, their lovers, and their husbands. It kind of made Geralt sad that so many of the wives’ lovers weren’t their husbands.  He’d mentioned that to Jaskier once, and Jaskier’s face had instantly bloomed into an adoring smile while cooing that Geralt was a romantic, after all.

Geralt never mentioned it again.

Geralt was 99% of the way through folding when he happened upon a pair of underwear.  Or, that’s what Geralt thought they were. There wasn’t much to them – a red mesh pouch in front, with two straps on either side, connecting to a g-string in back.

A g-string.  

Geralt felt faint.  He’d never seen Jaskier in these, although why he would was certainly a good question.  I mean, sure, Jaskier walked around in boxers…often.

But never anything like this.

Geralt hadn’t even known underwear like this existed for men.

Well, he sure did now.

Geralt, being the good roommate he was, folded Jaskier’s things, putting the red mesh…distraction on the top of the pile, at the end of Jask’s bed.

He was putting his own laundry away when Jaskier got home.

“Hey, big guy, I’m home!” Jaskier called.

“Bedroom,” Geralt called back.  Jaskier walked back to Geralt’s bedroom, stuck his face around the partially closed door, waved, winked, and disappeared.

Five minutes later, Geralt heard Jaskier’s confused “G’ralt?”

Geralt hummed.

“What’s this?” Jask called.

“What’s what?”

“This…well, I don’t know what this is.  Underwear? I guess?”

“The red thing?”

“Yeah.” A pause.  “Geralt!  Did you get me a present?”

Geralt frowned. “No.” But oh, the thought of seeing that on Jaskier was delicious. “It’s not yours?”

Did Jaskier want Geralt to get him fancy underwear?

Another pause. “No, I’m certain I’d remember something this…particular.”

It was quiet for a moment. Geralt had finished putting his clothes away, and went to stand in the doorway of Jaskier’s room.

“Someone else’s?” Geralt asked, eyebrow lifted.

Jaskier jumped, not hearing Geralt come up behind him.

“See previous comment regarding the particularness of this specific item of clothing.”  Jaskier’s head tilted to the side. “And…they’re not yours?”  Jaskier sounded thoughtful.

“I’d rip right through those, Jask.”

“Oh, I bet you would,” Jaskier said without thinking, and it did something to Geralt.

“They’re not my size, Jask.”

Jaskier literally jumped around to face him, giving Geralt the most obvious once-over Geralt had ever received.

“No, no, I guess they’re not,”

His tone was driving Geralt to distraction.  Geralt had to bite down on his lip to keep himself in check.

“So, if they’re not yours, and they’re not mine – Geralt, whose underwear is this?”

Geralt was incapable of answering this question in a coherent manner.

Geralt.exe had stopped working

WHOSE FUCKING UNDERWEAR WAS IN THEIR HOUSE?

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe Alternate Future chapter 8: Black and White (originally published on January 25, 2021)

Author's Note: At long last, the long-awaited conclusion to Part 1 of Steven Universe: Alternate Future is upon us! This may seem like an innocuous love letter to the mockumentary genre (I even watched This is Spinal Tap on HBO Max for inspiration), but the ending will change everything you will see in this chapter! But I'm through being dramatic, let's boogie!

Synopsis: A Black Rutile and her partner White Topaz want to get answers from Steven.

Cast:

Zach Callison as Steven, Onion

Estelle as Garnet

Michaela Dietz as Amethyst, Ocean Jasper

Deedee Magno-Hall as Pearl, Black Rutile’s Pearls

Uzo Aduba as Bismuth

Jennifer Paz as Lapis Lazuli, Zuli, Mean Lapis

Shelby Rabara as Peridot

Kimberly Brooks as Cherry Quartz, Jasper

Ian Jones-Quartey as Snowflake Obsidian

Michelle Maryk as Little Larimar

Amy Sedaris as Teal Zircon

Aparna Nancherla as Nephrite

Grace Rolek as Connie

Crispin Freeman as Doug

Mary Elizabeth McGlynn as Priyanka

Tom Scharpling as Greg

Zach Steel as Ronaldo

Eugene Cordero as Jamie

Joel Hodgson as Mr. Dewey

Reagan Gomez Preston as Jenny, Kiki

Brian Posehn as Sour Cream

Lamar Abrams as Buck

Matthew Moy as Lars

Kate Micucci as Sadie

Alastair James as Rainbow Quartz 2.0

Shoniqua Shondai as Sunstone

Della Saba as Aquamarine

Charlyne Yi as Eyeball

Jinkx Monsoon as Emerald

Christine Pedi as Holly Blue Agate

Hayley Kiyoko as Morganite

Olivia Olson as Black Rutile's Citrines

Featuring Noël Wells as Black Rutile

And Lauren Ash as White Topaz

--

"Is the camera ready, Topaz?"

"It's ready, my Rutile!"

"You idiot, you forgot to turn on the lens!"

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, my Rutile, let me fix that!"

A camera was turned on inside a black-colored dropship, where a matching-colored Rutile in a green visor and white cape sat down in a captain's chair, confident and charming. "Hello, universe!" the Rutile greeted. "My name is Black Rutile, and welcome to Eye on Era 3, the special interview show where we discuss with Gems about the changes a certain Steven Universe brought to our proud culture!"

"And I'm White Topaz!" the Topaz operating Black Rutile's camera turned the lens to herself and cheerfully waved to the audience.

"Uh, Topaz, over here." Black Rutile ordered.

"Oh, sorry!" White Topaz muttered and turned the camera back to her superior.

"Anyways, we've traveled across the stars to chat it up with all sorts of Gems." The Rutile continued ecstatically. "From Pearls free from slavery, to proud Emerald pilots! Agates with no one to order around, Lapis Lazulis thinking they're lost in the world, and even a few fusions here and there! But today, we're gonna get answers straight from the mouth of this so-called "new Pink Diamond" himself!" she stated, making air-quotes while calling Steven the new Pink Diamond.

"My Rutile, we are closing in on Earth." A Citrine piloting Black Rutile's ship announced. "Is there any good spot you'd like to land?"

"Let's try that Little Homeworld place I've heard so much about." Black Rutile suggested. "We're bound to get tons of special guests there."

"Yes, your clarity." The Citrine complied, and she returned to her station.

"In case you were stuck in a Kindergarten for the past couple hundred years, Little Homeworld is where tons of Gems formerly corrupted by the Diamonds at the end of the Rebellion have made their home." Black Rutile narrated over footage of Little Homeschool. "The number one hotspot of this little bit of home is Little Homeschool, where Gems from all over come to learn how to mingle with the life on Earth and let go of the old ways."

"Hey, you think maybe we could go to that place, BR?" White Topaz grinned eagerly.

"Don't forget about our plans." Black Rutile said under her breath to her Topaz bodyguard. "I mean, we should be nearing Little Homeworld any minute now, so stay tuned!"

--

Gems began to gather when Black Rutile's ship made its landing in Little Homeworld, and the landing door opened to reveal its owner and her sidekick strolling out.

"Oh my, we already have quite a crowd here!" Black Rutile laughed into a microphone. "Now then, I'll pick a few lucky Gems from our audience here to answer some questions about their experiences on Earth." Looking around, Black Rutile managed to pick out Bismuth, Peridot, and Lapis Lazuli from the huddling Gems. "Ah, you three, over there!"

"Us?" Lapis asked.

"Could you care to tell us how life has been on Earth for you?" Black Rutile asked, sticking her microphone out to the trio.

"I've actually been on Earth about as long as Lapis here." Bismuth answered, gesturing to Lapis. "I was one of the original Crystal Gems under Rose Quartz, chosen because I wanted to build whatever I wanted, with no uppercrusts to order me around! But my methods of dealing with the enemy was a bit more extreme than what she was used to, so Rose took one in particular a bit personally and had me poofed & bubbled. In hindsight, maybe Rose was worried that her cover would've been blown."

"As Bismuth said, I was on Earth for a very long time." Lapis began speaking into the mic. "I was supposed to be there for only a little bit to assist in terraforming, but then I got caught in the war and was poofed before being confused for a Crystal Gem. I was interrogated while my gem was stuck in a mirror, but that kind of got cut short when the Diamonds unleashed their final attack and forced everyone to flee. I was left behind by accident, and someone cracked my gem by stepping on it, and years later, I was found by Pearl, who kept me in her gem until Steven freed me."

"Aw, what a happy ending!" White Topaz cooed.

"Yeah, no." Lapis sardonically corrected White Topaz. "After I was freed from the mirror, I nearly drowned tons of people because I wanted to get home, but then home turned out to be a lot different from when I left it. I was once again made a prisoner by Peridot and Jasper, who then invaded Earth because I met the Crystal Gems that everyone thought were defeated in the Rebellion, then I fused with Jasper to protect Steven, which took a number on both of our mental states, I was freed yet again, then I left Earth because I was told the Diamonds might be coming, before coming back only to get poofed by Yellow Diamond."

"Much like Lapis, I was only supposed to be on Earth for a short while to perform my duties." Peridot began telling her story. "I was supposed to check up on the old Galaxy Warp, but then the Crystal Gems kept getting in my way no matter what. Before I knew it, I was without help, without any working technology, and then without my limb enhancers. I don't think I even bothered to ask where the Gems put them."

"A Lapis, a Bismuth and a Peridot. What an unlikely trio." Black Rutile mused. "Tell me, what was it that made you three decide to work alongside each other in the first place."

"Well, it all began when Steven and the Crystal Gems left Earth to convince White Diamond to help them cure corruption." Bismuth said. "I elected to stay behind on Earth to watch over these two."

"Ooh, ooh, can I do a reenactment?!" White Topaz asked, to which Black Rutile responded with a sigh.

"Proceed." Black Rutile muttered, tapping on her camera to produce a light shining on the surface of the dropship. White Topaz began to shapeshift her fingers into various characters, and started a shadow puppet show.

"Bye Bismuth, I'm gonna go to Homeworld and hope we can convince White Diamond to help us save the corrupted Gems." White Topaz said, imitating Steven. "You do you kid. I'm gonna watch over those other Gems while you're away." She continued, now impersonating Bismuth. "Have fun!"

Steven's shadow puppet was raised into the air as White Topaz made rocket sounds, followed by turning more of her fingers into Peridot and Lapis. Black Rutile just gave an annoyed glare to the camera.

"Hey, where's Steven?" White Topaz's impression of Lapis asked. "Oh, him? He ran off to Homeworld with the Diamonds." Her mimicry of Bismuth answered. "Oh my stars, are we too late?!" an aping of Peridot cried out.

"Do I really sound like that?" Peridot muttered as the shadow play went on.

"No little guy, he's fine!" White Topaz's impression of Bismuth continued. "Just something about corruption or whatever."

"Okay, I think we've seen enough!" Black Rutile laughed awkwardly as she interrupted the puppet show.

"Aw, but I was getting to the good part!" White Topaz moaned sadly.

"To be fair, you were almost spot on." Bismuth stated. "When Steven told us through some weird watermelon creature that looked just like him that trouble was indeed brewing on Homeworld, Peridot and Lapis reformed not too long after and we came together out of a desire to help him out."

"United by a common goal, how quaint." Black Rutile smiled and folded her hands behind her back, trying to hide their fidgeting. "Now then, would anyone else like to come up and chat?"

"I would, I would, I would!" Teal Zircon cried as she pushed her way through the crowd. "Hi, name's Teal Zircon, nice to meet you!" she greeted Black Rutile while rapidly shaking her hand. "So, you wanted to learn about my time here on Earth?"

"You're awfully excitable." Black Rutile pushed up her visor by the bridge with a grin. "More to the point, I'd like to hear your story Ms. Zircon."

"Gladly!" Teal Zircon exclaimed. "Like many of the Gems here, I was once corrupted by the Diamonds and became a long-tongued speedster that Peridot tried to capture no matter what, through hell or high water. Eventually, she did succeed, and I was stuck in the barn she and Lapis called home, until the Crystal Gems took me to their place. One day, I was healed by Steven along with a Cherry Quartz and shown around Little Homeschool. That same day, Steven took me along to see a Jasper who didn't want to go to school, and I was willing to become her friend, but I'm pretty sure she hates my guts."

"I'll have to check up on this Jasper sometime." Black Rutile commented. "Now then, anyone else care to share?"

"I'd like to." Zuli answered as she flew up and touched down next to Black Rutile. "I only came here a few weeks ago after Steven recommended the place to a former friend of mine and me. We were terraforming this moon called Aozul 2, but Steven and this other Lapis that we were buddies with back in our terraforming days told us that wasn't cool anymore, so they taught us new ways to express ourselves. I was a lot more accepting, but my ex-friend didn't want to change. To this day, I still don't know where she's at."

"May I go next?" Cherry Quartz asked Black Rutile.

"Sure, go ahead." Black Rutile answered, passing the mic to the Quartz.

"I was an average Quartz soldier made to fight in the war, but then I got corrupted, of course." Cherry began. "Then Steven came along and healed me along with TZ, and introduced us to Little Homeschool. I was a little nervous at first, but while Steven was away, I met up with some fellow Quartzes who told me all about how great it was here."

"I was the first corrupted Gem Steven helped defeat." Nephrite said, taking the mic from Cherry Quartz. "I was actually brought back out a few times, the first was a complete accident & I was poofed soon after, but the second time was when Steven thought he could try to heal me, but instead he reunited me with my old crew."

"Okay, we're running out of time here folks, I got other people to interview, and I haven't got all day!" Black Rutile yelled. "Which one wants to cap off this part?!"

"Little Larimar and I wanna talk." Snowflake Obsidian answered. "Hi, I'm Snowflake Obsidian. This is my buddy Little Larimar."

"We were corrupted Gems too." Larimar said. "I remember when Steven dropped us into that fountain, and we were all right as rain. Then years later, he helped us all find jobs that he thought were right for us, but then hilarity ensued."

"Wow, pretty much everyone here has such nice things to say about Steven." Black Rutile commented while putting on an eerie fake smile. "Isn't there anyone on this planet that doesn't love him?"

"Well, there is Jasper, kind of." Bismuth answered. "I say kind of because I have no idea what's even up with her ever since she was uncorrupted. I mean, she does express a teeny bit of gratitude for it, but she still would rather stay as far away from us as possible."

"To be frank, I wouldn't blame her." Lapis agreed. "Anyway, if you want to interview her, she's in a cave in the woods nearby."

"Good to know, Lapis." Black Rutile thanked Lapis. "I do hope we can see each other again sometime." She laughed as she and White Topaz began leaving Little Homeworld. "Perhaps even sooner than you think."

--

"We've all had our fun in Little Homeworld, but there's still a Gem we've yet to cover as we move on with our tour of Earth." Black Rutile continued narrating while walking in the woods. "This Gem, in particular, has been living in the woods ever since she was cured of an unfortunate case of corruption, and refuses to join her fellow Gems at Little Homeschool! Well, let's see if she can tell us why."

"Is that where she's living over there?" White Topaz asked as she pointed the camera to a cave with a tarp over the entrance.

"I think you might be right!" Black Rutile exclaimed as she raced over to the cave. "Excuse me, does Jasper live here?!"

"No she doesn't, now get out." Jasper's voice grumbled from within the cave.

"If Jasper isn't here, then who are you?" White Topaz asked, forcing Jasper to emerge from her cave.

"Someone who's going to pulverize you if you don't leave me alone." Jasper snarled.

"But we just wanted to ask about your time here on Earth!" Black Rutile nervously explained.

"Guess what, I'm not interested." Jasper added. "Now let me repeat myself, beat it, or I'm gonna beat you!"

"I think we should do as she says, my Rutile!" White Topaz began sweating nervously and slowly stepping away from Jasper.

"Righto." Black Rutile agreed before they ran away from Jasper. "But trust me, I think she might be useful to us."

--

"Well, that went horribly." White Topaz commented the farther she and Black Rutile got from Jasper. "Now where are we?"

"I'm not sure." Black Rutile answered while gazing at a terraced house. "But I do believe we have our next interviewee!"

"Which is?" White Topaz asked her superior.

"The residence of one Connie," Black Rutile declared, bringing up data on Connie on her visor, but then stopped at her last name. "Moo-hee-swear-ann. Seriously, how do you pronounce that?" The reporter decided to brush that off with a shrug and proceeded to knock on the door. "Good day Ms. Moo-hee-swear-ann, my name is Black Rutile, here to interview you about your experiences on Earth."

"It's Maheswaran, in case you're struggling to pronounce it." Connie's mother Priyanka corrected the Rutile. "Now, can I help you?"

"Oh, my apologies." Black Rutile said. "You look a lot taller than my data says."

"I believe you have me confused for my daughter, I'm her mother." Priyanka stated. "If you wish to speak with Connie, she's busy with college preparations, so you can only speak for 15 minutes."

"Uh, question!" White Topaz raised her hand. "What's college?"

--

"So you're doing all this for a TV show?" Connie asked Black Rutile moments later in the living room.

"You could say that." Black Rutile answered with a grin. "I'm working on an investigative report chronicling everyone's experiences with Era 3, and I'm working towards interviewing all the Crystal Gems and their allies, you included little girl. Now tell me, how did you first meet little Steven?"

"Well, it all started a few years ago." Connie began retelling her first meeting with Steven. "I was minding my own business, Steven was trying to get my attention because he wanted to be my friend, but one thing led to another, and we were stuck in a bubble together."

"Not how I'd expect your species to make new friends, but you do you." White Topaz commented with a grin.

"Anyways, it's all thanks to him that I was able to get out of my comfort zone a bit over the years." Connie continued. "I learned sword fighting from Pearl, became able to fend for myself, and we even fused!"

"Yeah, we still find that a little strange." Her father Doug interjected.

"Fusing with humans, just like they said." Black Rutile whispered to herself.

"Did you say something, miss?" Priyanka asked.

"Oh, nothing." Black Rutile covered up what she just said before moving back to Connie. "It seems like you two are just inseparable!"

"Well, mostly." Connie stated. "When Steven let himself get captured by Aquamarine to save everyone, we were all so worried sick for him. And even when he came back perfectly fine, I still felt like this all could've been avoided if we fought together."

"Oh, poor little girl." Black Rutile comforted Connie, though with a secret hint of condescendence in her voice. "It must be hard to lose someone so dear only for them to come back and disregard your feelings by acting like everything's fine."

"It's okay." Connie said. "We did get back together eventually, and now our bond is stronger than ever!"

"Woo, love wins!" White Topaz cheered, inciting yet another angry glare from her boss. "Um, can I do the shadow puppets again?"

"Go ahead." Black Rutile frowned in embarrassment.

"Wait, your documentary has shadow plays?" Priyanka wondered aloud.

"Don't ask me; this was all her idea!" Black Rutile replied grumpily. "What a childish clod."

"Hey Connie, I'm back from Homeworld! Hope no one missed me." White Topaz began another puppet show, this time of Steven and Connie's brief falling out, while trying her best to mimic Steven. "We did kinda miss you, you could've died!" she continued while imitating Connie's voice. "I don't see what the problem is, I'm standing right here!" the Steven puppet replied carelessly. "Well, we could've stopped Aquamarine together, but you gotta make everything about you!" the Connie puppet declared. "So screw you Steven, I'm going home!"

"Wait, I didn't say anything like that!" the real Connie said nervously.

"Sorry kid, I'm just making this up as I go." White Topaz apologized, and just as she was about to continue her show, Black Rutile cut it short. "Aw man!"

"Well, I think we've just about wrapped up here, friends!" Black Rutile announced. "We've got places to be, people to meet, and more opportunities for me to be humiliated by you, Topaz."

"Well, it was nice to see you." Doug said goodbye as the two Gems left the Maheswarans' house. "Hope your documentary is a big hit!"

"Thank you; you're too kind!" Black Rutile waved back and closed the door, allowing some privacy as she scolded White Topaz. "Was it really necessary for you to go all "love wins" on us, you softhearted fool?" she scowled as they began walking away from the house.

"I'm sorry, I just think they're so adorable together!" White Topaz tried to justify her actions, before Black Rutile pulled her down by her collar.

"We have no time for sappy romances!" the Rutile yelled in her bodyguard's face. "We are here to gather information, and that's final! Are we clear?!"

"Yes, your clarity." White Topaz bowed her head in shame.

"Good, now where were we?" Black Rutile tapped on the side of her visor and pulled up a map of the surrounding area. "Ah, yes! Beach City!" she declared while the map began pointing to the little seaside town.

"Ooh, that place sounds fun." White Topaz commented. "Think maybe we could take a vacation there some time, just you and me?"

"Apologies, but we're on a mission." Black Rutile declared as she put the map away. "We'll have time for fun later, but it'll be my choice of fun. Understand?"

"Yes, boss!" White Topaz gave a comical salute, and the two began setting off for Beach City.

--

"Now then, this place should be full of Steven stories!" Black Rutile announced as the duo strolled into town. "And maybe we could find some of his weaknesses too."

"Hey, check out this funny sign!" White Topaz said while gazing at the sign for It's A Wash. "What do you think is a wash?"

"Hey new Gems, welcome." They heard Greg greet them. "If you came here to sign up for Little Homeschool, you should take it up with the Gems first."

"Oh no sir, we already saw that school." Black Rutile said. "It's all part of a series of interviews I'm doing for my show, Eye on Era 3. Which reminds me, how would you describe your experiences with the Crystal Gems?"

"My experiences?" Greg wondered. "Well, it all started one night when I was just a young rocker on tour. I had arrived in Beach City for a show, and Rose Quartz was the only one who showed up."

"Ah yes, Pink Diamond always had a fascination with humans," Black Rutile interjected. "often at the expense of her own kind."

"Yeah yeah, Pink kinda stunk, but don't we all sometimes?" Greg philosophized. "Like I was saying, Rose was the only one who came to my concert at Beach City, and from then onward, I felt like it was destiny. I even wrote a song about it!" He then walked to his van to search for his guitar, and began to play. "Do you believe in destiny? Close your eyes and leave the rest to-"

"I'm sorry, we have no time for a song." Greg's interviewer cut him off. "Could you please continue, sir?"

"Sorry if I was any trouble." Greg apologized, putting away his guitar. "The Gems didn't have a very high opinion of me when we first met, especially Pearl, but we were still able to get along with each other. Amethyst in particular took a liking to me."

"Speaking of which, are the Gems in town today, or are they off on some magical mission or something?" Black Rutile asked Greg.

"Oh, they kinda retired from going on missions now that everything's at peace." Greg answered. "But, Steven's still at home over there." He then pointed over to the Crystal Temple not too far away from Beach City itself.

"Yes, pay-dirt!" Black Rutile grinned eagerly. "Come along Topaz, we shall hit ratings dynamite!"

"Coming!" White Topaz cried as she raced after her master. "Hey, maybe we can chat with some of the people here along the way! They might give us some good info!"

--

"It was kinda thanks to Steven that I died and came back to life." Lars admitted to Black Rutile. "But also thanks to him, I came back as a completely new man with my own awesome spaceship, a serious attitude adjustment, and ever since I came back to Earth, I've taken up some combat training in case I ever go back to space and fight new threats, like I learned musti-yuddha from Connie's dad for example!"

--

"Lars's disappearance got me kind of depressed for a while." Sadie said while her band prepared for practice. "But I found a new way of expressing it with horror-themed rock music!"

"We had trouble finding our sound before Sadie became our frontman." Buck Dewey stated.

"And since then, we became an overnight hit!" Jenny Pizza exclaimed.

"But I have a feeling our differing paths might cause a break-up." Sour Cream admitted.

--

"Steven had good intentions when he helped me run for re-election," ex-Mayor Dewey said. "but ultimately I lost. But hey, I did find a new calling at the Big Donut!"

--

"I was having stress dreams about my sister making me do her work, which took the form of a giant pizza monster, until Steven used his crazy dream powers to help me out." Kiki Pizza said.

--

"I'll admit, I had a crush on Garnet once upon a time." Jamie declared. "But really, can you blame me?! She was just so stoic and radiant and-"

"Get to the point!" Black Rutile sternly ordered.

"I'm sorry, got a little distracted." Jamie apologized. "But I had since moved onto better things, like my future career in the theater!"

--

"Okay, that should be all." Black Rutile sighed in exhaustion. "Now then, let's not waste any more ti-"

"Wait, I want to talk to you!" Ronaldo cried out as he raced to the Gems with a notebook in hand.

"What do you want?" the reporter grumbled. "We're wasting daylight here!"

"You've been going around asking people questions about Gems, but this time I want to ask you for a change." Ronaldo declared.

"Okay then, fire away little guy." White Topaz said with a smile.

"There are still tons of unanswered questions about your kind that I must inquire about!" Ronaldo said while flipping through his notebook. "Like, for example, do you know who created the Gems in the first place? How was Homeworld first colonized? When did they start colonizing other planets?"

"I don't believe we have time for your questions." Black Rutile snidely shut Ronaldo's questions down before making her way to the Crystal Temple. "Come Topaz, we have work to do."

"Yes, my Rutile!" White Topaz obeyed and followed behind, leaving Ronaldo in the dust.

"You can run, but I will get my answers!" Ronaldo declared loudly, but he was too late. "And they're gone."

--

"Okay, Topaz, we have to make a good first impression here, so no silly games or shadow puppet shows." Black Rutile commanded as they ascended the beach house's front steps and reached the front door.

"Aw man." White Topaz moaned in disappointment.

"Quit being such a child you moron." Black Rutile exhaled in disgust as she knocked on the door. "Hello, is anyone home?"

"Just a minute!" a voice the two Gems were eager to hear answered as its owner raced downstairs.

"Oh my stars, the moment has come; he's finally here!" White Topaz squealed happily before she received a slap to the face.

"Hello, what brings you here?" Steven greeted Black Rutile.

"Steven Universe, at long last!" BR exclaimed. "I'm Black Rutile, host of Eye on Era 3, and this is my camera-Gem/bodyguard White Topaz! We're here for an investigative report on the state of Earth in this new era, and have been interviewing many of your family and friends."

"You're a bit shorter than I expected." White Topaz commented.

"I see my reputation precedes me." Steven declared. "Come on in."

"Nice place you got here." White Topaz complimented the house as she and her boss were shown inside.

"Thanks, the Gems helped build this place." Steven accepted the compliment. "Hey, I got a question. I've met a Topaz and a Rutile before, but they sound nothing like you. Why is that?"

"We're just special Gems. Comes with being former members of White Diamond's court." Black Rutile answered while sitting down on the couch. "But enough about us, let's talk you! Could you give us a little life story first?"

"If you want." Steven answered while sitting across from the Rutile. "I remember first discovering my powers like it was yesterday. I was super bummed that my favorite brand of ice cream was discontinued, but then the Gems told me they got tons of it from other stores, and taking a bite out of one coincided with me summoning my shield for the first time, which led me to believe I could do so by eating Cookie Cat."

"Hahaha, oh the innocence of youth!" Black Rutile chuckled nostalgically. "I remember when I first emerged for White Diamond. A real young hotshot, a little arrogant even. Could you tell us more about these powers, kid?"

"Over time, I learned tons of Gem powers." Steven regaled. "Like shapeshifting, control over plant life, making bubbles, telepathy, sticking my mind in others' bodies, but fusion gave me tons of new abilities. This reminds me of a story."

"Ooh, shadow time!" White Topaz exclaimed, but her happiness was immediately put to rest.

"What did I tell you?! No shadows!" Black Rutile yelled strictly at her sidekick, and then immediately changed her mood. "Please continue."

"All right." Steven was a little taken aback by Black Rutile's cold behavior towards White Topaz before he began his story. "Anyways, it all started when I had to take care of Onion for the day, and Pearl helped out."

--

"Thank you Explorer Gal for saving us from that dastardly Bandit Guy!" Rainbow Quartz 2.0 said, taking the role of one of Onion's toys. Onion was playing with Explorer Gal, who thanked the other toy in Onion's unintelligible matter.

"For your heroic efforts, please accept money." Rainbow continued while handing Onion a dollar bill. "Our city was a mess before you came along, but now…." Rainbow then began to break character as they took notice of Onion's messy room. "Well, I suppose it's still a mess." They commented. "It's been so much fun playing, but now we have to clean, which is also fun!" they declared while making a rainbow with their hands. "Are you ready to tidy up?"

Onion stared blankly while slowly sticking a piece of broccoli out of his mouth.

"Oh Onion, don't you be that way." Rainbow 2.0 chuckled. "Your best friend Rainbow will help you tidy up!" Just then, they pulled a parasol out of Pearl's gem. "Let's make things a little more animated in here!"

With that, Rainbow made Onion's toys come to life, and they began marching to their proper places in his room while Rainbow started a song. "Stick by stick, the little blackbird makes a nest." They began singing while making Onion's clothes fly into his dresser. "A mess to some, but the little blackbird isn't stressed."

Rainbow then allowed Onion to give the umbrella a try, making one of the boy's toy cars come to life and race away. "Stick by stick, the little blackbird makes a nest." The fusion continued while Onion marveled at the parasol's powers. "And then he naps, cause even blackbirds need to rest. The fun won't stop if you have a friend around. The fun won't stop if you have a friend around."

As Rainbow began to finish the song, Onion kept playing with the umbrella, making more of his toys come alive, along with a Venus flytrap. "And when you laugh, it is my favorite sound." Onion then discovered some darts in his drawer, and used the parasol to make them fly. "And that's what life is all about."

"What the?!" Rainbow stuttered before dodging the darts, making them land on a dartboard. With that, they finally decided to take their weapon back from Onion while noticing a stack of dirty dishes. "Next time, please wash your dishes." They instructed before sending the dishes off to be cleaned, and then taking notice of a stuffed toy in Steven's image hidden near Onion's bed, eerily waving to them. "And could you please explain what this is?"

Onion didn't answer, aside from blowing Rainbow a few kisses.

"Alright, thank you for the kisses." Rainbow thanked Onion before Steven's phone began to ring. "Just give me five or so minutes."

Rainbow un-fused into Steven and Pearl, and Steven answered his phone. Garnet was on the other end, holding her cellphone extremely close to her face. "Steven, you're late." Garnet said. "I need you for the Sunstone Safety Geminar."

"Oh no, that was today?!" Steven began panicking. "But Rainbow Quartz promised to hang out with Onion today!"

"Don't worry; I'll handle the Geminar." Garnet stated confidently. "I'll explain every possible future where they could get hurt around the house."

"I don't know if that'll be a good idea, I'll be right there." Steven responded before hanging up and turning to Pearl. "Pearl, I'll be back as soon as I can." He promised. "Could you watch over Onion for me while I'm away?"

"Of course." Pearl agreed. "Onion loves Rainbow, I'm sure he'll love me as much."

--

"In hindsight, that wasn't my best idea." Steven took a break from his tale to confess. "Onion can be a real handful."

"Like, how much of a handful?" White Topaz asked.

"Let's just say, he's a real oddball who loves causing trouble." Steven stated. "I can never really get a read on that guy, no matter how much of a good friend he is. Heck, he doesn't even seem to age normally!"

"So, about this Geminar." Black Rutile began. "You said Rainbow Quartz is a fusion between you and Pearl, but who is this Sunstone running that event?"

"Oh, Sunstone is the fusion of Garnet and I." Steven answered. "They're all hip and radical and like giving important life lessons, kind of like those old PSA characters from the 90s. Speaking of which…"

--

"I slip on the stairs?" Ocean Jasper wondered while watching a television screen with Garnet, the Heaven & Earth Beetles, and a Nephrite.

"Indeed, and you shatter on impact too." Garnet bluntly replied, causing Ocean and the Nephrite to scream and hug each other in fright.

"Garnet, I'm here!" Steven called as he entered the house.

"Thanks for coming, Steven, but I need help." Garnet stated. "I think I'm scaring our guests."

"It's okay; we got this." Steven assured. "Let's get this safety Geminar started with a very special guest!"

Garnet got up from the couch, and the two began to dance, eventually forming the totally cool fusion Sunstone.

"Your rockin' pal Sunstone's here to shine!" Sunstone announced merrily.

"Watch out Sunstone, it's dangerous here!" Ocean Jasper cautioned Sunstone.

"Not unless you guys practice home safety." Sunstone assured the scared Gems. "Don't slip up. Clear objects off the stairs." They instructed by taking a water bottle off the steps to Steven's bedroom and throwing it like a ball. "Foul shot!"

The bottle landed in a trash can near Lion, which prompted another tip. "Be sure to cover up your trash, or else you'll attract bugs or hungry animals." Sunstone demonstrated as they shooed Lion away from the garbage. "Come on, let's go!" they declared. "Don't waste water. Turn off any faucet still running." Sunstone then shut off the sink. "Put protective covers over your electrical outlets, especially when kids are around." They added while doing just that. "And don't even think about sticking a fork in there! But most importantly, turn off motion smoothing on the TV."

Sunstone then used the remote to operate the television, allowing clearer picture and sound for everyone. "Okay, hold tight gang, gotta take a phone call." They said. "In the meantime, check out this commercial."

--

"Well, seems like you had things handled." White Topaz remarked.

"Famous last words White Topaz." Steven gravely informed. "Pearl later called me on my phone because Onion was giving her a serious headache, so I came back to her to calm Onion down. Then Garnet was trying to do a home safety obstacle course, but that went horribly wrong."

"Okay, color me wrong." The Topaz guard said. "I suppose hilarity must've ensued?"

"Oh so much." Steven declared. "I tried merging both the Geminar with playing with Onion, but one thing led to another."

--

"It's important to keep in mind that all of these horrible things did happen to you in alternate timelines." Garnet instructed her seminar attendees near the lighthouse. "Safety rules."

"Hey, Garnet." An exhausted Rainbow 2.0 called for their fellow fusion as they flew in via umbrella, with Onion in front. "Would you mind taking on another student?" they asked as Onion was let off the umbrella. "I'm feeling a mite PLPBBT."

With one last raspberry noise, Rainbow un-fused into Steven and Pearl. Steven just groaned tiredly.

"You shouldn't have brought him here Steven." Garnet forebodingly scolded the boy as Onion took a seat in front of her with the Gems.

"No, no, it's fine. It's good." Steven stuttered, having had enough of the stressful day he had. "No one needs safety training more than Onion! I'm combining all of my responsibilities into one responsibility! It's brilliant, it's brilliant! It's fine. I'm fine. Really, it's fine. I'm fine. I'm fine."

Onion wasn't paying attention the whole time, and instead picked up a blade of grass to play like a musical instrument, hypnotically commanding the other Gems to follow him. And Steven was too busy assuring Garnet and Pearl that he was fine to notice too late what had just happened.

A madcap chase soon ensued, with the three Crystal Gems following Onion and the Little Homeschoolers throughout Beach City, into the woods, and finally to a hill, where Onion let go of the leaf. Despite that, Ocean Jasper, the Beetles, and the Nephrite continued marching to the point of falling over the edge.

"Oh no!" Pearl cried as the Gems fell off the hill.

"Steven, we need Sunstone to save them!" Garnet urged Steven.

"Okay!" Steven yelped, and they fused into Sunstone.

"No, we need Rainbow to save them!" Pearl began arguing with her de-facto superior as she swiped Steven away to form Rainbow Quartz.

"I'll catch them with this!" Rainbow declared as they presented their umbrella.

"Can't all three of us fuse to save them?" Garnet wondered just as Amethyst raced up to them.

"Hey wait!" Amethyst cried. "I need Steven!"

Rainbow un-fused so Steven could speak. "What is it Amethyst?!"

"I miss you, man!" Amethyst yelled. "I haven't seen you in like, eleven minutes! But it felt like even longer!"

Steven couldn't take it anymore, and without a single word, he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion.

"STEVEN!" Pearl screamed as she raced to Steven's side.

"I shouldn't have overbooked my schedule." Steven groaned one last time before passing out from exhaustion.

"Nooooooooo." Garnet unemotionally cried out in despair.

--

"Oh-hohohohoho, I know what it's like!" Black Rutile cackled as Steven finished his story. "Must be so hard to be so overworked at such a young age."

"Guess that's what happens when you're running a whole school." Steven chuckled in reply. "So, guess that should be it, right?"

"No, I'd like to speak with Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl first before we wrap up for today." Black Rutile answered, just as the Warp pad began glowing. "Oh, and look who should show up now!"

The core Crystal Gems stood at the Warp Pad, ready to kick back after the long day they had today. "Good thing it was so easy to get that crowd under control." Pearl exhaled. "Still, who was that interviewer they were talking about?"

"I believe that would be me." Black Rutile answered as she stood up from the couch to meet the Gems. "Hi, Black Rutile, intelligence officer of White Diamond turned news reporter. Pleased to meet you."

"I wasn't aware White had a court." Garnet said as the Rutile shook each of their hands. "Pleased to meet you too."

"I just got done interviewing Steven, and he told me the most hilarious story about his troubles with balancing two things at once." Black Rutile said.

"Yeah, things went kinda crazy that day." Amethyst reminisced. "But thankfully, everything went back to normal after that."

"Oh good, the way Steven ended things left me on the edge of my seat!" White Topaz exclaimed while positioning the camera to face the Gems. "One more question before we go, what would you say are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?"

"A little oddly specific, but okay." Pearl remarked. "I pride myself on orderliness, swordsmanship, and intelligence. But I can be a bit doting and perfectionist at times."

"I can be kinda foolish and impulsive, but I'm pretty much past that." Amethyst added. "I'm also more street smart than book smart, and super tough too!"

"I'm a very stable fusion, which especially helps in battle." Garnet said. "My future vision is also seldom wrong, unless the current timeline becomes too unpredictable."

"Well, that should be enough for now." Black Rutile said as she entered all of her data into her visor. "Apologies if we couldn't talk anymore, but I've got places to be and missions to go on, so toodles!"

"Hope we can see each other again, Black Rutile!" Steven said goodbye as the two visiting Gems took the Warp Pad back to Little Homeworld.

"Maybe sooner than you think." Black Rutile smirked before they disappeared.

"She's right, we'll be seeing her again many times." Garnet predicted with an adjustment of her glasses. "But none of them will be friendly."

Steven, Amethyst, and Pearl just laughed at Garnet's prediction, ignorant at what could be to come.

--

Upon returning to Little Homeworld and boarding their ship, Black Rutile and White Topaz finally left Earth and launched into hyperspace.

"Wow, those Crystal Gems really are swell!" White Topaz commented while her superior sat down in her chair. "I don't see why we're plotting against them."

"It's because they've become far too powerful." Black Rutile answered gravely, a far cry from the persona she put up on Earth. "Does Steven really think he can change our entire society with just hugging, crying, singing, and a cheeky one-liner? Bah, I've done so much better without any of those!"

"My Rutile, we should be exiting hyperspace above Revanche 666 in approximately 15 seconds." One of the Rutile's Citrines confirmed. "Would you like to inform your allies of your coming?"

"Bring Emerald up." Black Rutile commanded, cuing a video screen to appear, showing the tall, green Gem pilot on the other side. "Hello there, Emerald."

"Your clarity, has your reconnaissance ended well?" Emerald asked with a bow.

"Indeed it has." Black Rutile answered with a grin. "Those clods never suspected a thing!"

"And we got it all on video too!" White Topaz added.

"Excellent, we'll soon have everything we need." Emerald declared. "We're all waiting for you at the base, hoping you won't disappoint."

"Oh, don't worry, Emerald, I won't." Black Rutile replied. "That will be all." With a clap, the screen disappeared, and the ship exited hyperspace to reveal the skull-like planet of Revanche 666 before them. "Prepare for landing."

--

When the dropship finally landed at Black Rutile's headquarters, two rows of Pearls patiently awaited their master's return.

"Ah, my Pearls." Black Rutile announced as she disembarked. "When I ordered Shell to create all of you, I knew it wouldn't disappoint."

"Thank you, my Rutile." The Pearls thanked in unison while one of them took the camera from White Topaz. "Your minions await."

"Perfect." Black Rutile purred before beginning her stroll to her meeting room. "Come Topaz, we have much to do."

--

"Geez, what's taking her so long?" Lapis Lazuli 1J9G-5KL complained as she, Holly Blue Agate, Morganite, Emerald, Aquamarine, and Eyeball kept on waiting for their boss while seated around a round, white table.

"Patience Lapis." Aquamarine soothed her fellow Gem's annoyance. "She did say that she'd be arriving soon."

"The sooner, the better!" Eyeball yelled, pounding her fist on the table. "I want revenge on Steven for making me a pariah, and I want it now!"

"You're awfully eager." Emerald muttered to her fellow eye Gem before turning to Holly Blue and Morganite. "So, how goes that Zircon's democratic campaign?"

"That navel gem Ruby we planted as her campaign manager has been feeding her lies, and the Zircon doesn't suspect a thing!" Holly Blue answered excitedly.

"More and more Gems have been unknowingly swayed to our cause." Morganite stated. "Soon, we shall have an army strong enough to topple even the Diamonds."

Just then, Black Rutile and White Topaz finally arrived in the meeting room, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and salute her. "Welcome, your clarity."

"You're all too kind." Black Rutile thanked them sarcastically as she took a seat between Aquamarine and White Topaz. "I suspect your missions have been going well too, no?"

"Indeed it has my Rutile." Holly Blue revealed.

"That brat has been controlling us all for too long." Aquamarine declared. "Now it's time we take back our planet from those tyrannical pacifists."

"Are you all sure this is a good idea?" White Topaz asked the other Era 3 insurgents. "I mean, the Crystal Gems have become far too powerful to be challenged, and the Diamonds will no doubt come for our gems if they find out!"

"The Diamonds are yesterday's news!" Black Rutile roared, forcing her Topaz into silence. "And speaking of which, Steven may not realize this, but he's no better than his brat of a mother! Thinking he can force all of Homeworld to obey him by being a controlling twerp! Thankfully, he doesn't do so by throwing tantrums left and right until the Diamonds do what he says to shut him up. For now at least."

A Black Pearl entered the meeting room with White Topaz's camera in her hands, and she set it down on the table.

"Thank you my Pearl." Black Rutile thanked the Pearl before turning it on to reveal all the information that she collected on Earth.

"Is this all we need to know about the Gems in time for Phase 2?" Morganite asked her black-colored superior.

"You bet it is." Black Rutile declared with a sociopathic grin as she gazed at one of the holograms of Steven and plucked it out to hold in her hands. "You can have your happily ever after as much as you like, Steven." She declared evilly. "Cause your little Universe will soon be mine."

END OF PART 1: LITTLE HOMESCHOOL

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2: GRADUATION

--

At last, Part 1 is finally complete! And here, unfortunately, is where I must go on hiatus. Second semester of college and all that, and I think my classes might be harder than last semester. But hopefully, this cliffhanger should tide you over until we come back. Anyways, Black Rutile is finally upon us! A character that I think I'll have fun writing since I consider her to be like the Lex Luthor to Steven's Superman, the Frieza to his Goku, the Megatron to his Optimus Prime, the Aku to his Samurai Jack, etc etc. In other words, Steven's got a new archenemy coming and he doesn't even know it yet. Stay tuned! (evil laughter)

[annoying-lucy]

Evan Evagora did an AMA involving the Star Trek Shitposting Facebook Group - the questions and answers below were copy/pasted direct from the collated master post. Evan is a member of the group, who participates under an unknown pseudonym.

———————————————

AMA Master Post!

Thanks so much to Evan Evagora for taking time out of his day for our AMA earlier. To make the questions and answers easier for ya'll to find, here they all are together below.

Q: How does my love of cats compare to Elnor?

A: Im actually more of a dog person, there was a scene that had Elnor and spot 2 unite briefly but unfortunately it didn’t leave the editing room

Q: How familiar was I with Star Trek before and did I have to do research?

A: I grew up with TNG, I’d have to say either worf, Guinan or Q are my favourite characters. And I was given episodes to watch that were to help with information before filming Picard

Q: How was I prepped to deal with the crazy fans?

A: I got told to join Star Trek shitposting 😉. Not but in all seriousness, it was Jonathan Frakes who gave me advice on entering the world of fandom from the other side and he said it’s been nothing short of a pleasure

Q: So if Hugh had survived would they have made out?

A: what happens on the cube stays on the cube

Q: My favourite moment of s1

A: getting to slice that romulans head off

Q: How did I hear about Star Trek shitposting?

A: most of the crew is either a part of the group or knows about, one of the amazing hair and make up ladies got me into I think my first or second day

Q: If I had to be Tuvixed with someone excluding elnor?

A: mirror verse Elnor, nah worf to be honest

Q: What is something I’d like to do in season 2

A: Id like to see Elnor and spot 2 together

Q: How am I passing my time woth quarantine?

A: ama for the gronp! Nah I’ve just been reading, writing and also the contact I’m having with the fans too has really helped a lot

Q: If I had to quarantine with any of my costars who would it be and why

A: I’d go with hardy treadaway he’s got the nicest place

Q: What am I hoping to see in Elnor’s future

A: Inner peace, contentment and possibly shorter hair?

Q: Am I intimidated by working on a show with such a big fan base?

A: no I grew up with Star Trek, you’re really in a bubble of filming when you’re making the show, it all didn’t really hit home until the first trailer at San Diego

Q: Would I consider playing Elnor as non binary

A: I’ve seen a lot of debate and discussion about not only my character but others in the series, if there is something that connects you with a character on this show and it resonates with you, even if it’s shown, not shown or hinted at I’m all for it. I am not for the constant belittlement, bullying and criticism of not only the characters on the show but also other fans. It really does break my heart reading comments where people aren’t welcoming of one another, because that is the whole reason why Trek has bought so many together and by spewing these disgusting cruel words out your not only showing the world you don’t understand the meaning behind the show, you also are destroying the thing that makes us all love it

Q: Is there Australia on romulas

A: yeah they have a down under I’m sure of it. No the accent can easily be explained with, Elnor left romulas at a young age, moved to a planet with different species and languages spoken so that influenced his accent

Q: Have I seen Elnor fan fiction and art?

A: yeah some of it has been really amazing! And some others have been...creative

Q: How excited am I to make home movies with my action figures?

A: my plan is to buy everyone’s, make them record audio and then film shit using the dolls and their voices

Q: Are you playing animal crossing?

A: I’ve preordered it because they’ve sold out here in aus, but in playing civ 6 to pass time and Mario party

Q: Did I get to try Romulan ale?

A: no I wish, I’m kind of hoping for a scene next year where Elnor gets drunk for the first time

Q: What character did I wish would appear in our show?

A: one word, one letter Q

Q: What’s my background have I been acting long?

A: Picard was my third acting gig, and the first project to release, so I have got some experience acting and I have previous work but it has either just aired or is going to next year

Q: Please my friend choose a charity you would like us to donate to

A: food bank

Q: Favourite ninja turtle

A: it’s always been Raph and always will be

Q: Do I know much about Elnors background

A: I know things that haven’t been mentioned yet, but also given his character is new and season 1 just finished, hopefully some of those things are explored

Q: How would o feel about the fan theory that Spock is my father

A: I mean, I’m not really sure, I can always shoot Ethan a message and ask him what he thinks too

Q: Which classic episode trope would I like to see?

A: mirror universe

Q: Can we look forward to more ninja representation?

A: is Elnor not enough? ☹️

Q: Were there any particular characters I drew inspiration from, any elves?

A: there’s a particular group of people I think Elnor might have been inspired from. Can I just say how cool it would be if Elnor is just cosplaying as an elf because Picard left him a copy of Lotr when he was young

Q: Would I be open to exploring Elnors sexuality in s2 and what would it be?

A: I am totally open for that, and as for Elnors sexuality, I’m not sure he’s only 17 he’s just left his planet and gone off on an adventure where he openly knew the success may lead in his death or others he hasn’t had time to figure himself out so seeing his sexuality explored would be amazing

Q: What stories did you hear about working on precious trek series from the OG actors?

A; So we found out Michael Dorn used to muddle his lines up because he was normally the last close up of the day. They used to put bets on to see how many takes he’d have to do. All I must add in very fun spirits nothing ever malicious or mean

Q: My long term career goals

A: id like to keep pursuing more roles I’m acting, I’m a big writer and have some projects I’m looking at getting created but right now I’d say I’m just here to learn and grow

Q: What do I write?

A: right now I’m working on three screenplays and two pilots most of the stuff I’ve written is just sitting on my hard drive just waiting to be used

Q: Ever fried an egg, buttered and vegemite'd some toast and eaten it like a sandwich?

A: what I just read, scared the crap out of me, I love vegemite but the most I’ll do is add cheese to it

Q: What is one of my favourite stories about s1

A: Jeri Ryan and I had a scene together in the borg cube (what a queen she made!) it was shooting at night and I think it was the final shot of the day, we couldn’t keep a straight face and just laughed through about fifteen takes

Q: Are you a big fan of fandom besides Trek?

A: Star Wars, lotr, the magician series Raymond e feist, a song of fire and ice series, avatar last air bender and legend of Korra (would love to play zuko) and of course Batman (fav Jason Todd as the hood)

Q: Could I see myself playing Elnor for six or seven years?

A: as long as there’s a good story that myself and fans will enjoy, but if it didn’t meet my expectations no. And also hopefully the writers and creators would want to

Q: My top TNG eps are in no particular order

I borg, all good things, tapestry, the measure of a man and all good things

I’ll also add I borg especially because it’s just cool seeing where Hugh began and how he ended up

Q: How did I land the role of Elnor?

A: I was on a break from filming Fantasy Island (a movie based off the old tv show) and I was home for pilot season which is when they cast for shows, I had two weeks of daily auditions before I was due to fly back and start filming again, two days before I was meant to leave I got an audition for Picard, the script had a code name and Elnors name was Kbar on it, but I was told it was Star Trek. I went into the room and thought I didn’t do a very good job, then I flew to film and two days later I was told I’ve made a list of people being considered, after a few more auditions and a couple of phone calls from producers and everything I found myself on a plane to LA five weeks later

Q: Have I made friends among the cast?

A: no, we tried really hard to become friends, but unfortunately we ended up becoming a family instead. Everything we say in interviews about us getting along is all true and not fake. I’m the newest to acting out of everyone so I was kind of of shocked to find out that how close we all are isn’t necessarily how it will be when I shoot other projects, so I think we just got lucky or they casted really well

Q: Have the Picard people seen your memes?

A: yes I’ve shown them the memes from the page, I’ve shown everyone including Patrick we find most of them funny (some shocking)

Not shocking in a bad way

Unexpected I should say

Q: How do I feel about the ears?

A: I wore them so much they came up in my dreams, but they were the easiest thing to apply onto me

Q: Which non tng character would I like to see return?

A: I wouldn’t mind seeing the doctor

Q: The most relatable Star Trek character?

A: Look for me growing up it was Wesley, i just picked anyone who was the young one. And I grew up with my sisters and was always being told I’m either wrong, an idiot or just to shut up

Q: Did I have previous martial arts experience before the show?

A: I have a background in boxing which helps when it comes to movement, reflexes and just all around fitness for stunts. I didn’t have any sword fighting experience before we began training for the show however

Q: How do you think being raised by an order of women affected Elnor?

A: I think it gave him a healthy understanding of not only the strength and resilience of women but I think he understands not only gender equality but just equality in general and I think that’s directly to do with growing up in a sect of all female warrior nuns

Q: What is a type of meme you would like to see more of in the group?

A: I love all the memes in the group, I hardly like any of them now incase someone figures out who I am though ahahah

Q: Favorite recent memes?

A: See my comment below

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 83

March 4th, the first week of the month, you and Tony found yourselves down a few levels in the Tower, in what was lovingly becoming known as the Avengers Mess-hall. Really it was just a communal kitchen area that was shared amongst the living quarters that the two of you had floorplan-ned and built for your new team (or family, however you wanted to look at it). Seven AM seemed like a good time that everyone was just sort of around, barring if Steve was off doing something more official. 

But today was not one of those days, and you, Tony, Steve, and Bruce all sat at the table, quietly eating bowls of cereal, Dvahli being highly undisciplined, wandering around on top of said table begging for milk. Sometimes Tony would make breakfast, and other days, like today, it was just a quiet milk and boxed cereal kind of morning. The TV was on in the background, playing mostly weather. Something about Steve and the weather channel just got along. (You refused to make any old man jokes about it. Tony had privately commented more than once on it.) 

It was when a commercial cut through and Christine Everhart’s voice told her adoring viewers to check back this evening for an exclusive on whether or not superheroes should blahblahblah… “Mute.” You got to it first before anyone else could. She was ramping up her usual arguments in lieu of any actual reporting. Something you looked on with disdain, as it wasn’t doing you (or your team/family) any favors. But killing the free press was a move set up for failure. 

Steve seemed like he might want to ask about the obvious disdain going on here, but before he could, the elevator doors in the back of the room opened up, and in walked Natasha, Clint, and Fury. Tony’s head tipped up, dropping his spoon to clatter in his bowl. “Security breach.” 

Natasha waved her Stark Industries/Avengers issued badge. “I let him in with mine.” 

Clint went right over to the cabinets, trying to sniff out some instant coffee. “Good morning to you, too.”

While you weren’t exactly happy to see him, he wouldn’t leave now that he was here. So you looked up at Fury as he approached. “What now?” 

He settled his hands on his hips. “I’ve been trying to get a debrief out of the two of you for a month.” 

Your brows scrunched. “For what? Look, I appreciate that you kept the press of my property after the attack, but I didn’t ask for you to be there.” 

“That’s not why I was there.” Fury rolled his eye. “And your continued ungratefulness aside, when an enhanced individual almost kills the President of the United States, I’d kinda like to talk about it.” 

“Oh.” That left you just slightly speechless. “Right.” Turning to Tony, “Hey, what was that about, anyway?” Killian had not been a man of few words, and truly liked to hear himself talk. But you realized you had been confused about that turn of events, and too much had gone on in the aftermath for you to remember to care about it. 

Before he could answer you, Fury reached over, pulling the V-neck of Tony’s long sleeved shirt down. “And I’d like to talk about that, too.” 

Natasha and Clint pointedly both lurched over to look at what was going on, and Tony batted Fury’s hand away. “Hey- I’m suddenly feeling very violated. Do we have an HR department?” Looking to you for answers. 

“Stark Industries does… I never thought I’d have to set one up for the Avengers. I guess I should…”

Fury’s dryness continued. “That’s not your call.” 

Natasha pulled a bowl from the middle of the table and poured herself some cereal. “You took the Arc out?” 

Clint, with his back to the entire group now, filling the coffee machine, “I didn’t even know you could do that. Long surgery?” 

Steve gestured to the both of them. “Where have you two been, anyway?” 

Nat answered, “Had to go dark on a mission.” 

Clint shut the top of the coffee maker, looking at you. “Hell of a thing coming out into a debrief where we hear your entire house got blown up. You’ve been up to a lot.” 

“And I’d like to talk about it now.” Fury tried to cut the chatter short. 

Tony shared a long pointed look with you, and then finally decided that Fury probably wasn’t going to leave unless one of you acquiesced him. You were just lucky Tony loved you that much. With a dramatic sigh he put his hands on the table. “Alright. Five minutes in my office. That’s all I’ve got for you. I’m very busy.” Giving you a kiss to the top of your head before rounding the table and falling in line with him. 

As they walked back to the elevators you heard Fury make an effort to lower his voice. “Heard Xavier’s been sniffing around.”

“Who’s that now?” They both stepped into the elevator. 

“You tell me your secrets, I’ll tell you mine.” 

“I doubt it.” 

With that the doors closed, leaving the rest of you sitting in a slightly uncomfortable silence until Bruce stood. “Well, this has been a uh… interesting morning. I have some research to get back to. I hope you don’t mind.” 

You gave him a small wave. “I’ll see you later.” 

He waved back, crossing over to the sink to drop his bowl in and give it a quick rinse. It was Natasha getting up as he passed back by the table to go to the elevators that had you curious. She approached his side after he’d pushed the button. “Mind if I go with you?” 

Even Bruce seemed unsure. But maybe that was just him. “Uh. No. Of course not.” As the doors opened he gestured, “After you.” 

The three of you remaining in the room, Clint now finished making his coffee, sitting at the table, watched them go. The uncertainty was palpable. ...well, at least from you and Steve. Who then threw a look at Clint in sync. You were the one to ask. “What’s that about?” 

He shrugged. “Who knows.” 

Steve hooked a thumb at her now abandoned bowl. “She didn’t even finish her cereal.” 

Sipping at his coffee, he gave yet another shrug. “I’m not her mother. I can’t make her come clean it up.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. He knew something. “This is not a normal occurrence.” 

At that he grinned at you. “Your house got blown up by terrorists. What do you know about normal?” 

“He’s got a point.” Steve was smiling at you. 

Turning his way, you proverbially put your hands on your hips with your tone, “I thought you were on my side.” 

Both his hands came up in defense. “I’m not saying I’m not. Just. ...he’s got a point, is all.” 

You looked at him. And then Clint. And then Steve again. Eyes getting narrower and narrower. Then, finally, you put your hands on the table and stood up. “Well, if we’re all done switching teams for the day, some of us have actual work to do.” Getting up, you walked over to the sink, making an actual effort to wash your bowl and put it on the rack to dry. 

Clint hung his arm over the back of the chair as you passed by. “I just came back from a month long mission. Haven’t I been doing enough work?” 

Now, actually putting your hands on your hips, “And what were you doing on that mission?” 

As he opened his mouth, you and Steve answered for him, “Classified.” 

And you threw your hands aside. “Yeah yeah yeah. We know.” 

“Technically you don’t.” He raised his mug at you in a mock-cheers, grinning. 

Thankfully the private elevator came about as soon as you called. “Smart ass.” Shaking your head, concealing your grin as you turned away. 

“Every group needs at least one.” 

“Technically I think Tony-” 

The doors closed. You were tempted to push the button to re-open them just to hear what Steve was going to say fully about that. 

                                                  --------

The week moved beyond you without your notice. You almost regretted trying to sass Clint about doing work because almost as if the universe was heeding your call, your workload seemed to triple after that encounter. It made it hard to do anything but focus up. And realize how terrible it was to not see Tony. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, previously, but even breakfast started to be a non-starter. Calls and meetings and emails to attend to… 

You were just lucky enough to crawl back into bed with him. It was also stunting the growth of your new future home. Any dialogue about it was put on the back-burner. And by that, it actually meant not talking about it at all. You didn’t hate the Tower. Or seeing most of your team every day. But living there? Forever? 

What about your future? Did you have plans? 

...should you? What should they look like? 

All things you were day-dreaming about as JARVIS scared the bejesus out of you with an announcement that following Friday afternoon. “Sorry to bother you, Ms. INY, I know you’re terribly busy…” Speaking of smart-asses… “There’s a woman in the lobby who refuses to leave without speaking to you.” 

That was probably good. People who refused to get off your property and made scenes were the best to deal with. But it was the weekend soon, right? If that even meant anything anymore. Surely you could go deal with it. It may have been easier to just call the cops, but you’d hate for the press to start calling you callous. “Who is it? And what does she want?” 

“I have been unable to determine the exact nature of her quarrel, but I have identified her as Elizabeth Ross.” 

At the door you stopped, making a face to no one in particular. ...JARVIS, you supposed. “I don’t know who that is.” You would have guessed if someone was making a scene it at least would have been someone you’d interacted with at one point or another. But the name didn’t ring a bell- 

“General Ross’ daughter.” 

Oh. So it was going to be that kind of day, huh? “Tony know about this?” 

“No, ma’am. Shall I inform him?” 

Opening the door, “Absolutely not.” Whatever Ross was trying to pull now, and almost certainly it was something- it always was with him, Tony was better off not being involved. He had enough he was working on. Dealing with. You could handle Ross for him- 

Especially since the woman was asking for you. A trap? Maybe she was going to cart you off to Ross for who knew what reason. What a wonderful mentality, you realized. To just immediately be innately distrusting of everyone and everything you didn’t hold in your inner circle. 

Too bad Coulson hadn’t been answering any of your calls about a therapist on retainer. Maybe you should ask Nat or Clint… 

The lobby was bustling like always. People coming in and out. At the front desk, security seemed to be speaking sternly to a woman in a long beige trench coat, a handkerchief over her hair and cat-eye sunglasses. Yet JARVIS had identified her. Good job, JARVIS. 

You walked up to her. “Can I help you?” You assumed you must have been able to. Seeing as she’d been asking for you. 

The security guard seemed vexed. “I’m sorry about this, Ms.-”

Holding a hand up to him, “It’s fine. I’ll take her. Don’t worry about it.” In fact, literally taking her by the arm, pulling her closer to your private elevators to get away from the crowd. When she just seemed to stare at you, you decided waiting for her to spill her case wasn’t gonna happen. “What is it? What do you need?” Not trying to be curt, just a little frazzled. 

You hadn’t been expecting guests. 

She frowned, slipping off her glasses, revealing a pair of gentle blue eyes. Her face was so petite and soft. For a moment you had trouble imagining someone as mulish as Ross had birthed someone so sweet looking. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know who else to ask for. Really, anyone, I guess, but... “ Turning half aside, she dipped her hands into a shoulder bag, rooting around before returning with a cream colored envelope. “Can you give this to Bruce?” 

Alright. What? “I’m sorry?” 

“Bruce Banner.” She reiterated, although she didn’t need to. You knew exactly who she was talking about. It was the why that was escaping you. “Can you give it to him?” 

Indeed, as you looked the envelope over, it had his name scrawled on the front in delicate script. “Why?” 

Now she ducked her eyes. “That’s personal, if you don’t mind.” 

You crossed your arms. “I do mind, thanks. You called me out of my office and are asking about one of my teammates- which is why I assume you did. And, not to be all, sins of the father thing but…” Bruce and Ross had a history. And not a good one. 

“It’s got nothing to do with my father.” She seemed genuinely upset that you would imply such a thing. So strongly in fact that it colored you for a moment before you were able to put a wall between the two of you. And after you let a silence sit, she then turned uncomfortable. “Look… Bruce and I have a history. Separate from my dad. I’m just. Not a part of his life anymore. I’m trying to say goodbye.” 

All at once you felt terrible. ...if she was saying what you think she was saying… 

Reaching up you took hold of the letter. “Is that what he wants?” Bruce was just as caring and kind. This was probably none of your business, whether or not she’d accidentally made it your business, but- 

“Seems pretty plain to me.” 

“You want me to get him?” 

“No.” Quickly from her, and then she put her sunglasses back on. “No. ...that’s alright. Thank you. I appreciate this. Don’t worry about it. This… this is what has to happen.” Lightly she touched your hand. “Thank you. I mean it.” Then she turned away and left. 

Just like that. 

                                                       --------

You turned the envelope over in your hands a few times. It was your mission now to deliver it. There was no getting around that. You had to. But when you stopped at the lab, it was pretty busy, and Bruce didn’t even look up. So instead you went to your office. “JARVIS…” Taking a seat, you gingerly put the letter down. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Call Bruce for me, would you? But- let him know it’s not urgent. Whenever he’s not busy…” 

“Right away, ma’am.” 

The door opened almost immediately after you’d asked, but it was Tony who walked in, not Bruce. Carrying two bottles of water. “I thought I’d come by and-” Stopping dead in his tracks in the middle of the room as he looked at you. “What’s the matter? What happened?” 

“That obvious?” You put a hand over your face. “And I thought I was the one with the thing.” He was just too good at reading you, it seemed. 

“You look like someone died. Did someone die? Was it Elvis again?” He set a bottle of water clearly meant for you on the corner of your desk and made no secret about spying that envelope as he slumped into the plush seat in front of your desk. 

“Elizabeth Ross came by.” 

“Betty. You don’t say.” 

“Betty?” So he knew her. You thought he at least would know something about her. But Betty? 

He shrugged. “For a while she had some really interesting research going on… top of the line at Culver… and her myostatic primer work…” Trailing off. A spark lit in his eyes, as he seemed to grasp the situation. Because it wasn’t only research that was the reason he knew about her. 

And you felt his guilt like a punch in the gut.

He immediately got to his feet. “Betty Ross was here.” “Mm.” “And she gave you a letter.” “Yes.” “For Bruce.” 

“Yeah.” 

And just like that, the door opened behind the both of you and Bruce poked his head in. “Is this a good time?” 

Tony immediately turned tail. “I have to go. I gotta- ....I gotta get outta here.” Though he did stop at the front of the room as Bruce came in, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. “...You know where to find me. If you need to.” And then almost literally bolted out of the room. 

Bruce looked at the door as it closed behind him, as if watching the trail of smoke from Tony’s trail, and then looked back at you. “What’s that all about?” 

“Uh… look. There’s no easy way to say this.” But you wished you had at least tried for some delicacy instead of jumping into it like that. Tony’s jitters had gotten the better of you. Standing, you took the letter off your desk and went to him instead. Holding it out, “Betty Ross came by. And told me to give this to you.” 

A dark cloud immediately formed over him. Sorrow. Regret. Fear, as his eyes dropped and he looked at that letter, reaching out but pulling back like it might burn him. “Ah. ...I see. There’s uh… probably no need to read that. I already know what it says.” Nudging his glasses up, he frowned at you. “I’m uh… sorry you got mixed up in that… I have no idea why she would… uh…” He was troubled, intensely so. 

Humans were a mess. No other way around it. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s none of my business. I should be the one who’s sorry.” And you were. 

He looked up at you. “...then why do I get the feeling like I’m about to get a lecture?” 

“Not a lecture-” Feeling poorly that he even thought that. ...you’d have to keep from actually giving one. “Just… I think you should talk to her.” 

Shaking his head, lips pressed together for a moment, “She doesn’t want that.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Because she came here and delivered a letter for me through you. And whatever it says in there, she’s probably right. I’m an asshole. I used to be hiding, and that’s why I couldn’t be with her. But I’m not now. And…” It seemed to just all pour out of him, the moment he was given a chance to speak about it. Once he realized that, though, he shook his head and put a stop to it. “Doesn’t matter. She’s right.” 

You couldn’t help the face you were making. “...kinda seems like it matters.” 

He sighed, annoyance fluttering through him. Taking hold of the envelope he ripped the top open and pulled out a frilly looking piece of stationary. For your benefit, you supposed, he read it out loud. Maybe just to prove you wrong. 

“Bruce, Everything we had I’ll remember forever. I don’t want to be stuck in limbo, so I’ll be the brave one, this time, and return the favor. I love you. Don’t worry about me. You’re free. Goodbye. Betty.” 

He crumpled the edge of the letter a little too hard, with the grip he was suddenly holding it with. You had no idea what to do. Reaching up, he removed his glasses, putting them in his pocket. “This is- ...I mean come on. This is the way it has to be.” Sounding an awful lot like he was trying to convince himself. 

Where was that therapist when you needed them? “Why?” 

“Because- no offense- but when I look at a relationship like yours and Tony’s? It seems nice but… one of the two of you is always in some kind of near-mortal-peril. Someone is always leverage to people that wanna hurt you, whether you like it or not. It was why I stopped contacting her all those years ago. And it’s why… it’s why this makes sense.” 

You folded your arms, trying not to take offense to his use of your personal relationship with your boyfriend to heart. ...it was worse because he was right. 

“And maybe it’s none of my business, either. But it’s not like Tony hasn’t… talked about… worrying about you.” You weren’t sure what Bruce was trying to do here, but knowing the goodness in his heart, he was probably just trying to relate all of this. It was why Tony knew about Betty. And why he knew what was going on. Because he and Bruce had grown close. 

And of course they’d talked about… all this. 

“It’s better not to keep putting her through that. Maybe she realized that, too.” 

“That’s not why, Bruce. And you know that.” At least trying to defend her. A little. 

His smile was bittersweet. “Yeah…” Head dropping. “Yeah… but it’d be nice to pretend.” 

As you opened your arms, wrapping them around him, half of you expected him to just stand there awkwardly and wait for it to be over. The other half expected him to step away. He surprised you entirely by putting an arm back around you and holding you tight. 

“Our lives are messy. It sucks. And I’m sorry.” Murmuring useless words that really weren’t going to help him at all. When he decided it was time to back off, you offered him a very weak smile. “On the upside- I’m trying to get a therapist on retainer.” 

At least this seemed to get one little laugh out of him. “Therapist to the Avengers, huh? Who’ll be their therapist?” You pretended not to notice as he folded the letter up and stuffed it in his pants pocket.

Leading him out of your office, you kept his attention as you signaled the elevator to take you up to the shared kitchen. It was lunch time. And he needed the company. “So you’re saying I’m going to be financially on the hook for a string of never ending therapists?” 

“Everybody needs somebody to talk to…” He was turning his hands over, looking down. 

When the doors opened, Steve was waiting inside. “Going up?” 

As the two of you stepped in, Bruce cast a look up his way. “What do you think of therapy, Steve?” 

“I’ve uh… I’ve heard we’ve come a long way?” 

You pushed the button for the private quarters’ floor, feeling worn out by all these goings-on. “And a lot longer to go…” 

[southomens]

Day 8 of Ineffable Holiday: Holiday Shopping

Hello! I’m writing my little comment at the beginning this time as this turned out to be a longer fic (~1500 words), maybe ignited by a ridiculous amount of alcohol and some sober editing. 

This is Day 8 of an #IneffableHoliday prompt list. Check the hashtag or follow @soft-angel-aziraphale because there is some lovely art posted :)

As always, you can also find it on Ao3 here. Feel free to leave me a comment, I’m addicted to those :)

“Oh, no. No, no. Bad luck for us would actually mean dreadful luck. It’s not something we should be risking. Big risk fan, me, though. But not today, I think n-” his rant was halted by two warm hands cupping his cheeks. Crowley could feel the blood rushing up his neck as he opened and closed his mouth looking for something to say. He gave up and then relaxed, soothed by the comfort of being held by Aziraphale. Time seemed to slow down as the angel closed the space between them and paused just an inch away from him, hesitating. Crowley could not stand it any longer and grabbed him by the lapels, making Aziraphale gasp, to finally, finally kiss him.

It seemed that the freezing wind could not dissuade people from shopping. Perhaps it was due to how close they were to Christmas Eve, perhaps it was that it was the thing to do that evening. Aziraphale dodged yet another grandma carrying more bags than she should be able to.

“Oh, dear, this is a nightmare!” the angel complained.

“Uh, well, you did say you wanted to go shopping for the holidays so you are having the complete experience,” Crowley answered, shrugging it off.

“I did, but it seems I wasn’t completely aware of what I was saying… This reminds me of Hell, with all the people and the queues and everyone running. Look at them, not even one of them is enjoying themselves!” he was shocked, trying to understand what was going on around him.

“It’s the 23rd, of course nobody is enjoying shopping. They’re desperate! The last ones, those who have slothly postponed over and over again their duties and now they are paying for it. It’s brilliant!” Crowley grinned.

“Brilliant? Wait, Crowley. Was holiday shopping your idea?” Aziraphale stopped walking and a man bumped into him before continuing his way without apologising. 

“Uh, not exactly. I wish it had been, I mean, turning a religious holiday into Hell? It’s genius! They beat me to it, but I got credit. So, if anyone asks, yeah I did come up with the last minute holiday shopping.” 

“Dear fellow, how many more things did you give yourself credit that I don’t know of?” Aziraphale asked, partially amused by it if it weren’t for the constant bumping with people and the general unpleasant ambient.

“That you don’t know of? Plenty. Yeah, many of them. About two per year? It was my job, innit?” 

“My goodness, and did they believe you? That seems like a rather big amount of lies, Crowley.”

“That’s right. You’re talking to the serpent of Eden. The original sin. The first tempter. I’m quite a good liar, you know? Telling people what they want to hear” they had started walking again but now people seemed to diverge their path just to let them pass, in a way that reminded Crowley of Moses.

“How would I know? I mean, if you are such a good liar, as you said, I wouldn’t be able to notice when you lied to me. So I guess not, I don’t really know,” Aziraphale explained. He had always assumed that Crowley, being a demon, wouldn’t always tell him the truth. It was expected of him, it was in his job description.

“Well, I don’t lie to you,” the demon pointed out. “What would be the point? You would probably get so mad at me that we wouldn’t speak for a century or so, which has happened in the past even though when I was telling you the truth, and that’s something I’m not willing to go through again. Not good. Well, the nap was good. But everything else sucked pretty badly. Did you know I woke up in the middle of World War II? Let me tell you, it was not a pleasant surprise.”

“And yet you came to rescue me,” Aziraphale slyly smiled at Crowley.

“Yeah, well. That’s what friends do. Or so I’ve heard,” Crowley shrugged it off and entered the first shop he saw, a decoration store filled with Christmas trees of all shapes, colours and materials, a wide variety of presents, shiny rolls of wrapping paper and intricate ornaments, as well as funny accessories with a consistent holidays pattern. They were surrounded by Santa Clauses, reindeers, snowflakes, trees, presents, bells, mistletoe, stars, red and green imprinted everywhere. A Christmas carol could be heard above the noise all the potential shoppers were making in their frenzied purchases.

“Oh, look at this, Crowley!” Aziraphale said, putting on a headband with reindeer horns. A bunch of tiny bells sewn to it jingled. “It’s adorable!” the demon looked at him, his beaming smile and his blonde curls, and blushed.

“You look ridiculous, angel.” he said, immediately turning around and faking interest on whatever stupid thing was standing on that particular shelf. He fiddled around, willing the blush to disappear.

“You should try those ones over there.” Aziraphale said, peeking over Crowley’s shoulder.

“What? No! These? No, not in a million years, nuh-huh. I’ve got standards. Unlike some people around here.” 

“Whyever not? They’re fun. And you like sunglasses,” Aziraphale insisted, having way too much fun in Crowley’s opinion. The demon sighed, took off the pair he was currently wearing and put on the heart-shaped ones Aziraphale was pointing at. He turned around, defeated.

“Oh! Oh, you look utterly adorable!” the angel jumped on his feet and clapped. “We must buy these.”

“Why? They’re made of plastic, angel. No sense of aesthetics. These - they’re hideous! It’s humiliating,” he whined as Aziraphale took him by the hand and led him to the counter, where there was no queue to wait. “You do realise this can be considered torture, right?”

“Oh, hush. I will wear this headband so you don’t feel ridiculous - not that you look ridiculous. I insist, you look adorable.” Crowley felt like he was about to combust any minute now. Not knowing anything better to do, he tried to bit back.

“How is that supposed to help? I’m not adorable, I shouldn’t look like it. I’m a demon” Crowley moaned as Aziraphale ignored him and paid for both articles. They exited the shop and went on to the next one.

“I love this shop, I love how it smells even from the outside. Marvelous,” Aziraphale briefly sniffed around before opening the door to let Crowley in. Three counters, forming an inverted U, received them. They were filled with a wide variety of sweets, treats and chocolates, each of them more intricate than the other. Aziraphale wiggled in excitement before approaching one of the clerks.

“Hello,” the angel greeted with his usual kindness. “I would like to have the usual, if you please.”

“Right away, Mr. Fell,” the lady answered before going to the backroom.

“They know you here.” Crowley said, not impressed in the least. Aziraphale was probably known in every chocolate shop in the entire United Kingdom. Probably also in Belgium, Switzerland and France. And any other country that may have chocolate shops.

“Oh, yes. It has been one of my top twenty-five chocolate shops in London for quite a while now. I’m surprised I haven’t bring you here before,” Aziraphale answered. 

“I guess we still have things to show the other…” Crowley muttered. 

“Quite right, dear.” the angel smiled shyly. “It keeps things interesting, wouldn’t you say so?”

Once Aziraphale had his box of chocolates, they both agreed they had had enough of the Christmas shopping experience. Crowley led the way to a small winery closeby. It was crowded, but once again, they were lucky enough to not have to wait before having a seat in a small corner. 

The demon was still wearing the hideous glasses while Aziraphale moved his head from time to time just to make the tiny bells on his headband jingle.

“Two red wines for the loveñy couple…” the waitress placed two cups on the small table as Crowley struggled to say something.

“Thank you, dear,” said Aziraphale instead as he tried to hide a smirk behind his glass. “Hm, this is quite nice.” The demon agreed to it even though he hadn’t had a sip yet. He had always enjoyed those moments when Aziraphale would show his most bastard side and it had been nice to openly do it with the freedom they now enjoyed. But there was this smugginess about him today that was disconcerting.

They kept drinking for a couple of hours, idly chatting and discussing about that first time they celebrated the winter solstice and that other time where they got drunk on eggnog and then regretted it. They fell into a comfortable silence. Aziraphale looked around, taking in the surroundings and the people around them when he noticed something hanging from the ceiling. He opened his eyes widely, the epitome of shock.

“Is that… is that mistletoe?” Aziraphale asked, gesturing with his index finger towards it.

“Whuh?” Crowley had been sprawled over the table for a while now, the glasses no longer sitting properly on his nose. He looked to where Aziraphale was pointing. “Huh… I guess it is?” there was no point in denying it.

“Well. We ought to do something about it. Otherwise it’ll be bad luck. I think.” Crowley stood up straight, startled. 

“D- do you mean… Like, uh, that we should…” he trailed off.

“Kiss, yes.” Aziraphale said. “Unless you want to risk the bad luck.”

[bigsnzstanacct]

Richie Robbins

Here’s my first, totally unfinished sneezefic. It’s all about loud sneezes, I haven’t edited it at all and tbh I found it on some random blog that had clearly grabbed stories from the forum bc I didn’t want to dig through all my old computer backups so ya know if it’s screwed up it’s not my fault.

As passionately as he desired to, he knew he wouldn't be able to evade it. It would come, as so many times before: unavoidable, uncontrollable, unstoppable. He closed his eyes, tilted back his head, let the itch like fire at the edges of his nostrils expand to set his whole nose ablaze with a tickle so strong, only a monstrous explosion could expel it. And monstrous explosions were his stock-in-trade.

"hehh...hehh...HEISSSHOOO!" he exploded. His stunned professor stopped her lecture, as the noise rang out through the huge lecture hall, waking up quite a few drowsy (hungover?) students. Flummoxed, she lost her place in her notes, as the boy sitting next to him, a jock, last name Stevens... first name he couldn't remember, muttered, "Nice one, Robbins. You planning to blow any houses down any time soon?"

Richard Robbins waited a moment before he replied, hoping to make sure the one great sneeze had been enough to expel the full magnitude of the tickly sensation in his nostrils. He sniffed before opening his mouth to reply, which was, as always, a huge mistake.

"Yeah, Ste-st... stevens... I... hah... I...iiegh...ieghhh..ihhh...ihhh..." He thought for a moment he'd gotten it under control, rushing a firm index finger to his quivering nostrils, but it was too little, too late: "Y-yeahhhh... ahhhKESHHHHHuuuhh. HEYY-SHEEUUUUEY!" Another of his roaring sneezes rang out through the room, again startling Doctor Renyolds, who had just managed to get herself composed enough to begin lecturing again. And the sneeze came with a brother, a great screaming affair which appeared to have erupted from the very depths of Richie's being, and, luckily enough, had carried with it sufficient force to finally blast out whatever was causing the terrible tickle in his nose.

"My!" Doctor Reynold's voice came, after only a few seconds, "Whoever has been exploding in my has thoroughly put me off my lecture. Were we speaking about Hamlet or 'The Waste Land'?"

Richie sank in his chair. He had hoped to avoid this, this time. All throughout high school he had been known as the school's sneeze factory, variously going by nicknames from Sneezy to Big Bad Wolf to Johnny Tsunami--that particular psudonym coming from a quite unfunny teacher--but in college, he had hoped to avoid being identified primarily by his nose.

Of course, when you had a nose as big as Richie's, it was rather difficult not to notice. It was nearly always the first thing people noticed about Richie, either because he was busy sneezing or because its moderately thin but hugely protruding shape, rather like a right triangle seen in profile, was the most commanding thing about his face. And his nostrils: they were great, wide, massive things, sucking up irritants with an unholy frequency, tickling with an unthinkable burning fury, exploding with almost unimaginable, messy force. There were times when he felt his older brothers' insistence upon calling his nose Mount Vesuvius was not wholly inaccurate.

Not that any of the men in Richie's family had room to complain about his sneezes. While Richie may have gotten a double portion, this was surely a family curse: when the six Ritchie men--three older siblings: Tristan, Adrian, and Sebastian, Richie himself, his little brother Max, and his father--were united in colds and allergies, it was a wonder Richie's mother hadn't gone deaf. All six of them complained of unusually strong itches that developed deep within their nostrils, which could only be expelled by their characteristically loud sneezes. Stifling or containing the sneezes would never do; it would only intensify the tickle--and the resulting sneezes--by several orders of magnitude.

No, there was little Richie could do in such a situation besides let himself sneeze and hope that no one would notice. Which, thus far, had never happened.

"Hey, Robbins," the jock queried, "should I send out the storm warning to little pigs?"

After class, Richie walked out onto the campus, on the way to his dorm room. He was hit full in the face by the bright September sun, and by his furious nasal tickling.

"Nodda... hiihhh... nodahhh... again... HEEEYY-SHEEUU! HISSHHH! ehh... ehhhSHIIEUUU!" He let the sneezes erupt into the open air, giving them free reign to bend him in half, three times, each sneeze bigger and louder than the previous, though, for Richie, they were comparatively light, more like minor aftershocks than the sneeze-quake itself. He wished these would've hit in the lecture hall, rather than the nuclear blasts he had actually let out.

"Well, you can't always get what you want..." Richie muttered to himself.

"But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you just might find...!" Sing-shouted Richie's best friend, Adam, who had, as ever, appeared behind him.

"How do you do that?" Richie asked, "Do you stalk men unawares in the night by custom? I'm beginning to think you're practicing to be Batman."

"Richie," Adam paused to say, mock-serious, "I am Batman. And even if I wasn't, I'd be able to locate those sneezes from halfway across the campus," laughed Adam. "But anyway, what's up?"

"Well, I exploded in the middle of my Poetry and Drama class, and I'm pretty sure Professor Reynolds hates me, but besides that, not much."

"Old Vesuvius come back to life? Well, no shock there. No offense dude, but your nose has been permanently set to stun since high school."

"Yeah, I've noticihhh... ihhhh... ihhyahhhhhhhAAESSHUUU!"

The pair began walking down the cobblestone path of the university, presumably towards the dorm rooms, then cut through the quad, where, of course, the flowers begot a huge tickle in Richie's nose. "Oh! W-waaahhh... ahhh..." He tried to get the tickle under control long enough to utter the phrase "watch out," but Adam had long since learned to gage when Richie was about to embark upon one of his voyages to a Byzantium of Richter-scale rocking sneezes, and had promptly set his fingers in his ears, got down on his knees, and, in a grand military manner, announced, "Cannons are aimed! Target has been acquired! Fire at will! Fire at will!!"

The fact that he had never, frankly, fired at will, passed quickly through Richie's mind before the sneeze washed over him, washing away all thoughts other than the sneezes, and all quiet in the quad: "yyeeaaaaaaHHHCHOOOOOOOSSSHHH"

Several stunned students turned around to locate the source of the booming noise, and Adam thought that he heard a "wow," somewhere in the distance. A few birds, it seemed, started from the trees. Adam wasn't even entirely sure that he had imagined the swaying he thought he saw in a few of the trees. There was no doubt about it: Richie could sneeze. Ever since they met in freshman year of high school, Adam had seen Richie's nose at the epicenter of a daily series of frightful detonations. This particular sneeze had been not only monstrously loud but torrentially wet, leading Adam to celebrate his decision to crouch at Richie's side; he did not want to get drenched, as he had been on more than one occasion. Ever since freshman year.

"Geez, Rich, you done?" Adam asked, after giving Richie a few seconds.

"SHEEEOOO!" Richie exploded, if possible, even louder.

"Guess not." he chuckled. After Richie (and Adam) felt sure that Richie's nose wasn't about to go nuclear again, Adam stood up, began walking, and quipped, "You know, I'm looking for a side-kick; before I swoop in and lock up the baddies, maybe I can get you to sneeze and blow 'em down!"

"Shut up, Adam." Richie joked, giving Adam a playful slap on the head, before the two rushed off trading barbs as they went.

—-

Richie reached the dormroom with comparatively few incidents, although he had to force himself more than once to obey his father’s favorite dictum: don’t stifle your sneezes. Don’t even try. Richie’d heard that particular sermon preached any number of times, along with his mother’s story: “When your father went on our first date, he tried to hold those things back, and when they finally came out”—“when she smothered her spaghetti in pepper,” his father would always interject—“I thought he was going to blow everything off the table! He sounded a little like you, actually, Richie.”

So, with his mother’s slightly nasally voice ever ringing in his ears, Richie forced himself to let out a series of noisy nasal explosions, in order to satiate his nose’s uncontrollable need for relief from its buzzing, burning, incredibly tickly itching sensations. Few people could imagine just how strong the tickles in Richie’s nose got; perhaps the only way to truly represent their magnitude was their own self-expression in his explosive sneezes. He felt fairly lucky that he'd only had to give in to three or four on his way back to the dorms, although the gaggle of women who had clearly bathed in perfume were less than joyous at the sudden, shocking explosion of elephantine nasal trumpeting which had suddenly erupted to their near right, and each had jumped at least a foot in the air, much to the amusement of Adam, who'd laughed almost as loudly as Richie had sneezed.

Adam and Richie had reached their dorm room, and were sitting about, not really doing anything, as college students are wont to do in lazy afternoons, after classes but before the dinner hours. Of course, they could have been studying, but who’d want to do that? Richie was busy plotting ways to avoid blasting the cafeteria during lunch (take an extra dose of Claritin, bring a handkerchief, and always avoid pepper like the plague), while Adam sat on the bed, debating with himself about whether or not to take a nap, when he felt a tickle invade his nose. Adam’s sneezes, while certainly not tiny, couldn’t compare in the slightest to Richie’s nasal artillery, and the “ihh… ihhhh…IT-CHEEOOooey” he released was nothing compared to a Richie sneeze.

But Adam’s nose wasn’t done yet; the tickle returned, the previous sneeze having done nothing to alleviate it, but rather seeming to have augmented it: “nyehhh… hih! hih! hehhh…” Adam’s nose vacillated on the edge of a relieving sneeze, its power building with every hitch of his breath, “nighiiee…hiegh… ighhhiee… iiiaaAAAAAHHH-CHOOO!” Adam sneezed, much harder than normal.

“Woah, buddy,” Richie murmured over his shoulder, “You really let that one go; you aiming to start a sneeze fight?”

“No, no, no, no,” Adam said, still feeling a bit lightheaded from the sneeze, which had taken more out of him than usual, “getting into a sneeze war with your nose is like bringing three sticks and a baseball bat to the Crimeahhhh… Crimeaaaaahhhh… Crimean... aayyYAH-SHEWWWESSH!” Yet another draining sneeze burst from Adam’s nose, this time with some considerable spray. “Yeesshhh,” Adam said, “that would would’ve drenched a tissue almost as bad as you would! I’m turning into a fire hose sneezer like y… you… you… Ah-CHOOeeeyyy!” Adam let out yet another sneeze, although this one was comparatively light, more in keeping with Adam’s usual sub-volcanic sneeze level.

Thus far, he’d been able to avoid it, having long since learned that if he was to ever do anything except sneeze, he’d have to suppress his sympathetic sneezing reaction. But ever since he’d been a teen, Richie’s nose had been envious of anyone who let out too many sneezes around him, and desired to experience such enormous relief as came with his hurricane-strength achooeys. Thus, he felt a slight tickle brewing when Adam had released his fourth sneeze, and when he heard Adam hitching up to a fifth—“ahhh… ahh… am… ah… am I ever gonaaaahhhh stahhh… stahhh… stop… ahhh…”—he feared his nose too, would begin to go into sneezy paroxysms.

“Adam, man, ah… ah… can you get a hold on those sneezes… my n-nose is starting to tickle too… hoohhhh… ohhhh…”

Richie struggled to get a grip on the still relatively slight tickle that had invaded his nose, as Adam did his best to hold back his sneezy nose from the delightfully relieving fifth sneeze that he knew was on its way. “ahhhh… ahhhh… I-I dunno… ohhhh ahhh… hah… It ruhhhh… ruhhhheaalllly tickles. Ahhhhh… AHHHH… AYYY-CHEOOOSHH!” He let out another sneeze, the strongest, wettest, and most forceful of the bunch, although not spectacularly loud.

But anyone waiting for a noisy nose would have little time to wait. Adam’s fifth and final sneeze had sent Richie’s sympathetic tickles into overdrive, and with almost no buildup, he reared his head back, nostrils flaring wildly like a bucking horse, and bellowed out an enormous, “CCHHHHEEEOOOOOOOO!” Followed by two more, slightly less loud but torrentially wet, “PLESSHEWEY! IT-CHEWWW!” Each sneeze was a spectacularly loud, messy affair, though they were commensurate to Richie’s normal sneeze volume, which, of course, approached the ear-splitting at close ranges. It was more than enough, Richie realized sheepishly, to sound throughout the entire dorm room floor, and maybe the floors above and below. He remembered to make a mental note to avoid staying up late nights—a late night tickle could easily turn peaceful dorm-mates into irate potential tormentors, irritated by being woken by Richie’s cannon-like sneeze. He realized, too, that he might’ve shaken people from any number of midday naps.

When Richie’s series of explosions were done, an affair which sent Richie’s body completely out of control, rearing back and exploding forward with abandon, his entire body at the mercy of his monstrously powerful lungs, mouth, and most of all, nose, Adam couldn’t resist making a quip. “See why I don’t want to get in a sneezing fight with you?”

“Yeah, I know. I hate those sympathetic tickles. Gotta keep that under control,” Richie said, as much to chide his nose as anything else.

“Under control? Your nose? That’s like keeping a bull in a china shop from disturbing a single piece of porcelain. Really wish I could find out why I was sneezin’ though. Those were pretty big for me, though for you it’d be like taking an earthshaking thunderstorm and replacing it with a light, pleasant summer rain…” Adam laughed, but paused when his joking was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Richie shouted, fearing that it was an irate neightbor, awoken from a nap. This had been one of his many fears about college; each of his older brothers had brought home several stories of how they had woken up between one and several fellow dorm-mates, roommates and apartment neighbors (not that the Robbins boys needed to be in the same building with a person to make themselves known by their noses; the family’s suburban neighbors had revealed on several occasions that someone, usually Richie, had been audible through the windows). Tristan, the oldest, who had, after Richie, the second most Vesuvial nose in the family, once told the story of how he had woken up, very literally, his entire dorm with a series of cold-inspired sneezes, and how only the awesomely pathetic sight of his sickly state, ensconced as he was in blankets and almost covered in used tissues and hankies, had prevented him from receiving one of his dormmates infamously cruel practical jokes.

Richie hoped to avoid such a situation, and so it was with apprehension (and desperate attempts to remember his self-defense classes) that he opened the door.

“Hey, dude!” Said the surprisingly pleasant and excited looking young man at the door, “was that a sneeze, or did somebody set of a nuke in the room next to mine?”

Relieved as Richie was by the friendliness of the visitor, Adam slightly sluggishly slid out of bed, laughing as he did, “That’s my man here, Richie, the Nose extraordinaire, the loudest sneeze in the west, superman of sneezes, the titan of ticklish nostrils, Sir Vesuvius himself, the leaf-blower…”

“Richard, just Richard is my name.” Richie cut in, eager to cut Adam off before he got to the detested “Johnnie Tsunami” epithet.

“Well, Richard-just-Richard, I had to come over here to see if that nose actually just came out of a person!”

“Sorry, I can’t help it…” Richie said, suddenly blushing slightly, “I hope I didn’t wake you or anything…”

“Nah. I wasn’t doing anything. But really, you just sneezed that loud? You got some kinda supernose or somethin’?”

“Well, it’s not exactly thin, as you can see,” Adam began, with a professorial air, “and the protruding shape and large nostrils provide some explanation as to its loud-speaker like qualities…”

“It’s just been that way since I was a kid,” sighed Richie, mildly put off by the awkward conversation.

“Dude, I haven’t heard a sneeze that loud since, like, ever, probably. Although my dad sets off some real firecrackers back at home… I didn’t think I’d hear anything like that for another few months. Kinda reminds me of home, actually.”

“Well, anytime you get homesick, just give us a ring and bring the pepper, though you might wanna bring some earplugs actually…”

“Adam. Geez, do you ever run out,” Richie inquired, with an irritated air.

“Not really.” Adam replied straightforwardly, "I'm a joke machine. And a love machine. Just FYI, let the ladies know..."

“Well,” the visitor declared, “Adam, Richie, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jerry.” He stuck his hand out, and Richie shook it forcefully, though he found his grasp met with a vice shaking like a centrifuge.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Richie said, wincing slightly from the handshake.

“Hey, dude, we’re headed to lunch soon, wanna come?”Adam asked cheerfully.

“Yeah, totally. I was actually kinda hoping to avoid eating lunch alone,” Jerry confessed, “though I don’t know how you get through lunch, dude. Better warn ‘em: hide the pepper!”

That’s a joke I haven’t heard before Richie thought to himself. But, though not original in his jokes, this new acquaintance wasn’t half-bad, and was certainly an improvement upont the angry neighbor Richie’d feared he’d encounter. And speaking of curing homesickness…

“Are you wearing co-cologne… cologne… ehhhhh… ehhhhhhh… EHHHHHSSSSHOOOO!” Richie erupted another characteristically noisy sneeze, which, at unusually close range, prompted both Jerry and Adam to dramatically cover their ears to avoid the full blast of Richie’s nasal explosion, which was easily a nine on the Richter scale, probably a ten.

“Geez, man, I thought they were loud through the wall!” Jerry said, awestruck.

“Richie’s nose? Man, you haven’t seen anything yet. He’ll blow the paint off the walls before we graduate,” Adam joked, yet again.

“I think I might go ahead and take a shower,” Jerry responded, “I’ll meet you guys in about thirty minutes, alright?”

“Sounds great!” Adam said.

Richie would’ve replied, but Jerry’s cologne hadn’t yet finished with Richie’s surpassingly tickly and tickle-able nose. “hahhhh… HAHHHHH…HEHSHOOOH!” Richie erupted again, thanking his lucky nasal stars that his nose had seen fit, for once, to not let out a great big wet one while he was right in someone’s face. He opened his mouth to say, “nice to meet you,” but what came out was another, “TITCHEWWWEY! SHEWWWWWSH!” It was hugely, horribly wet, and in his zeal to avoid blasting his new compatiot, he had turned and, inadvertently, sprayed a great, big wet one into the face of his good friend Adam.

“Well… um… are you trying to tell me you don’t like my jokes, buddy?”

Now, getting sprayed by a sneeze was usually a messy affair, but getting sprayed by a Richie sneeze was pitched somewhere between “elephant sneeze” and “sprayed by a fire hose”. Adam was drenched, and Richie found himself reflecting yet again as to why he never, never attempted to use a pathetic tissue to hold up against the surpassing force of his all-powerful nasal eruptions, the tickly twin cannons of wind, wet, and sound that had taken up residence on his face, began full-strength operations in high school, and seemed to grow in power alone as their experience increased.

“Well, I think I’ll be taking a shower too.” Adam said, before promptly turning around, grabbing a towel and some clothes, and rushing to the bathroom, letting out an irrepressable, high-pitched, and surpassingly effete “EWWWWWW!” which sent Richie and Jerry into shaking convulsions of laughter.

—

After cleaning himself off from Richie’s hurricane-force discharge, Adam proceeded to the downstairs dining hall to meet both Richie and their new friend Jerry. Of course, he heard Richie before he saw him. “heh… heh… HAT-CHOOO!” It was a comparatively small one for his good friend Rich, but the noise still carried well out of the dining room and into the hallway. Adam often kidded Richie about his sneezes, but half the time he genuinely felt bad for the guy. After all, those massive eruptions that had punctuated almost his entire high school experience weren’t just occasional explosions, they were daily at the very least. Any number of things lit Richie’s sneezing fuse, setting off a chain reaction inside Richie’s nose that led inexorably to a blast of such volume and violence that people often inquired of Richie how such a loud noise could come out of a 45-year old 6’ 10’ two-hundred-thirty-pound ex-logger construction worker with a bad head cold, much less little old Richie Robbins. Every time he sneezed with people around, Richie would blush, shrug, and, Adam knew, mentally wish himself out of the room. It wasn’t easy having a semi-superpower—not that it’d do any good in a fight, Adam mused—for a sneeze. But it was life for poor Richie, and that was simply that.

For Adam’s part, he’d never been particularly bothered by his best friend’s outrageous a-choos. Maybe he just had ears of steel, but the volume didn’t bother him, and it did provide a decent shake-up during lulls in conversation. Heck, he’d been a regular vistor to the Robbins household, and that was an experience unto itself. Multiplying Richie’s sneezes with a father, three older brothers, and one younger made a ruckus that just didn’t make sense. If anyone needed proof that sneezes were hereditary, well, Adam knew where to bring them. He’d heard the same story from all six Richie men: it’s the tickles. The tickles, itches, tingles, and twinges that invaded the Robbins family sinuses were purportedly unbearable, like a thousand invisible brushes sweeping all the way up the nasal cavity. And the only way to get those brushes (temporarily) out was to let out a blast that could be heard across three counties (or at least a small suburban house… and a few of the adjacent ones.) Their sneezes came from their toes and then some. But the big sneezes were just the only way that they could relieve the incredible pressure and the tickle that built up in their large, protruding nostrils, swishing around their noses with an unimaginable irritation. The ones with long build-ups were the worst. He’d seen Tristan and Adrian, Sebastian and Max, even Mr. Robbins, staring up at lights, forcefully fanning under their noses, doing anything to tip the tickle out of the gate and onto the flight ramp, at which point a sneeze would shoot out from their nostrils of which any elephant would have been proud.

It was thoughts like this that preoccupied Adam as he sat down with Richie and Jerry, who were discussing the finer points of eruption-inspiring allergens.

“For my dad, is the dogs that are the worst, man, get him within ten feet of a dog, especially one of those great big shaggy things, and oh man… it’s time to break out the protective earmuffs, I’m tellin’ you…”

“Yeah, dogs get me bad too, but the cats… oh… waay… wait a second… I’b gonnahhhh… ahhh… HASHOOOEY!” Richie gasped out a “’nother… nothaaahhh” before bursting into a second tectonic shift of a sneeze, “YASSSHOOOOOO! Oh, I’m so sorry, that was a big one.”

“They’re always big ones, Rich!” Adam said as he sat down.

“Can’t argue with you there.” Richie sighed. While he often wished he could just get rid of his charateristic sneez-plosions, Richter rockers, or Richie Roars, as his nasal expulsions were variously called, Richie was grateful for friends that weren’t repulsed, shocked, or amazed by his sneezes, and he felt much less self-conscious about lettin’ it rip when Adam, or, as of today, Jerry, was around. Not that he had much (or any) choice.

“So, you two comparing notes?” asked Adam.

“Yeah,” Jerry said, “so far, we’ve mentioned flowers, pepper, animals…”

“Actually, most spices get me, red pepper worst of all.” Richie began, “In fact, the reason I sat down at this table is because it doesn’t even have a red pepper shaker, thank goodness. But I’ve blown back the fur and feathers on just about any pet you can imagine…”

They continued on talking like this, unaware that at the table just behind them, the very jock that had filled the standard role of Richie’s sneeze tormentor was subtly listening in on their conversation. Ashton Stevens was his name, and he, like Jerry, had also had a big sneezer at home. But he didn’t have such generous memories of his parents’ noisy noses. In fact, he had been driven nearly insane by his mother and father’s constant loud sneezes, which, unlike Richie’s, seemed put-on, fake, as if they both just wanted to announce to the world how noisily they could sneeze. The crowning moment had been that day, the day of senior prom… but Ashton tried not to think about it. For his part, he had rather dainty sneezes, somewhat at odds with his large and muscular build. He, of course, had never been plagued with allergies on the level of Richie’s, but he had gone through an allergic phase as a teen. During that time he constantly focused on controlling his sneezes, squelching them down until they were little more than a semi-audible, “chuh”. Richie’s gargantuan gale winds had brought him right back to that moment at the senior prom, and he secretly seethed inside every time Richie’s nose went out of control and spasmed with a silence-smashing sneeze. But he was formulating a plan, in the back of his mind, that would shame Richie into shutting up, as his parents never would.

Meanwhile, as Ashton Stevens seethed, Richie (predictably) sneezed. “yeaaaahhhh, ahhhh… aaaaahpppppSHEWWW! Uh, another one. I don’t know what’s making my nose so itchy!” The sneeze, honestly, had been the lightest one he’d let out in a while, only audible above speaking voices at the end, indicating a comparatively low-level irritation. Probably a stray flake of black pepper. While he reacted to pepper as much as anybody else, Richie had never had nearly as much of a problem with pepper as he did with dander, other spices, and the dreaded perfume and cologne.

“So,” Adam inquired, “what are you boys up to this evening. It’s Friday night, and ah… ah… HAT! CHOO!” Adam let out a neatly segregated sneeze, a firmly punctuated breath drawn in followed by a neat and tidy choo, which, although somewhat wet, was not extremely loud, as per the normal pattern of Adam’s sneeze. “Woah, I don’t know why I keep sneezing.”

“Yeah, come to think of it, neither do I,” Richie added, “do you think you’re allergic to something up here?”

“Nah, I’m as hardy as a bull, allergens can’t get me down. Try as they might, they cannot invade the fortress of my mighty nasal guard. Granted, they don’t have as big of a target on mehh… on mehhhh… me… as…. BAA-shewww!” Adam sneezed again, with a sound that sounded utterly fed-up with sneezing.

“Any chance you might be getting a cold?” Jerry inquired. Adam and Richie exchanged anxious looks. Each knew what the other was thinking: if Richie caught a cold, his sneezes, seemingly impossibly, would grow significantly in strength, volume, and mess.

“No,” Adam said, attempting to laugh away the possibility, “No way! The last time I had a cold was…”

“The camping trip in eleventh grade. And I promptly caught it and nearly blew down our tent on several different occasions.” Richie finished for him, “And I hope it’s not happening now,” he moaned, “because if you get sick, then I’ll get sick, and if I get sick…”

“Don’t worry, Rich!” Adam insisted, “I’m not getting sick! But so you don’t worry, I guess I’ll take some vitamins, and call it an early night, I guess…”

“No way, man!” Jerry interrupted, “we’ve barely been in college for a week. We’re goin’ out tonight. We’re going somewhere, and if you don’t like it, mister, too bad!”

Adam laughed. “Well, can’t argue with a command like that, sir. Where do we go?”

“There’s a nice bar nearby,” Richie offered.

“No, no, no, I mean a real club: loud music, sloppy drunks, and scantily-clad women.” Of course, at the mention of women, all three hormone-addled brains perked up instantly, and any reluctance at club-going was instantly erased.

And, Adam saw another perk:

“Plus, the club’s so loud, Richie, that it’s probably one of the few places on earth where your sneezes can’t carry. You know, places like construction sites… death metal concerts… one of my sister’s shouting—I mean singing recitals…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. But that’s actually a good point, and the sneezes have actually been comparatively light...” but suddenly Richie’s eyes got a distant, faraway look. His nose scrunched up, and the itch exploded in his nostrils like a thousand buzzing tiny, invisible flies, sending his nostrils into a rampage of twitching, his upper lip, his entire face swishing and moving with the enormous need to sneeze that had burgeoned so suddenly in his nostrils. This was gearing up to be a real monster; his breath hitched, “hahhhh… hahhhh…,” his eyes bulged. He reached his hand up to try to scrub away the itch, although he knew it was useless. This was shaping up to be the biggest sneeze that had hit him all day… “hih! hih! ah! ah! ah! ooooh, it won’t come ou… outahhhh… ahhhhhh… ahahhhh… ahahhah…” the sneeze stuck for a moment, leaving Richie’s face in a mask of sneezy agony, the corners of his mouth turned firmly down, his eyes tearing and glancing upwards, searching for a light bright enough to send his brewing eruption into its final stages of detonation, his eyebrows severely arched. His watering eyes rapidly blinked for what seemed an eternity, before he gave his nose one more good sniff and gave in to the inevitable detonation: “hhhhaaAAA-AARRSCHOOOhhh! HAAA-HOOOOOSH-SHOOOOEY! Ahhh… igghiee… hah…" He hitched for just a few seconds before absolutely roaring out the thermonuclear explosion of his final sneeze: "RAAH-SCHOOOOOOOOHH!”

“Woah.” Said Adam and Jerry simultaneously.

The sneeze was so big, it left Richie panting a little after. It wasn’t just the biggest sneeze all day, it was the biggest set of sneezes he’d had in a month! Richie had rocked back and forth with each colossal sneeze, giving his tickly nose complete abandon. The sneezes took him over, and each was a nearly-shouted affair that was louder than most people can shout. Those sneezes seemed to come from his whole body, his nose being merely the epicenter of the eruption. He was completely out-of-control for each massive gusting sneeze, his whole frame shaking and swaying at the mercy of his king-sized schnoz and the unbearable itch that had taken three of Richie’s most powerful sneezes to expel. When he opened his eyes afterward, he was half-afraid that he’d blown the table away!

Adam and Jerry, prepared by experience, had covered their ears, but the rest of the dining hall… well, being unprepared, some had dropped forks, plates, and cups, most had stopped their conversations, and quite a few shocked “what was that?”s sounded around the room. Those had been big even for Richie, far too loud, in fact, for anyone to hear the near-simultaneous soft, tickly “chuhh! ch-hoooh! chuhh! ka-chuuhhh!” that had come from the next table over, soft barely-there puffs of air in comparison to Richie’s Kansas twister sized sneezes, which he swore would have been big enough to send Dorothy not only to Oz, but to the other said of Mars.

“Dude,” Adam said, as the dining room slowly went back to normal, after being rocked by Richie’s “You totally shouldn’t have jinxed it.”

“Ha-ha,” Richie said, not feeling exceptionally prepared for laughing after single handedly—or rather, single-nosedly”—overpowering an entire dining room full of noisy college students in volume. “Let’s just get out of here as quickly as possible. I don’t want another one of those to happen… and I think… there might still be the beginnings of a… ah…” Richie quickly clamped his hands over his nose, hoping that he might fight the tiny residual tickle back before it became another of room-rocker, or at least get outside into the open air to release the beast.

Adam, Richie, and Jerry hurried surreptitiously out of the dining room. At the table behind them, sat Ashton Stevens, face upturned, irritated tears forming in his eyes, but a smug smile on his face, nose twitching and jerking with otherwise imperceptible “chooh! chuh! ha-hushh!” sneezes, with a plate of spaghetti practically drenched in red pepper. His little “experiment” confirmed, he threw the plate away, which promptly cleared up his sneezes, and walked calmly out of the dining hall, but not before slyly sliding the red pepper shaker into his waiting pocket.

--

Richie had, of course, erupted again outside, although once out of the range of the red pepper flakes that were like gunpowder for Richie’s cannon-like nostrils, the sneezes hadn’t registered quite so high on the Richter Scale (“a minor aftershock!” Adam had quipped).  But sneezes that huge left Richie concerned; could he be catching a cold? That would be disastrous. Besides feeling bad, he could hardly go to class, detonating another sneeze every few minutes, sneezes that would rock a three hundred person lecture hall and perhaps even send his papers flying down to the row below, sneezes that would throw even the most concentrated lecturer off of his or her game, sneezes that, in a smaller classroom, would probably disturb not only his own class, but all the classes on the floor! Of course, he’d had mega-sneezes like that before, and it didn’t always mean he was catching a cold, but if he was… well, he’d just take a lot of vitamin C that night. But going to bed early wasn’t an option. Richie, Jerry and Adam were going to a nearby club, Club Z, for a night on the town. After running back upstairs to change (again), the threesome left their dorm and headed towards Club Z, chatting all the while.

“So, Rich, how are classes going?” Adam asked, to get the conversation started.

“Oh, pretty good, when I’m not busy sneezing through them. Sebastian warned me that his sneezes tend to disrupt standard professorial activities, so I knew mine would probably blow out a few eardrums. Not that I’m not used to that sort of thing.”

“How about you, Jerry?”

“Oh, things are going well for me too. Chemistry is kicking my butt, but besides that I’m doing pretty well. That class is so boring! I almost wish that someone would come in there with a great big Richie-cane kinda sneeze. At least that way things wouldn’t be quite as boring!”

“Oh, you would have loved our high school then,” Adam cut in, “Almost every time I fell asleep in class, Richie’s nose would get an itch and once the nasal volcano got going, sleeping was not an option.”

“Whatever, Adam,” Richie said, blushing slightly at the extended discussion of his nasal… ahem, prowess, even among friends, “I didn’t even have a half of my classes with you.”

“Exactly.” Adam replied, smiling. *** Soon, Richie and company arrived at the club. However, they were still several feet away when the perfume started getting to Richie’s nose: “ah…. ahhhh… agghhha… igghhiiie… AAAA-CHOOOOH! heh… heh… AHHH-CHOOOOOH!” he sneezed, blasting out the tickly perfume smell as hard as he could. When Richie sneezed, his whole body was involved; in fact, Adam was surprised that Richie didn’t have a six-pack from all the forceful contractions of his stomach and chest as he roared out all that sneezy air at obscene velocities, and decibel levels.

“Bless ya, buddy. Are there some flowers around,” inquired Jerry.

“Na… no, nahhh.. ahhhhh WAAAAAASSSHOOOO! ARRRR-CHOOAAAYYYY!” Richie screamed out each sneeze. While not as loud as the true Richie-canes of the dining hall, these sneezes produced more than enough volume to echo loudly off of the nearby buildings and turn quite a few heads. Richie was quite afraid that an irate head would poke out of one of the windows of the high-rise apartment buildings on the street to demand that he achieve the impossible feat of quieting down his great lion’s roar of a sneeze.  He’d been asked by more than one teacher (and moviegoer, and theater patron, and restaurant waiter, and even, on one notorious occasion, a few patrons at just the sort of rock concerts that Adam had supposed would be loud enough to drown out Richie’s roars, but then again, not only were all the people there drenched in cologne and perfume, but Richie had left from a friend’s house who had a very furry german shepherd, and Richie had the beginnings of a cold) to control his thunderclap sneezes, but, like the thunder, Richie’s sneezes were a force of nature, and could not be quieted down or controlled any better than the wind.

Hoping he’d gotten his nose under control with that last massive sneeze, Richie ventured to speak, “No… it’s the perfume... oh, wait… ‘nothing one’s cahhhh…. coming…. RAAAAASSSSHOOOOOH! YASSSSSSHHHHHHHH-OOO!” Richie sniffed loudly, as two girls, one of who was probably wearing the sneeze-causing perfume, looked around. The girl wearing the perfume, alright slightly tipsy, half-spoke, half-shouted, “Ugh, I can’t stand it when people exaggerate their sneezes like that! Can’t he control it? That’s just too loud!”

Aside from the irony of the woman commenting on Richie’s loud sneezes with her loud voice (although Richie had to admit that even a trained opera singer would have difficulty keeping up with him in volume when he really got going), Adam was offended by her comments about his friend, and was about to walk up and give the perfume drenched woman a piece of his mind when her friend abruptly did it for him!

“Oh, Charlene, be quiet! They can hear you. Besides, how can you expect a poor kid to control his sneezes when you can’t even control your big mouth!” Adam had to admit that he was impressed, and as Charlene and her assertive friend got in line for the same club as Adam, Richie, and Jerry, Adam made a mental note to “bump into” her at some point that night. Maybe Richie’s wind-machine strength allergies would flare up again and give him an excuse to talk to her?

Meanwhile, Ashton wasn’t far behind the trio, cringing at each of Richie’s elephantine sneezes. He thought to himself, “This is ridiculous! He sneezes even louder than my father! How embarrassing! I don’t even know how those other goons can stand to be seen around him. I’ll teach him not to be so disgusting with his sneezes.” As the perfume got to his nose, Ashton harshly muffled three sneezes by pinching his nostils, “shhhmp! chikkk! ch!” They were barely audible. Ashton fingered the red pepper in his pocket as he watched Richie and company walk into the club. He bided his time for a few minutes, and then, after walking around the block a bit, went in as well.

—-

As soon as the threesome entered the club, Ritchie rushed off to the restroom, hoping to give his nose a good, strong blow to clear his nose of perfume and pollen, so as to head off the sneezes at the pass. But by the time he reached the restroom door, his twitching, tickling nose had had too much, and, bleary-eyed, Richie let it take over for six full-strength sneezes: “HAASSSSSHHHHHOOOooooo… hh… hhhiiiiiIIIIIIIIICHOOOOOOO! Ih-CHOOO! haaahHH-CHOOOOOO! ahhhhhHHH-CHOOOO! HAHH-CHOOOOOOOhhhhheyyy” That last one was a monster, making a gutteral, throat-scraping sound as the normal “choo” was twisted by Richie’s awe-inspiring lung power into a growling, snarling shout of a sneeze, leaving Richie somewhat lightheaded and dizzy. And of course, he immediately connected the number of sneezes (Richie rarely let out so many all in a row like that) to the head cold he was desperately afraid was brewing in his firecracker nostrils, those wide, vacuum-like tunnels where tickles went in, and sneezes came out that were second only to the Big Bad Wolf with a bad cold.

And speaking of colds, Richie was terrified of developing one. Every cold he’d ever had had settled directly in his nose, causing a near-constant tickle that he could only blow out with his biggest, most ear-drum busting, dorm-wall rattling, earthquake-causing sneezes. Even Richie’s biggest sneezes could only provide momentary relief from the tickle; minutes later, the tickle would come back with a vengence, and so would the sneezes, until Richie would deliberately blow them out as hard as he could, just to get the tickle to stop for a few minutes. Richie’s colds were events in the Robbins household (and every house on the surrounding block); he hoped and prayed they wouldn’t become events on-campus too.

Looking around the restroom and finding it (thank goodness) empty, Richie marched to a stall to give his nose a few of his patented, honking nose blows. While not quite commensurate to his sneezes in volume, those bass-note honks of his could certainly send a rumble through any room, and Richie was glad that the room remained empty as he did his best to keep his nose free and clear, so as to minimize sneezing episodes.

Meanwhile, Adam and Jerry were on the prowl, and getting shut down all the time. Jerry had offered to buy drinks for no less than three women, with no success, while Adam’s jokes were falling unusually flat, perhaps owing to the volume of the music and the near-impossibility of hearing anything (except perhaps for Richie) over the thumping bass and wailing noise of the speakers.

So it was that Adam and Jerry had given up and begun dancing their way into the morass of people at the center of the club, when Richie went searching for them. Of course, hidden as they were in the mass of people, Richie had no hope of finding either of his friends, and sat down at the bar, quickly flashing his (fake) ID, and ordered a beer. He figured he’d wait until he found Adam and Jerry to start dancing, and he was sure that his nose would give him ample opportunity before then to test Adam’s theory that the noise of the club would muffle the rumbling explosions of his nose.

In fact, as the bartender slid Richie his beer, Richie felt his nose flaring into life. His breath hitched, his face contorted, his nostrils assuming control of his face, twisting this way and that as though they had a life of their own, reacting to the bucking bronco of itch that had, as always, brushed ferociously against the twitching walls of his sensitive nostrils. And as Richie’s face contorted, his watering eyes slid closed in preparation of the great big sneeze to come…

…and Ashton Stevens saw his chance. He’d been sitting at the bar, plotting how he could cause misery for Richie at the club. Luckily, he’d been at the bar while Richie had erupted in the restroom (especially since the only thing Ashton found more disgusting than sneezes was nose blowing), but now he was sitting not too far from Richie, and had been spying on him out of the corner of his eye since Richie had sat down. Now was his chance. He slid the small shaker of red pepper out of his pocket and sent a cloud floating up into the air, knowing that the strong air conditioning in the room, as well as the breeze from the constantly opening front door, would waft the tickly spice straight into Richie’s all-too-combustible nose.

And he was right. Seconds later, Richie froze, as he felt the tickle in his nose multiply exponentially. The itch in his nose, already monstrous, became a thousand buzzing flies, scurrying through his nasal passages, wreaking havoc on his sensitive sinuses, creating such tremendous pressure in his nose that he knew that the only way to get any relief would be to blast out a sneeze at full-strength. He felt it gearing up to be as big as the one in the dining hall, if not bigger. Out of his watery eyes, he took a quick glance around him: there was no way he’d get to the restroom before his Vesuvial nose gave an eruption that would put Mt. St. Helens to shame, and the way his nose was feeling, it’d be wet enough to outshine Old Faithful. But there were so many people around. Richie had been warned about it time and time again, and he knew he shouldn’t… but he didn’t want to spray any strangers! So… he stifled.

“ahh…. Ahhhhhh… AHHHHHHHHH… AGGGHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAA…” He wound up, with huge, powerful breaths, and then… “chhhmmppppppppppp!” He sneezed, somewhat wetly, but contained, and with nowhere near enough volume to be heard over the noise of the club. Stifling successful.

But his nose was on fire. It was as if he had quadrupled the already unimaginable tickle. If he was going to fire off one eruption before, now he was preparing for a twenty-one-gun salute. Finger struck firmly beneath his nose, Richie rushed to the restroom as fast as he could, pushing past the clubgoers in the crowded club, afraid to give so much as an “excuse me” for fear that speaking would tip the sneeze into the uncontrollable zone. Richie forcefully pushed the door open as he marched into the restroom, which was, of course, filled with people. In the already small, echoing restroom, Richie’s sneezes would probably reach ear-splitting volumes and annoy, if not terrify, every patron in the restroom. But it wasn’t as if he had any choice; he had to let the monsters loose.

Richie quickly swung a stall door open and closed as his breaths became audible, and grew louder, and louder… “iiihhhhhh… HHHHHiiiiIIIHHHHHH… HAHHHHHH… HAHHHHHHH…. HHAAAAHHHHHHHHH…HAAAAAAAAAAAAA-SHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! BAAACCCHOOOOOEEYYYY! HASSSHHH! HAHHSSHHHHuuhh… OOOO-SHOOOOOOOH! USSSSHHHHHH-CHHAAAHHH! Ahhhhh… Ahhhh… ahhhhh…CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

They came, sneeze after sneeze after sneeze, outrageous in volume, hurricane like in spray. Richie heedlessly swung backwards and forwards, gulping in air to fuel each massive explosion. He knew now why his parents had warned him to never, never hold in his sneezes, because this was the result: a constantly seizing nose in a fit that would last for minutes.

The reaction of the men in the restroom, as expected had been vocal and noisy. The already somewhat drunken patrons had no trouble voicing their disapproval: “What the hell?! Did somebody drop a bomb in here? Shuddup in there, I can’t hear myself think!”

But Richie, whatever he wished, he no ability to shut up. His nose was in control now, and it was going to blow, and blow, and blow until the pent-up tickle was blasted out, full-strength.

“Hehhhh… ehhhhhh… EEHHHHH-SHOOOOOH! EH-SHOOOH! Eghhhhaaaa… haaaa… haaa… YAAAAAAA-SHHHEEEEEWWWWWWWW!  SHIISSSHHHHH! ISSHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHH-SHOOOH! AHHHHHHHH-SCHOOOO! AH-SHOOOOH!”

The sneezes just kept coming, unbelievably loud, unbelievably powerful. This was one of the longest fits Richie could remember (though probably not the worst he’d experienced). Gradually, the sneezes grew farther apart: ���haahhhh.. hahhhh.. HA-SHOOO! Ahhhhh… HA-SHUU! iiSHHHIIII-OO!”

Each sneeze, though still loud enough to echo through the restroom, was at a more manageable volume. Still, Richie was exausted from firing off sneeze after sneeze, and as his nose finally let out its final “heh… heh-chhh-EW!” Richie just wanted a nice long nap. He sat in the stall for a moment to survey the damage. He had been right about the spray; he could see the glistening drops decorating the entire stall door as though it had been hit with a hose. He still heard the men grumbling and muttering about his sneezes, and he was sure that those who were in the restroom (and probably those near the door) would spread the word to their friends about Richie’s incredible eruption. Sometimes, Richie just wished that his nasal curse could just go away. Why was his family cursed with the world’s most massive sneezes? Why was his nose the epicenter of such eruptions? But, as he sniffed gently, preparing for a nose blow to clear the last bits of congestion in his nose, he was glad for one thing: the tickle was completely gone.

Meanwhile, Ashton had been standing near the door, and had heard Richie firing off sneeze after sneeze after sneeze. He was red with rage; that fit had been exactly like the one his dad had blasted out at Ashton’s senior prom, in the middle of Ashton’s prom king acceptance… all over the prom queen. She dumped Ashton within the week.

Turning violently on his heel, Ashton marched out of the club, certain that he had a new secret weapon to use against Richie: if he could get him to clam up those sneezes, just once, then he knew Richie would fire off a show of sneezes so loud that Ashton could use it to embarrass Richie in front of anyone within earshot; in other words, Ashton grimly laughed to himself, anyone within a five-mile radius.

—-

Ashton, however, had not been the only person close enough to the restroom to hear those gale-force blasts trumpeting out from Richie's nostrils of fury. In fact, just as Richie was beginning to launch into a fit for the ages, Jerry had decided he ought to slip off to the restroom; no need to "break the seal" yet, but Jerry had anticipated he was in for a fairly long night, partying with his newfound friends, and--hopefully--with a few more newfound "friends" from among the club's very attractive female population, and as such wanted to make sure that his tiny bladder would not interfere with his very large-sized dreams---oh, alright, fantasies---of what would go on that night.

But Jerry was pretty far from the door when he heard that tell-tale eruption coming from the men's room. He quickly stuck his head into the restroom and knew immediately the source of the disturbance. He would scarcely have believed that even Richie could sneeze so forcefully. He was putting up a good fight with the music in the club, and that was deafening as it was. Heck, at close range, Richie's nose could have outdone a shotgun, a leafblower, a small nuclear explosion... but in the midst of these musing, Jerry noticed Ashton. Unlike everyone else in the restroom (and nearby), who were scrambling to get away from the noise, Ashton seemed transfixed. He was just standing by the restroom door, not going in, didn't seem to be coming out, and he had the most peculiar, almost devious expression on his face. Of course, Jerry knew Ashton somewhat---Ashton was touted as one of the most talented football players of the freshman class, and at their D1 school, that meant a lot. But this threw Ashton in a completely different light. Why on earth was he just standing there? And what was that strange look that passed across his face each time Richie bellowed out another monsterous, "HHHHHEEEEEESSSSSSSSCHHHHHOOOOOOOOoooooh!" Jerry was not a suspicious person by nature--and as Richie's twenty-one gun salute went on, he knew he had to check and see if Richie was alright--but he filed that instance away in his mind as yet another strange happening of college life.

The more important thing was to check on Richie. When it finally seemed that Richie's nose had calmed down enough that he'd be able to speak, Jerry ventured forth a, "Hey, man, you alright in there?"

"Jerry?" Richie responded, fearing the worst, "oh, god, don't tell me you could hear me all the way out..."

"No, no, man, I was just heading to the restroom when I heard the big bang from outside the door, don't worry. But what happened there? I didn't think you were ever going to stop!"

"N-neither did... oh, god, h-here ihhhh... here it gooohhhh... ohhhhh... oohhhhhh... ahh... HA-CHOOOOH! Man, thought I was done there," Richie give a liquid sniff, "but the aftershocks just sneak up on me."

"And speakin' of sneakin', there you guys are!" Adam quipped.

"Are you just everywhere?" Richie asked, half-laughingly, half-exasperated. Adam had the strangest habit of popping up everywhere.

"A magician never reveals his secrets, young Richard." Adam gave a sudden gasp before, "Ha-chooOOSH! Huh... hashhhooo! Ugh, must be in the air," Adam said, as he grabbed a tissue from the sink counter to blow his nose. He was a bit of a nasal honker, and his blows were decidedly louder than his generally quiet, gentle sneezes (although, in comparison to a Richie-cane, your average elephant was pretty quiet and gentle), and were much louder when he had a cold---because he didn't have Richie's almighty, head-clearing sneezes, he relied much more on forceful nose-blowing to blast out the itch from his nose, and still had far less success--unsurprisingly--that a full-force sneeze from Richie, even without a cold or that dreaded red pepper.

Richie, however, wasn't so sure that something was "in the air"; the humongous fit he'd just succumbed to made him almost positive: he was catching a cold.

"No, Adam, it's not 'in the air'--we're sick, and I'm going home." Richie declared. Adam was somewhat taken aback at his friend's unusually forceful tone, but he knew that, as always, he could joke his friend out of his resolve.

"Oh, you're not sick---granted, a 300-pound body builder with a bad head cold and a wind machine up his nose probably can’t compare to the ‘ol schozz-cannon you’ve’ got… but those, my friend, were not cold sneezes.”

“How do you know?” Richie demanded.

“I still have hearing in my right ear, obviously.”

[digimonadventuretimelines]

[18 - Bonds of Evolution!]

“Mitsuki… Do you think Zebra is a refugee digimon?” Elise’s question was straight to the point, but now with two weeks since their encounter with that Gabumon… She had to ask. She’s concerned and really had to ask.

“I told you” the older boy, phone in hands to record a new video of his discoveries from ‘ancient worlds’ (read it as stuff from past generations, 60s to 2010s) but not pressing that ‘rec’ button on the touchscreen, responded “It’s an assumption. Mirai and I were investigating the video from the town’s cameras.”

“Oh?”

“We don’t know why but… He was a BlackGarurumon when he crossed the gate.”

“He got hurt and devolved… Now it makes sense. Maybe he was fleeing from something?”

“It’s what Mirai is trying to discover since then” he frowned, and he had to shove those thoughts away… “Anyway, will you stay and be part of the video about the Tamagochi?”

“I… I need to take some snacks to Zebra. My dad is on a special mission in space, and my mother is working on the next website project.”

“Ah, fair then. Don’t forget to leave your like when i post the video~” he gave her a wink.

She giggled and nodded, then left the room.

“Natsu, is it possible to anyone use the pendant?” Daichi innocently asked, a deadpan face could hide his real reasons to make that particular question.

She took a while to reply, because being Daichi and Kiyoko’s nanny had taught her a few tricks those kids have.

“I assume it is. But you won’t get it from me, space-time travel is a dangerous thing and you’re responsible. Don’t try to use it without me.”

“Fine, I was interested about whatever happened on August 3rd.”

Natsu dropped her cup, but before it fell on the floor she used a pink bubble to capture it. Was he… “Sorry, Daichan but I can’t tell you that. Not yet.”

“Something happened there. In that world… What happened to my father in Mrs. Hikari’s place…?”

“It’s not something you need to know now. That story did not happen to him, it was with another Daisuke.”

“... If it is something that changed him, at least… His other-self is fine now?”

“Yes he is. Look at Hikari, she’s happy right now. Don’t worry, Daichan”

If Natsu could read him like she is able to read Daisuke, she would’ve realized him plotting something. He’s ready to uncover that secret, at all costs.

  Mirai was typing furiously again on her keyboard, too focused on to see a kid getting in. She stopped typing once the lights turned on.

“You busy now?” She heard a boy’s voice and turned to the entrance.

“Ah, Taisuke you’re here. Geez, knock before coming in! I need focus!!”

“Sorry sorry” he gave a nervous laugh “So, you are working right now… Any progress?”

She shook her head as response, and relaxed on the chair, “Since you contacted me, I’ve been searching for what you heard from Draki. However… I’ve learned about the others got digivices and some not-known DigiRune fragments.”

A type and a few commands and she opened a screen with various symbols, twelve in one circle and two on a row, separated from the others.

“Daichi and Hoshi have these unknown two, I’ve found out that they’re Tenacity and Happiness. The other twelve, eight of them has been known since 1999.”

“Hm…” he took a a digivice (!?) from his pocket. It was like Daichi’s but orange details instead “Draki mentioned those were used years ago. At least nine of them.”

“I wonder why does that digimon know a lot about the time of the legendary Twelve” she rested her chin on her hand, very alike Koushiro when thinking “Did he ever tell you how?”

“No,” he gave a shake of his head, calmly “He only said that he had met Ambassador Agumon a long time ago, and that that Agumon is my dad’s partner.”

“I see… Have you asked mr. Yagami how did he and Agumon meet each other? I asked my dad about mr. Tento, and he said they’re friends for a long time ago but I assume there’s more.”

“Uh… More?”

“Yeah Like-- Oh wait, a digimon is near the sector F right now. Should I tell the others?”

“... I can go, if things get bad handled tell Daichi.”

  A digimon with the looks of a human on a Cerberumon armor -- Cerberumon: Werewolf Mode -- appeared around Tokyo Big Sight, causing some chaos by terrorizing the people and digimon. It didn’t take much time until Ken’s arrival at the place, with Jewelbeemon.

“Capture the enemy” Ken ordered Jewelbeemon, “We need to ask them a few questions.”

“Roger.”

While the battle begun, the police tried to remove innocents from the area. On another place, Mimi had been in the TV Station and recording the next episode of her cooking show.

“And then you have a very delicious American Style Pancakes~ What do you would like to cook now? See you next time~”

“And cut” The director was Michael, Mimi’s husband. He had a smile in his face, “You were amazing today! Ah, Lilymon too.”

“When I evolve to this form, I can fulfill my inner chef~” Lilymon chirped “Oh next time we can try to make Croissant, like the ones we ate last month in France!”

“It’s a good idea!” Mimi grinned “Ah, I’d like to try make Pain au Chocolat too!”

A second later, the lights flashed til them shut down. Mimi and Michael looked at their digivices, and then they all fell the structure of Fuji TV tremble. They decided that this meant a digimon attack, or an earthshake. When the trio went to the window, they saw a MetalTyrannomon causing a fuss outside.

“Mimi” Lilymon gave a serious glare at her partner, who nodded. Michael looked back and to Betamon.

“Betamon and I will lead everyone to a safer area” he ran to the exit “Lilymon and you can handle it for a while, right? Call the Digimon Special Cases Unit for support.”

“Okay! Time to give them a lesson to not put everyone in danger! Lilymon, try to convince them to stop, maybe if you use your Flower Necklace against them?”

“Ok! One Flower Necklace might calm them down~”

Lilymon and Mimi left the building by the window, with the fairy-like digimon carrying Mimi in her arms. Once they landed, the duo noticed the mysterious Brave Tamer and a Blue Greymon fighting MetalTyrannomon, and the kid shouting to the innocents next to the area to leave quickly. Greymon wasn’t able to fight a perfect level digimon alone, but was enough to hold it for a while. Mimi glanced at Lilymon and her partner flew towards the fight, trying to create a ring of flowers around MetalTyrannomon’s neck. But before, Lilymon put Mimi at a safe distance from the fight.

“Ah shoot… It’s...” he muttered to himself.

“Hey child, you shouldn’t be here-- Huh, do I know you?”

“A-ah…? No you don’t!” he tried to mask his voice, making it a bit deeper “That digimon is targeting the Fuji TV building and Greymon and I are here to save the day, heheh.”

She didn’t believe it at all, or did she? Whatever was Mimi’s thoughts, she distracted for a second and something very very strange happened. She saw Lupinmon to the other side of the road, with a device. The black light coming from it hit MetalTyrannomon and made it evolve to RustyTyrannomon.

“What’s happening here!?” Mimi gasped, as Lilymon and Greymon are thrown away.

“G-Greymon!!” he dropped that tone of voice, running towards his partner.and stood closer to the digimon’s head “Are you okay, Greymon?”

 “That voice…” Mimi thought, but her chain of thoughts had been interrupted when RustyTyrannomon tried to hit the kid and Greymon “W-WATCH OUT!!” she yelled desperately, only to see Greymon eyes glowing and getting his body covered by the evolution’s light.

The blue Greymon evolved… to a black armored WarGreymon, like the one the Chosen Children had fought in the past. However, the only new detail was that the Black Shield on his back had the Crest of Courage.

“W-what…??” Brave Tamer was petrified at the moment, with his partner blocking RustyTyrannomon’s attack “You… You evolved?”

Lilymon mega evolve! Rosemon!

To counter attack the enemy, Rosemon appeared and threw her vines against RustyTyrannomon, “Let’s send it back to the Digital World” she told WarGreymon, who nodded and looked back at the kid.

“Stay with that woman” WarGreymon ordered “We will handle it.”

“R-right…”

  Mirai was sure something odd had happened, but she didn’t take part of it. She realized that two digimon had been in battle and those being Cerberumon and RustyTyrannomon. However, a third digimon approached from Elise and her new digi-friend.

Quickly, Mirai searched for the closest kid in the area. She at first thought of calling Daichi but she couldn’t find him at all. He was out of her reach. Her other option was…

“Mitsuki!! Big Problem, Elise is in danger! An unknown digimon is approaching from her and the found Gabumon, I can’t call Daichi or anyone so only you can assist her!!”

Mitsuki gasped, but had the sense to go and help his cousin as soon as possible. He quickly turned the computer off, grabber his D-TimeRune and went to the rescue.

But… How about Daichi? Why was he out of Mirai’s reach?!

  “I can’t believe we’re back here” Ulforce wasn’t expecting Daichi to be ‘lucky’ and open the door to the same alternate world again, with the difference of it being three years later “How did you do that?”

“You weren’t tricking me, were you?” Natsu squinted her eyes at Daichi.

“No. It was a coincidence, and I feel there’s something we need to do here.”

Odaiba was normal, but something was odd. It was grayish, like if it colors had lost. He had to realize… That wasn’t even a normal world. They heard Ken’s voice.

“No… Please stay away from them…! You… You want me right?!”

The space-time traveler trio approached, and then hid behind a building. What they saw was the younger kids with Taichi facing… Daemon.

“What the…!?” Natsu whispered.

“Ichijouji no!” Taichi said “You can’t do that!!”

“I already hurt everyone, I can’t let--”

A truck stopped near them, and Arukenimon got out from it.

“Ichijouji Ken, you will come with us.”

“No!” Daemon spoke quickly and before Ken could answer her “He will come with me.”

“He will go with neither of you!” Daisuke growled, “Silphymon!”

“Wait Daisuke” Ken stood in front of the group, “Why should I go with you Arukenimon?”

“Wait, would you go with either of them!?” Miyako gasped.

“Oh, you won’t want those children to be disappointed with their favorite genius~” Arukenimon then open the truck’s doors and revealed children inside “Your choice, brat~”

“... You…!!” Ken had no other option and walked to the truck. The group and Daemon were surprised, but the 02 team and Taichi were the vocal ones.

“Don’t do that!” Taichi yelled “Ichijouji, don’t--”

It was too late, Ken entered in and Arukenimon closed the doors. She returned to her seat and the truck left. Daemon murmured something, like swearing and followed the truck.

“Ken!!” Daisuke tried to go after it but no lucky. Hikari evolved V-mon to Lighdramon, grabbed Wormmon and went after them “Hi-Hikari!!”

“That girl is audacious” Iori blinked, “So uh, what should we do?”

“Daemon Corp. is still around” Taichi begun “Imperialdramon is out of question, so I think it’s up to the rest of you. I will grab Yamato so we can plan how to rescue Ichijouji and assist Hikari. Daisuke, you’re the lead here.”

“B-But big bro…!!”

“Um… Can we help?” Daichi, Ulforce and Natsu walked into their direction. Again, he hid the goggles under his scarf.

“Wh-who are you!?” Miyako gasped “You look like Daisuke!!”

“No I don’t,” Daichi sighed “I’m just a regular Chosen Child.”

“... Any help is welcomed” Daisuke nodded “Who are you, kiddo?”

“... Just call me by Daichi please.”

“Ok, I’m Daisuke and these are Miyako, Iori, Takeru and my brother Taichi.”

“... We will follow them, if you trust us.”

Taichi and Daisuke looked at each other, then to the group. Could they trust that kid? Also, where did he come from? It could be a trap, or not? After a few minutes of glances at each other, Taichi shrugged.

“Ok, you kid go after Hikari and Ichijouji. The rest get focused against the Daemon Corp.”

“Right!” they all agreed.

[gaycrouton]

Need

Words of Lust 14/27 [Mulder shows up to a jealous Scully's apartment drunk.]

Need: (noun) a thing that is wanted or required.

Sure, she knew Mulder found her attractive. At least on a hypothetical basis that is. He would make suggestive comments daily, his hand had a tendency to caress the small of her back as he led her out of a room, sometimes she caught his gaze lingering longer than what was partnerly, but that’s as far as it extended. Either in jest or in ambiguous silence. Even though, in her opinion, she’s given him plenty of signals to suggest his advances are welcome, he has yet to make an actual, legitimate pass at her.

Which was a major component as to why she was so pissed off right now. She already knew he had a tumultuous relationship with his ex-partner Diana Fowley, she was more than aware of their history. However, today they had to work on a case with his old partner from the violent crimes unit. After about, maybe a total of five fucking minutes, it became painfully obvious that they, too, had a fling together during their time as partners. So why not her? It seems like he has no problems getting intimate with his female partners, so what was it about her specifically that kept him from making the jump?

Diana had been his partner for maybe two years, this other woman was his partner for three weeks, and here she was currently going on six years with this man. His other partners were tall, brunette, older than him, and, admittedly, beautiful. She knew she wasn’t ugly by any means, but if that was his type, she was self-aware enough to know she didn’t fall into that category.

To top it all off, the VCU woman insisted that Mulder help her interrogate suspects while Scully was delegated to sift through two years of case files by herself. When they got back, the woman was laughing, smiling, touching all up on Mulder, and it sickened her. She could only stand it for a few minutes before she reported her findings and drove home, where she’d been brooding ever since.

She was jealous. Call a spade a spade there was no hiding it, but knowing what it was didn’t make her heart hurt any less. It just didn’t make sense to her. If Mulder didn’t have any qualms about starting an illicit relationship and if he found her attractive, then why didn’t he want to be with her? She could only assume there was something about her personality-wise that didn’t appeal to him. He did always make quips about her incessantly doubting him, but she never really considered that it would have bothered him. She adored him to the earth and back and just needed to know why he didn’t feel the same.

She was snapped out of her revere by a knock at the door. She slipped off the couch and made her way towards the door, taking a tentative glance at the clock. 11:42pm. No one else would have bothered her at this time of night, so she opened the door without needing to look through the peephole. Maybe she should have, just so the sight in front of her wasn’t such a complete shock.

Mulder was currently slouched against her door frame, grinning like an absolute idiot. She could already tell by his posture and slurred words, but the whisky on his breath just solidified it; Mulder was completely drunk, the drunkest she had ever seen him. “Hey Scully, funny running into you h-here.”

All prior agitation was superseded by worry. Mulder never drank, if fact, he said he hated it. “Mulder, come in. What’s wrong?” she asked, nudging him to step inside the door frame. As she was locking the door, she heard him making himself at home on the couch where she had just been, although it took him a few stumbles to get there.

“Nothing’s wrong, Scully. What makes-s you think something’s wrong?” he asked. He had taken the robe she had draped on the couch into his lap and was playing with the fabric, running the material over his cheek. It was the robe she wore after showers when she was naked, so seeing him caress it was oddly intimate, but not nearly as odd as seeing Mulder this totally out of it.

“Well, I don’t know Mulder. Maybe because you hate drinking, but yet here you are, in my apartment, completely drunk,” she stated. Taking a seat on the sofa next to him.

Her words seemed to register with him in a way she hadn’t meant because he downtroddenly dropped her robe from his face, into his lap, and looked at her like a scolded child. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have intruded,” he started to unsteadily stand up, but she quickly shot her hand out and cemented him in his seat.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m simply concerned. I just want to know what made you drink,” she whispered reassuringly.

He was fingering the sash of her robe, not making eye contact as he answered, “I missed you today.”

The absolute boyish, innocent way he said those words warmed her heart. He just seemed so vulnerable, but the words didn’t exactly match his actions from earlier. “Well you ditched me for your old partner. Who looked really happy to see you by the way.” Her tone was a little more biting than she would have liked, but it was a defense mechanism that she had a hard time controlling.

He looked at her like she had grown a third head. “I didn’t want to!” he proclaimed, “We went on a date once and she remembered it as something it wasn’t.”

“And that misunderstanding led you to getting wasted?” she asked.

“N-no. It-I just had a few drinks, that’s all.” She figured whatever was bothering him could be confronted in the morning. So instead of pressing him now and making him uncomfortable, she would just ask him when he was sober and take this moment to enjoy the rare sight of a drunk Mulder.

“So, was there anything in particular you came over for?” she soothed, running her hand through his hair, relishing in the silky strands between her fingers. The way he nuzzled into her hand made her smile.

“I told you, I missed you,” he reiterated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She laughed lightly at the way his eyes widened in emphasis, “You see me everyday, Mulder.”

He grabbed the hand that was resting behind his head on the couch and pressed it against his heart. “Yeah, I only get to see you in the confines of work hours and today it was taken away from me.”

His answer sparked a little bit of confidence in her. “Well you could always ask to hang out outside of work?” she prompted. Honestly, if she had a dollar for every time during the weekend when she picked up the phone, about to call him and ask if he wanted to go out to lunch, before deciding against it, she’d be a rich woman.

“You intimidate me,” he mumbled.

His answer took her by surprise and she felt herself repressing laughter from bursting out because his face looked so earnest. “I intimidate you?”

He pulled up a leg onto the couch and tucked it underneath himself as he pivoted to face her, her robe still laying in his lap. “What if you said no?” The vulnerability in his voice made her want to reach out and hug him.

“I wouldn’t say no, Mulder,” she reassured so lightly, she almost whispered it. He was drunk, so she felt like she could be open without repercussion, but this conversation still felt surreal to have out loud.

“You’re j-just saying that to be nice to me.” She knew Mulder had insecurities, hell, who didn’t? But she knew Mulder’s lived as un ugly devil on his shoulder at all times, telling him that he was always in the wrong. It really saddened her to think about it. She was lucky, she grew up in a household full of love and affection, whereas Mulder’s childhood and development was under two people who gave him next to no attention whatsoever.

She placed a hand under his chin and made him look at her, his eyes were slightly glazed over from intoxication, but she could tell he was paying attention to her. “Mulder, I would never say anything just to placate you, you know me better than that. You’re my best friend and I love spending time with you,” she reassured.

He smiled at her and grabbed the hand from under his chin, effectively now holding both of her hands. He leaned his head drunkenly against the back of the couch as he watched his thumbs caress her knuckles. “Best friend,” he smiled sadly to himself as he squeezed her hands. A thousand thoughts seemed to be going through his mind but she couldn’t latch onto a single one of them. His eyes flitted back up to her own and she saw something deep in his gaze that she only usually saw in her dreams; yearning. Before she could dwell in it he was talking again. “Do you know how much you mean to me?”

It took her a second to register this wasn’t a rhetorical statement, he was actually asking her. They were treading on heavy ground and she wasn’t sure she wanted to have this conversation when she didn’t know if he’d remember it, but a morbid curiosity couldn’t keep her away. “You let me know everyday. I can hear it when you ask me how I’m doing, I can see it in the way you look at me, I can feel it when you hug me. You make me feel safe.” The answer was ambiguous on purpose. It could be friendly, it could be romantic. Down the line, if it ever got to the point where he admitted he didn’t love her the way she loved him, she could say he misinterpreted her words.

The sad smile on his face looked well-worn, “I put you in danger everyday.”

While she has tried to infuse him with her affection for years, his self doubt had been present for much longer. “No, no, Mulder. I’m a big girl, I make my own decisions. You don’t put me in any situations I didn’t walk into knowingly myself.”

His state of inebriation didn’t allow his attempt to repress his smile be effective. So instead, a goofy grin unabashedly spread across his lips. “How are you so good at that?” he asked.

Normally she was pretty fluent at interpreting Mulder-speak, but she genuinely didn’t know what he meant by this. “Good at what?” she tried to clarify.

He let go of her hands and placed one of his own against the side of her head, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Making me feel better.”

“Because I know what a great man you are. I just want to make sure you know that too,” she affirmed. After the words left her mouth, it really dawned on her how silent the apartment was. He hand on her cheek felt heavier than lead, and his gaze held almost the same weight. So, in the usual Scully-way, she deflected the fact she had just revealed something so personal. “I think you should get some water in you,” she sighed, standing up.

She made her way to the kitchen and got a glass from out of the cabinet. By the time she got the pitcher and was closing the refrigerator, he was already wobbling next to the counter.

“You know that is true for you too, right?” he mumbled, using the counter top to keep himself upright.

Yet again, she wasn’t sure what he was referring to. “Mulder, I can’t have a conversation with you if half of it is taking place in your mind,” she teased.

He stumbled a few steps closer to her as she poured him some water. “You know you’re a great woman, right?” he asked. She glanced over at him and saw he was slightly swaying on his feet, his eyes drunkenly glued to her like a vice. She laughed in embarrassment at his praise, but it just seemed to fuel him further. “I-I know I’m drunk right now, but I’m being serious. You are truly one of a kind. You’re so brilliant and beautiful. When I introduce us to new people I get so excited to say ‘and this is my partner, Agent Scully,’ because I get so excited to let the world know that you’re my partner.”

Okay, genuinely, fuck him right now, this wasn’t fair. These were the words she absolutely longed to hear, they were words that made her breath catch in her throat, but he had to just go and say them when he was completely and utterly shit faced and she couldn’t hold him to them. She put the pitcher away, but could feel his beaming, adoring smile radiating at her. Being she felt that they were at the point where if he did remember this in the morning and regretted it, he wouldn’t bring it up again, she decided to be a little blunt. “Well you don’t seem to like me as much as you liked your previous female partners,” she sighed.

She glanced over to him as she said it to watch the impact of her words and saw his brow furrow almost immediately in confusion. “Whaddya mean?”

“Well, I mean, Diana Fowley, the woman from today, you seem to express a certain romantic interest towards women you’re partnered with, but yet you’ve never expressed any interest towards me,” she tried to sound casual, but it’s pretty much impossible to say ‘why don’t you want to be with me’ casually.

“Excuse me?” he said. She felt her stomach bottom out and she was ready for him to get mad as she felt him move closer towards her. She was crossing a line, and she damn well knew it. She turned her head again to look at him and was shocked to see the irritation she had expected was instead pure dumbfoundment. “I think if I expressed any more interest in you, you could file a sexual harassment suit against me.”

His phrasing made her laugh out loud, but she quickly noticed he was trying to make a point, so the laughter died in her throat and she let him continue. “Scully, the woman before was just a one night stand of a young, confused man trying to fit in, and Diana was a mistake that brings me nothing but guilt and shame. The way I feel when I’m with you, I’ve never felt towards another person before,” he was now standing next to her in the kitchen, one hand resting on the counter, supporting his weight, as he looked down at her during this rant.

She was starting to get nervous that she was abusing his drunken honesty and decided she should stop him before she made anything awkward between them. She started to interrupt him, but he was a man on a mission. “Mulder, I-”

“Scully, I know you probably don’t feel the way I do. I’ve accepted that years ago, but never doubt that I absolutely adore you.” For a second, she was afraid she forgot how to breathe. Years? Also, how could she have not been any clearer? Did he really think she would run across the country looking for aliens, risking her career batting government conspiracies for just anyone? As she was standing in stunned silence, he took the opportunity to run a finger down the expanse of her cheek, taking a brief detour to lightly stroke her lips. Instinctively, she kissed the back of his finger and she saw his eyes light up at the gesture.

Before he could act on it, she broke her gaze away and grabbed the glass off of the counter, offering it to him. “You should drink this, you’ll probably have a bad hangover in the morning.” Nice, Dana. He romantically confesses his feelings, and you act like a clinically-detached doctor.

He smiled as if she reacted exactly as he expected and took the glass being held out to him. As he drank the water, her mind raced a mile a minute. Okay, so she was operating on the assumption that he wouldn’t remember anything in the morning, but what if he did? He would just remember pouring his heart out to her, at her request, as she stood and offered nothing in return. That’s just not fair. By the time he emptied the glass and proudly set it on the counter, she offered her own declaration. “You’re wrong, you know.”

“Is that your catchphrase?” he teased.

She smiled at him before continuing, “No. I mean, I do feel the same way you do. It’s just been hard to tell if you’re just kidding when you flirt with me or not. I didn’t want to embarrass myself if you didn’t mean it,” she spoke near a mile a minute, hoping that maybe he wouldn’t catch the vulnerability being exposed through her words, but the smile on his face told her that she hadn’t been that lucky.

He stepped a bit closer to her and she was overwhelmed with the smell of his cologne and the sensation of his body heat radiating off of him. He bent down so that he was closer to eye level, but she still had to lift her chin to make eye contact. “I mean it, and I’ve always meant it,” he whispered. He leaned down a bit further and placed a kiss against her forehead, then her cheeks, but as his lips ghosted against hers she pulled back.

He let out a sad groan and it made her laugh, “I’m sorry, I’ve wanted this for so long, but I can’t let it happen when you’re drunk.” Her lips practically burned from unsatisfied anticipation.

His bottom lip jutted out in a pout, “I promise sober Mulder won’t mind.”

“Well if sober Mulder wakes up tomorrow and remembers this conversation, then I give him permission to collect the offer. Until then, I think it’s time for you to lay down and sleep this off. Don’t forget, I still want to know what made you go out and get drunk,” she commanded, nudging him to move out of the kitchen.

He followed her implicit instructions, but he was finally answering her question. “Oh, well, in all honesty, I was just sad.”

She was shocked that the answers he had been guarding so heavily earlier were just falling out of his mouth with ease now, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Why?” She asked, taking his hand and leading him towards the bedroom. Her couch was hardly the size of his, and she knew he would wake up horribly achy if he even tried to sleep on it.

“Well, that woman was my partner, we had sex, and I could tell she still had a crush on me-” Scully wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear this anymore, but she wasn’t going to silence him after begging for honesty, “-but I was just so sad that it wasn’t you. I mean, I’m not callous, that woman, Lisa, was very nice, but the whole time, I just wished I was back at the office with you. It made me sad to think consider that type of relationship would be something I could never have with you.” God, when Mulder opened up, he really opened up.

By the time he was done, they were in her bedroom and she was searching in her closet for his overnight clothes. For about four years they had kept miscellaneous items at each other’s apartments for unexpected situations. It came in handy more times than either of them could count. She found them after a few moments and when she turned around he was sitting expectantly on her bed, watching her. “So you went out to the bar and got drunk?” she asked.

“Well, when we got back, I saw one of the lab geeks hitting on you and I got insecure, and it was just the icing on a bad day,” he mused.

“You have nothing to be insecure about.” She was back in the land of safe ambiguity, but his grin told her he was getting her underlying message regardless. She set the shirt and pants on the bed next to him and took a step back, “I’m going to go grab another glass of water and some aspirin while you change.”

“You don’t want to help me?” he teased. He swayed on the bed and for a moment she considered the fact that he may actually need it, but decided it would be best to see what progress he could make on his own.

“Ha, ha. I’ll be back. Don’t hurt yourself,” she called over her shoulder. When she got back to her kitchen, she let out a big breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. A lot was said tonight. Six years of hidden truth was now out in the open, and she didn’t know if it scared her or thrilled her. Probably both.

As she grabbed the now-full glass of water and Tylenol off the counter, she appreciated the fact tomorrow was Saturday. Since Mulder never drank, he was likely going to have a horrible hangover tomorrow and she was glad he could just sleep it off. When she got to the end of the hallway, she knocked on the bedroom door, “Mulder, are you decent?”

“Y-yeah,” she heard his muffled voice call out. He seemed distracted and when she opened the door she immediately realized why.

She was running late this morning and accidentally left her vibrator on the bed. The vibrator which was now currently in Mulder’s hands. Dear God, kill me now.

“Mulder, what are you doing?” she tried to sound reprimanding, but her voice came out pitched and shy, making Mulder look up at her in confusion.

“I was changing and I accidentally sat on this,” he told her, holding up the object as if he was holding a newspaper. “What is this?” Her mind was racing a million miles a minute. Okay, so he didn’t know what it was, so she still could possibly avoid eternal mortification. However, she had no idea what she could say this phallic, hot pink object could be.

“Um, it’s a rolling pin.” Wow, good one, Dana. Of all the objects in the world.

“Why’s it in your bed?” he asked innocently. Okay, he bought it. God bless the mind-numbing effects of alcohol.

“Uh, I just got it,” she lied. She reached out for it and he handed it to her, but as it left his grasp, his thumb hit the on switch and it started vibrating. In her shock, it fell out of her hands and started pulsating against the hardwood floor. The sound felt deafening in the room as she quickly bent down, got it, and fumbled with the buttons. She accidentally changed the vibration setting three times before getting it to shut off, feeling Mulder’s gaze burning on her the whole time. Once it stopped, she turned around, shoved it in a drawer, and prayed that Mulder didn’t recognize what it was in that thirty second fiasco.

Oh, of course he did. Why would she be that lucky? When she met his gaze, she saw his drunken stare was temporarily hooded with lust-filled eyes and a provocative smile. “Dana Katherine Scully, was I just holding your vibrator in my hands?”

While she was most definitely mortified, she couldn’t ignore the heat in the pit of her stomach being ignited by his intense stare. She also realized in this moment that he hadn’t fully put on his shirt, so he was just sitting on her bed, with his toned torso on full display. She only got to enjoy this view on rare occasions, and most of those occasions involved some sort of injury or ailment. Now she was able to enjoy it in his full glory. He cleared his throat to get her attention and she realized she lost herself in thought, his cocky smile told her he didn’t mind.

“I forgot to put it away this morning. I’m sorry about that,” she mumbled in embarrassment as she grabbed the water and medicine hastily thrown on a dresser and handed them to him.

He didn’t make a move to grab them from her, instead he just stuck out his tongue and leaned back his head, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Usually she wouldn’t indulge him, but nothing about this night was usual. She placed two white pills on his pink tongue and watched them disappear into his mouth behind closed lips. He swallowed them before opening his mouth again. She tentatively lifted the glass to his lips and tipped it as he drank from it. The whole thing was oddly erotic, and she couldn’t pull her gaze away.

When he was finished, she set the empty glass on the table and immediately felt his arms reach out to pull her closer. She ended up standing directly in front of his shorts-clad form, her thighs pressing against his knees as his arms encircled her waist. “Is that part of your daily routine?” he asked.

“Sometimes.” He was the only one with alcohol in his system, but she felt drunk off this moment. From the words he said to her in the kitchen to the way he was holding her and looking at her now, she was captivated.

“What do you think about?” His eyes were scanning her face before they slowly raked down her body. She hadn’t realized she had been in her pyjamas this whole time until now as she stood before him in a simple silk button up top and matching shorts. Oh how sensual.

Mulder obviously didn’t think of her outfit in the same regard as her because she saw him lick his lips as he hungrily drank in her body. She felt her nipples harden under his watchful eyes and her groin felt hot from the smirk that erupted across his lips. The word left her mouth involuntarily, “You.” His eyes fluttered shut and he looked like he was basking in the warmth of that hearty sentiment.

He wrapped his arms tighter around her, bringing her to him, and he placed a kiss onto her abdomen, below her breasts. She let out a shaky breath in response and she placed a hand on his head, her fingers threading through her hair. She couldn’t let this get out of hand. “Mulder-” she declared to get his attention. He didn’t move anything except his head as he shifted to look up at her, still embracing her. “You need to sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

It didn’t matter what state he was in, Mulder would always respect her wishes. He let out a small groan, but released her and leaned back. He was using his puppy dog eyes on her and she knew he had one last request. “You’re going to stay in here right?”

“I think I should probably take the couch,” she murmured with a small smile.

“No, no. This is your bed, let me take the couch,” he insisted, attempting to stand up.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, which effectively kept him in his place. “No, you’re too tall. It would kill your back.”

“I’ll never be able to sleep knowing you’re suffering for my comfort, then it will all be for nothing,” he was trying to give her a heartfelt plea, but he was being so dramatic it was beyond amusing. He could see her resolve was crumbling and added, “I promise to be a total gentleman.”

She regarded him for a minute and decided this would be the quickest method to get him to go to sleep. “Fine, but put your shirt on,” she laughed, making her way to the other side of the bed.

He followed her instructions and was clothed by the time she was settled underneath the covers, pulling them back so he could do the same. Being under the covers made the exhaustion of such an emotionally charged evening catch up with her, she saw Mulder stifle a yawn and knew he felt the same. She leaned over and turned off the lamp and rolled back onto her side, facing Mulder in the darkness. “Goodnight, Mulder.”

“Goodnight, G-woman.” They both fell asleep relatively quickly, eased to sleep from listening to each others breathing.

Scully had woken up in many odd situations before, in many different locations nonetheless, all because of Mulder. So, it only made sense he was directly behind this unusual wake up call.

The first thing she noticed was the light shining through her blinds, then the sound of birds singing to the morning wind, next she took in the scent of Mulder lingering on her pillow, then she really took in the sensation that woke her up; the feeling of Mulder’s arms wrapped around her and his erection grinding into the flesh of her ass. She went from dead asleep to wide awake in a matter of seconds. It’s not like she had never woken up to morning wood before, but this was Mulder’s morning wood, intimately pressed against her.

His ministrations were lazy and lethargic and, after listening to his breathing for a few moments, she realized he was definitely still asleep. Involuntarily in his slumber, he would inadvertently thrust against her as he buried his nose into her hair. She didn’t know how long they had been like this, but from the way she was pulsating in between her legs, it had been for a while. While she knew he would probably be embarrassed about this, she knew he would be more embarrassed if she let this continue and he made a mess.

She was going to operate based on the hope he would remember what they had confessed last night, so she pivoted in his arms, so that their fronts were more intimately pressed against each other and she started to gently place kisses all over his face. His forehead, his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, she watched him start to smile and placed one last kiss against his lips. She let them linger there for a moment, and when she was about to pull away she felt his lips pucker against hers and he placed a hand on the back of her head. She returned the kiss, opening her mouth to him and he readily accepted the invitation. For someone who just woke up, he was extremely attentive. Each stroke of her tongue was met with equal vigor from his, it was like a duel where both sides were constantly winning.

After a moment, he broke off the kiss and rolled her onto her back, parting her legs, so he was laying pressed flush against her. He smiled down at her with a full-toothed grin and she felt herself fully returning it. “I know I said I would collect on that kiss last night, and I have to say, I’m glad I didn’t know what I was missing out on because that would have made the wait unbearable.”

She laughed at this and placed a kiss to his chin before looking back at him. “So you remember?” she inquired lightly.

His eyes held a tenderness as he regarded her, nodding in confirmation, “Yeah. I remember everything.” He leaned down again and kissed her on the lips passionately as a reiteration. His mouth was intoxicating, and she had to agree with his earlier sentiment. She had always fantasized about their first kiss, she always assumed it would be good, but she could never have expected how stimulating and effective their mouths were when working against each other. He broke apart to catch his breath and he panted in his ear, “I also remember that you have a morning routine that I would like to be a part of.” As he said this, he pressed his engorged erection into her center, making her throw her head back against the pillow in ecstasy.

He took advantage of her exposed neck and his lips quickly descended onto the expanse of flesh, covering it with a mix of wet kisses, nips, and suction. She marveled in the sensation before grinding her hips upwards, turning the tables and eliciting a moan from him. She utilized this moment of distraction to slide her hands under the hem of his shirt, guiding it up the muscles of his back. He immediately started helping her with her mission and discarded the shirt.

Her eyes were dancing in her skull as she tried to look at every inch of skin newly-exposed. As she did this, Mulder set off to make the playing field fair, raising his hands to undo the buttons of her silk shirt. She felt herself get wetter under his gaze, with every button he undid, she felt his fingers linger on her flesh. By the time he got to the final button, her nipples were fully erect and she was squirming against his hardness. He was biting his lip and she didn’t know whether it was from suspense or her friction, but it was a complete turn on.

He parted her top so that her breasts were exposed and he let out a soft prayer of gratitude and took a nipple into his mouth, using his hand to play with the other one. God he felt amazing. He lapped his wet tongue against each aching bud as he danced between the two. After a few minutes of this exquisite torture, her resolve really started to crumble and she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him harder on top of her. The suction he had on her tit broke off with an audible pop as he moaned, “Oh, fuck, Scully.”

In a throaty voice she barely recognized, she cried, “Please do.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” she smiled as he kicked the covers away from their tangled feet and dragged her shorts down her hips, ending up kneeling near her calves on the bed. She sat up on her ass in front of him, and scooted closer. She looked up at him with a coy smile before easing his shorts down his legs in a similar fashion. She couldn’t keep the pride from engulfing her when Mulder’s cock sprang free in front of her. He was leaking from his tip out of pure anticipation, and it was all because of her.

His quick intake of breath as she grabbed him was music to her ears. She stroked him once from root to tip and noticed his hands were rigid at his sides, gripping his hips with white knuckles. She looked up and saw his eyes were closed with pleasure and his mouth was slightly agape. It was the most sexual she has ever felt before. She looked back down at the erection in her hand and lightly licked the tip before placing a wet kiss to the tip.

Almost instantly his hands gently caught her wrists, and he said in a shaky, breathy voice, “Scully, I want to be able to last,” he laughed.

She let go of him and leaned back onto her elbows, spreading her legs wantonly in front of him, noticing his eyes were glued to her own arousal. “I want you,” she enticed.

That’s all she had to say as he descended onto her, kicking his shorts all the way off. He placed several passionate kisses to her lips as he reached between them and drug the head of his cock along her slit. She broke off the kiss and nodded at him to continue. He parted her opening and slowly slid inside her, giving her time to adjust to his length and girth. It had been a while, so there was some resistance, but she was completely, and utterly, soaking wet, and felt nothing but whole.

When he was buried to the hilt, he remained there for a moment, clenching his jaw to resist the urge to buck into her, until she gave the signal. She wrapped her legs around his hips, once again, and started rocking against him. This was all the signal he needed and he started his own gyrations in tandem with hers.

He felt so fantastic. He filled her completely and every nerve ending on her body was on fire. She couldn’t ever remember feeling this absolute rapture before. She didn’t know if this talent was from experience or watching all those tapes that weren’t his. All she knew was that Mulder knew how to work his hips. With every thrust, his pubic bone ground against her swollen clit. She had never really been verbal during sex before, but the intense pleasure was ripping the sounds from her lungs.

She was almost constantly moaning or whimpering his name, all of which fueled Mulder on and made his pace more frantic. He moved his hands so that he was grabbing her hips as he thrust into her. She wasn’t the only one being vocal, with almost every other motion, Mulder groaned “ugh, fuck” or “oh my god” or simply her name. Each sound of his pleasure drove her absolutely crazy and she could feel her body quivering with built up tension, she didn’t know if it was possible to get any wetter than she was right now. It was his eyes that pushed her over the edge. Their gaze locked for a minute and all she saw was animalistic lust in the hazel depths. Knowing that this was her partner, Fox Mulder, who loved her, getting nothing but pleasure from making love to her and wanting her to feel the same was just too much. While maintaining eye contact she guterally moaned his name as she felt her vaginal walls clamp down around his sensitive length.

Her body wracked in a few spasms and after a few more thrusts he was following her over the edge, moaning her name in a similar fashion. She had never noticed how long his eyelashes were until they were fluttering against his cheek mid-orgasm.

They both rode out their pleasure as long as they could before collapsing into sweaty heaps entangled in each other. They were both panting trying to catch their breath, but the satisfaction was leaking from every pore. He raised a hand and swept her sweaty hair from out of her face, caressing her cheek, so much like he had yesterday under such different circumstances.

“I love you so much,” he stated.

“I love you too.” It was invigorating putting words to the way she had felt for so long. Sentiments always expressed, but that needed to finally be verbalized. She had spent years dreaming of the way they would sound coming out of her mouth, how they would feel actually being said to him, but her dreams were never accurate because she never could have imagined the light that burned bright in his eyes when the words finally reached his ears.

[aggressivelyclueless]

Unlucky Break

prompted by @reallydumbdannyphantomaus "for once, tucker is the one injured in a ghost fight when danny can't get there fast enough" Words: 6751 Warning: brief gore, mild angst/feels, would be followed up by a halloween special if i had the time

     The streets of Amity Park were silent.  The moon, only half-full, glowered grimly over the town, and a low and ominous breeze swept over the pavement.  The color had drained away to gray in the darkness; tall, spindly lamp-posts cast tired circles of light every fifty feet in an effort to stave off the night, but it wasn't enough.  They flickered one at a time, as if directed by some distant and higher power, and one of them sputtered and went dark entirely.       It was upon this dark post that the phantom perched, unseen.  He cast a wary eye downwards to the streets, searching for a glimpse of movement or the echo of fiendish laughter.  He caught neither.  He floated off of the post, which buzzed back to life behind him, and drifted down to the curb.  The chill smell of fall swept by him as the breeze shifted, and it brought his mind elsewhere.  It told him of pumpkins and hayrides and bounties of candy poured out on the living room floor, and for a moment it swept him up entirely.  He paused, enthralled, and inhaled as deeply as he could.  The holiday was still two weeks out, but he almost didn't care.  Why couldn't it have been tonight?  He saw the little plastic spooks that hung from some of the street signs.  In his neighborhood, most of the front lawns had been littered with fake skeletons and headstones, and the house four doors down from his had begun to trim the dead oak in the yard into a monstrous hand.  They were the ones that outdid themselves every year, and he found himself wondering what they could possibly pull off after that.       The breezes shifted again, and this time they brought with them a warning.  He hiccuped, a thin line of mist escaping him, and refocused.  Suddenly alert, he traced the alley ahead of him and crept closer.  He peered into the darkness, seeing nothing but knowing he wasn't alone; he swore he heard something skitter away through some crack in the bricks, and he floated down into the alley in pursuit.  He made out a vague rectangle on one side of the alley - a broken window, perhaps - and he was certain that the skittering thing had escaped through it.       He phased after it, not wanting to touch the jagged shards directly, and found himself in the disused back room of an empty shop.  Inside, it was pitch-dark; the thin green ring in his periphery only allowed him distorted and hazy shapes, but at least he could see.  Edges of old crates and forgotten merchandise blurred together if he wasn't looking directly at them, but the strangeness no longer bothered him.  The back door to the shop had been left ajar, he noticed.  From it, an inhuman laugh echoed.  He turned, slinking like a wisp across the space, and slipped through the door to the alley on the other side of the building.       He could see the culprit: a spidery little thing, with eight jointed legs, rooting through an overturned garbage can.  It was smaller than he'd expected, only the size of a city rat (it had a tail like one too, he noticed), and it scuttled back into the alley with a scrap of discarded meat in its mouth.  It paused, gulping the scrap down whole, and then spotted him.  It froze up at once, startled.  Its four eyes widened as much as they could, and one at a time it began to rearrange its limbs under itself as if it might appear more demure that way.  It aimed for the image of the little gray cat it had seen wandering the alleys in nights past, and by the time it was done it wasn't far off; it was enough, at least, to keep from being attacked, and it found that outcome suitable.       Danny watched the little gremlin in silence.  He'd seen it before (or perhaps another one just like it) and he knew that it was harmless.  It wasn't a shapeshifter, at least not outright - a mimic, rather - and he'd begun to wonder where they were coming from.  That's the third one I've seen this week, he thought to himself as he bent down to meet the little troublemaker.  He'd scared the first one away before he'd been able to capture it, but he'd since figured out how to catch them without much fuss, and he offered one hand for it to explore.       The anomaly did, and sat for a moment in his palm.  Up close, he could see four of its legs hugging its belly to make it appear rounder.  It had squinted two of its eyes shut, hoping he wouldn't notice them, and the remaining two stared up at him.  Its defense had succeeded; it knew that he thought it was cute.       "Wonder where you guys keep coming from.  I mean, I guess I don't really mind," Danny thought aloud, giving the little creature a scratch with one finger.  It had been right; he thought it was adorable.  "Only thing is, you keep making my ghost sense go off and one of these days that's gonna get me in trouble.  At least you're not out to get anybody, though.  I suppose it could be worse."       Into the thermos it went.  He flew up higher, taking a moment to survey the streets from atop the roof of the shop, and then spotted two silhouettes up on a different roof three blocks down.  He flew over to them, landing on top of the air-conditioning unit and reappearing before them.       "Slow night?" Sam asked.       "You know it," said Danny, "I found another one of those little spidery guys, though."       "You catch him this time?"       "Yeah."       Tucker turned to him.  "Wonder where those guys keep coming from?  You think there's like a whole building infested with 'em someplace?"       "I'm starting to think so," Danny admitted, "They don't really seem to do a lot, though, so I'm wondering if they'd even be worth the trouble?"       "You're a ghost catcher," said Sam with a shrug, "I'd say so.  Maybe they're poisonous or something, and you just don't know it yet.  You wanna wait until one of them bites you to find out?"       "I guess not."       Sam turned back out to the cityscape around them.  She and Tucker came up here every night that Danny was on patrol; they could see half the town from this particular corner of the roof, and make sure things didn't get too out-of-hand.  "Slow, though.  You didn't find anything running around last night, either."       "No, and it's starting to worry me," said Danny, "Having a quiet night is one thing - but it's been so empty lately I'm starting to find little guys like this that aren't even worth my time."  He held up the thermos, giving it a little rattle to illustrate his point, and sighed.  "I kinda hate to say it but I'm starting to hope for a decent fight, you know?"

      The sun fell slowly.  Danny sat in his room, watching the shadows on the street get longer and longer; the street-lamps all flickered on at the same time, even though it wasn't fully dark yet, and last rays of sunlight disappeared from the pavement at a little after seven.  He wondered if he'd even go out tonight.  Things have been too slow.  Maybe I shouldn't bother?  With a glance to his desk, he changed his mind.  Patrol first.  Homework later.  Besides, maybe he'd get lucky and things might be interesting tonight.       One could hope, right?       He shot Sam and Tucker a text - see you guys in ten - and transformed.  He left the door to his room closed; he'd told his mother that he'd be very busy with homework tonight, and could she not bother him please and thanks.  He hoped that she'd listen.  She did most of the time, as long as he mentioned the homework.  One of these days, he told himself, he'd pull his grades up.       He told himself that a lot.       Unseen, he landed behind the Nasty Burger where Sam and Tucker were waiting.  It was almost exactly between their houses, which made it a good go-between; Danny lived an extra six blocks further, but the fact that he flew most evenings negated any inconvenience.  "Hey," he greeted, appearing before them in the air, "You guys ready?"       "Ready to be bored again?  Can't wait," said Sam flatly, "You know, it probably wouldn't kill you to stay home for once.  If something's out there, so what?  You'll catch it tomorrow."       Danny grumbled.  "Yeah, and if Halloween wasn't coming up, I'd be all over that in a second.  You think I want to let something slip through the cracks and have to deal with it on the most exhausting night of my life?  I'm keeping on top of it this year and I've still got a bad feeling there's something I don't know about yet."       "Danny, look," said Tucker, exchanging a glance with Sam, "I know you've been really on-edge this whole month.  I get it.  Halloween, craziest night of the year for keeping a lid on the ghost stuff.  But, dude.  You haven't caught anything all week.  Maybe just - I don't know - chill for a little bit?"       Danny loosened.  "Yeah, I guess maybe I keep getting kinda worked-up over some stuff.  Tell you what.  If we don't catch anything tonight, I'll take the whole weekend off.  We'll go see that new Terminatrix movie that came out.  Sam, I know you've been itching to see that one."       "Yeah, kinda," she admitted, "I heard this time she chops a guy's arm off and beats him over the head with it.  Sounds promising."       "What about you, Tuck?"       Tucker hesitated, but then nodded anyway.  "Yeah.  Guess it's back to the roof for us, then."       "Hey," Danny frowned, "You think you get bored up there?  I'm by myself most of the time, you know.  At least you guys get to sit and talk."       "Heard that one before," said Sam, "But whatever.  Let's just go."       Danny kept his mouth shut.  He took each of them by one hand and flew off, up to the roof of the apartment complex.  When they landed he threw an arm around both of their shoulders.  "I'll make it quick, okay?  Promise."       He disappeared, and Sam plopped down on the roof.  Making herself comfortable, she pulled a notebook and light-up clicky pen from her backpack.  "You really think he'll catch anything tonight?"       "You mean apart from those little leggy guys he keeps finding?" Tucker asked, "Those don't count."       "Oh I know they don't," said Sam, only somewhat passive-aggressively, "This weekend's gonna be fun, though.  Actual quality time with all three of us?  When's the last time we even went to see a movie, anyway?"       Tucker thought about it for a minute.  "The summer, I think.  You wanted to see the zombie outbreak one but we ended up seeing the space alien one instead."       "Wait, was that really the last time?"       Tucker nodded.  "You said it was the worst godawful CGI you'd seen since Vampires vs. Werewolves III."       "Oh yeah, I remember that one," said Sam with a chuckle, "Those vampires were such a let-down."       Tucker just shrugged; he'd dipped out early that day. - - -       Danny floated quickly through the first half of his route.  He did feel a little bit guilty about dragging Sam and Tucker out here again, but he told himself that it was because he was staying ahead.  He remembered last Halloween - it had been a nightmare, and the last thing he wanted was to repeat it.  Things were a little slow lately - so what?  He knew they'd pick up again, even before the end of the month.       He was just keeping on top of things for once.       He thought about the upcoming weekend too.  He really did want to go and see that new movie with Sam, although he had a feeling that Tucker would be less interested.  Monster movies weren't really up Tucker's alley.  Maybe he'd press for a double, and they'd go and see something else afterward.  That would be a good time, he thought to himself, if it weren't for the patrols.  He realized that part of him wanted to catch something tonight, and not just because it would alleviate his boredom.  If he had a fight, even a quick one, he'd have an excuse to keep his nightly streak going over the weekend.  He paused, frowning.  Why was that?  He always had a blast when he'd go out with Tucker and Sam.  He wouldn't really rather stay home the whole weekend, would he?       Maybe Halloween was starting to get to him already.  Thinking about it beyond just yeah-it's-coming-up or I'll-be-ready-for-it-this-time made him anxious, and it was still two weeks out.  He knew it was going to be crazy, no matter if he kept up on his patrols or not, and part of him wanted to forget all about it.  Sounds like a problem for future Danny, it reasoned, you've got plenty of time to worry about it later.       He'd ignored it as diligently as he could so far.  It seemed to be working; he hadn't missed any of his patrols since the beginning of the month, and he admitted he was somewhat proud of himself for it.  He was increasingly certain that if he skipped out for the weekend, he'd lose the momentum he had going for him, and he'd skip out on the more important ones later in the month.  Still - doesn't a hardworking ghost like you deserve a break?  He squashed the temptation down.  Yeah, I do - the night after Halloween. - - -       "Well," said Sam, setting her pen down and turning over to sprawl on her back across the roof.  "That didn't take long.  I'm bored now."       Tucker looked over at her.  "You and me both.  We kinda knew it was gonna be a slow night.  Wish I woulda remembered my Gameboy, though - found that old thing a couple of weeks ago and restarted Red."       "Yeah?" said Sam, not wholly listening.       Tucker closed his mouth.  After a beat: "You think he's gonna try and rope us into this over the weekend?"       "I'd bet money on it," Sam groused, "He's been really worked up about it since the beginning of the month.  Like, on one hand - okay, it's probably gonna be insane, because duh, of course it will, but on the other hand - we're gonna be there to back him up, so I really don't think it's going to be as bad as he thinks it will.  Try telling him that, though?  Watch him get all freaky-outty about it?  Ugh."       Tucker slid her a look.  "If he does try and bail on us - you think we're allowed to put him in the thermos for a time-out?"       Sam snorted into laughter.  "Do it.  That'll show him."       Tucker smiled, glad that he'd made Sam laugh for once, and turned to try and spot Danny below.  He grabbed their shared pair of binoculars, tracing along the most visible side streets, but then paused.  Adjusting the focus, he groaned.  "Um, Sam?  You wanna take a quick peek?"       "What?  Nah, I'm good," Sam replied from partway across the roof, "Same boring view as always."       Tucker held out the binoculars anyway, turning and giving her a quick shake of his head.  "I'm serious, man."       "What, like an actual ghost?  Finally?" Sam pulled herself up to her feet, taking the binoculars and following Tucker's pointing finger.  "Oh.  Yeah that might be a problem."       The binoculars, now in focus, were trained on the vacant pet supply shop beyond the park.  She could see the truck bay on the side of the building; one of the doors had crumpled inwards, like an angry giant had given it a solid one-two punch, and something inside cast an ethereal green glow.       Tucker turned to her and shrugged.  "You think we should tell Danny about it?  I mean - that can't be a good sign, but - "       " - and guarantee he'll skip out on the whole weekend and keep dragging us out here for all this extra ghost stuff?" Sam crossed her arms, setting the binoculars back down on the roof, "Hey, wait a second - did you see this last night too?  And you just didn't say anything about it?"       Tucker nodded.  "Yeah.  Didn't look bad last night, though.  I kinda thought Danny would have found it on his own.  He didn't, and I guess I forgot about it."       "You think it'll be an issue?" Sam asked, "Before the weekend, I mean.  He's been scouring the town for two weeks straight - if it was bad news, or even was shaping up to be, he'd have found out about it already, you think?"       Tucker frowned.  "Wait, we're really not telling him about this?"       Sam took another look through the binoculars.  "Not until at least Saturday.  Doesn't even look like there's any ghosts there.  Place looks empty to me.  Just kinda spooky." - - -       So far, Danny had caught nothing.  This was the slowest week he'd had in a long time - especially for mid-October - and he finally relented.  Take the weekend, he told himself at last, de-stress a little.  He slowed to a halt in the street, took a final look around, and transformed.  Stress always got to him more when his heart beat; he didn't miss it, but he'd have to live with himself until Monday.  How hard could that be, he told himself, movie night with Sam and Tuck?  It'll be fun.       He turned and started down the streets to go and meet up with them.  He knew they'd be glad he cut his patrol tonight short; he'd had a feeling they hadn't even wanted to come out here tonight at all, and thought with a twinge of guilt that he'd roped them into it anyway.  Ugh, good going.  He hoped they wouldn't be too cross with him - Sam, in particular, was the one to remember things.  She wouldn't always hold a grudge, but she never forgot anything that he or Tucker said, even if it was an off-hand comment at the time.       The wind shifted, making Danny pause.  He turned, hoping for another whiff of hayrides and nostalgia, but what hit him instead was a pit-in-your-stomach wave of dread that sucker-punched him out of left field.  He felt his mouth run cold all at once, and his nostrils froze before he could even let any of it out.  "Oh, hell," he said out loud, pressing his palm on the bridge of his nose in the hopes that he wouldn't give himself brain-freeze on top of all that.  He'd never gotten such a strong reaction from his ghost sense before; why would it all of a sudden flare up like that?       He turned and stared down the empty streets; two pairs of little black eyes stared back at him from behind a shopside trash can.  He knew what that meant: he didn't even have to bother transforming again, which was a plus.  He should have known those little mimicking ghosts would be out again.  This really was too easy, though.  Point, click, capture.  It almost didn't even count, he supposed - although he might tease Sam and Tucker about it later.  He noticed a second one clinging partway up the drain pipe, and a third - wait, is that one bigger? - and a handful more appeared from the inside of the shop.  He realized that was probably what had made his ghost sense react so badly - he'd sensed them all at once - and he turned the open end of his thermos to them.  They didn't seem to know what was coming, but he concluded that he should probably investigate a little further anyway.       He wondered what they were doing in town like this.  Sentient ghosts often lurked in empty buildings or alleys; less form-constricted ones were rarely seen within the city limits.  Was there something here that they wanted?  He phased through the locked shop and took a look around the inside, keeping out of sight in case any security cameras were still active.  He didn't think so, though; it appeared to have, once, been a pet store.  Empty fish tanks and displays of puppy toys lined the shelves, and one on a line of hamster wheels still spun.       He could count at least eleven inside, and floated still for a moment to see if he could spot more.  This must be where they're coming from, he thought, although he still didn't know why.  They certainly didn't look like they were out to destroy anything.  They scurried in and out of visibility on a whim, and one of them ran right under his feet and skittered under a dusty shelf.  It turned, peering out at him.       It wasn't until Danny uncapped the thermos that he realized exactly how many of them had noticed him.  He'd counted eleven at first glance but, taking a second look around, he saw that number double, then triple.  He saw, too, that he'd only been catching the small ones; several that appeared from behind the puppy display were at least puppy-sized, and one that could have mimicked a retriever stared out from atop the empty register.  They stared, deathly still and unblinking, as if waiting for him to make a move.       Danny did.  Six of them were sucked up into the thermos at once; the remaining ones all leapt at him; he backpedaled out of the shop, transforming as he turned to run; they screeched and gave chase; several larger ones clambered up from the storm drains by the curb; he ascended higher and began taking potshots at the closer ones.       The front door of the shop flew open, and out crawled the biggest one by far.  It was at least twice Danny's size, and it muscled its way out onto the streets one or two legs at a time.  It faced him, and he realized he had made a horrible mistake.  At least fifty of the mimicking spirits had him surrounded.       They all attacked him at once, and in a panic he fled higher.  He could hear their angry screeching behind him, directed by the lower roars of the one he guessed was the mother.  He ducked through the second-story window of another building, hoping they'd lose him.  It appeared that they did.  He ducked back under the window so that they wouldn't see him, and checked the space in his thermos.  He knew that, in theory, there was a limit to how many ghosts he could cram inside the thing, but he'd never reached it.       Most of those mimics were pretty small.  He'd be fine.  He floated out again, hoping to catch at least another dozen of them before they noticed him.  He could see them up on the roof of an old office building, and he flew up after them.       One of them spotted him and sounded the alarm; a dozen of the smaller ones dive-bombed him, keeping his attention so that the monstrous one could headbutt him from the side and knock him out of the air.  He fell, instantly set upon by dozens of underlings, and the thermos went skittering across the pavement and came to a stop against the grate of one of the storm drains. Danny made a grab for it, missed, and flew up again.  He shook off most of the gremlins that were clinging onto him, grabbing onto one that was particularly stubborn and hurling it away, and refocused.  Apart from being caught off-guard by their numbers, he remembered he really had wanted a fight tonight.  He spotted his thermos, debated for only a second whether or not to make it a quick fight, and decided that he'd grab it when he was done so that he could mop up.  Ectoplasmic sparks danced between his fingers, and he turned to the swarm with a grin.  Let's do it. - - -       "Looks like he's gonna bail," said Tucker, watching events unfold from the roof.  "Yep.  There he goes."       Sam groaned.  "I knew we should have put him in a time-out.  Wonder if we can at least drag him out to go see Terminatrix.  Maybe a matinee or something?"       "Don't count on it, dude.  Looks like he's - oh, nevermind, they're ganging up on him."       "Lemme see," Sam grabbed the binoculars without waiting for a response, giving them a brief focus adjustment and then frowning.  "You think we should go and help him?  Looks like there's kind of a lot - wait, no, I think you're right.  He left his thermos behind.  He's enjoying this."       "Told you."       Sam watched Danny fly around for a minute, hands ablaze with ghostly energy, and sighed.  "Yeah.  There goes the weekend.  Guess it's just gonna be the two of us."       "Two of us?" Tucker asked, "I'm only gonna sit through Terminatrix if you sit through Star Quest first."       Sam thought about it for a moment, noting with some distaste that the aliens in the Star Quest franchise weren't horribly scary - usually, just humans with antennae or pointed ears glued on - but then nodded anyway.  "Yeah.  Sounds fair.  Hey, check it out," she handed the binoculars back over to him.  "I think he lost track of a couple of them.  Maybe he's having too good of a time?  You think we should tell him to wrap it up?"       Tucker gave the fight below a glance.  "Yeah.  Probably.  If he spreads 'em too thin I bet he'll miss some when he's done.  Plus, that big one looks kinda mean and I don't want him to be on the wrong end of those teeth.  He's come close a couple of times already."       "On it," said Sam, reaching into her backpack for her walkie.  It was connected to the wireless earphones that Danny wore, and she hit the button on one side with her thumb.  "Danny.  Looks like you're having a blast down there but could you maybe keep it contained a little?  You're spreading it out more than you think you are."       "Sam?" Danny responded, floating up a little so that he had a second to answer her.  "I mean, you're right about how much fun I'm having - this is the first fight I've had all week!  It's like instant stress relief!  Hey, listen, I've been doing some thinking - it's about this weekend - "       Sam knew what was coming, but hearing him say it brought her temper immediately to a boil.  "Yeah, I'll bet it is," she snapped, "I've heard it all before, Danny, and we're done trailing along behind you every night for this.  Go on as many patrols as you want.  Fill up that stupid thermos as many times as you think is good enough.  Just do it by yourself.  We'll have your back on Halloween, but until then you're on your own.  Maybe if you get really lucky, we'll let you catch up with us on Monday."       There was a brief silence as Danny processed all that.  He'd known that Sam and Tucker had gotten the short end of the stick for nearly two weeks; he really had wanted to make it up to them, but hearing Sam lose her cool about it was like a punch in the gut.  Not only had she not wanted to come out here tonight - she and Tucker both had expected him to bail on them, he realized.  That was probably what stung the most.  When he finally found the words, he knew it wasn't going to be enough.  "Sam, I - I was gonna say we could go and catch - "       One of the mimics blindsided him.  He spiraled out of the air, descending through the asphalt of the street below and catching himself in a tangle of sewage pipes, and reappeared a moment later.  He turned his attention to the swarm of spirits around him, but part of him still couldn't focus.  Are they really going to ditch me?  He knew that it was time to wrap the fight up.  He still had to bring Sam and Tucker home afterwards; he'd talk to them about it then.  He could see them up on that rooftop - maybe I should have kept this fight a little closer together - and he knew they were watching him.  He'd lost track of the thermos, he realized, and floated higher in an attempt to spot it.  He didn't, and the swarm was beginning to converge on him now that he was up in plain sight.       Now serious, he aimed more carefully.  Most of the mischievous spirits weren't terribly robust, and fell with one or two shots; it was the leader he was becoming worried about.  He must have hit it at least half a dozen times, and it just seemed to make it angrier.  It roared, clawing its way up the side of a building, and leapt at him.  One of its jointed legs swatted at him, and it climbed up higher to keep up with him.       He hit it once, glancing briefly at the underlings below him, and it tackled him across the empty space over the street.  They both flew in a tangle of limbs into the side of the building on the opposite side, breaking through the bricks and snapping one of the old wooden supports clean in two, and he extricated himself after it nearly bit his head off.  He disappeared, splitting his attention as best he could between it and its horde of minions, and finally spotted the thermos by a storm drain two blocks down.  He swooped, grabbing ahold of it before any of the other spirits could catch him, and turned to finish the fight off.  The smaller ones were caught first, and he turned his full attention back to the leader.       The gremlin hissed at him, turned, and crawled upwards.  Its claws left hard scratches in the bricks as it went, and put out one of the windows about halfway up the structure.       Danny flew after it, thermos in hand.  He realized as it made its way up the side of the building that Sam and Tucker were up on the roof, and a wave of dread hit him.  "Guys, heads-up, you better get out of there - !"       The monstrous mimic clambered up the last floor and hoisted itself over the corner of the roof, scraping a handful of bricks out of place and baring the wooden beam that held up the corner of the building.  Under the monster's weight, it held for the moment but creaked unhappily.  Danny could hear Sam and Tucker both scream, and threw an energy blast to get its attention if nothing else.  It lurched forward, hit but not horribly injured, but wouldn't turn to face him.       Danny reached the corner of the roof just in time to see it collapse onto the top floor.  Bricks, wooden supports, and debris crumpled inwards, settling into a pile of rubble in the space below, and the spidery gremlin toppled down along with the rest.  He could see Sam on the other side of the roof, having scrambled away from the damage.       What about Tucker?       He panicked, blasting the giant mimic with a two-handed attack to get it out of the way, and dove into the rubble.  "Tucker?"       The ghost came at him again, and his control lapsed.  He turned with an inhuman cry, both his hands bursting into a crackling blaze, and the second he locked onto his target he let loose with something he didn't know he had.  The next thing he knew, the mimic had been utterly obliterated, and he'd taken out the rest of the corner of the roof too.  The dizziness of overexertion clouded his head, but he shoved it aside and turned back to the pile of rubble before him.  Without a second thought, he dove down and sifted through it as quickly as he could.  Hold on Tuck oh dear god please don't let him be dead -       He found Tucker under a splintered wooden beam.  He looked like he'd been half-crushed; one of his arms was bent the wrong way, and a piece of the split beam had lodged itself in his shoulder.  Fragments of bricks and debris had closed him in.  A wide splatter of blood covered almost half of his face; his nose had been broken, and he only barely appeared to be breathing.       "Tucker!" Danny cried, pulling the beam away from him in a blind panic.  He'd gone almost entirely numb, and hesitated even to touch him.  He knew this was his fault - still having fun, are we? - and the knot of dread in his stomach sharpened into a spear of guilt.  "Tuck, I - I'm so sorry - "       "Danny?" Sam's head appeared over the edge of the destroyed roof, "The hell was that?  I've never seen you go ham like that before - "       Danny turned up to her, pale and tear-stained.  "Sam, I - "       Sam's eyes widened as she realized what had happened.  "Oh my god is he okay - ?"       Danny, without words, shook his head.       Sam jumped down without hesitation, scrambling over the fallen debris and kicking pieces of the former roof out of her way.  Seeing him up close, one hand came up over her mouth.  She stiffened.  "Is he - is he breathing?"       "Yeah," Danny whispered, unable to manage anything other than that, "But - "       "We gotta get help," said Sam, her mind already racing for the least damaging solution.  Her eyes flicked to Danny, and her voice was suddenly sharp; she'd just assumed control, since she knew Danny couldn't take charge.  "Overshadow him."       "What - ?"       "You heard me!" Sam barked, "Keep his head up, if you can - but don't you dare twist him around - I'm calling the hospital - let them know he's coming - "       Danny turned back to Tucker.  He hadn't wanted to even touch him - dear god, he was just so fragile - but he did as Sam instructed.  He slid carefully into Tucker's body, and the pain hit him all at once.  Tucker had blacked out, but Danny felt it all.  It paralyzed him as his mind grappled to keep his focus; for a second, he pulled himself away, but he knew that Sam was right.  He forced himself to keep control, and slowly the pair levitated upwards.  He was aware that Sam was making a phone call - anything beyond that was incomprehensible.  He could feel exactly how close Tucker was to the edge; overshadowing him in this state was almost like trying to overshadow another ghost, and he didn't dare make his body twitch in case it would sway him over completely.       "Come on," said Sam, and it took Danny a moment to realize that it had been directed at him, "I told them we'll be there in five - it's just down the block, but - dear god, that's so much blood..."       Everything that happened over the next hour blurred together.  Danny kept Tucker together, but only barely; he fell out of him the second the medics took over, exhausted and reeling, and only re-materialized after he'd caught his breath.  He and Sam waited for almost three hours for the emergency night surgeon to come out, and not a word was said between them the whole time.  He'd been in tears the entire time.  This was because of him - Tucker might be dead because of you - and despite any and all efforts, he could think of nothing else.  It was unbearable.       Finally the surgeon met with them, and gave them the run-down on the damage: broken arm, displaced shoulder, three fractured ribs, cranial bruising - he got lucky his skull hadn't caved, he'd said - and anemic blood loss.  He asked, of course, how it had happened.  Neither Sam nor Danny answered that one.  He asked them if there had been any hard drugs involved, just so that he could keep Tucker medicated; they said there hadn't.  He asked if their parents knew about any of this, and they just exchanged looks.  He said he'd be making some phone calls, and that no one would be in any trouble if he could help it.  It's a miracle you got him here in one piece, he said.  Wonder how you managed to keep him together all this way.       I tell you - by all means, the base of his skull should have caved under its own weight.       Tucker's parents were devastated.  This had come seemingly out of nowhere - and in the middle of the night, no less!  They had both been prepared to blame Danny and Sam wholeheartedly for the incident - until the surgeon told them that it was because of them that he'd made it in at all.  They didn't tell me what happened, the surgeon said, but as far as I can tell, they knew exactly what to do about it.  They arrived ten minutes later, and Sam's parents arrived not long after that, but it wasn't until the Fenton RV pulled in that anyone got a coherent story.       Danny just sat, numb, for the entirety of the visit; it was Sam that ended up telling it.  She told them that they'd gone out hoping to find a ghost - it had been her idea, she said, and she'd convinced Danny to bring a Fenton thermos with him in case anything went wrong.  She'd admitted that they didn't really know what they were getting into, and she knew they should have been more careful, and that it really was stupid of them to go out like that.       Jack had been about to ground Danny forever on the spot; Maddie took the thermos, about to agree with him, but had changed her mind when she had a closer look at it.  It wasn't empty - far from it, in fact - and she realized just how long they must have been out there before the incident.  Jack, she'd said, grabbing his arm and giving it a tug, Jack, look - this thing isn't empty!  She concluded at once that they'd gotten in over their heads, but the fact that all three of them had survived was a feat in and of itself.  They'd barely escaped - but they had escaped, and caught nearly two dozen spirits in the process.  Still, Danny was forbidden from pulling a stunt like that ever again, and Sam's parents grounded her on the spot.       Danny found he didn't care.  Even after he was taken home, he didn't get any sleep.  The incident played over in his mind - I should have been faster, I should have paid more attention, I should have kept it closer together, I should have sucked them all up when I had the chance.       This is my fault.  Is Tuck ever going to forgive me?

      Danny skipped class to go and see him.  The receptionist pointed him in the right direction, but warned him: ten minutes only - he's still under a lot of medication.  Danny said that was alright.  He just needed to see him.  He understood why Tucker hated places like this; the too-white walls were nearly blinding, and the polished floors were almost insufferably bare.       He gave the door a little knock, but opened it anyway.  "Tuck?"       Tucker, only half-coherent, brightened.  "Danny, s'that you...?"       "Yeah, it's me.  Look," said Danny, letting himself in and finding an uncomfortable spot in one of the two chairs by the window table.  "Tuck, I needed to see you - "       "S'okay," said Tucker, with half a smile, "I missed you too."       Danny had to keep himself from tears.  "Tuck, I'm so sorry - I let things get out of hand, and - this is all my fault - "       "Danny," said Tucker, focusing as best he could given all the painkillers he was on.  He propped himself up on his good elbow, changed his mind about it, and leaned back down again.  "S'fine.  I'm not mad."       Danny fell quiet.  He refused to meet Tucker's eyes, and one hand clamped over the other in an effort to focus on anything that wasn't crying.  "You're just saying that," he said finally, "How can you not be mad, Tuck?  I almost got you killed - !"       "Dude," said Tucker, as forcefully as he could manage, "I swear.  Just...you gotta do something for me, okay?"       "Anything," said Danny, meeting Tucker's gaze.       Tucker's smile broadened.  "Save me some candy from Halloween, okay?"

[pcurrytravels]

Thoughts: New Orleans (Part III)

We first made our way across Rampart to Louis Armstrong Park. I was already excited as it was here where I laid eyes on the famed Congo Square. You see, under French and Spanish colonial policy, African slaves were allowed a day off. On this day, this was the place where they would gather to sing, dance, play music, make and sell wares and just keep in touch with their original cultural identity. A strange….happy feeling came over me as I walked around it. I would say hopeful even, and it’s not hard to see why. The Louisiana slaves were quite lucky to have a brief escape from their predicament such as this; you can’t quite say the same for slaves elsewhere in the south.

Anyway, after briefly stopping in Congo Square, we then walked over to the edge of Louis Armstrong Park……only to learn that said park was built over dead bodies. Apparently, the southern portion of it was originally the location of St. Peter Cemetery. In contrast to the above-ground tombs, crypts and vaults ubiquitous in the locale today, this was your run-of-the-mill, six feet underground-style cemetery. Given the region’s high water table, it was quite the morbid sight to behold when it was still in existence. Any time there was even just a little bit of flooding, the bodies would resurface, sometimes even floating down the street. Fed up, the residents of New Orleans insisted that they get a Catholic-style cemetery akin to the ones in France and Spain (being well-acquainted with the area’s disposition to flooding and hurricanes, you’d think they would have done this in the first place but I digress). So, in 1789, they got one, and it’s still in operation today. St. Louis Cemetery No. 1; the oldest continually-used cemetery in the entire United States.

A literal city of the dead, with 700 tombs, and over 100,000 burials. Okay, I’m sure you’ve gotten confused again, so here goes: The reason why there can be so many burials despite the limited amount of tombs is because the tombs double as cremation ovens. They never embalm anyone before burying them here; that way, the natural cremation process won’t be interrupted. Each vault is checked after an arbitrary period of a year and one day to see if the body has disintegrated into ash yet. If it has, then the ash is to be swept down a chute that has been installed into the back of each vault. Thanks to this process, each tomb can be reused an infinite amount of times. And let us be real here; this just makes SO much more sense than having large, sprawling fields of graves. After death, the human body will eventually decompose into dust anyway, and as the generations pass on, said person’s grave will likely have fewer and fewer visitors. At some point you’re just going to have empty coffins using up space. It’s a wonder why this technique isn’t utilized by more people; but there were some stubborn people who simply weren’t having it. More on that later.

Thanks to years of vandalism, grave robbery, gangbangers and drug dealers using the alleys to conduct business, and muggers attacking visitors (the now-demolished housing projects of Iberville used to be right next door if that says anything), you can now only enter this cemetery if you’re with a licensed tour guide or have been granted permission by NOLA’s Catholic diocese. It felt so odd having to show wristbands and identification to enter a cemetery of all places, but given all of the aforementioned issues, I can understand why. Then again, this was a strange and odd place. There was just something so simultaneously beautiful and eerie about weaving in and out of these pathways and alleys between tombs. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind the place is haunted AF.

One place where things get even creepier (or utterly hilarious, depending on your interpretation) is in this little corner deemed the “American Section.” Remember what I said about some people not being down with above-ground burials? Yeah, this is what I was talking about. The backstory goes a little something like this: After the Louisiana Purchase, Protestant Americans started flocking to New Orleans in droves, despite the fact that most of them detested Catholicism (again: what is this logic?). Naturally, they perceived the Catholic way of laying the dead to rest as an abomination and insisted on being buried underground. Even after receiving explanation of why that was a bad idea, they still didn’t care, so when the time came, they were buried in the Protestant fashion of six feet under, with heavy concrete slabs atop their graves to prevent the bodies from resurfacing.

The concrete slabs worked, but only to an extent. Whenever heavy rains and the associated flooding occurred, the underground water would still penetrate the grave. While the heavy concrete on top did prevent the coffins from resurfacing, said coffins would still rise up and loudly bump against the concrete (………could you even imagine hearing something like that in a CEMETERY?). Catholic parents used this to tell their frightened children to be good Catholics, lest they wish to be restless in death like the noisy Protestants in the corner. Eventually, Protestant burials were moved to Girod Street Cemetery, that cemetery now being underneath the Superdome (no wonder the New Orleans Saints are cursed). Interestingly, despite being designated as a Protestant/American cemetery, the former Girod cemetery also had above-ground tombs and vaults. I’m guessing the Americans learned their lesson after the fiasco at St. Louis. Anyways, moving on.

Something of note is how, eschewing Protestants/early American migrants, the cemetery was never really segregated. French, Black, Mixed-race, Italian and what have you were dispersed throughout the entire plot of land equally. It did have “sections” but they were never strictly enforced. Example: Marie Laveau (a free person of color in her life) was interned in the Glapion crypt (a prominent white Creole family). Oh yeah, that’s right, Marie Laveau!

Arguably the most famous tomb in all of St. Louis No. 1, for years upon years, people would leave offerings and write “XXX” before putting their hands on the vault and praying to it. It’s even long been alleged that her spirit inhabits a crow that can be seen perched atop said crypt at night. Because of that, this particular tomb used to look a mess with old candles, rotting flowers, Mardi Gras beads and other sorts of junk all over the place in addition to being covered in scribbles of XXX. That’s all been cleaned up in recent years, and the only thing anyone’s allowed to do these days is bring flowers. A necessary move, because not only was all of that disrespectful vandalism, but none of it actually worked anyway. This little ritual was not Voodoo of the Louisiana variety, but of the Hollywood variety……something Marie Laveau indirectly created herself.

In regards to Marie Laveau’s life, not much is known with certainty (though it must be said that American Horror Story: Coven wasn’t even close to accurate). It’s said she had fifteen children, but the only ones much of anything is known about are three daughters, also named Marie, who looked identical to her. General consensus is that her day job was hairdressing, but there’s also evidence that she worked as a liquor importer, in addition to claims that she was a matchmaker and/or the madam of a brothel. She was known as being a devout Catholic with a strong sense of justice and charity for her community, regularly nursing patients of the infamous yellow fever back to health and posting bail for jailed Blacks. Ironically (and disappointing if it was true), it’s alleged that she may have had a slave or two herself despite how much she championed for fair and equal treatment (sadly, it wasn’t uncommon at all for free people of color to own slaves back in those days, especially in Louisiana).

One has to wonder just how much of the mystery was intentionally created by Laveau herself. After all, when she divorced her first husband, a man by the name of Jacques Paris, she called herself his “widow” even though he was still very much alive. Apparently, she took the divorce quite hard and her reasoning was that he was dead to her. Coincidentally, several months later Paris DID turn up dead, and the circumstances surrounding his death were very mysterious (seeing a pattern here yet?). Everyone in town insisted that she must have predicted his death, even though she was shocked by the news herself. Her reaction? She just went along with it. And thus the legend was born.

During the early/mid-19th century, Laveau was probably the most popular woman in town. People came from far and wide to her home on the corner of St. Ann and Burgundy in the Quarter, in hopes of her using her powers for good fortune, be it in wealth, relationships, lawsuits, business or a number of other matters. Now, she was quite competent in Voodoo of course, or else she wouldn’t be officially sanctified as a Voodoo Queen, but as far as her practice with the Creole elite of New Orleans is concerned? She was basically a fortune teller. Being a hairdresser to upper-class women put her in a prime position to hear a LOT of gossip and rumors. If Miss Robichaux told her all about Mr. Delacroix having an illegitimate child with his Quadroon mistress over in Marigny, then she would know exactly what to tell Miss Delacroix when she stopped by to ask for marriage counseling.

Laveau had no qualms about passing the torch either. There was one daughter in particular who would regularly make a spectacle of her rituals on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain, inviting all to stop by and watch. Interestingly enough, she wouldn’t address herself as Marie Laveau’s daughter, but as Marie Laveau herself. And in spite of her significantly younger appearance, it worked, leading some to allege that the OG Laveau was immortal. Whether this was part of her mother’s instructions or not is unclear, but the myth was only further amplified after her death. Mere days after her burial, either Marie II and/or another one of the alleged lookalike daughters would begin to regularly emerge from her home and go about town, dressed head-to-toe in the same manner as their mother, and claimed to be her. This explains the rumors that swirled around for years after her death that she was still alive.

Regardless of what’s fact and what’s fiction, one thing that’s for sure is that Laveau-Mania never died. Our tour guide, Dartanya for those who missed it in the first post, told us that the cemetery tours have long been plagued with people who were only there for Marie Laveau. In frustration, many tour guides would pick some random tomb and claim it was hers, and people would perform the phony ritual on it and everything. This has led to a number of tombs called “Faux-Laveaus,” with “XXX” scribbled on them. I spotted about five myself.

Aside from Marie Laveau, there’s a number of notable people also buried in this cemetery, including, but not limited to: Homer Plessy (of Plessy vs. Ferguson fame), Ernest N. Morial (the first black mayor of New Orleans), Barthelemy Lafon (noted architect in 18th/early 19th century New Orleans who was in cahoots with the pirate Jean Lafitte) and possibly Delphine LaLaurie (more on THAT woman later *shiver*).

Another thing of note is that the cemetery is slated to be the future resting home of Nicolas Cage (the cemetery is still in operation today, remember?). He has a large pyramid vault smack dab in the middle of the cemetery that’s impossible to miss. Strangely enough, before the recent crackdowns, just like Marie Laveau’s tomb, his future tomb had a little ritual of its own. Apparently, girls were kissing it for good luck which is weird because…….he’s still alive? And his religious background is Catholic? And he’s still alive? And he’s a has-been actor that’s been plagued with financial problems? And he’s still alive? And who on Earth told you to do that? And did I mention that he’s still alive?

One hour and enough sweat to fill a bucket later (for some reason the cemetery is ten degrees hotter than the rest of the city), it was time to go and I must give my compliments to our tour guide, Miss Dartanya. It was truly a pleasure listening to her talk, even making the heat slightly more bearable. She was very thorough and informative without ever being boring, backing up her facts with examples and adding lots of humor as well. If you do any tour through French Quarter Phantoms, I highly recommend requesting Dartanya as your guide. When I visit New Orleans again, I plan to do the same myself.

Of course, I had to ask about the second most famous burial site, St. Louis No. 2. A number of early Jazz and R&B musicians as well as slightly more recent notable figures in New Orleans history were entombed there. However, very few tours go through there because, in comparison to No. 1, it’s a longer walking distance from the French Quarter, hasn’t been kept up very well, with an even worse vandalism problem and has a rather unsafe location to boot. You see, as already stated above, both cemeteries were located on the fringes of a notorious public housing complex known as Iberville. Not even tourists visiting the cemeteries were safe from the rampant crime in the area; with No. 2 having it even worse due to having a somewhat more isolated and hidden location in comparison to No. 1.

In 2013, most of it was demolished in favor of a mixed-income development called Bienville Basin, and the neighborhood is much safer now as a result, although caution should still be exercised. Interestingly enough, I did see one building of the former complex which still stands, being protected by the National Register. Even more interesting is how, before Iberville came into being, this plot of land used to be Storyville.

The city’s official red-light district from the 1890’s to the 1910’s; in a locale already known for sin and debauchery, this was an interior island where the morals got even looser. Judicial loopholes were exposed that allowed prostitution and recreational drug use to be legal within the 38 blocks that made up the district. There were numerous brothels side by side, from fifty cent joints or “cribs” housed in Creole cottages to the lavish, high-rent mansions on Basin, all of which had white, black and quadroon/octoroon girls offering their services. The saloons and restaurants in the area were also early hotbeds for the then-burgeoning sound of Jazz.

Thanks to being a close neighbor with Basin St. Station (it’s been said that prostitutes would stand on their balconies to wave and blow kisses at train passengers……….while naked), many New Orleans residents began to protest the presence of Storyville. The then-heavy Navy presence in the area brought even more tension. The scandal that emerged when several servicemen from the local base turned up dead within the district definitely didn’t help matters in the slightest. Eventually, under intense federal pressure, Storyville was formally shut down as a red-light district in 1917. It still continued on in a more sanitized capacity well into the 1930’s however, with a small number of speakeasies, casinos and brothels still operating undercover until it was all razed in favor of Iberville. Very little of the district remains today aside from a few buildings which once operated as saloons, but operate today on more benign terms (Lulu White’s old saloon in particular is now currently occupied by a grocery store). Well, unless you count Basin Street Station.

Although its days as a train station have long since passed, the structure has found new life as a time capsule of New Orleans history. On the website it’s termed as a “welcome center” for New Orleans, and it definitely fulfills its purpose in that regard. Oh, it’s also free. Within, you’ll find small exhibits about Jazz, French and Spanish colonial history, Afro-Creole/African-American history, Pirates, Mardi Gras, Hurricane Katrina and several other topics in addition to a gift shop. After leaving the cemetery, we came in here to cool down from the humidity before requesting a shuttle to Mardi Gras World. Stay tuned.

[murasaki-murasame]

I wasn’t exactly planning to spark on the Valentines banner in GBF, considering how recently I did my last spark, and how close we are to the anniversary, but then V-Aglovale’s uncap art happened, and that kinda pushed me past the point of no return, lol.

I at least managed to get him [even if it took a full spark], and tbh this feels like it was probably the luckiest spark I’ve had thus far, all things considered, but let’s just say that I don’t recommend anyone try and do the ‘bingeing as many side-stories and fate episodes as possible to do a spark’ thing since it’s just absolute misery, especially if you have to do it over the course of like three days.

Anyway, there’s a lot to say about what I got along the way, lol.

I don’t really wanna get too much into the specifics, but I did have to do several paid summons to actually finish the spark, so that sucks, but if I had managed my time better I could have done it almost entirely F2P, since even after it all I still had a good amount of side stories and fate episodes left. I just ran into the issue of not having the time to actually do all of them.

I don’t remember the exact order I got everything in, at least in terms of the dupes and the summons, but going by my adventurer list sorted by recency, here’s a roughly chronological list of what I got from this banner.

- Fire Yuisis

- V-Scathacha

- Light Sara

- V-Monika [three times . . . ]

- Earth Vaseraga

- Soriz

- Hades [two times, lol]

- Summer Zooey [!?]

- SSR Zehek

- V-Melissabelle [three times again . . . I laugh to hide the pain :’)]

- V-Grimnir

- V-Clarisse

- Fire Yuel

- Jeanne [her OG version, not her Grand version]

- Light Gawain

- V-Aglovale from the spark itself.

I also got Surtr, Rose Queen, Quetzcoatl, and Owlcat along the way.

Oh, and I also got V-Teena and V-Narmaya, but they’re SRs so that’s less surprising.

Aside from the dupes of the Valentines units that I got, the only gold moon I got was Illnott, which I think is now my third copy of her weapon. Even though I actually have a lot of SSRs at this point, basically all of the ones I got in this spark were brand new. And even with gala rates I think I got notably lucky with my SSR rate as a whole. Counting dupes, Not counting V-Aglovale, I think I got around 25 SSRs. I dunno what percentage that works out to exactly, but it’s definitely somewhere between 6% and 10%. The quality of what I got is probably more noteworthy than the quantity, but still.

I should probably regret this a lot more than I actually do, but the fact that it turned out so well makes it hard to feel that bad about it, lol. I didn’t have any of the Valentines units before this, so the fact that I managed to get all but one of them from a full spark feels really good. I dunno how much I’ll actually use some of them, but I’m at least going to try and use Aglovale as much as possible, lol. 

I know V-Grimnir is really good, but I already have OG Grimnir, and it sounds like V-Grimnir really needs certain tools that I don’t have yet in order to truly shine, so I don’t think it’s worth investing in him at the moment, but in the long run it’s nice to have him in my collection so I don’t have to worry about trying to spark or annitix him in the future if I decide he’s worth investing in. For now I guess I’ll just use him as a skin.

V-Monika seems like a good character, but I feel like earth is my most competitive element at the moment, so it’d be hard to justify investing in her. She’s at least a more potent battery unit than C-Magisa, but that seems to be the main thing she has going for her.

V-Clarisse seems really useful, but mainly for the sorts of hard, lengthy raids that I’m not really strong enough in general to tackle just yet, so she’s another character that might sit on the backburner for a while.

V-Melisabelle seems like she has her niches, and I have a soft spot towards her since I used her wind version for a long time before I got better characters, but I feel like this spark in particular really expanded my light roster in ways I didn’t expect, so it’d be hard to fit her in.

V-Scathacha seems like an interesting flame healer, but she seems kinda risky and high-maintenance, while the Lumberjack + C-Nemone combo feels extremely comfy and safe in comparison. She seems good for enabling enmity, which Fire Yuisis could really benefit from, but from how I think Scathacha’s skill works, I wouldn’t be able to just use that skill on the same turn as Fire Yuisus lowers her own health, since they’d just stack together and immediately kill her. It seems more like a way to get her back into enmity range after she heals herself back up from it, so that requires more specific timing. But it’s worth considering.

And on the note of Fire Yuisis, I’m really happy I got her here, since she honestly would have been high on the suptix priority list otherwise. I have some good flame attackers, but she always seemed really appealing as a unit, and the recent New Years event rerun made me like her as a character.

As for V-Aglovale himself, he seems like one of the strongest Valentines units, so I think he was worth sparking for that alone, at least. Aside from the obvious reasons that primarily made me spark for him, my light roster feels really weak [which is probably more of a grid issue], so the idea of him being a really strong attacker really appealed to me. He’s also a sword unit, so that’s convenient, and he synergizes nicely with De La Fille. He maxes out his crest stacks super fast anyway, but at least she helps him get there a little faster, lol. I still might end up going with Aglovale / Lucio / Feather, though. Feather was my last spark target, so I’d rather not boot him off my team so quickly.

If I had gotten Aglovale near the end of my spark, I probably would have sparked Grand Jeanne, so it still kinda hurts to have gotten her OG version instead, but oh well, lol. I dunno if I’ll use her since I have so many other options now, but she seems good. I might still spark Grand Jeanne in the future, but I’m also kinda interested in Grand Cag and Grand Noa.

And continuing the trend of me getting more new light units than I expected, I also got Light Gawain, and he’s basically in the same position as Fire Yuisis where I might have suptixed him later on if it wasn’t for this. He probably would have been a higher priority than her, honestly, so this is also a relief. It’d be kinda hard to fit him onto my light team at this point, but it’s nice to have him.

Oh and I also got Light Sara, lol. I almost forgot. I dunno how much use I’ll get out of her, but it sounds like she definitely has places where she shines.

After looking into what his kit’s like, I probably won’t ever use Earth Vaseraga, but it’s nice to have hiim. It’d be nice if you could use him as a skin for VasZeta, since I’m still planning to annitix them, but apparently you can’t. I can see why, but it’s still kinda lame.

Though on the other hand, I’m really happy to get Soriz. I feel like I’ve gotten a billion new earth units in the last few months, but he’s another unit who I was really hoping to get at some point, so this is nice. I haven’t gotten to the V2 raids yet, but it sounds like he’s extremely useful there, so hopefully he’ll make those a bit easier once I get to them.

SSR Zehek is kinda meh since at this point I have enough good dark units, and I’m planning to recruit Seox relatively soon, so he just doesn’t really have a place in my team, but getting more new SSRs is always nice.

Fire Yuel was a real surprise to get, but it’s good to have her. I’m not super familiar with how she works, but I’ve heard that with her uncap she’s a really good flame buff unit, which is nice since at the moment I feel like C-Nemone is my only real option, and she takes a while to ramp up. I think I also got Fire Societte a while ago, but sadly I don’t think she’s worth using, lol.

Anyway, I think the real star of this whole spark was probably Summer Zooey, who I managed to just randomly pull. I’m like 99% sure she wasn’t even on rate-up. At least now I feel way better about my previous choice to spark Orchid instead of her a while ago. I still feel kinda iffy about enmity as a mechanic, but I can tell that it’s going to be extremely useful in the long run just to have her as an option to use if I need her. She’s definitely one of those characters I might have eventually sparked for meta reasons, so it’s nice to get her on the side like this.

I also somehow got two copies of Hades in this spark, which is kinda funny. I don’t really have any interest in switching to primal grids in any element any time soon, but it’s nice to have these summons for the future. Funnily enough I got my first Hades in the same tenfold as Summer Zooey, which felt like the game making up for not giving my many dark units or summons before this, lol. I think it’s still my element with the fewest SSRs, but at least I have a lot of really strong ones.

My initial plan before all this was to keep hoarding a spark for the anniversary in the hopes of maybe getting Vajra, but I don’t regret choosing to prioritize this banner. Valentines units are a lot more limited than the zodiacs are, and I wound up getting almost all of the Valentines units. It’d be nice to be able to spark Vajra right before water GW, but honestly I’d only really be chasing her for meta reasons, so it wasn’t very hard to convince myself to chase after a character that appealed to me more instead, while also being a good meta pick. I also just don’t really want to replace anyone on my current water team, lol.

Hopefully I’ll get some good luck on the anniversary roulette summons, but I did this spark knowing that it meant giving up on the chance of doing a full spark for the anniversary, so I’ll just have to take what I get from it now.

So yeah I think this was actually a pretty insane spark, in terms of both quantity and quality of my SSR pulls. Now i have to reap what I sow and deal with the first world problem of now having lots of new characters I want to level up and use, lol.

[echelonlab-blog]

Interview with Hazeleyedleto

Your URL:

Hazeleyedleto: https://hazeleyedleto.tumblr.com

Echelon Fiction (fanfic account): https://echelonfiction.tumblr.com

Your name: Monique

Link to your Masterlist: https://echelonfiction.tumblr.com/mystores What was your first experience with 30 Seconds to Mars? The Kill, when I was an 18-year-old, how amazing was your first time seeing the Kill? Your Favorite Mars song? Attack Has anything ever happened to you solely because of being a 30STM fan? I met my best friend <3 What is your favorite thing about the fandom? Your least favorite? Fav: no matter what I know there is always going to be a place where I fit in, I’ve never had that before Least: The bitches who think they're better than other bitches, and the daddy kink Is there any advice you would give to someone who is new to the fandom? We’re obsessive, protective but not all that bad, the bad eggs are few and far between but they are loud, try to ignore them How long have you been writing? 18 years. Why did you start writing? (Either in general or for Mars specifically) When I was 12, I had so much stationary that I didn’t know what to do with so I started one story. . . then another then another. Still, have too much stationary but am a writer so its okay Do you write for other fandoms? If so, which ones? Depends, I Like writing the Linkin Park guys and Bucky Barnes, but whatever inspires me really Do you share everything you write? If not, is there a reason why? Hmm, no. I only really share mars stuff, my non- fanfic stuff will be turned in to novels and my non-mars related stuff I don’t really have a platform to do so on. Have you written things that aren't fanfic? If so, could you tell us about those works? Many, my writing is 50/50 fanfic vs Fiction. My latest novel that I finished a couple of weeks ago ended about 85k words is about angels and demons and a prophecy that will either unite or destroy them all Of all your works, which is your favorite and why? Iridescent – (mentioned in above question) because it’s the novel that took over my whole life and kept me hostage until I wrote it from beginning to end rendering me with Stockholm syndrome to the point that I still miss them Stand Tall, They’ll Break Your Heart – first novel I ever finished. and Bright Lights – I’ve never had such a positive response from anything I’ve ever written and get yelled at because I don’t update often enough Is there one that was particularly difficult to write? Why? They’re all difficult to write. I write very emotionally driven novels, they can be draining as I take on the characters at such a personal level that I live what they tell me in a way, I’m crazy, ignore me. What is the ideal writing environment for you? At your desk? Quiet? Music? Anywhere anytime, I usually write sitting on my bed, but can literally write anywhere in any environment. Prefer loud music and a comfy place for my butt What type of fanfic are you most comfortable writing (drama, fluff, angst, drabbles, series, etc.) Mushy series filled with drama What is your favorite fanfic trope? I don’t know what that is but I THINK my answer is dramatic chicks being involved with music or rock bands Is there any trope or subject that you won't write? Daddy kink? Are there any special tools that you use when creating or writing your story? My fingers!? My stories are often inspired by songs or video clips or something like that J Do you write your story in order or do you jump around and then string it together at the end? Sometimes, especially with fanfictions. Like with Bright Lights (my biggest Mars fanfic) I have four future versions, but the reason I do that is to better understand them in the ‘bright lights’ version. Do you outline, or do a great deal of prep work or do you 'fly by the seat of your pants'? Up until my novels Attack and Iridescent I ALWAYS prided myself about being a pantser, but I really enjoyed being a planner for those two novels. How do you usually get your inspiration? Music and Video clips, sometimes dreams and other places. Do you have ideas on the drawing board or in progress currently that you haven't shared yet? Yeah, Beautiful Disaster, my bff would kill me if I wrote it though, but I have another one in the holster I am thinking about starting April 1st If you have an unpublished work in progress, please pick two to three sentences and share them without context. “Armani,” Stephanie smiled, “I trust you are well?” Mike looked between the two Angels as the embraced in a slight hug and a kiss in the cheek. Stephanie stepping back between him and Chester. “Of course,” Armani smiled. “I’m betting this isn’t a social call?” the other angel asked. “No, Armani, this is Chester and Mike,” she said pointing to the demon who owned the names. “I’ve come to make a request,” Stephanie said looking to Armani from under her eyebrows, trying to gauge her reaction. Her face was poised, it always was, but the mood in the room changed, it was now tension filled. Armani was no fool, she knew this angel was standing before her with two demons. “You will need to-” “I am a direct crown descendant ” Stephanie said. “You are also standing her with two demons,” “And you are breaking the rules,” “yeah but” “If I was willing I could turn you into ash, right now,” Stephanie pointed out. “and I would be in the right,” she told. Armani held her gaze. “now, are you going to follow the rules and grant me my appearance for request, or am I going to have to take care of things another way?” Stephanie’s lips curl upward Armani’s lip curled downward as she turned slightly. Do you like requests? Would you like more or less of them? I haven’t had any, but would be happy to take them. Is there an upcoming project from you that you are excited about? Why, and what can you share about it? I can’t wait to edit and Publish Iridescent The best piece of writing advice you've ever received? Can never pick just one Put your butt in a chair and your hands on the keyboard and something will happiness. Writer's block is just an excuse, write anything even the crap, it can always be changed later And, Aim to write every day, even just for 15mins per day, get in that habit and you will find you self-finding 5 mins or 10 mins slots more often then you realise The worst piece of writing advice you've ever received? I don’t know. Wasn’t important, was it? What piece of advice would you give to someone just starting to write fanfic? Give it ago, see how if feels, you don’t have to share it, just try. Three (stories, series, scenes, etc) written by others that you really like or that inspire you? Closer – partcually Tomo in this story, even though the whole story is fucking amazing and Black Fuel and Bikes @fyeahproudglambert Provihitofics had a story about camping, it was great she doesn’t fic no more tho

Are any of your characters closer to being “you” than others? Any reason in particular? Hmmmmm, yes I guess. The characters are all like different parts of me, Phoebe is an angry psycho which is a part I never get to express often, but there are parts of her that are not like me. Same with Helena being independent to some extent.

One thing about me is I like to find things I have in common with people, if I look hard enough, it could become obsessive.

Are any of your characters based on someone you know? Hmm a lot of my male characters look like rock stars if that counts. Are any of your plots based on something that happened to you? No, but one day Favorite font for writing? Don’t have one Do you have a 'day job'? If so, what? I am a student studying Bachelor of Social Science (psychology) with hopes to get good enough scores to get into Psychology. I am Also an Author and a qualified Mental health peer worker. Do you consider yourself a reader outside of fanfic? Yup, Your favorite book? Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson Your favorite things to do when you're not writing? What does ‘not writing’ mean? .  . . nah I like to watch Safari live, see my niece and nephew, explore the wild and hate on frogs The strangest thing you've ever eaten? My brothers used to make me eat grass stalks, oh oh CAVIAR I got told it wasn’t Caviar, it was freaking caviar Looks at @Fyeahproudglambert Two truths and a lie? I hate frogs, I’ve never met my best friend, I love the feel of fallen out hair Five albums you'd want if stranded on a desert island? Cant I just take my Spotify? I actually don’t think I can answer this? I don’t just listen to albums all the way through, . .  . This is war (plus attack and the kill) LLFD Breakaway kelly Clarkson Hybrid theory A thousand suns Something surprising about you? I have a really good memory And I usually come off as pretentious and up myself, because I am highly critical of things and probably way too opinionated, but I am actually a really nice, loyal and caring person who just wants to do good and help as many people as I can Favorite food to enjoy while watching Netflix? Anything, maybe a packet of sea salt chippies. Favorite way to spend a Saturday night? Writing Blankets Tucked or Untucked? Right side untucked, left side tucked Do you have any pets? Would you like to tell us about them? Dog, Ella - She shares my birthday, Sasha – not my dog, my brother's dog but I grew up with her and am temporarily looking after her, Cats: Ollie, Angel, Sully. I got Ollie first (After my cat Joel died) and then my brother got Angel (she was being mistreated somewhere else) Ollie and Angel bonded n such a human love type way, and we decided they could not be separated, so I got Angel too, guess what though, 9 month old cats can have babies, Angel had three Kittens, Lucky, Sully and Heat, my brother kept heat, I kept sully and Lucky went to a loving home J Musicals, yes or no? If yes, what movie/show would you like to see made into a musical? No, thank you Tell us a joke. Mars fans who hate and bitch on everything the band does Are there any particular battles or struggles in your life you'd like to tell us about? Hmm, I mean I am an open book with the things I have been through, and am happy to talk about them at any time, there are many things from abuse, abandonment, isolation, major depression, self-harm, suicidal ideology, my brother was recently in a coma ,my mother’s cancer journey, my heart issues, social phobia, PTSD, horderism and crippling self-doubt and anxiety, to tell the short story. While some things still plague me, I find all of it also drives me to make my life better, and t do the best I can every day. Life struggles are hard, but they also enrich me to not only help people in my ‘day job’ but to help me write richer stories. Anything you'd like to add? You guys are doing a great job. When I started Echelon fiction, this is kinda what I wanted it to be but I never had the drive to pull it off, I love how innovative you guys are being and changing things up getting your followers involved, its really cool! Good job, keep going