#crosshatching until my hand falls off

[quona]

Scaling New Heights 🏰Towerziraphale & 🐉Dragon/Snek Crowley! --- --- ---

This is my piece for @contritecactite's FANTASTICALLY WEIRD AND WONDERFUL fic, Scaling New Heights (Explicit; AO3) in the GO Fairytale Bang!

In the story, Aziraphale is a sentient magical tower, and Crowley is a middling nobleman who is cursed, on the run, and in desperate need of shelter.

I decided to illustrate the very first scene where Crowley, unwillingly in snake form (that's the curse!), finds a lonely tower in the middle of a field with a window slightly ajar, and decides to slither on up.

If he’d heard three days ago that there would be a coup, he wouldn’t even have thought himself important enough to chase, but here he is, running through the woods and trying desperately to keep ahead of his pursuers. Red hair had never seemed like much of a blessing until now, but the gloaming and the autumn foliage work well together to keep him obscured when he stops to breathe. He can still hear them, not far behind, and he knows he has to keep moving. He’s not running for very long, though, before the foliage runs out and he finds himself exposed in a massive meadow. The expanse is surely too long to cross. His fear, previously calmed to a dull roar, flares up at the realization that he’ll be caught, and then he is no longer running but slithering. There’s nowhere to go. There is low grass as far as he can see. He can’t hear the crowd behind him, but the ground shakes with their footsteps. They can surely see him, a massive dark shape caught in the rising moonlight. He changes direction, hoping they’ll all just keep going in a straight line, and then he sees it: a tall tower half-covered in vines. His body seems to carry him there instinctively, and once he’s circled the tower, the only way he sees to go is up. He finds the side that, as far as he can tell, is the farthest from where he started, and he begins his clumsy, wobbling climb up the rough brick. His haste makes it chafe against his sensitive belly, and he has to remind himself to keep going every time he realizes he’s left the ground entirely—how do snakes even work? He’d have paid more attention to them if he’d known he’d be in this position someday—but he makes it to an open window and slithers inside. He drapes himself across the cool floor, exhausted. Just as he begins to fall asleep, he feels his body change back to its usual form, and he hears someone tut at him. “Silly creature. I do have a front door, you know.” Scaling New Heights (Explicit; AO3)

[wreckedandpolemic]

wet - george daniel

(mdni) another request for u all thank u lovely anons

warnings: 18+, unrealistic unprotected shower sex, praise, literally just straight porn from the get go, BARELY proofread

The girl in the mirror smiles at you as the robe slides off your shoulders and crumples on the floor. You smile back, licking your gaze up her body, white-toed feet tracing up to calves and strong thighs, your cunt nestled between them. Hips and stomach and ribs and tits and shoulders and jaw; all the soft, pretty curves of your body. Steam curls out of the shower and you step under the spray, tipping your head back and letting the water run over your face. You trail your hands over your body, squeezing the flesh of your breasts and pinching a wet nipple just to feel that quick sting of pleasure-pain. You play with yourself like George would, all sharp nails and digging fingertips. 

You graze your clit quickly, whimpering. You clench around nothing, feeling the emptiness of the room and your cunt like a physical ache. Dipping a finger in yourself, you cry out for George. It feels off. Your fingers are too small, the pads too tender, the stretch not half as euphoric. Still, you shut your eyes and pretend. Pretend you’re leaning back against his wet, toned chest, that he has one hand buried in your wet curls and that your fingers are his, teasing and delicious. You rub your thumb in slow circles over your clit, waves of pleasure spilling over you, tracing the wet rivulets down your body. You cry out for him again.

“Can I help you?” teases a low voice you know all too well. He’s home, you think, heart swelling, mind registering his voice before you even react to his presence.

“Oh, God, I missed you so much,” you whimper, not slowing your motions at your clit. “Come in here, touch me, please,” you beg, biting your lip, imploring him with your best bedroom (or, shower) eyes. His gaze rakes over you, prickling your skin. He admires your tits, flesh spilling out from one of your hands where you pinch your nipple, then drops to where you thrust your fingers in and out of yourself in a poor mockery of the way he fucks you.

He pulls off his shirt in one fluid motion, hands fumbling with his belt buckle until he can kick off his jeans and boxers at once. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, half-hard, and a pulse of want throbs in your belly so thickly it almost hurts. George steps into the shower, immediately crowding you against the tile. Your head knocks against the wall, wiping your mind of everything but him. His breath warms your lips, so close that it’s torturous until finally, finally, he closes the gap between you. Dizzy, you lick into his mouth, clawing at his shoulders, your nails scraping a crosshatch of desire into his skin. His hands roam everywhere, unpredictable. He uses one to pull you flush against him and takes a handful of your ass with the other. “Missed you too,” he says, a dopey, lovesick grin lighting up his face.

“How much?” you tease, breathing the words into his mouth.

“Why don’t I show you?” he murmurs, lowering a hand to circle your clit. The shockwave of pleasure that ripples through you is so intense and immediate that your legs almost buckle, grasping at him to steady yourself. You whine and roll your hips forward, chasing the sweet feeling of George’s hands on you. “You want more?” he asks, smiling faintly at your frantic gasp of agreement. You choke on a moan as he slips two of his thick fingers inside you and you clamp down on it like a vice, rutting against his hand mindlessly. “That’s it, beautiful. Fuck yourself on my hand. Shit, I love you like this, so pretty and wet for me. My fucking girl,”

You nod. God, you fucking love being reminded that you’re his. ��Yours,” you confirm, reaching between your bodies to grasp his cock and revelling in the staccato breaths that fall from his lips as you pump him slowly. His fingers fill you divinely, every quick thrust bringing you closer to God. You indulge yourself in him for a few more long moments, the warm shower spray and the sweet pleasure buzzing in your limbs melting the tension from your body, then take hold of his hand to stop him.

“I wanna come on your cock,”

George stops breathing for a second, then his face breaks out in a dirty smile. “Is that right?” he asks, sliding his fingers out of you and sucking on them without breaking eye contact. “God, I fucking love the way you taste,” he says, taking your face in both his hands and kissing you hard. Your eyes roll back at the taste of you in his mouth and you kiss him like a starving woman, messy and harsh. He grips your thighs. “Jump,” he instructs, but you pause.

“I’ll fall,” you warn.

“I’ll catch you,” he promises, and you melt for a second, because you know he will. He always does. God, how you fucking love him. You jump and he pins your back against the wet tile, steam curling around your bodies. “Good girl.” His hands dig into your thighs, nails biting crescent-shaped divots of love in your skin and you wrap your legs around his back.

“George, please,” you whine, sick with desire. He doesn’t have it in him to tease, remind you to be patient — he’s desperate too. He lowers you onto his cock, and you scream. Pure pleasure wipes you clean, hot and electrifying. Your cunt throbs when he bottoms out, the familiar fullness almost enough to make you come on the spot.

He fucks you hard, chasing his release. There’s time for slow, loving reunion sex later. Right now, you’re both wild, sprinting full-force to your orgasms. Your cunt squeezes tightly around him as he hits that perfect spot inside you over and over, white euphoria burning behind your eyes. You’re past words, moans and grunts echoing off the tiled walls of your bathroom. “Fuck, I’m gonna—” George gasps into your mouth, cock pulsing inside of you, cum spilling out of him for what feels like an impossibly long time. One of his hands leaves your thigh to pinch your clit, and that’s all it takes. Your world shatters, head detaching and leaving you floating. You come and come and come, body shuddering. Molten euphoria rushes through your veins, your heart pumping you full of it. You’re headless, weightless, boneless, an explosion of heat and light and love and feeling, your body only existing where his skin touches yours.

You come to slowly, floating, whimpering when he pulls out of you. George kisses you gently, supporting you when you set your shaky legs on the ground. “Welcome home, darling,” you murmur, smiling against his lips. You feel warm inside and out, sure you must be glowing with contentment.

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” he promises, voice rough with sex.

You wrap your arms around his neck as he tangles one of his hands in your wet hair. “Is that so, rockstar?” you tease, pressing against him, roaming soothing hands over the marks your nails have left on his skin.

“Mhmm,” he confirms, his eyes never once leaving yours. “Love you, baby.”

Your heart swells, lovesick. “Love you more,” you promise, then press your shampoo bottle into his hand. “Now, will you wash my hair?” He smiles, squeezing shampoo into his hands and working them into your hair. A moan falls from your lips as he massages your scalp and you let your eyes flutter shut, the heat of the water and the pressure of his hands lulling you into a blissed-out state. You think this must be what heaven feels like.

[skepwith]

Where Is the Revenge’s Toilet?

In ep 1 Stede gives a tour of the Revenge that includes the “en suite,” a small room with a toilet and some kind of bathing bucket. But we’re never shown where on the ship it is, exactly.

Stede of course has a bathroom next to his cabin, but from what we can see it only has a bath, no toilet.

So does this mean Stede uses the en suite along with the crew? Not necessarily! On navy vessels of the period, the officers used toilets in the quarter galleries—the enclosed balconies that stick out on either side of the stern. Presumably this is because of the way they hang out over the water, so the waste can fall straight into the ocean.

Right: “Seat of Ease off the Captain’s Quarters” by Robert G. Hewitt © 2020.

On the Revenge, the port gallery contains Stede’s bed, but there are some spaces around it that could maybe house a toilet. The starboard gallery is a mystery: yes, secret passage, but also maybe toilet(s)?

As for the crew, there’s the time-honoured tradition of just pissing over the rail, but in heavy weather you might lose your balance and fall overboard. By the 1700s ships were built with a pissdale, a basin or trough placed just inside the low walls around the main deck. It acted as a urinal, funnelling the urine off the side of the ship. I can’t say for sure the Revenge has a pissdale, but it seems like something Stede would include. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jim figured out a way to use it too, maybe with an 18th-century P-Mate.

“Pissdale on Deck of Ship” by Robert G. Hewitt © 2020.

But of course this wouldn’t do for, ahem, solid waste. Below is a 1728 diagram of a ship’s toilet, labelled “necessary seat” (14), also called the “seat of ease,” as in the earlier illustration. It’s located in the ship’s head (or beakhead), which is why the word head came to mean toilet, as in “I’m gonna hit the head.”

The deck of the head was also partly open—slatted rather than solid—to let the waves in to rinse everything out, which is why toilets were usually placed just above the water line. Here’s the beakhead of the Swedish warship Vasa from the 1620s, with two box-like toilets. You can see the remains of a seat on the right-hand one.

As for the Revenge, it makes sense to put the en suite in the head, somewhere where the toilet can open directly over the water. Let’s look again:

Left of Pete there’s a vessel with a handle sitting on a small barrel. This could be a scoop and a covered bucket of seawater for “flushing,” i.e., sluicing the inside of the toilet with scoops of water. This only makes sense if there’s somewhere for the waste to go; if the toilet was a stool with a chamber pot inside, you could just rinse it out when you dumped its contents.

Also, look at the right-hand wall. It’s decorated with moulded panelling (carved squares), which seems pretty fancy for a toilet room. Unless it’s a continuation of the fo’c’sle’s front wall.

I was very proud of this theory until I noticed the panels don’t match. Alas.

There’s also a noticeable gap in the toilet room’s right wall. It could just be the door, but my theory is it’s an open gap to make room for the bowsprit higher up the wall (see diagram below).

Another piece of the puzzle is the pattern of light and shadow against the walls. We don’t see any other shadows like it (except in the “ball room,” which is another post). It doesn’t match any of the gratings we’ve seen, which make a crosshatch pattern, nor does it line up with the ship’s railings. Does this matter? Well, look, someone on the film crew had to cut out that shape and stick it in front of a light, or however they do it, to cast that specific shadow, so I’m guessing it points to something.

My first guess was that the light here is shining through the railing around the head, which is a different shape from the ship’s other railings. If the head’s deck isn’t solid—like on historical ships—the light could be coming from behind the railing and shining through the slats.

But…the deck of the Revenge’s head looks pretty solid, as far as I can tell. Still, we haven’t seen the entire deck…

Just leave me my delusions, okay?

So, finally, here is my new improved diagram of the head:

Is it accurate? Who can say. It’s really all headcanon at this point.

(Sorry.)

[sunset-peril]

Successors - Prologue - The Back of One's Mind

“I must tell you… It’s been a long while that I’ve been tryin’ to muster up the strength to come here.” A brown-haired Hylian woman, figure normally gleaming in arrogance, filled with solemnity. Her horse’s hooves clicked on as they traveled the Necluda path, the woman’s grip weak on the reins from some other force. 

“I get that a lot, from people coming here to pay their respects. Even ninety years later… it's still a tragedy. That’s why I offer myself to people wishing to come. My final allegiance to Her Highness… to watch over her remains.” Her companion, an elder Sheikah, whispered. It was obvious he had not been in his home village in a very long time, he spoke more like a Hateno villager than a Sheikah, and did not wear the traditional garb of such.  

“How is the Castle?”

“It’s still holding up. It’s been safer, though. I think the safest it ever was… would have been about thirty years ago.” 

“Astounding…” She looked up and was graced with a sweeping landscape, covered in the remains of autonomous, possessed soldiers surrounding a large stone structure that had seen better days. Eyes began to burn as she looked down at her horse’s mane. The party became silent as they veered off the trodden path that drew closer to the structure. She knew they were near the site when three of the soldiers, arranged in a tower, all faced the same direction.  

She’d heard about her kingdom’s fall of course, the ruins taking up the majority of Central Hyrule didn’t need anyone to teach their story, and she was nothing if not filled with rumors. However, when she gazed upon that patch of grass, the reality of that day ninety years ago came rushing in. 

She could see them, surrounded by the flames of their fallen kingdom. The knight was essentially torn to pieces as he broke his silence to shriek his agony into the night. Crimson blood spewed from his near-slit throat in a sickening current, also bubbling up from his chest. He grabbed her hand, even in the pain; his blood smearing on her. His dying eyes glanced into hers with only fear for her life. Her Highness whined in similar pain, and although the Hylian woman fought to keep the rumors from this moment, the Princess reached for her pregnant stomach before moaning once more. She was nearly crosshatched by her wounds and, should the rumors be true, tensing and grunting as she tried to force her child's birth. The knight cradled her against his gushing body, cooing softly as his breaths became weak. The Princess didn't make another noise, she went limp in his arms just after he did. Footsteps quickly approached moments after they passed, two Sheikah knights found them, tried to wake them up, then shrieked in agony upon finding them dead on the bloodstained plain. 

“Traysi? Miss Traysi?” The woman’s Sheikah guide prodded her back to her world. “It’s a sacred place indeed…” He mused when she turned a responsive head back to him. “so many people are sent right to the heart of the Calamity…”

“My… vials… please.”  

“Of course.” The Sheikah reached into the sack on her horse’s neck, pulling out three small vials of water each labeled with the symbol of one of the Golden Goddesses. He tenderly slipped each vial into her hand, the glass clinking as they slid apart and back together. 

Traysi looked back at the grass that had taken hold of her just moments before, slipping the corks out of the vials. Each vial had water from one of the sacred springs, and she had gathered them to anoint the site. First was the Spring of Courage, Fayroe’s spring. This was first because it honored both fallen. Next, the Spring of Power, Din’s spring. Last was the Spring of Wisdom, for the Princess could not ascend the mountain until the day of her death. With the anointing of this land, may the spirits that fell upon it be blessed with everlasting peace. May the spirits that fell here be free from any worldly captivity, to return to the side of the Highest Goddess Hylia by this blessing from her fellow goddesses. Let the sacrifice raised here never be forgotten, and reveal to us the truth of the Holy Princess and Chosen Knight so that they may not be tarnished by our unknowing state. Bring us peace in their absence, and bring them peace in our ignorance, and may their afterlife lead the life they should have been granted: together, enveloped in love, the same way they were created in that sacred temple below the sky oh so long ago… 

As the final drops of the Spring of Wisdom’s water fell upon the grass, Traysi returned from her prayer; clutching the empty vials to her chest. “When I was younger, my father told me about his encounter with a Champion Survivor… someone close to one of your fallen warriors, my princess. I was captivated that there were people, real life people, who experienced the Great Calamity. Ever since then… I’ve wanted to pay my respects. However, no one knows where you or your Champions are buried… all we know is that you and Champion Link passed away here… and it’s taken many years before I could come… but here I am.” She bowed deeply, though not letting her knees touch the sacred ground, before shedding a tear and turning to head home. 

“Welcome, travelers. May I sing you a song?”

Traysi and her Sheikah companion whipped around to see a young, blue-and-gold-macaw-like Rito with an accordion that was a little too big for him. He flew over the Guardian tower, a hopeful expression on his face. “My teacher, the court poet for the Royal Family, recently passed away. I would like to follow in his footsteps to sing for the ones who come to honor the Princess, Knight and Champions. I believe I have a song for you, one Her Highness would find pleasing; may I sing for you?” 

“Sure… it would be a nice closing to my respects.”

The small-ish Rito smiled gently, then glided down and perched on a nearby rock. “Thank you, kind travelers.” He took his accordion and began to play.

 Here on this sacred plain  

 Two travelers made their way 

 Through both the sun and the rain 

 To arrive here and say 

 "Thank you for that day 

 when you threw your life away" 

 I shall be here by your side 

 Through each of death's frozen nights 

 Standing here alone 

 I never thought I'd be this close 

 To this place, where legends forever rest 

 Beyond the day and the night 

 Resting along Hylia's side 

 No greater love has found its depth  

 Than this place where two fighters lay  

 Princess and her Knight 

 An eternal sacrifice  

 Two souls still searching for peace 

 Their destiny still awaits 

 Heroes lost in the fray 

 And then the light shall return! 

The Rito opened his eyes as his accordion’s final notes played. “Thank you for listening to me. I will leave you now, if you would like.” 

“Thank you, Rito.” 

He smiled. “The name’s Kass. I wish you peace in your travels.” As quietly as he appeared, Kass ambled towards Hateno Village. 

Traysi and her Sheikah companion prepared their horses for their journey. 

“I wonder what he means…” The Sheikah suddenly mumbled.

“I believe he was referring to us, Synten.”

“No, no, at the end. He said ‘Two souls still searching for peace, their destiny still awaits.’ How could their destinies still lie ahead of them if they’ve been dead for decades?”

She blinked, stopping mid-bridle. “You’re right… Could it be possible…?”  

Edited - 04/14/2024

[jasminejstone]

Birds of Paradise

An original work.

Part 1, Departure

Past mountains, more mountains, veiled in night, deep-salted in mourning, deep-watered with blood, that is the place where we, benign in our great mercy, in silent song lay– naked, gaunt– our bones become our story. Man's impulsive mind, promptly seduced by the promises of fleeting pleasures, his ideal of discipline self-torture and deprivation, his mind misdirected toward worldly delights– hunting pleasure, the hunter's game has no end. There is nothing more repulsive to our kind than that of the undisciplined in lust. When he looks to his own duty and does not tremble before it, when he realizes, suffering and joy are equal for him, and he has courage, only then is he fit to see our bones rise again. Until then, we sleep. Until then, let the sun rise over our shadows. There is no test more deceptive for a warrior than a battle of desire, and no task more forbiddable than the conquering of the self. 

The Last Leviathan, Aīlara Vestovy

Her eyes were like pools of silver, two moons that danced above me as she thrust her body against mine; a pummeling sea of pleasure. Her hair was wet, drops falling from black strands that smelled like cinnamon and sweat and bodies intertwined. The tepid drips fell onto my cheeks, into my eyes and between my parted lips. Froth and foam filled our ocean as we stirred into a fragile fury, an erupting current of exhilaration. 

She leaned in and kissed me, and my tongue danced with hers. I could taste apricot juice, the honey I'd spooned into her mouth on the balcony. My hands were rough on her figure, digging into the curves of her outline with aching impulse. I wanted more of her. I wanted her to fill me, set my body aflame. I wanted her to speak. I tore my lips from hers. 

"Tell me," I whispered.

"Tell you what?" Her eyes were dancing.

"The story."

She smiled. Pearl white teeth edged at her lips. "Magic," She resumed her thrusting motion, skin on skin, skin submerged. "Was the leviathan. And the leviathan was power." Her voice made my skin tingle. "She who controlled the leviathan controlled the world." She spread my legs further apart, her thighs crosshatching verbatim with my own. "Amara hatched the egg of Kannis the Black. She raised him, and she mounted him. Amara rode him to the edges of the world, destroying all who stood in her path. Many men tried for her life, and for her hand." She grinned with pale, purple lips. "But Amara bent for no man. She was embodied by power, made of magic. She was a kotessa." She slid along my fringes, wrapping her hand around my mouth, growing in pace and feminine force. A wave of pleasure exploded through my legs and up my spine. I trembled and quaked, watching our bodies envelope in the mirror beside the bath. She was beautiful, but not as beautiful as our two figures intertwined together. My hand shot from the small of her back to her jaw, and then I was on top. The water splashed around us and trickled over the sides of the copper tub. I was a shadow dancing in the mirror, and her body was aglow. 

The jitters had gone. I was satisfied. "You can go."

Her smile flickered. "I haven't finished the story." 

"I know how it ends." I stood, and the water cascaded from my bare body. I watched the folds and creases of my skin in the mirror as I straightened myself and stepped from the water. All I could see were bare breasts and all below– the image cut off before it reached my face. "Take the back door, the way we came in." I wrapped myself in a black cotton blanket. I drained the water from my face and bistre hair. 

"Yes, Princess," she chirped. She took her time rising from the tub, her back more hunched than I remembered it. I dressed and did not see her go.

I didn't lace my back wrap. I slumped to a pile of pillows and closed my eyes. The pleasure always had a way of making me feel less full than before, like I'd taken a bite of something juicy and delicious only for it to turn to sour air inside my mouth. It made me want peace, want to fill the empty feeling clogging my insides. 

I thought I'd try meditating. I sat in silence, my body still gently convulsing from the fire that she had filled me with. I waited for peace to come, or silence, or some kind of consultation, but the silence only made me more restless. She who controlled the leviathan controlled the world. I huffed heavily and flicked the wet strands from my face. 

I grabbed a piece of black-gold paper from the floor– small pieces scattered around the stone beneath my bed. I folded it into a bird's shape, exactly the same as the hundreds that hung from my ceiling, and from my windows, and the ones not yet strung with beads, perched and strewn across the cold stone. I finished it in ten breaths and threw it into the pile of others. 

The leviathans had been gone for centuries. Their nests in the Echosi mountains had grown cold and abandoned, their sightings had folded into myth and legend. Everyone agreed; the beasts were dead, if they had ever truly lived, and magic with them. 

I had once lost a diamond smaller than an ant on a ride through the mud by the Moon Lake. I had searched through the reeds and black sands for a day and a half. I still wore that necklace on every special occasion, every diamond intact. Who was to say I couldn't find an egg a hundred times that diamond's size?

Once I'd laced my back ties well enough I blasted through the doors of my chambers and turned to the guards.

"Send for Lady Valya," I told them. "Tell her I fancy a ride."

We rode out over the hills as the sun began its slow death behind the jagged mountains. I rode my midnight stallion, Valya rode her white. We passed blackpines and floorferns, dappled yellow in the hour of gold. 

Two guards trotted behind us, nothing but stone faces.

I drew in a deep breath of Echosi air. It was warm, but not humid. Filling, but not heavy. It was invisible perfection. 

"You look different." I glanced at her glassy hair and neat robes. Valya was always well-trimmed, but tonight she looked abnormally lustrous. "Dressing to impress a special lord?"

Valya's lips flitted. "Just dressing for the journey."

"That one looks promising," I said, as we neared the edge of one of the mountains where a cave darkened in its side. We had taken a new route that led us farther north, through the forest edge, to the cliff faces where we had not yet ventured. I kicked at the sides of my midnight and it galloped forward. 

Valya hopped prudently from her horse and followed me to the edge of the mountain. Her long hair was frazzled and speckled in bramble seeds and brush, and she was panting, her cheeks flushed like peach blossoms.

The peaks loomed heavy over us, ancient shadows aglow in the fading sun like ghosts. They had seen kings and kotais rise and fall, magic birth and die, and had seen everything before and would see everything to come. I envied them. I turned when I realized Valya's footsteps were not behind me. 

"Come on!" I cried, through the dampness of the cave. It was dark and I could see no more than obscure silhouettes and muted shapes, but my voice reverberated around the black walls, calling me in. 

"Aīcho, what are we doing?"

"We're birdwatching." 

Valya let out a worried noise. "We ought not to be riding so near our departure. We are to meet your father at the ship before sundown."

My breath felt cold.

"There will be birds in the White City," Valya continued.

"Not my birds." Deeper still, I plodded into the cave.

"I saw a girl leaving your chamber."

I reached my hand out, and it touched cold stone. I'd reached the cave's end. 

"You ought to stop with these things, Aīcho, it's unbecoming for a princess to be..."

I had trudged back to the opening. Valya had not ventured past the grass' end. "To be what?"

She turned her eyes down. "Nothing."

"Are you going to help me search?" I demanded.

"Aīcho, magic is dead. We are both ten and seven now, we are women. Don't you think we should stop with this?"

I glared at the lines of her face. She was pitifully pale and frigid and shivering. 

"There's nothing here," I said.

A rider galloped to the tip of the hill as we marched out of the cave, armored and gruff. "It is time, Princess."

"We are coming." I mounted my midnight with a staunch kick. "No birds here."

My canter turned into a gallop, the wind grasping my hair like I was flying as I raced ahead of the others. The wind chased away my bitterness for the empty cave, and I vowed I would search the entirety of the northern mountains when I returned from Vilitia. 

Valya whimpered as we reached the docks and alighted from our steeds, picking flecks of earth off her dress with a sour expression. 

I laughed. "You can't see mud on a black dress."

"The stains are still there," she countered. "Even if you can't see them."

"Stars," I tittered, wiping at the splotches myself, barely distinguishable in the silky fabric. 

Valya's rosy lips drew inward as her eyes retreated to the ground. "Your mother was upset you didn't come to the Charis' lesson."

I trudged up the bridge to our ship. 

"I told her I would teach you."

"There's no need!" I guffawed. "My father is going only for treaty work, and I to sit in on council meetings– and for lessons with Jovan VyKratt, the finest piano master in all the isles. We'll have no time for their absurd Southern customs."

Valya sighed, looking up to the evening indigo that was strangling the last of the sunlight. "I think you're going to have to learn to listen better in the city. The southerners don't like bossy women."

"We are the most powerful family in the isles," I snapped, rounding on my heels. "We have our customs and they have theirs, but they will listen to me."

A contortion of pity swam in Valya's eyes. "Aīcho..." Her mouth twitched.

I wrinkled my brows. "What?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "Your father."

He stood in cool wait atop the deck of the ship, stroking his graying beard and chewing on a wad of greenleaf. "My fig," Father cooed as I strutted up the bridge. "You're not dressed."

"I am dressed." I gestured to my long garb– layers of silk plum and indigo with black pleats beneath all the wrappings. It was not unlike the usual dress I wore any other day. 

"Stars above." I tracked his eyes to my muddy boots and soggy skirt hem, and to the trail of muck that had chased me up the bridge. He let out a thick puff of greenleaf-tained air, filling my nostrils with the bitter aroma. I coughed. "Where have you been?"

"Birdwatching."

He narrowed his eyes as Valya pittered up behind me. She curtseyed, wobbling.

Father growled and turned back to the men loading the crates and boxes. I tried to listen to what he was saying, but his voice was drowned out by Garson, who came barreling into my side with a book in his hands. 

"Aīcho!" he whined. "Where is Demidarus?"

"Ow!" I shoved away his scraggly frame. "I don't know!" I scanned the deck for the white zim, but he was nowhere in sight. "Do you really think it's the best idea to bring a fire-breathing cat onto a wooden ship, Garson?"

My brother huffed and turned away. "Demi!" he called. "Demi, here!"

Valya was still struggling to catch her breath from the ride.

"Thinner dresses make for easier running," I said. 

"I'll leave the running to you," she groaned. "And the painting and the piano and the politics. Just leave me to rest." She hobbled over to the violet cushions that had been placed beneath the sun shades on the deck. "Away from the water." She pawed at the red jewel that hung from her neck. A gift from her mother– she'd never removed it in all the time I had known her.

I sat beside her, looking back at the black beaches of Echos and the jagged mountain peaks that loomed darker than the near-night sky. 

"We'll be back in no time at all," I murmured, as a blanket was draped across our laps by a serving man. I picked a few brambles from her hair. 

"Thank you," Valya said to the man, tucking the blanket up to her chin. She snuggled her skin into its softness, letting me preen her as the sky grew dark and the bridge was removed from the deck. She leaned her shoulder into mine. "To the White City."

The journey took less than three days. Valya was miserably seasick for the better part of the trip, and Mother and Father remained locked in their chambers, leaving only for meals, of which we all took silently. When I asked father when the meetings would be taking place, what our stance was on the war's borders, or when my lessons would begin with VyKratt, he claimed simply that we would discuss the matters once we arrived in Vilitia and that the ship had given him exhaustion.

Garson found Demidarus and spent all his time below deck stroking the little white cat, reading his history of botany aloud to the squirming creature until it managed to escape his grasp. Demi did stir up trouble, but spent more time catching mice and bugs than trying to set the wood aflame.

I sat at the piano on the covered part of the deck beside the violet pillows and pile of blankets, passing the time with song and watching the waves, especially at dawn or dusk before it grew too hot and bright to be outside or too dark to see anything but the moon's reflection on the water. 

When Valya did find her appetite, we would sit together on the deck of the ship laughing at juggling jesters, gawking at the Ibian contortionists, or waiting for small isles or white city peaks to pop up from the horizon. We drank apricot juice, snacked on fruits, and ate mostly bread, butter, and honey– the only foods Valya could keep down.

"How do you do it?" I asked a kogi when she produced a thick, curving sword from thin air and slid it down the throat of one of the contortionists behind her. The dancer twisted into a backbend, bringing her legs onto her head from behind, and when she arose, the sword was nowhere to be seen, until the kogi pulled it out from her own ear. "Magic without magic?"

The woman smiled, her lips curved like the blade she held in her spidery hands. "Magic is everywhere around us. It never died. But man has grown blind. Sword, skin," she spoke slyly in a thick Northern accent, twisting her vowels early. "It is all just sugar cubes to the tongue, Princess."

I scowled. 

Her red lips quivered. "All sugar is sweet." She turned to Valya, who had been eyeing the horizon, clutching a cup of warm tea to her stomach. "Our next act is better performed without cover. Does the princess permit removal?" Her eyes moved to the black-haired, blue-eyed contortionist beside her, brushing her fingers across the golden wrap holding her top in place. 

I chewed on the tip of my tongue. "Whatever best serves the performance." 

The sun was reaching for the horizon, and the heat of the day was still thick around us, thicker with every hour. I turned to Valya, whose look had grown gaunt and distanced. She was pinching the red jewel so tight in her hands that its golden chain was eating white lines in her skin. 

I shifted as the kogi began to undo the other contortionist's wear. "I've changed my mind. That is enough for now."

The woman bowed her head and removed her hand from her counterpart. 

"Thank you for your performance–"

"Kogi Aīlisi," responded the woman, releasing the dancer and bowing her head slowly. "As you wish, Princess." 

"Valya?" I brushed her shoulder and she flinched as if waking from a dream. Her eyes wandered over the ship and the dancers and my face.

"I think I'll get some rest, now," Valya said, pulling the blanket away. 

"You are dismissed," I told the dancers. 

The woman feathered Valya with a narrow glare as she hobbled away with her tea. "A snake stowed away with the beast," she whispered with a half-smile.

I crinkled my brows. "Dismissed."

Again, the woman bowed, disappearing with the dancers below deck.

THANKS FOR READING! :)

[silvereddaye]

Sith Empress Shmi WIP

Summary: In a galaxy where the Sith Empire rose far earlier, Shmi Skywalker has killed Sheev Palpatine and taken the Sith throne. It would be perfect except that her son, Anakin, has run away and joined the Rebellion and claiming he’ll become a Jedi. Now after three years of being a successful Rebel general, Anakin Skywalker has been captured and brought before his mother. 

-- -- -- -- -- 

Shmi Skywalker stood in front of the tall wall made completely of windows. It gave an impressive view of Coruscant’s skyline. The sun had just set and there were still a few streaks of orange and purple in the sky though most of it was covered by towering skyscrapers and the crosshatching lines of traffic. 

The room she stood in was large and bare. There was nothing in here. No chairs, tables, or even drapes on the windows. It was an audience room, nothing more and nothing less. The only things in here were herself, the view, and the darkness as the only light came from the city. 

She was one for theatrics like her predecessors. She would do away with them completely, but she couldn’t completely get rid of them. For one, it was expected. And two, it did serve as a reminder of who was in power here. There was nothing more or less in this room. Only herself, the darkness, the city, and the stars beyond. All of it was hers. She was the empress. 

She stood tall with her chin held up high. She was dressed in black leathers with deep crimson and sapphire accents and details. A lavish cloak was draped across her shoulders, chest, and down her back with durasteel pauldrons on her shoulders. The cloak could be easily tossed aside in case she ever needed to pull out her two lightsabers. Her entire outfit was made to be moved in. She never wore anything she couldn’t fight in. 

Would she need to fight? Would she draw her lightsabers?

No.

Surely not. 

It was another several minutes before the door opened and the sound of boots approached her. She kept her back to them as she stared out the window even as troopers came to a stop. They dared not be the first to speak, which was smart. 

Shmi ever so slightly turned her head and in a voice rich with authority she said, “Leave us.” 

There was hesitation in the troopers, she could sense it. They were unsure if they should leave her with the prisoner, especially this prisoner. He was the most wanted man in the galaxy and most dangerous. But they were smart troopers. The hesitation only lasted a few seconds, before they turned and walked away leaving the Empress alone with the man. 

She could hear him. He had slumped to the floor when the troopers let go of his arms. His breathing was ragged. He was injured. He hadn’t been taken easily, but the problem was he had been taken. He didn’t make mistakes like that. He didn’t get caught. Despite the injuries, he had let himself be captured. Let himself be brought before her. 

Why?

Why now?

After three years, why had Anakin Skywalker, her son, decided to return?

He had been nineteen and deeply in love with that senator when he had followed her to the Rebellion. He had thrown away everything she had ever given him. He denounced himself as the crown prince and as a Sith. Said he was going to become a Jedi of all things and help the rebels.

She believed him foolish in leaving her. Alas, if only he was foolish in everything else. The truth was her son was brilliant. He was a genius engineer, an amazing pilot, a masterful military commander, and extremely strong in the Force. None of this surprised her. She knew from the moment she learned she was pregnant that her child would be different. He would be special. 

It was annoying that his brilliance was being used against her and the Empire. Anakin Skywalker was just the piece they needed. He complimented the other key players of the Alliance and brought out the best in them. Over the past three years, the Alliance had gained in strength, numbers, and support. They had secured several victories over the Empire, all of which Anakin was present for. 

And no matter how many bounty hunters or Sith she sent to bring her wayward son home, Anakin always managed to slip away. Until now. 

What had changed? 

Slowly, she turned around and looked down at the prisoner who sat on his knees staring up at her. 

It took everything in her to keep her face even and emotionless because inside her heart was breaking. 

It was her son. Her Anakin. The reason why she had run away from the Sith Order when she learned she was pregnant. The child she had birthed and kept hidden for years on the run. He was the reason she found other Sith to rally to her cause. He was the reason she killed Darth Sidious, the former Emperor, and take his title. 

He was . . . her son . . . and she had missed him every day. All she wanted to do was fall to her knees, wrap her arms around him, and pull him tight to her and never let go. But she couldn’t. She was the Empress and he the rebel general. 

He was face was bruised and scuffed up with dried blood. His long hair was slick with sweat. He now had a scar next to his right eye given to him by Ventress when she had gone to try to claim his bounty. 

She had expected anger-filled eyes and insults hurled at her and long rambling arguments about democracy. None of that was there. Nor any sign of the young Sith apprentice he had been before he defected. He had been young, cocky, and a bit arrogant who liked to joke. 

But this man . . . this Anakin Skywalker . . . was broken. 

His blue eyes were watery; his body slightly trembled. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight to her, but she had never expected to see this in her son. 

“M-- mom,” he stuttered. 

The air rushed out of her as a dozen needles stabbed her heart. Her hands tightened into fists and her lips slightly turned downward, but that was the only outward signs she gave to the turmoil inside of her. 

“Please,” he pleaded, no begged. “Help me. Help me save Padme.”

Ah yes, Padme. The woman he had run off with. The woman he had married. The woman that had stolen her son. Though if there was ever a woman worthy of Anakin’s love, it would have been Padme Amidala. It was a shame that such a woman worked the Rebellion. Even more of a shame it was the woman that had Anakin’s heart. 

“I keep . . . I keep having visions of her dying,” Anakin said. “She’s pregnant.” 

Oh. Oh. 

Her spies hadn’t reported this to her. How far along was she?

“Every vision I see her dying in childbirth. Mom . . . I can’t . . . I can’t live without her. Please, help me. Save Padme’s life.” 

The silence that followed was thick and heavy. They didn’t move. Gold eyes met blue for several long moments until finally, the Empress sighed. She slowly lowered herself down to her knees so she was at the same level as her son. 

“Of course, I will help you,” she said softly. “But you must know, I will only do this for my son. My heir and prince to my empire.” 

Anakin’s gaze was unwavering. He already knew what the price would be. He wouldn’t have asked her otherwise. She wasn’t going to help him and let him go back to running wild, especially with her grandchild. 

He closed his eyes and a few tears streamed down his face. “I know,” he whispered. 

[missroserose]

I was tagged by @lovetheirloves to find the following words in my WIPs: think, breath, blood, hand, window.

I don't actually have a lot of individual WIPs that I haven't either finished or abandoned, so most of these are going to be from When the Waters Start to Cross...but I did dig up a couple half-written Supernatural fics I haven't yet given up on.

Think

Sam considers stonewalling, but—Dean’s thumb is stroking along the tiny feathers at the top outer corner (the alula, his brain supplies, though he’ll be damned if he can remember where he learned the term), and it sends sparkling shivers down his spine.  And if they really do have time, if they’re not in any danger of disappearing, or discovery…he shuts his eyes again, tries to remember flying.  Thinks back to the feel of it, even if the details are frustratingly vague.

Breath

Steve digests this. Tries to keep his voice quietly curious without sounding overly pitying. “Do you want to go back? Find him?”

Billy sucks in a breath, looks away. Steve wonders if he’s pressed too hard; if Billy’s going to clam up on him, laugh it off, throw a punch. But then—“I used to think so. Dreamed about heading out on my own, just taking the Camaro and driving until I got back, finding his friends, tracking him down. But lately—“ He shakes his head. “I remember his eyes. Hazel-green. And the sound of his voice, teasing me, whispering in my ear. But nothing else, really. I’m not sure I’d even recognize him if I saw him on the street.”

Blood

“Which is precisely why you fascinate me.”  The edge bites into Sam’s skin, deep enough that he stifles a grunt; he watches with sick anticipation as his flesh parts beneath the blade.  “You are unique, Samuel Winchester.  And I am determined to make use of you.”  One line, drawn from mid-quad down towards Sam’s kneecap; Michael moves the blade a quarter-turn, and with two careful flicks of his wrist, adds two perpendicular slashes, one at the top, one a crosshatch towards the middle.  The blood wells up, begins to drip; the corners of Dean’s mouth turn down, and he makes a sound of displeasure.  He stands, leaves the light; returns a moment later, holding a rag and a brass goblet, which he sets to catch the drops of blood.  The corner of the razor gouges a serif, struck through the top line, and Sam realizes it’s an Enochian letter.  Un.

Hand

Steve’s body leans forward, presses a hand against the webbing, the barrier, watches it deform around his fingers. He can’t even brace himself, can only silently scream no no no as his body leans forward, as he feels the webs gradually stretch and part beneath his weight, as the tree takes him in, inch by inch, until—

With a snap—

Steve is falling.

Window

Awake, now, Steve spends a few minutes contemplating Billy’s face. In sleep, lit only by the sidewise glow of streetlamps and the waning half-moon shining through the window, he looks so much younger—looks every bit the teenager he is. The faintly-visible discoloration at his jaw, the scratch across one cheek, should make him look tough; instead, they only seem to emphasize his vulnerability, the fragility of this physical shell that usually houses such a determined fire.

--

That was fun! Tagging @twobrokenwyngs, @bubblegumbitchdean, @skybound2, @ihni, @introvertia, and @applecrumbledore—I'd love to see your snippets! Your words are: dance, cloud, anger, flower, and bite.

[mangamushi]

Thoughts on Panorama of Hell

 (HINO Hideshi, 1 volume, 1984)

(warning for spoilers and disturbing topics)

In Panorama from Hell, a painter obsessed with depicting hell takes the reader on a journey to discover his life. His work, his neighborhood, his family members and family history are presented to paint a bleak and violent picture of hell on earth.

Hideshi Hino is a very big name of horror manga. Panorama of Hell is one of Hino’s most famous and acclaimed manga, and represents in many ways the quintessence of his style. When he draw Panorama, he thought it would possibly be his last horror manga (he didnt actually stop after that, though).

It displays all his favorite themes and even blatantly recycles ideas from his previous works. It is therefore is a very good entry point for anyone interested in Hino’s stuff. One the other hand, it feels a bit redundant when you are already familiar with his work, especially if you have read Lullaby from Hell, as both manga are very similar. 

As the title suggests, Panorama takes place in a hellish setting, described in great details by the main character.  He is a painter who uses his own blood to paint, and the world he lives is horrible in many ways: from his window he sees an execution platform operating non-stop, a stream full off trash and corpses runs next to his house, he lives in the smell of burning bodies because of the next-door crematorium... 

These first few chapters are so insistent on being as abhorrent as possible that I found it hard to take seriously. In the beginning it felt so exaggerated and lacking any subtlety  that it almost felt a bit comical at times, like the author was just stacking awful things on more awful things for shock value.

“his daily routine”

And it keeps escalating from there. Next, his family is introduced: cruel children with a dark sense of curiosity, a beautiful wife who seems straight out of a classic japanese horror tale (pale skin and long black hair, wearing traditional clothes...), until we go back in time to witness the story of his grand-parents and parents. 

It gradually becomes more interesting, especially the part about his family which shows deeply ingrained violence and insanity getting passed down from a generation to the next. It culminates when historical events (WWII and its aftermath, the atomic bombings) are shown, intertwining with the painter’s personal story.

Different kinds of hells complete each other (ambient with initial setting and scenery of desolation, a more personal hell with the intra-familial violence, and the wider-scale historical hell of war).

Overall, I find Hino less imaginative than  fellow “horror masters” Junji ito and Kazuo Umezu. Those two can come up with the craziest ideas, whereas Hino’s scenarios and imagery are somewhat more expected/conventional for horror. 

But perhaps the most interesting part of Panorama is the way it blurs the borders between reality and fiction. First of all, the main character, an artist who specializes in depicting horror, acts as a stand-in for Hino himself. This is fairly common in his work, his other manga Lullaby from hell even has an extremely similar character overtly present himself as Hino: 

The artist from Panorama is making his last, best painting, just like Hino who was thinking of ending his mangaka career with his strongest work.  Both the painting and the manga share the same title, “Panorama of Hell”. 

 The similarities between Hino and his main character don’t end here, and many elements of the story are actually taken from Hino’s own life: his grandfather really was a yakuza, his brother went into a coma, his father was pig farmer with a tattoo on his back...

Just like the painter, Hino grew up in the context of the direct aftermath of WWII. Both the character and the author were born in Japanese-occupied China, and were nearly killed when their family fled back to Mainland-Japan after the country’s loss. He takes inspiration from his own life and in the traumatizing things he witnessed and lived through to draw his manga. It is hard to discern what is fiction or not in the painter’s story. Many elements are obviously fantastical and folklore-ish, like the beheaded ghosts visiting the wife’s bar (this chapter feel like a tone-shift, it is much more whimsical, with the corpses happily eating their own body parts), yet the references to real historic events like the war and Hiroshima bombing still links Panorama of Hell to reality, to our world. 

The painter’s insanity makes him an unreliable narrator. Indeed, at the end of the story, the current members of the painter’s family (his wife, his daughter and son, his brother...) are revealed to have been fake all along : the wife and children are a mannequin and puppets, the brother is a pig’s corpse...

Moreover, by having the painter address the reader directly (”let me show you...”) Hino breaks the fourth wall that should separate the world of fiction from reality.

 This culminates at the very end of the book, where the painter throws an axe at the reader to kill them.

Hino’s art style is really simple and easily recognizable. The way he draws body horror and wounds isn’t very realistic, which makes the gore parts less shocking. His character’s simple, soft, deformed appearance reminds me of modeling clay or perhaps melting plastic toys.

I am even tempted to describe his style as cute. The big eyes, round features, and the way his characters are often miserable and mistreated by others...it is cute in a pitiful way.

Hino draws lots of babies, children, and baby animals which adds to both the cuteness and the horror. It also helps that I share Hino’s fondness for insects, worms and other similar crawling creatures...

There are figures based on his works that are just too cute! 

Hino often puts animals in his stories and even merges animals and humans. He writes stories where people transform into animals (Bug Boy) or give birth to inhuman creatures ( Unusual Fetus -My Baby ). Human bodies are more often than not hosts to parasites and maggots (Mermaid in a manhole...).

In Panorama of Hell, humans are executed one after the other like livestock in a slaughterhouse, and their bodies get dumped in a stream where they mix with other dead animals. Beheaded bodies try to put animal heads on to feel complete again, and the painter’s daughter is obsessed with animal corpses that she collects and dissects.

He doesn’t use any screen tones, nor does he use a lot of crosshatching as a mean to create different shades of grey, so the jet black ink creates a stark contrast against  the white of the paper. Some pages are beautiful and esthetically pleasing in spite of the repulsive contents. Especially towards the end of the book, which depict strange surrealist imagery as the world is falling apart.

His frequent use of pitch black silhouettes reminds me of shadow play theater  (which originates from China where Hino was born), as well as of Kamishibai (street theater using paper, which was very popular in post-war Japan). 

Kamishibai originates from buddhist temples and was often used to spread buddhist teachings.

Hino makes uses of buddhist concepts and imagery in his depiction of hell. Panorama of Hell could be compared to the Hell Scroll, a famous scroll describing the Chinese Buddhist conception of hell with text and pictures. 

↑ The “Blood Lake” and “Needle Moutain” in this panel refers to two of the different kinds of hells depicted in the Hell Scroll. The blood lake is exclusively for women.

Young women are only thing that are drawn in a conventionaly beautiful way.  However, finding beauty and fascination in the most horrendous things is a central point of Hino’s body of work. His characters are either artists or collectors obsessed with what fits their strange idea of beauty (cf. Flower of Flesh and Blood, where a woman’s dismemberment is an act of creation and a research of ideal beauty in the perpetrator’s eyes).

The contrast between the solid black shadows and the untouched white of the paper can give the impression that a strong, blinding light is hitting the world. The violent light emitted from an explosion, for example. Which is fitting, giving the importance of the Hiroshima atomic bomb in the story and its repercussions that still dawn on the characters years later. It’s like the characters are constantly bathed in the harsh light of the bombings. 

The Hiroshima bomb is called a “gigantic emperor from hell”, it rules over the character’s lives, even years after it was dropped. As a child, the painters created a replica of the mushroom cloud that he worships like a god.

Panorama of Hell is a very dark and pessimistic work, displaying a world where there is no hope and nothing is spared (not even the reader, who receives the painter’s axe!). In fact, the main character was already doomed before he was even born. Indeed, he is the child of the Hiroshima bomb itself: his mother got pregnant as she was hit by a beam from the explosion. 

[theshopislocal]

corinth rains

New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.

(also on AO3)

chapter five

Baby rumbles against Dean’s back, purring as she idles at the roadside.

He’s been sat here, hands on the wheel in a stiff 10 and 2, languishing in indecision for a good while now. Though the windows are down and the visor out, he’s still sweating a wet spot onto the back of his henley, hair damp at the base of his skull.

He glances at the passenger seat, empty but for his phone lying face down.

The phone was something of a turn up. It had appeared at his bedside sometime during his first night in Heaven. He’d awoken to the sound of it buzzing against the tabletop, a message from Sam - You good? - flashing on the screen. He’d picked it up and fiddled with it, running his fingers over the burnished metal and smooth glass. If he’d never seen any of the crazy shit Charlie’d cobbled together, he would’ve said the thing looked Space Age - all sleek lines and sharp angles, no buttons to speak of.

As it stood, he’d shrugged and tapped on the message from Sam. He’d typed out a brief response - Peachy - and chucked it back onto the nightstand, pulling the covers over his head. He’d slept until the sun went down.

Dean winces as a bead of sweat drips into his eye and cranes his neck to wipe his face on his shoulder. He looks back at the phone and rolls his eyes.

It’s in his hand a moment later, his thumb hovering over the screen. There are no icons, no home screen, just a blank black surface. Like most things in Heaven, it seems to just... operate as expected - to do whatever it is he wants it to.

Trouble is, Dean doesn’t know what he’s expecting. And he certainly doesn’t know what he wants.

He peers through the windshield, eyes squinting against the light, and observes the sparse spring clouds drifting over the pass. If he looks hard enough, he can probably find Sam and Eileen’s place - a little white dot on the mountainside. Instead, his eyes cut to the lowest point between the peaks, though he can see neither hide nor hair of what lies beyond.

His thumb brushes against the phone’s screen, and he glances down when it illuminates.

On first glance, it looks no different from any other satellite map - a blinking blue dot with his name hovering over it, little broccoli trees and crosshatch roads. But as he looks closer, he sees movement: the trees seem to sway, the shadows shift, and there’s a dancing white speck where a bird flies figure eights.

On a whim, Dean double taps his location, zooming in tight. He sticks his other hand out the window, waving skyward. On the screen, he sees himself, flailing his arm like an idiot, crystal clear and moving precisely in time.

Dean’s eyebrows pop up, and he snorts. “We have the technology,” he mutters, pinching the screen to zoom out again. “We can make it better, stronger—”

He stops short at the sight of another little dot, this one in a soft, glowing white. It’s across the bridge on the other side of the forest, in what looks like a sprawling botanical garden.

The Library, reads the text.

Dean frowns and lowers the phone, staring blankly at the steering wheel. He’s got that feeling again, like he’s a damn open book - though he’s not sure why anyone would bother to read.

He shakes his head and huffs a dry laugh, chucking the phone onto the dash. He flicks on the radio, Zeppelin IV blaring from the speakers, and throws Baby into gear.

“Over the river and through the woods,” he murmurs, and he pulls onto the road in a cloud of gravel dust.

~*~

Though stately and finely architectured with pillars and white stone, the building that houses the Library is surprisingly small.

He’s driven past it a few times, but never gotten too close; there’s something mildly forbidding in the way it juts out of the earth, its stamped concrete walkways a jarring foil to the surrounding flora. From his perch on the front steps, it looks like any other city library - modern and well-maintained, if a bit oddly placed.

Dean presses his phone closer to his ear, eyes fixed on the tall, imposing doors at the top landing. “You sure this is a good idea?”

Charlie’s voice comes through, clear and a little echoey. “Well, it was your idea, so… No, not at all.”

Dean’s eyes roll skyward at her chipper tone, and he fiddles with the odd little trinket in his other hand. “I mean, is it gonna work,” he grunts out.

Charlie makes an offended noise, and there’s a low thud that sounds like a book snapping shut. “Of course it’s gonna work,” she says, tone sharp with a nerdy bluster that has Dean cracking a smile. “I poured my flesh and blood and a tiny bit of weapons grade plutonium into that amulet.”

Dean feels his smile slip, and he peers down at the little talisman. It’s a rusted iron triquetra with shining gemstones inlaid, the whole thing no bigger than his palm.

He’d called Charlie just as he pulled up to the garden. After a brief back-and-forth, she’d given a disgruntled “you owe me one,” and - through some sort of Heaven-magic that he doubts anyone besides Charlie could pull off - the amulet had appeared in his glovebox.

She definitely hadn’t mentioned any fucking plutonium. “Did you say—”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Winchester.”

Dean pulls the phone away from his ear and briefly presses the back of his hand into his eye socket. He nods to no one in particular, pulling his lips through his teeth. Sure, plutonium. Why not.

“Jesus,” he grumbles. “Yeah, okay.” He holds up the amulet, extending his arm as far from his body as possible; he’s pretty sure nothing can kill him now, but he’s not particularly interested in testing the theory. “So how do I use this thing?”

Charlie clears her throat. “Push on the gems - red first, blue last. Plop it on the door, and it’ll automagically—” Dean frowns, automagically? “—open. Badabing...”

“Badaboom, right.” Dean nods around a grimace and casts his eyes about the courtyard. It’s quiet and empty, the last rays of the evening sun glinting on the white stepping stones. “And if someone from the Arch sees me?”

“Well,” she begins, lofty and facetious. Dean gives a preemptive sigh. “They can’t kill you, can they. They’re angels, not juggalos with rusty barn nails.”

Forty years. He’s been dead forty years, and he still hasn’t lived down the juggalo thing. “Alright, first off,” he says, gesturing wildly with the nuclear weapon in his hand, “it was rebar. Not a nail. Rebar. And second,” he ticks two fingers up, “they were vampires,” he complains. “Big, scary vampires.”

Charlie snorts indelicately. “Yeah, well, I got gutted in a motel bathtub by a frickin’ Frankenstein. So, I win.”

“You—” Dean pauses for a moment to consider his argument. But toeing up against Charlie is a bit of a nonstarter, and, well... Frankenstein is pretty badass.

He sighs, resigned, and gives a shrugging nod. “Yeah.”

There’s a crack and hiss in the background - a beer can opening, Dean thinks - and he can hear the snarky smile in Charlie’s voice. “Tell Kevin I say hi.”

Dean blanches. “I—”

“Toodles!” Charlie says, and the line clicks dead.

Dean pulls the phone from his ear, glaring at the black screen. “Toodles,” he sneers, and slips it into his back pocket.

Dean peers around the plaza again, though there’s not a soul (he snorts) in sight. He squares his shoulders and straightens his spine, giving himself a little shake.

The steps are short and shallow; he takes them two at a time until he comes to the landing. Up close, the building looks bigger, the door a huge, imperial thing towering several feet over his head. It’s a smooth, dark wood, its wide panels inlaid.

Dean grasps at the amulet, sucking in a deep breath. “Here goes,” he murmurs.

He ghosts his fingertips over the gemstones. Red first, blue last. He pushes his forefinger against the red stone, face screwing up in a wince. It depresses and clicks into place.

After a tense moment, during which his entire body clenches like a vise, he opens his eyes. He peers down at himself, patting a hand around his chest. He’s still— well, not alive, per se, but at least he’s not a smear on the stone floor. He breathes out a relieved sigh and wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

He runs his tongue over his chapped lips and clicks in the green stone, then the blue one.

For a moment, nothing happens. He frowns down at the amulet, turning it between his hands. Then there’s a soft pop and a little sizzle, and the metal begins to glow, warming against his palm.

“Uh...” His eyes go wide as it glows brighter, nearly scalding him now. “Shit, shit—” He approaches the door in two long strides and smacks the amulet against the lacquered wood.

He draws back his hand, blowing out another sigh when the damned thing stays put. It’s glowing almost painfully bright now, the light leaving red spots on his retina. He peers around the landing, wondering belatedly if he should take cover.

There’s a soft click and a groaning creak. Dean turns toward the sound just as the amulet winks out and falls, clinking as it lands. He stoops down to pick it up; it’s cool to the touch now, and Dean shakes his head. As he slides it into his pocket, a musty draft hits his face - the scent of old paper and tanned leather tickling his nose.

The door is open.

~*~

Dean gets the sense, as he steps over the threshold, that he’s walking through several doors - all of which, he presumes, are marked ‘staff only’. Confirmation comes when he steps fully into the room - not a foyer or a lobby, but a sprawling study, densely packed with overstuffed bookshelves.

He turns around to shut the door - quite a different door than the one he opened, knotty pine and regular sized. Dean feels the weight of the amulet in his pocket and gives an involuntary shiver; this magic shit always gives him the willies.

He steps further into the study proper. There are two rows of bookshelves to his left, one directly before him, and several more a little ways down on his right. The books are all bound the same, in a deep beige leather with some sort of gold insignia etched into the spines. He doesn’t recognize the symbols, or any of the books themselves. He doubts any of them are Vonnegut.

He peeks around the nearest shelf and finds a central area with several long oak tables. He glances left, then right, then down at his feet.

It occurs to him, of a sudden, that he’s got no damn idea what he’s doing here.

“You’re late.”

Dean sucks in a sharp breath and whirls around, hands going for the gun he no longer carries.

The door he came through is gone, and the wall along with it. Instead, there’s a raised platform with short stone steps before it, and what appears to be an exact replica of the Resolute desk at center stage.

Seated behind it, slightly frazzle-haired and scribbling away, is Kevin Tran.

Dean feels his jaw go slack, and his eyes get a little misty. Kevin is in Heaven, and he’s sitting at a giant desk with a frickin’ eagle carved on the front, and he’s running what Dean imagines is the celestial Library of Congress, and Kevin is finally - finally - in Heaven.

Dean gets a sudden, painful urge to hug the kid. He takes a faltering step forward to do just that, and the amulet jostles in his pocket.

Oh, right. This is a B&E.

Dean’s arms flop down to his sides, and he feels his face warm.

He runs a hand over the back of his neck and tries for nonchalant. “Heeey, Kevin,” he says, wincing at the slight crack in his voice. “How ya doin’, bud?”

Kevin glances at the little clock on the desk, then turns back to the tome he’s scribbling in. “Your appointment was ten minutes ago.”

Dean frowns and takes a cautious step forward. “I... didn’t make an appointment.”

“I made it for you,” Kevin sniffs. He turns a page, unperturbed.

Dean frowns harder. “How’d you know I was—” He bites down on his tongue, swallowing down the stupid question with a snap of his fingers. “Right,” he nods. “Prophet.”

Kevin gives a hum of confirmation and continues his writing. Dean clenches his jaw against the sudden awkwardness; he feels out of place (which he is, it’s a frickin’ library), like an interloper (which he also is, in an almost too literal sense). He sucks his teeth and saunters over to one of the long tables, running his fingers over the polished surface.

He glances up at Kevin, still scrawling away. He looks different than Dean remembers - broader in the shoulder, stronger around the jaw. There’s a dusting of stubble across his chin and a line etched into his forehead. He’s gone a little grey at the temples.

Dean squints, perplexed. While he himself looks almost exactly as he did when he bit the bullet, nearly everyone else in Heaven looks younger than he remembers them; Charlie looks about the same as when he first met her, and his mom looks almost as she did in his childhood memories. Kevin, on the other hand, looks quite a bit older. Certainly older than he was when—

...when he died.

Dean curls his fingers into a fist, pressing his knuckles into the table until zinging pain shoots up his arm. Dean’s not a complete idiot; he gets Heaven’s schtick. It gives people what they want - what they couldn’t have during their lives. Charlie wanted a 64K TV. Mary wanted a house with a white picket fence. Apparently everybody wanted endless spring days.

And Kevin wanted to grow old.

Dean swallows dryly, and his teeth grind together.

“So,” Kevin says, setting his pen down finally. “You’re here.” He looks up at Dean, and his eyes are dark, lined with crow’s feet. “Did you...” He pauses for a moment, head tilted in mild expectation, “...need something?”

Dean stares for a second, jaw working soundlessly. Then he bites down on the inside of his cheek, giving Kevin a tight, crooked smile. “Oh, just,” he gives a twitchy shrug. “Thought I’d stop by.”

Kevin watches him for a short, taut moment, eyes flicking across Dean’s face. Dean swallows again, shoulders coming up.

Finally, Kevin gives a solemn nod and picks up his pen. He turns back to his notebook and jots something down. Dean thinks he sees a tiny smile around his mouth.

Kevin turns another page. “If you’re looking for Lady Death in Lingerie, it’s been checked out.”

Dean frowns for half a second, then his chin drops to his chest. Right. Cartoon porn.

Dean nods his head, pursing his lips. “Funny,” he murmurs, and Kevin’s eyes flick to his for an instant, squinted and wry.

Kevin goes back to his scribbling, and Dean inches closer, curious, but a low harrumph from Kevin has him taking a step back.

He sits down on the end of the nearest table, twiddling his thumbs. From this distance, he can barely hear the pen scratching over the paper, and the interminable silence grows oppressive.

Dean clears his throat. “So,” he says, and waves a hand in a broad gesture. “What, uh. What all you got in this place?”

Kevin turns another page and doesn’t look up. “Everything ever written, said, or done by everyone in the universe.”

Dean’s eyebrows pop up, and his head tips in a bemused nod. “Oh, is that all.”

Kevin sniffs. “And the Ark of the Covenant.”

Dean’s eyes go wide, brow furrowing. “Wh-. Seriously?”

Kevin gives him a flat, baleful look that clarifies precisely zero, then turns back to his giant book.

Dean nods at nothing in particular and chews his lip. “How do you keep it all organized?”

A muscle in Kevin’s jaw twitches. “Automagically.”

Dean blows out a sigh, making a note in his head to inform Charlie that he’ll be cheesing Scorpion for the rest of eternity, thanks. Presuming Kevin doesn’t send him off to Heaven jail.

Dean winces. “So you heard all that, did ya.”

Kevin hums, scribbling away.

Lost for words, Dean casts his eyes about the study. Now that the door through which he entered is gone, there don’t seem to be any doors at all. He sighs and peers around at the walls; maybe there’s a window he can throw himself out of.

His eyes catch on something high up on the far wall - not a window, but a block of text in a language Dean doesn’t recognize. It looks to be handwritten in some sort of deep gold paint. It glows faintly against the eggshell wall.

Once he sees that first scribble, he begins to notice several others. There’s one nearly at the ceiling kitty-corner to Kevin’s desk that looks like it might be in Japanese. Another on the wall opposite him that’s comprised of funny little hieroglyphs in a spiral pattern that he thinks might be Linear A.

Dean points a finger toward the script and glances at Kevin. “These wards?”

Kevin looks up briefly, eyes flicking to the symbols on the wall. He shakes his head, going back to his notebook. “Inspirational quotes.”

Dean gives a rumbling snort of laughter, and Kevin peers up at him, one eyebrow arched. He gestures with his pen towards the far corner of the room. Dean frowns and looks over.

Smooshed up against one wall is a rudimentary drawing of what looks like a fluffy kitten clinging to a tree branch. Underneath, scrawled in plain English: Hang in there!

Dean’s eyebrows pop up, and he nearly laughs before wrestling his face into a bland smile. “Oh,” he says, glancing back at Kevin. “Uh. Cool.”

Kevin huffs a dry laugh and leans back in his seat. “It’s not really,” he says, and points a finger toward another quote Dean hadn’t noticed. “That one’s a proto-Germanic joke about a walrus. And that one—” he points towards the circular one done in hieroglyphics, “—is in a pre-Sumerian language. No one has any idea what it says.”

Dean’s lips turn down, and he nods. “Huh.” He cuts his eyes sidelong to Kevin. “Who wrote them?”

Kevin shrugs and hunches forward, eyes settling again on his book. “Senior members of the Arch. Angels mostly.” He breathes out a little sound that might be a laugh. “Pretty sure a couple of them are just graffiti.”

Dean nods and stands up. He spins in a slow circle, looking for any that he’d missed, and finds one directly to his right. It’s one of the only ones written at eye level, but its lettering - Latin, Dean notes - is pale, almost translucent. As he stares at it, it appears to grow darker, bolder against the wall.

Si ego loqui, it reads, lingua angeli, autem ego sine amare, ego modo sum turpi strepitu.

Dean’s face scrunches up in a frown. He wouldn’t have called himself fluent in Latin, even on a good day, but now that he hasn’t read any in forty odd years, he can barely suss out any meaning at all. Lingua angeli, he thinks. Angelic mouth? He smirks a little bit. Kinky.

He stares at it for another few moments. It’s eerily familiar, though he can’t place why. There’s something manifest, nearly recognizable about the handwriting.

“I’ve read this one before,” he surmises, nodding towards the text.

Kevin glances up, following Dean’s eyes. “Yeah,” he says, matter of fact. “Most people have. First Corinthians thirteen.”

Dean frowns for a moment. Corinthians. Corinthians. Corinth—

“The Bible?” he says, incredulous.

Kevin gives him a bland, slit-eyed look. “This is Heaven, Dean.”

Dean’s jaw snaps shut, lips pursing, and... yeah, that tracks. “Right,” Dean murmurs, tipping his head back in a nod.

Kevin’s eyes roll, softened by the tiny smile around his mouth, and he goes back to his writing.

Dismissed, Dean turns back to the latin inscription. He wracks his brain for Corinthians, but comes up empty; generally, everything he remembers from the Bible is out of Revelations, since he’d essentially lived his entire life in a state of on-again-off-again apocalypse.

He eyes the script, following its neat, angled lines. He recognizes a few of the words - ego, loqui - but can’t quite attach them to their meanings. He squints his eyes tight, as if by looking hard enough he might divine a translation.

There’s a deep sigh from behind him, and he turns to see Kevin, weary-eyed and grumpy, peering past him to the inscription.

Kevin taps his pen against his open book. “If I speak,” he recites, “in the tongue of angels, but have not love...” he squints his eyes in a frown, “...I am only a vile noise.���

Dean stares blankly at him for a moment, then turns back to the wall. He remembers the verse now, and the bit that follows: love is patient, love is kind. He recalls seeing it printed on greeting cards, boxes of chocolate, Valentine’s bouquets - the sort of shit normal people busied themselves with.

That first bit, though. If I speak in the tongue of—

Dean sniffs and hunches his shoulders against the swelling pressure in his chest. Kevin said these were written by Arch members - angels. He clenches his jaw, grunting, “Funny sort of thing for an angel to say.”

Kevin hums. “It’s also mistranslated.”

Dean frowns and cranes his neck to glance at Kevin. “Oh?”

Kevin peers up at the verse again. “Amare should be caritate.”

“Caritate,” Dean intones. He rolls the word around in his mouth, and it’s coming back to him now. “Charity?” he guesses.

Kevin tips his head side to side with a little shrug. “Literally, yes. But it’s usually used to connote a—” he frowns, chewing his lip, “—a general kind of love. Caritate would mean love for all humankind.” He tips his head toward the inscription. “Amare is love for one person.”

Kevin holds Dean’s gaze for a split second, face inscrutable, before hunkering back down over his work.

Dean’s face goes hot then cold - the thing growing in his chest reaching some sort of critical mass - and the words resound in his head:

Love for one person.

Love for one person.

Love for—

Dean sucks in a breath like he’s breaking the surface.

Because you cared, I cared.

His hands clench up tight, fingernails digging into his palms. The whispering voice speaks full volume now, coming from somewhere near his heart, echoing through the hollows inside.

I cared about you.

No. Shut up. Just—

I cared about the whole world because of y—

Dean’s fist comes down on the table - harder than he’d intended - with a dull thud and a sharp, throbbing pain.

He looks over at Kevin scribbling away, oblivious. Dean calls his name, but it comes out in a cracked, stammering whisper. He clears his throat and tries again. “Kevin.”

Kevin’s head tilts, but he doesn’t look up. “Hm?”

Dean licks his lips, dry tongue sticking to the skin. “Who wrote this,” he whispers.

It’s a stupid question. He already knows the answer - knew the second he saw the sharp, looping script. The instant he read the word amare.

It’s almost funny, really. Turns out living in the Happiest Place Not on Earth hasn’t changed Dean much; he still divides his time evenly between knowing he’s wrong and hoping he’s wrong.

Trouble is, with the thrum of a headache pulsing at his temples and the ache in his eyes from the overbright sun, he’s not sure he’s even got it in him to hope.

“Couldn’t say,” Kevin says, voice cutting through Dean’s wayward thoughts. “It was there before I got here.”

Dean’s jaw clenches, and he nods to himself. Kevin scribbles on for another few seconds, then stops and glances up, face bemused. “Kinda weird though,” he says, squinting, “the mistranslation.” He shrugs mildly and turns back to his book. “Guess even angels make mistakes.”

Dean frowns and curls forward, chin dropping to his chest. The whisper in his head makes a short utterance, and Dean sees himself, greyscale in his memory. Face blank in the aftermath, bones numb from the onslaught, and all he can think, can feel, can say is—

Why does this sound like a goodbye?

“Yeah,” Dean says, and his voice is gruff and too loud. He thinks one of his fingernails might have pierced the skin of his palm. “Yeah, they do.”

Kevin looks up at him - face blank, eyes opaque. He stares at Dean for a long moment, and whatever he sees on Dean’s face has his eyebrows rising.

Dean holds his gaze for barely a second, then looks down at his feet. His boots are scuffed, layered in fine dust. He glances at the floor - pristine white marble shot through with gold rivulets - and wonders if he’s tracked dirt onto it. He figures he must’ve done. It’s sort of his M.O., after all. Messing things up.

“Look, Dean,” Kevin says, sotto voce. “It’s...” he shakes his head, thumping his pen against his palm. “It’s nice to see you and all—”

Dean snorts a bitter laugh, and sucks in his lips. He peers up at Kevin with sharp, squinted eyes.

Kevin sighs, and his face softens, mouth forming a flat line. He gives Dean a look - admonishing, with the barest hint of pity. “It is good to see you, Dean,” he reiterates, and the sincerity in his tone nearly makes Dean believe it. “But...”

Kevin sucks in a breath and gestures to his open book, then to the stack of several more at his elbow.

Dean’s spine stiffens, and he nods. Right. Some people do more in Heaven than just drive around in circles, listening to the same six cassettes on an endless loop.

“Yeah,” Dean says, clearing his throat. “Yeah, no, I- sorry, I just, uh...”

He just... what? Broke into Heaven’s Library? With a frickin’ plutonium bomb? Drove a hundred miles (or maybe a thousand, he didn’t check the odometer) because, what, his SpacePhone™ told him to? What is he doing here?

What is he doing here?

“There’s a- a place,” Dean blurts, then scrubs a hand over his face, shaking his head. “Just past the mountain. A little forest in a field. Apparently there’s rain and lightning, and I. I’m just—” paranoid. Terrified. Losing my goddamn m— “It’s pretty close to Sam’s place,” he posits, which is ostensibly true. “And I—”

Dean’s not sure what more to say - what more he could say without making him sound crazier than he rightfully is. Fortunately, Kevin is already pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. He comes around the desk at a trot and descends the stairs.

He arrives at the head of the table, nearly abreast of Dean, and smoothes a finger over the pale wood surface in an intricate pattern.

Instantly, the tabletop is transformed. From the tight woodgrain rise sweeping swathes of squiggly lines, odd little symbols and soft, muted colors. Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, and he leans closer.

The whole thing is a sprawling map. Not the sort he’d seen on his phone, but the sort at the beginning of a fantasy novel, with little hand-drawn forests and ink-flowing rivers. Dean stares for a moment, dumbfounded, his eyes running over the fine details and cross-hatching.

A soft harrumph draws his eyes to Kevin, staring at Dean with mild amusement and open expectancy.

Dean frowns, face warming. “Sorry, what?”

Kevin gives a crooked half smile and nods toward the map. “Your little forest,” he says. “Where is it?”

Dean sucks in a short breath and nods. He steps forward, thighs nudging the table edge, his shoulder nearly butting against Kevin’s. He does a quick double-take when he realizes that the kid - that Kevin - is nearly as tall as he is.

He shakes himself and peers down at the map. His eyes follow the mountain range, inked in broad jagged lines, to the river - a flowing swirl in a dull, washed blue. North of the mountain is a colorless expanse, marred only by a cluster of tiny dots.

Dean points. “There. I think.”

Kevin notes the location, tapping the spot with his finger. A tiny block of text appears next to the cluster, its symbols strange and unfamiliar.

Kevin gives a little hum, then extends his other arm, hand outstretched. A book - identical to all the others lining the shelves - materializes on Kevin’s palm, as Dean watches with wide eyes.

Kevin lays the book on the table, rifling through the pages. Dean peeks over his shoulder, but the text is inscrutable, Greek to Dean.

Apparently not to Kevin, though. He stops on a page about halfway through, tapping his finger near the top.

“It’s a domicile,” he murmurs, squinting at the little symbols.

“A—” Dean starts, then shakes his head. “Someone lives there?”

Kevin gives a humming nod, inching his finger across the crinkly page. “An Arch member, it looks like.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, molars grinding together. An Arch member.

That could be any number of people. Eileen, Jo, Ellen. His parents, Bobby. Even Charlie has offered a hand here and there.

But it isn’t any of them.

Dean bites the inside of his lip, pressing his palms - clammy and tense - against his thighs. “Who lives there,” Dean asks, and it’s a stupid question again, barely a question at all. Dean’s heart beats in his ears.

Sine amare.

Kevin shakes his head. “No name listed.”

Sine amare.

Dean’s fingernails scratch against his pants, hangnails catching on the denim. “How would I find out?”

It’s another stupid question, and Kevin clocks it quick. He sighs a dry laugh and snaps the book shut.

“Well,” he begins, making a swift volte face toward his desk. “You could do it in some—” another soft chuckle as he climbs the short stairs, “—convoluted Winchester way.” Dean rolls his eyes, head tipping forward, but he doesn’t offer a counter.

Kevin moves around the desk and settles himself in his chair, grabbing his pen. He clicks it once, twice, three times, and presses it to the page, jotting something down in quick, spare movements.

“Personally,” he murmurs, as he inks a full stop, “I’d just knock on their door.”

chapter four | chapter six

table of contents

[bard-of-worlds]

Truth Between Worlds Ch1 /It Begins

A black background, Danny is in the rubble of a building on his hands and knees as he seems to be struggling with pain as to his right Tucker is trying to get to him as to his left a giant stone Dragon is rearing its head back with its mouth open as the GIWS watch from behind Tucker wounded as Sam is behind them, a shadow with bat wings behind her.  

 OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 A white hared teen in a black jumpsuit with a black tail in place of his legs flew through the air over the town of Amity Park.   Another slow night, nice.  But I can’t help but fell something is coming, something that will change me.  Danny thought as he flew.  He shivered suddenly released a breath of cold air.  He looked around and saw a ghost octopus flying towards the far right side of town and smirked.  “Hello misplaced aggression!”

 Danny flew after the ghost and smirked as he charged up a blast when suddenly the octopus dodged and fired back at him, hitting him and sending him falling before he caught himself and stabilized his flight.  

 “That’s new, they never did that before.” Danny said as he shot after the ghost, seeing it at the edge of his sight. He fired a few blasts and the ghost fired back and they flew downwards towards the ground and it reached down with its tentacles and grabbed a rock it threw at Danny who blasted it into dust but some of it got into his eyes.  He rubbed it away but when he looked up he saw that the ghost had used his distraction to slip away.

 He flew in the direction that it had gone and after a few moments he had reached a decrepit construction site that had been left abandon.  This is great, a ghost octopus able to fire blasts and smart enough to find a way to distract me so it could get away, just wonderful!  He thought as he looked around for a few more moments before scoffing and letting his legs reform and drop to the ground.

 “I can’t believe that it got away from me, this is perfect Phantom, real good.” Danny muttered to himself as he looked around and looked around the site, down into the foundation and frowned, he took a step towards it when he suddenly went to a knee as his head started pounding.  After a few moments he got back up and shook his head as the pain in his head lessened and he got his bearings.  That was something, I mean I’ve been getting headaches for the last few weeks but that was even stronger than normal.  I gotta get something

 as he was about to investigate farther he heard what sounded like a car coming towards him.  Not wanting to scare anyone or give any would be ‘groupies’ a chance to see him he went invisible and flew away, not bothering to stick around.  A car drove by moments later and a light from a flashlight went around the construction site.

 “Nothing, thought I saw something, must have been a my eyes playing tricks on me, well once tomorrow’s done I can either get some help or I can say goodbye to this place.”  The drive said as he panned the light over the site and after a few passes back and forth he drove the car away and the site was left as it was before Danny and found it.

 Within the foundation the ghost octopus had slipped into a cave and looked out into the darkness as the light panned over the darkness and grinned as it moved out of the cave and bounced off the opening.  It looked confused before it went still as heat came from behind it.

 “IT HAS BEEN SOME TIME SINCE FOOD HAS COME OF ITS OWN ACCORD.”  A voice boomed behind it and the ghost turned around and screeched as it saw what was there.

 Outside above around the construction site the screech died out and the few animals that were still around looked at the

 OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

  Danny sighed as he walked into Casper High, his head still bothering him. what the hell is wrong with me, I mean I haven’t felt like this since just after the accident!  Danny thought before he looked around and spotted the busses were dropping kids off and heading towards the back of the school.  “Of course that half day and trip, they must be waiting until it’s time to leave, hope they’ve got a book to read.”  

 Danny sighed before he walked in, hoping his headache would go down.  As he moved through the school towards his locker, he dodged the other students and paid them no more mind then they did him.  After dodging Dash and his fellow football jocks bothering a band member Danny reached his locker and had just finished getting ready for class when suddenly….

 “Hey Danny.” A voice from behind him caused him to turn and see a girl his age with light skin, black hair, purple lips and violet eyes with a black choker around her neck, a black tank top that exposed her midriff with a purple oval in the center, black striped skirt with a green crosshatch design, purple leggings, and black combat boots. She had on a pair of black bracelets around both of her wrists.  She looked tired and her eyes looked like she had been crying and Danny felt his heart break a little as he looked at her. I can’t believe this, she doesn’t deserve any of this!  Her parents are slime and only care about appearances and now this, her only alley in the family?  I don’t care what I will after to do I will help her however I can! Danny thought as he fought to keep his feelings from showing and kept his face kind.

 “Hey Sam, I guess the news is bad.”  Danny said as Sam nodded as she tried to gather herself back together and sighed.

 “Grandma has maybe a few days left according to her, the doctors think it will be longer and then there’s the fact that she wants to talk to me today after school.”  Sam said and Danny looked at her and Sam looked away. “Strange as it is, she’s at peace with it.”

 Danny looked at her concerned and worried about just what was else bothering her, knowing that she wouldn’t look away because of what was happening to her grandmother.  “Sam what is it? You know you can tell me if anything is bother you.”

 “Yeah….. is it bad that I’m so scared that my parents might send me away to a boarding school to turn me into a 60’s housewife once she’s dead? ” Sam asked and Danny shook his head.

 “No Sam, it’s not.” Danny said and put a hand on her face and smiled at her.  “People are complicated, that’s a truth I’ve learned over my life and about my other secret."

 “Thanks Danny.”  Sam said as she looked at him and sighed. “I…. can you come with me after school, Grandma asked me to bring someone I trusted with me.”

 Danny looked away and blushed.  “I’m honored that you trust me.”

 Sam looked away with a blush and smirked, trying to play it off.  “Why shouldn’t I?  And what’s wrong with that you?”

 “Headache since my run last night and the kalamari I had for a snack almost went down the wrong pipe.” Danny said with a scowl and Sam sighed.

 “Again?  That’s a bad sign.” Sam said and Danny chuckled and grinned at her.

 “Hey Guys!” A cheerful voice caused them to turn and see Tucker, an African-American teen with turquoise eyes, black hair, and black glasses. He had on a long-sleeve yellow shirt and green cargo pants with a black belt and brown boots along with a red beret and a backpack.   “Isn’t it great that we have a half day, and because of Vlad of all people!  And there’s a sale at the Tech-Shack that starts after lunch so life is good!”

 “Tucker, get real.” Sam scoffed and Tucker frowned and looked at Danny who stared stonily back. They didn’t notice the new school janitor move closer to them, close enough that he could hear what they were saying.

 “What I miss?” Tucker asked in total confusion and Danny sighed as Sam face palmed at his obviousness.

 “Why would Vlad give us a half day?” Danny asked and Tucker frowned and looked from Danny to Sam

 “I don’t know, why?” Tucker asked in total confusion.  “Is he trying to score points with Danny or some other reason?”

 “So Danny could be there if something happens.” Sam answered with her arms crossed and Tucker’s mouth dropped open.

 “Oh, I did not see that. Okay let’s see if I can find anything about the building they’re taking down.”  Tucker said with a shrug as he brought out a PDA and started to type. “Done!  By the time the bus leaves I should have something about what’s being destroyed.”

 “That’s the best we can do, we just have to hope this is just another business thing and not an other thing.” Danny said with a scowl as Sam sighed.

 “Why do you think he’s trying to score points with Danny?” Sam asked and Tucker grinned.

 “Well there is the weekend cruise next week remember?”  Tucker asked and Sam sighed as Tucker started to stare into space, knowing exactly what he was thinking about.  “The ship has free wifi, the best food and a two pools, one inside and outside!  I can’t wait until I can see the girls in their suites!”  

 Sam snorted and was about to say something however before she could speak some called out from behind them

  “Ahh miss Samantha, there you are on this gloomy day.”  The voice caused the three friends to turn to see three teens their age walk towards them, a boy leading two girls. Each of them was what most people would consider ‘goths’, pale and a somber air about them but Danny wasn’t too sure about that, something about that wasn’t ringing true to him.  The boy was Bob ‘Belphegor’ Jonson, a tall teen with black hair and eyes and always dressed in black cloths with a black coat that went to his knees.  To his right was a red head girl with a curvy body in a black shirt and skirt that was only one inch longer then regulations and she hair in a bun while in school but they had seen her about town with her hair down to her waist and she seemed to always have red painted bedroom eyes above blood red lips and talked with a sensual purr to her voice and while she had been named Helen but preferred the name Hecate. To Belhegor’s left was a blond haired girl with blue eyes, black lips and the same figure as Hecate who wore a red shirt and tight black pants and her hair short and was named Lyla, but only answered to Lamashtu.

 “Wonderful, Bobby and his bimbos, just what this day needed to start it!” Sam said as she glared at the three other ‘goths’ as Paulina always called them.  The three had been trying to get her to join their ‘coven’ for years, ever since puberty they had been after her with more fever.  

 “Oh Sam, why won’t you come and embrace your true self?” Lamashtu asked as Sam glared at them and snorted.

 “Your way, is not mine.” Sam said and Belphegor smiled in what he felt was inviting but made Sam shudder and caused Danny to glare at him.

 “But it could be your way my dear, all it takes is to but take a single step and invite the change in.” Belphegor said with a smirk and reached out with a hand towards her but dropped it when Sam glared at him.

 “I think I know my path better then you.” Sam said and Lamasthu giggled.

 “But then they say no fool is like the fool who’s lost their way.” Lamasthu said as Hecate laughed as Belphegor sighed and shook his head.

 “Well this time my dear I will let you go without showing you the truth, but you will learn it one day.” Belphegor said and Danny looked at him with a hard look.

 “Sam is allowed her own choices, and I’ll be helping her make them, every step.” Danny said and Sam looked at him with a smile that Hecate saw and scowled.

 “Come Belphegor, let’s leave the poser with the normals.” Hecate said with a sensual purr and as she turned away, a scoel on her face.  That one has always been different since that accident a year ago, but this is pto much!  Will we have to break their relationship before we can finally gain a fourth? She thought as she add a swing in her step that drew the eyes of the other boys beside Danny as the blond laughed musically as she walked away.

  “Your right, Hecate, Lamashtu. We have better things to do with our time before 2nd period.”   Belphegor said as he turned

 “What about 1st?” Tucker asked and Belphegor snickered as they walked away.

 “Study hall.”  Hecate called out as the three walked away as she and Lamasthu laughed.

 As soon as they were out of hearing Lamasthu scowled and it kept all her voice low.  “Why can’t that girl understand we are the people she should be with, she looks so sexy I so want to see her after we’re through rocking her world!”

 “And she’s a brunet, we so need one in the group!”  Hecate said with a pout and Belphor laughed a little.

 “Don’t worry my pets.” Belephor said as he put an arm around both of the girls and started to smirk. “I have a feeling that soon that will happen.”

  Back with Danny, Sam and Tucker Sam stared at them as they walked off before scowling and slamming her locker closed.

 “I don’t know why I don’t slug that bastard and his bitches!” Sam snarled as she clenched her fists.  “Or better yet, send the GIW after them!  There has to be a way to send them!”

 “Calm down Sam, I get it.” Danny said smoothly.  “I hate Joseph too, have for years.  And ever since he ‘realized who he is’ I’ve always felt he was slim, but let’s not give the teachers a chance to actually do something to us, and we have a half day because of that Vlad thing.”

“There’s that at least, all we have to do is see a speech and then I can get to the hospital.” Sam said as she smirked and Tucker chuckled a little.  “What is it Tucker?”

 “Nothing, it’s what Danny said.  The teachers probably punish the rest of the school because they have to do something to control the school after being up the A-List’s assess, I wonder what Dash’s smells like?” Tucker said with a laugh as they walked to class, none of the three noticing the new janitor had overheard them and was scowling at what he had heard.

 OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 A black limo pulled up to a building on the edge of town and as soon as it stopped a man with short white hair and a goatee got out and wearing a black suit with a scowl on his face got out and walked towards a foreman before three Bulldozers and two backhoes and a standing before a gate connected to a stone wall, a four story house painted brown could be seen through it, the building had black stone gargoyles on it, at least ten a story with a large one on the roof with a few stone heads pointed over the wall here and there.

 “Mayor Masters, hey. Look I know we should have gotten the wall down but.” The foreman began when the black suited man exploded

 “Why haven’t you started yet?!  This place is part of the new industrial park and we need to break ground within weeks!” Vlad Masters barked and the foreman looked over his shoulder behind him and Vlad looked and was able to see an old man standing between the machines and the wall holding onto a grey walker.   “Of course, him!”

 The old man huffed and puffed as Vlad walked towards him and glared at him.  “I don’t care what you say, this land is mine!  As long as I breath I will protect this place!”  

 “I offered you a perfect settlement and then I had to pass a motion that forced the issue, you don’t even live in there!” Vlad said as he looked at the man who glared back.

 “I’m not supposed to live in it, I’m supposed to protect!  As long as I live I will protect the……..” The man began before he went still and fell backwards.  Vlad looked at the man laying down before he dropped to his side and felt  for a pulse.  Finding none he tried to get the man’s heart beating but after a few moments he stopped and sighed and shook his head.

 “Mayor Masters?” The Foreman aksed as Vlad walked away and looked tired.  

 “Call an ambiance, this man was right, as long as she drew breath she protected this place.” Vlad said solemnly before he stopped and looked around as he thought he heard a roar from a long distance away.  Looking around Vlad saw the other workers were spooked as well, and given how the town was that was saying something on its own.

 “Did you hear something sir?” The foreman asked and Vlad shook his head.

 “No, I didn’t hear anything.” Vlad said as he reached out with his senses and didn’t feel anything at all like a ghost beyond the few traces that he had left for the law he had made to have this place fall under his new law.  I never thought that the old man would die like this, but all in all good for me!  I’ll use a quarter of the money to give him a nice funeral and then……….why am I having a problem believing that this will be something simple, why do I think that this will cause more problems than I know?  Vlad thought as he looked around and moved towards the podium being set up. “Why do I have the feeling that I should contact the GIWS sooner or later?”

 OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 “Move it people, calm and orderly, first ones go to the back, we full up a bus we go to the next, we’ve got all of them so don’t worry there’s room for all.” Mr. Lancer , a bald man in a blue shirt and black pants and a goatee said loudly and as Danny came out of the school with his backpack on and looked around the yard and saw that the A-Listers, were staying towards the school’s front doors, waiting until they could sit up front and the new janitor watching them.  

 “Of course they do the something they always do, use the system against us.” Sam muttered as she stood there with her own backpack and Danny laughed a little.  “Hey where’s Tucker?”

 “Said something about grabbing a book, his search bot should be finished and there he is.”  Danny said as he looked around and saw Tucker walking towards them with his backpack in one of his hands.  “Hey Tuck, got by without Dash seeing you?”

 “Guys, I found something on a blog about the city’s myths and history, it’s something.” Tucker said ignoring what Danny had said, something that caused looks of concern to be shared between Sam and Danny.

 “Hey guys, want to sit together?” A voice caused them to turn and see Valarie Grey, an African-American girl with long, curly hair and dark green eyes and a little curvy figure and was wearing yellow sleeveless shirt and orange skirt with white tennis shoes and had two bracelets on each wrist, one yellow and the other orange. She had been an A-Lister until her dad lost his security company when a ghost dog that his one of his customers had trained and used as a security system until Valarie’s dad had a more high tech replacement and the whole pack had been put down.  The dogs spirits had merged together into the ghost dog, Cujo as Danny called and it had rampaged until it recovered it’s favorite toy.  Unfortunately Vlad had found out about how Valarie blamed everything on ghosts and given her a high tech suit and she had been on a one woman crusade against all the ghosts in the world, until Danny had to destroy it but it had been upgraded by Technus.  Since then she been a terror for any ghost that fell into Amity Park, from accidents to attackers all were her enemy and subject to destruction, Danny couldn’t count the number of times he had to save ‘good’ ghosts from her, but recently it had spike to once every other day, and he didn’t want to know if she delivered some to Vlad he never heard about.

 “Hey Val, didn’t think you weren’t going?” Sam asked and Valarie shrugged.

 “Yeah well my dad might become the head of security to the complex while it’s being worked on so I might as well go and see what it is.” Valarie

 “Miss Valarie, with my please!” Lancer called out . “Next Bus!”

 “And Lancer is on my case lately.” Valarie said as she walked off and Danny frowned.

 “Think Lancer and the others are stepping up protecting the A-Listers more than normal?” Sam asked and scoffed when Danny looked at her.  “Come on, this has to be because she defended that girl a few days ago from Paulina.”

 “The new girl, Kimiko right?” Danny asked as the three friends moved towards one of the buses, hoping to keep Lancer or any of the teachers from noticing them.

 “Yeah, I mean I always thought they were just bad teachers, but maybe they’re just sell outs.” Sam said as she eyed the few teachers around them and Danny felt his headache spike and kept a sigh in as he realized that Sam might be onto something.  “But what’d you find Tucker?”

 “Come on, I’ll tell you the bus.” Tucker said and moved towards the bus and they were soon in the back and noticed that they had the fewest students as the A-Listers claimed a bus for themselves and Danny shook his head as the convoy of buses started.

  “Okay, this was…..interesting.”  Tucker said as the bus moved off.  “The demolition is in the area of the city that was called, Rich Clan Road, a kind of gated community that was proposed about one hundred years ago.”  Tucker said and looked at Danny and Sam.  “But after the first three buildings were finished the development fell through and the company went under, the three houses did have residents lined up but all three families died and then the houses were in limbo beyond a single caretaker.  But until about twenty years ago people would always report seeing lights from the buildings, and the one that Vlad is flattening was the first finished.”

 “Anything else?” Sam asked and Tucker looked concerned.  “Tucker……”

 “Okay, okay.”  Tucker said and released a deep breath.  “A while back I wanted to look into old town legends, there’s a story about how people would hear a strange roar once or twice a year that started about thirty-five years ago but stopped twenty years ago.  The tale goes that it started after a circus came through town burned down, and they never found all the animals or attractions; among them was a supposed lion; a lion cub that responded to orders otherworldly if you know what I mean  and what’s worse is that the records of missing pets dropped drematicly around here twenty years ago to .”

 “Oh hell.” Danny said and Sam winced; once or twice they had seen some of the Zone’s ‘animals’ feeding on each other and self-aware ghosts.  And what was worse was he had found a few ghost ‘Animal’ eating from garbage or dead birds in Amity Park .  From what Frostbite said that was normal and a reason for Kingdoms to gather to gather, to protect themselves as Lairs could be broken into if the ‘animal’ was strong enough.

 “And Freakshow proved that people can control ghosts.”  Sam said and then went still.   “Twenty years, both stopped twenty years ago?”

 “Right after the Fenton family moved in with their ghost tech, yeah.” Tucker said and Danny winced.

 “Okay, so what about after they made their greatest invention?” Danny asked and Tucker shook his head knowing what Danny meant.

 “No sightings at all, not surprising really.  Only person even went there, until about three months ago when Vlad passed a law that any abandoned house that hasn’t been lived in where ghosts are detected is to be demolished to ‘chase away any spectres’.”  Tucker said and Sam sighed. “Yeah, those are my thoughts exactly.”

 “So Vlad wants to do something with the land, any ideas?” Sam asked and Tucker looked down.  

 “It’s supposed to be a new industrial park.” Tucker said and held up a hand to cut Sam off.  “And before you say anything about it, while only the first three buildings were finished, the other lots were cleared of all plants and they all have at most half-finished buildings and were left to grow wild.”

 “Anything about that circus?”  Danny asked as he looked out the window and frowned.  Wait, I’ve seen some of these structures before….. Danny thought as he started to feel worried.

 “Nothing, it was long ago but I checked the Index of Circus, government agency to keep an eye on those things, don’t ask why, but nothing.” Tucker said and shook his head.   “But something about that name……. I don’t know.”

 “What name?” Danny asked as he looked ahead and frowned as his mind was recognizing the general location but he wasn’t exactly sure how.

 “The name of the circus, I don’t know……. “  Tucker said with a shrug.  “I’ll look over the name and see what my database back home has.”

 “You have a database?” Sam asked and Danny turned his head and looked at Tucker who grinned.

 “Custom built, got the parts from the salvage lard, I head there once a week and get a few pieces to sell online, built up a good offline system.” Tucker said with a smirk.  Danny listened with one ear as he felt that strange feeling he had last night and then as the bus turned a corner he realized where they were going.

 “Oh hell.” Danny breathed and Sam and Tucker turned to him in concern.  “This is….”

 “Danny?” Sam asked as she put a hand on his shoulder and Tucker looked at him.

 “This is where I started to get sick last night on my walk.” Danny said and Sam eye’s widened and Tucker looked between them

 “How’s you get sick?” Tucker said and Danny looked around before he spoke.

 “Calamari that I had for a snack last night.” Danny answered and Tucker winced and looked around the street as the buses stopped and looked at the construction machines.  As the buses stopped Danny could see a news van with a reporter setting up and he wondered if the school was here for a publicity stunt for Vlad.

 “Well maybe this won’t be so bad.”  Tucker said as they got out of the buses and looked towards Vlad standing before a podium. Danny said nothing, he just looked around before going still, causing Tucker to walk into him.  Following Danny’s eyes Sam and Tucker found what Danny had, an ambulance that was driving away and without its lights on, the sign that whoever it was carrying was dead.

 “Hey Fen-turd, you and your losers have a fun time so far?”  A nasal voice caused Danny to scowl as he turned and saw the A-Listers coming towards them in their usual arrogant swagger.  Leading the way was Dash Baxter the quarterback of the football team, a musical blond teen with blue eyes in a red-and-white letterman jacket, with a black t-shirt underneath and dark blue jeans and white shoes.  Next to him was Paulina, the captain of the cheerleaders; a tan skinned Latino girl with curly black hair that went to her waist had a seductive figure. She was wearing her usual cloths, a pink shirt that reveals her midriff, light denim capri pants and white flats.

 “You know I expected them to be up front you know?” Kwan said.  Kwan was an Asian teen with black hair and eyes and was wearing the same clothing as Dash and next to him was Star, another cheerleader with a figure like Paulina and had hips-length golden blonde hair with spiky bangs and turquoise eyes and was wearing a white T-shirt with a thin orange collar, orange cuffs, and a backwards P in the middle, dark orange jeans, and white flats.

 “Just ignore them guys, they don’t matter at all.”  Danny said as he started to move and ignored them, after the last year he had finally wised up and thrown the ideas about the school social hierarchy was nothing but trash.

 “What was that Fen-turd!” Dash growled and Danny just waved him off.  “Running away with your tail between your legs like that sister of yours, always running her mouth!”

 Paulina giggled a little but stopped when she saw Star had paled and turned and saw Danny slowly turn, a hard edge in his eyes that scared and shocked her.

 “If it isn’t the Asshole-Listers I didn’t hear you, how have you been lately, forced some students to do your homework or something?” Danny asked sarcastically and Dash actually looked shocked and Sam smirked.  

 “Now Danny; don’t taunt the stupid.” Sam said with a cold edge to her smile as she looked at them, glad that Danny had finally decided to let loose.  “After all this is the best they will ever have it, once they’re out of school it’s all downhill.”

 Paulina looked at Sam and Danny as they seemed to exclude a sense of rage and danger as she tried to catch her breath and suddenly Star was in front of her.

 “Guys, I know Dash went a little far with that, but let’s not give the teachers something alright?” Star asked with big eyes and Danny calmed down and looked at Sam who nodded and they walked away.  

 Vlad looked over the students and then he saw Danny and his friends move away from the A-Listers and he smirked as he caught enough of the reaction between Danny and the so called popular crowd that he could only smile, Danny was so much like him that once he tour him away from Jack and Maddie was his it wouldn’t be too long that he’d have a perfect heir.

 “Everyone can hear me, this is on?” Vlad asked into the mike and as he heard his magnified voice he smirked. “Excellent.  This place has been a blight on Amity Park for years, a gaping wound on our city that time has finally caused to be healed, and it’s going to be a major part of our future!  This is the site of the new technology park, a development that will bring in new jobs and new members of our family once construction is finished! I don’t have to tell you that chance can be terrifying, but it can also be a good thing!”  

 Vlad looked at the students as they looked at him, a smirk threatening to break out on his face as he saw Danny and Sam both trying to figure out what he was after.  Poor little badger, you wouldn’t understand my plan until it’s done.  After all this is chess, and I am just making my opening moves.  Vlad thought with a grin.  “This place was never finished, the people these houses were meant for died before they even stepped into them, so let us watch as we return this place to history!  Start the construction of the newest part of Amity Park!”

 At Vlad’s scream the bulldozers started and as the students cheered they crashed into the wall and revealed an overgrown garden with over twenty black stone statues of gargoyles at least five feet tall here and there, some on stands of white rock.  Each gargoyle had bat wings on their backs, clawed three fingered hands and two clawed feet and mouths barred in grins of savage looking teeth.

  Danny looked at the statues as the bulldozers moved towards them and frowned.  

 “You think Vlad would want to recover the statues at least, maybe sell them at an auction or something.” Sam said and then Danny went still and paled.  “Danny?”

 “Dude?” Tucker asked and Danny shook his head.

 “Guys, move slowly towards one of the buses, now.” Danny said calmly.  “I think I saw one of those statues move its head.”

 Sam and Tucker looked at each other and moved backwards slowly, hoping that Danny was wrong this once but knowing differently.  As one of the bulldozers speed up and charged at one of the statues it suddenly came to an abrupt stop as soon as it hit the gargoyle.  The drive could only look on in confusion that turned to horror as the statue turned its head to look at him before it roared and flared its wings.

 As soon as the first gargoyle roared the others started to screech and move, some taking flight and flying at the crowed who screamed and ran towards the buses.  

 “Keep moving, get to the buses!” Lancer roared and looked around when he realized that Valarie was gone from his sight.  Danny was lost in the rush, pulled away from Sam and Tucker who had gotten onto a bus and as Dash, Paulina and Kwan piled onto a bus and Dash closed the doors, locking it in place As one of the teens pounded on the door a gargoyle came towards them but as it reared back a blast of red energy hit it and sent it flying away.

 “GET AWAY FROM THEM!!” A voice roared as the Valarie in her Red Huntress guise, her black and red armored form riding her hoverboard appeared from above the bus and started to fire away at the gargoyles and the teens cheered, especially when Valarie shot the locked door and it fell inward. The other teens climbed into the bus, most of them glaring at Dash, Paulina and Kwan, Star amongst them. As the drive climbed into his seat he looked at the kids and saw that he was over capacity and cursed himself for what he was about to do.  

 “EVERYONE HOLD ON!!” As the words died down the bus drive started to drive, the other bus following him as the other teens who couldn’t get on ran after them, some cars the construction crews and the single news van following behind them, the back doors open and full of teens who grabbed those who couldn’t get on

 Danny saw the bus’s carrying his friends away from the battle from the side ally where he had ducked into when he had gotten to the back of the pack and willed a white ring that spilt in two and transformed him into his Phantom form and shot into the air and blasted a gargoyle that had attacked Valarie’s back.  Valarie heard the explosion and scowled when she saw Danny hover there firing at the other ghosts as far as she was concerned.

 “Phantom!  I knew you had to be behind this!” Valarie snarled as Danny looked at her with an exasperated look.

 “Of course, because I’m blasting what I control, sure it’s all part of my plan!” Danny said sacristy and went intaglable to avoid a gargoyle but it shoulderslammed him anyway and carried him to the ground.  He looked up as it reared back but Valarie shot it’s head off.

 “I’m the only one who gets to destroy you spook!” Valarie spat as she flew at another gargoyle and used the energy blade between it to cut off its head and as the head roared at her the body decomposed.  The head is still ‘alive’ but the body was destroyed., so headshots! Valarie thought as she started to fire at the heads of the gargoyles but only two went down.  “What the hell?!”

 A roar caused Danny to look towards it and see thirty more gargoyles coming towards them, ten of them hovering in front of the mansion as the other twenty charged at them.  “What, are they protecting that place, why?!”

 OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 Vlad meanwhile had gotten to his limo drove off, setting in the back as he watched from a drone he had launched as he had left, scowling as he watched the feed.  “Oh I do hate it when I’m right about this, I can only hope that the area won’t be too damaged once this is done.”

 Vlad looked upwards as he heard the sound of jet engines and smirk.  “Well let’s see what will happen when the GIWs come out to play!”

 OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 Danny dodged another blow from one of the flying Gargoyles and stole a look at Valarie and saw twelve GIW skysleds with four loaded out for bombardment and cursed.  “HUNTRESS, UP NOW GIW BOMBARBMENT INCOMEING!”

 Danny shot skyward and Valarie looked at him for a second before willing her board to climb skyward as well and moments before that happened missiles hit the gargoyles and the mansion, covering all of them and the mansion in an explosion that almost caused Valarie to be blown from her board.

 “What the hell?” Valarie breathed and looked and saw the mansion had been destroyed but the gargoyles had gone still and they had turned towards the mansion, the missiles having turned it into rubble, the stone creatures not moving.  Those stone things are still, was the mansion the source of their life?  What the hell are they, they can’t be ghosts but what?  Valarie asked as she moved her board forward an inch before a bolt of blue energy flew past her.

 “FREEZE!!!” A voice barked from the direction of the other skysleds and Valarie turned and saw four skysleds face her and she stared as she saw that their weapons were pointed at her and she grew angry as she tried to comprehend

 “What the hell are you doing, I’m not a ghost!!”  Valarie said as she looked at the GIWs who only looked at her and tried to figure out what they were doing.

 “Red Huntress by order of the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act, Article 4, Section 2, subsection B you are under arrest!” Operative K, a brown skinned bald man in the uniform of the GIWs, a white suite with black tie, black gloves, boots and black sunglasses said as others GIWs aimed at her as four skysleds aimed at Danny as he hovered there and formed two blasts with his hands.

 “What the hell are you doing?!” Valarie demanded as she prepared herself to react to whatever the GIWs did next.

“The Anti-Ecto Control Acts also limits what hunters can use.” Danny said as he looked at the GIWs and scowled.  “Maybe even how many ghosts one can capture, it’s all about control with them.”

 “Quite ghost. Surrender for experiments, lots of painful experiments.” Operative K said and Valarie went pale as she heard that.

 “Experiments?” Valarie said pale and her eyes dilated and then she gritted her teeth as parts of her family history flashed through her eyes and she prepared herself to go down fighting at least when suddenly…..

 “RROOOOAAAR!!” A savage roar came from the mansion and as the rubble was flung away and a dust cloud covered the land.  As they watched two large wings made of black stone suddenly burst out of the clouds, a black stone serpentine head on a long neck connected to a body with a crest and four long legs with that ended in four clawed hands and a tail that ended in a spiked ball, a black stone dragon as long as the mansion was that roared and fired a blast of black energy from its mouth at the bombardment skysleds as twenty of the gargoyles screeched and shot towards the GIWs while the rest of them charged after the buses.  

 “Procedure Omega operatives!”  Operative K barked and the GIWS began firing against the charging gargoyles that swarmed closer and started to claw at their foes and destroyed a few of the sky sleds sending GIWs falling to the ground.  Danny could only look at the carnage and swallow.  This is beyond anything I could have imagined happening today!  Wait those others are going into town! Danny thought as he looked around and then looked towards the center of town.

 “Huntress, go after the gargoyles heading into town, go and protect the people!  I’ll try and handle this but just go!” Danny called to Valarie who looked at him and readied her gun as she looked at him as the GIWs tried to handle the Gargoyles.

 “And why should I listen to a ghost?” Valarie barked and looked at the gargoyles as they moved into town.  But he’s right damn it!  if regular people are hurt and I could have stopped it from happening!  She thought as she grimaced before scowling at Danny.  “Fine! But not because I agree with you ghost!”

 As Valarie flew away Operative K saw and overheard everything and notice the treason of the Red Huntress before a gargoyle roared and charged at him but he dodged it and saw that he had lost all of his bombardment sleds and two of the others. “All forces fall back, contact base and request all operatives to sortie!”

 As the GIWs fell back, Danny stayed and fought on, blasting apart ten of the gargoyles before the Stone Dragon took notice and roared, taking flight and charging at him. Danny dodged to the left and three gargoyles slammed him to the ground.  As he struggled to get free he looked up and saw the Stone Dragon hovering, its head pointed at him and its mouth open as it built up a charge.

 Danny tried to struggle free but after a few moments he realized he couldn’t and tried to figure out how to survive.  Think Phantom, think!  How can you get out of this how can you…….Danny went still as he realized just what he had to do.  

 “One chance!”  he called out as the Dragon released its blast as he went intangible moments before it hit and the blast destroyed the Gargoyles and sent him down and into the ground, but Vlad’s drone didn’t see him as the explosion kept what was happening from its sight.

  OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Smash.  A glass dropped from Vlad’s hand as he watched with widened eyes as the Dragon took flight and the Gargoyles followed after it. I can’t believe this, so that thing was able to best him.  and it’s coming into town!  Vlad thought as he quickly pressed a button and sighed when he heard a siren in the distance and saw people look up and start running towards the nearest safe location, cars all moving in the same direction as they abandoned everything else to get to safety.

 “Well at least the public safety announcements worked.” Vlad muttered as the limo entered into a garage attached to town hall and he moved towards his office to handle this, smiling as the security guards the GIWs had trained moved to prepare to defend the seat of government.  “Maybe I should look into getting a station set up near the school……….. in a weak they’ll probably have enough on the teachers there to blackmail and get those people blacklisted.”

 Vlad walked into his office and looked at his secretary who was waiting for him.

 “The shields are up at all shelters sir, the GIWs just contacted us, all operatives have been deployed and the police are getting whoever remains to the safe zones.”  She said as she walked into the office after Vlad, the glow of the shield visible through the windows.

 “And them?” Vlad asked as he sat down and called up a holographic screen with a map of the town showing the shelters and the Gargoyles path into the city.  He frowned as he looked at the screen and frowned.

 “The Fenton’s contacted us and that they’re taking their Assault Vehicle to backup the GIWs.” She said and she looked out the window and took a step back, Vlad frowned before he heard the sound of blasters firing and he realized the stone creatures had reached the town hall.

 “Do activate the secondary defenses, and call me if something changes.”  Vlad said as the woman nodded before running away and the doors closed automatically.  The ringing of his phone caused him to look at it and sigh when he saw the number.

 “Ahh Amy!  It’s a little bit of a problem, you missed something when you looked over the property, it seems the town is under attack by a flock of stone Gargoyles led by a Dragon of all things!” Vlad said and listened to the reply.  “Yes I’m sure the town can survive the problem, the GIWS are out in force and I expect him to handle this the second time.”

 OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 Danny shook his head as he got up from where he had fallen.  “Okay Phantom, that wasn’t the worst thing that you’ve ever been hit by, so walk it off! Now where am I?”

 Danny looked around and beyond a few slivers of light from above it was completely dark.  Danny formed a ball of energy and as the light from it chased away the darkness he saw he was in a natural cavern with a large mass at least five feet tall at least twenty feet away from him that Danny saw move up and down slowly and rhythmically. Yikes, that’s something.  If it didn’t react to me then and the chaos above its sleeping deep! And speaking of upstairs I need to get back to it!  Danny thought as he silently flew upwards and hit a barrier as he reached the celling. “What the hell?!”

 “This is?” Danny muttered to himself as he felt along a strange barrier that kept him from moving through the stone.  Okay, this is acting like the ‘Zone, but this is the human world, so how do I get around this?  I mean how on earth could someone make this place impassable for ghosts one way but not the other…….. that’s a mouse trap or a prison……wait prisons have prisoners….. Danny’s thoughts trailed off as realized just where he was.

 “YOU CAN NOT LEAVE THIS PLACE HALFLING, ONE ONLY MAY LEAVE.”  A rumbling voice caused Danny to turn and stare.  The mass was unrolling into a large brown lion at least ten feet tall with a mane of crimson flames and claws of black obsidian, two tails that ended in rubies that blazed with a crimson light and it had two eyes of jade flames and saber fangs of obsidian. “THIS PLACE HAS BEEN MY PRISON FOR MANY YEARS NOW, BUT WITH YOU I MIGHT FINALLY HAVE ENOUGH ENERGY TO ESCAPE!”

 “Okay, so how can I help you get us out of here?” Danny asked causing the lion to chuckle. “What’s so funny?”

 “YOU MAY WILL HELP ME BY BEING MY FOOD HALFLING, AS ALL OF YOU HALFLINGS ARE SUPPOSED TO  BE.” The brown lion said bluntly and Danny pales more and looked at the creature as it slowly padded towards him, moving away from it.

 “With me, wait you want to eat me?!” Danny said as the creature nodded its head as it stalked towards him.  Wonderful, first a stone dragon and now a giant lion wants to eat me!  he thought as he looked around, trying to find any hint of a way to escape.

 “YES, SINCE I ESCAPED FROM MY FORMER CAPTIVES I HUNTED THE FLESH OF THE LOW BORN HERE AND GREW STRONGER AND THEN HUNTED THE HIGHBORN UNTIL A MIDDLE BORN TRAPPED ME HERE AND SIPHONED OFF MY POWER TO CREATE THOSE THAT ATTACK THE MIDDLE BORN ABOVE US.” The lion rumbled and Danny prepared himself for a fight, the lion only looked resigned.  “THEN YOU WILL NOT LET ME SLAY YOU SWIFTLY THEN.”

 “Sorry but I have a real problem with helping those who try and kill me!” Danny said as he took flight and the lion looked at him with what Danny thought might have been respect.  

 “THEN SO BE IT.   KNOW THAT I AM VOLEO! LET US DO THE ONLY DANCE THAT MATERS, THE DANCE OF BATTLE AND EVOLUTION!!!” Voleo called ut and charged at Danny, throwing two orbs of fire from its tails that he shot and dodged as he flew about the top of the cavern, taking shots that didn’t faze his foe.  Voleo looked at Danny and flicked its tails until it had formed twenty fireballs that it sent at him.

 Danny scowled as he sped up and dodged the fireballs as he tried to figure out a way to defeat this thing. My running blasts aren’t doing anything, if I can charge a shot then maybe but I’ve never really tried to charge it while I was moving!  Still first time for anything!  Danny thought as he flew and cupped a hand, forcing a blast but letting his energy build up instead of releasing as it reach the maximum he fired it, hitting Voleo’s right hind leg and blasting it off, causing the ‘lion’ to stumble and fall to the ground.

 “YES!” Danny called out with a smirk that fell when the leg flew back towards Voleo body and remerged with it as it got back to its feet.  “No.”

 It looked at him with a tense air for a few seconds before it reared back and slammed it’s front legs down and four spears of rock flew at Danny, one of them scoring a cut on his right side, the wound oozing greenish red blood.

 Danny held back a snarl and fired a few bolts at the Voleo and the lion slammed a paw down and shot stone arrows that intercepted the bolts.  As Danny flew around the chamber the lion looked at him and roared, sending a flash of heat that almost sent Danny to the ground.

 “An Ice powered Halfling, then this is over.” Voleo rumbled as Danny tried to struggle to his feet and as the lion moved closer.  This can’t be the end, I won’t let it! I have to fight back I can’t let this thing eat me, if it does then who will protect Amity?!  Who will protect Sam……SAM!!  Danny thought as he reached beyond what he knew and grasped something that had always been within him and it exploded in a wave of black energy that sent Voleo flying away from Danny.

 Voleo looked up and saw Danny standing there, a cloak of black energy surrounding him as he got up and a black energy scythe formed in his hands and as his eyes blazed red.  

 “What is this, wait you’re not a!” Voleo bellowed and roared as it fired a blast of lava at Danny who disappeared and sliced down with his scythe taking off Voleo’s right foreleg and as the lion moved away Danny appeared and sliced down and Voleo sent a stone pillar at him that he sliced through and tore through it and Voleo moved away and looked at Danny, two fangs showing from his upper mouth as he grinned at Voleo.

 “So that is what you are, then this is not as easy as I thought it would be.  But I took the battle dance seriously, so may evolution favor one of us!” Voleo said as it roared and charged at Danny but Danny disappeared and bisected Voleo and it roared as it condensed into a spark of brown energy that hovered as Danny collapsed to the floor, his eyes closing as the energy scythe and aura died down.

 A few moments later Danny woke back up and held his head, his transformation dropping as he woke up. “What happened…..wait where’s that Lion and how’d I detransform?”

 Danny looked around and saw the hovering spark and looked at it as he saw what color it was.  That has to be the lion, but what happened to it?  And why am I dawn to it? Danny thought as he approached the spark and touched it, going still and screaming as a well of energy blasted upwards, breaking the ceiling as the energy well climbed high into the atmosphere.

 OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 Sam looked around the gym as everyone huddled in small groups as she leaned against the wall as Tucker tried to get a signal through the barrier as the teachers tried to keep the students under control.  Of course they act like they care about everyone when a crisis happens, otherwise it’s only the A-Listers who matter!  Sam thought in disgust as she looked at the teachers as Tucker typed away at his phone.  “Any luck?”

 “Nothing, I can’t even get a single channel or update and the net’s down!” Tucker said and shook his head with a disgusted expression.  “I thought these things Vlad donated let wireless signals through.”

 “That’s what the specs we read at the Fenton’s said……. But give a guess why that is here; think about where we are.” Sam said with a snort and Tucker looked at the teachers and nodded.

 “Yeah, I can see that.” Tucker muttered and looked back at his phone and tried to work around the blockage.  

 “Yeah, that’s for sure.” Sam muttered as she looked around and caught sight of Belphegor leaning against the wall of the far side of the gym with Hecate and Lamashtu around him, a strange and smug look on his face.  And then there’s them.  I’ve always thought that those three are wrong somehow but how they’re reacting to this is not right……… maybe I can get the guys to see what I’m talking about with them, maybe we should look into them. Sam thought before she heard Tucker cough a little.  “What is it?”

 “That.”  Tucker said point towards the teachers.  “Look alive, the only good A is coming towards us.”

 Sam sniffed, spelling the familiar scent of cat and looked up and saw Star walking towards them and frowned.  What does she want?  She’s the only one of the A-Listers that I don’t hate but she follows Paulina around and…..well that’s enough really.  Sam thought with a slight scowl as Star walked towards them.

 “Sorry to bother you, but have you seen Valarie?  I know she was on Lancer’s bus but I couldn’t see her anywhere and…….” Star began but Tucker interrupted her.

 “GOT IT!  I’ve got signal!  Let’s see what’s on the news, oh hell.” Tucker said causing Star and Sam to look at the screen and pale.  As kids around them heard and gathered they looked down as well and as the gathering was noticed and Lancer started to walk towards them.

 “  to those just turning in, again this is Lance Thunder, so far reports from all shelters show that the shields are only holding the creatures partially back but there’s reports of something bigger…….Oh god!  Folks I’m at Main Street and the Fentons, the Red Hunter and the GIWs are fighting the gargoyles but there’s a black stone Dragon flying towards us!  The people are evacuating to nearby shelters and this reporter is joining them!” Lance Thunder’s voice came over Tucker’s phone as

 Sam looked at Tucker as the kids around them heard and started to talk to the others as Lancer made it to them with a scowl, but Sam was only paying attention to the fact that Danny wasn’t fighting, that meant something had happened to him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 Vlad looked at the battle that had spilled into Main street and scowled.  This shouldn’t have happened, everything was perfect!  I can’t believe this, but at least those evacuation plans from when the town was taken into the Ghost Zone works.  Vlad thought as he watched a screen in the mayor’s office and looked up as his secretary came into the room with a look of fear.  “What is it?”

 “Sir, the GIWs called, they want authorization to prepare something called ‘Operation Exodus’?” She said and after a few moments of silence she looked up and saw that Vlad was looking at her in shock, his pupils dilated.

 “Exodus?!?  Call them back and tell them that if they even call me back with that propsual then I will send everything to Washington!” Vlad barked as he shot up from his chair and she fled from the room with Vlad’s glare following her.

 “Exodus, of all things!” Vlad said as he leaned back into his chair.  I thought I told them not to even think about making that thing!  Once we survive this, I need to find out just what those idiots have been doing! Vlad thought as he glared at the holo map and wondered how Amity Park would survive this day.

  OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 Valarie strafed the Dragon and it roared as she blasted away at it; the evacuation of people from this part of town had almost been but when the Gargoyles had reached the area and attacked, the GIWs had made it and were only attacking the stone creatures and the and the Fentons had rolled up in their Ghost Assault Vehicle and started to blast away, saving some of the GIWs who had lost their skysleds and had used it as a rallying point as they escorted the civilians from the area as they all fell back towards the nearest shelter and she thought they could handle it but then the Dragon had appeared and the other gargoyles had surged forward, somehow stronger then before

 “Come on Mads, we can get this thing down!” Valarie looked down and saw Jack Fenton trying to charge the nearest Gargyole but Maddie Fenton held him back.

 “Stay there Jack, we need to protect the people, once their safe we can come back for samples!” Maddie said and Valarie hid a shudder as she blasted at a Gargoyle.

 “Of course those two are like that.” She muttered as she surfed on her board and dodged another Gargoyle as she fired a few blasts as she looked tried to figure out what was happening.  I really need something to see what’s happening around me, maybe I should try and make a drone or something!  Valarie thought as she flew around the battle and tried to figure out something and smirked as she saw the Assault Vehicle destroy one of the Gargoyles, blasting its body apart and destroying its wings and arms. YES!  If we take out the smaller ones first then we can gang up on the bigger…… wait. What’s that thing doing? Valarie thought as she looked on in horror as she surfed around and could only look on, shocked at what she was seeing.  As Valarie could only watch with horror as the Stone Dragon charged up and fired a blast of black energy at the Gargoyle that the Fenton’s had destroyed, and within moments the gargoyle got back to its feet, fully recovered. “FUCK!”

 The Gargoyles roared and charged at the Assault Vehicle as the GIWs started to fire away as the Fenton’s activated their vehicles weapons to meet the horde as Valarie surfed down shooting, thinking the last thoughts that she ever thought she would ever.  Where are you Phantom?!  Valarie thought as she tried to surf past a Gargoyle only one from below her struck and destroyed part of her board, sending her falling and it retracted into her suit as she landed on the Assault Vehicle and started to lend her blasts as the Gargoyles.

 “You okay Huntress, when can you get airborn again?” A voice caused her to look down for a second and saw that it had come from one of the GIWs.  Valarie saw an update on her mask about her board, it would need a few minutes to recover and then she could get back into the sky and strafed the dragon

 “Soon!” Valarie said as she looked at the Dragon as it stood there and seemed to just look at them as the Gargoyles ran into their fire.

 “How long?” The Agent asked as he battered down a Gargoyle and shot its head off

 “Just Soon!” Valarie called out as she started to fire blasts from bother her arms at a Gargoyle that tried to get around them to attack the civilians running away from the battle.

 “Not detecting a lot of trust lady!”

 “You did try and arrest me earlier, so don’t expect me to give you my tech-specs!” Valarie spat and she heard the Agent

 “Wait, What?!?” The Agent asked in shock.

 Farther back Lance Thunder and his camera man were standing far enough behind them to see but not hear the byplay but Lance winced with each Gargoyle that the GIWs sent down.

 “I so don’t get paid enough for this!” Lance said as he covered and saw the spit take the GIW agent had done.  “There’s a story in that I think.”

 “ROOOOOAAAARRRRR!”  

 They all turned as the roar echoed around them and they saw the Gargoyles break contact and move towards the Dragon as it reared back its neck as energy started to spill out it’s mouth and they realized what it was going to do.

 “hell, Everyone get to cover!  If you Fentons have anything that can block it’s blast then now’s the time to use it!” The agent barked and Valarie willed her suit’s shielding systems to form an energy wall just in front of the Assault Vehicle moments before the Stone Dragon released a large energy blast that she barely held back.  She panted as the GIWs kept shooting as the Gargoyles as the Dragon looked right at her causing her blood to freeze as she looked at the stone thing as it flared its wings.  It leap at her, and she tried to form another shield wall but her suit showed that she was too weak and she winced as she prepared to jump off the Assault Vehicle when a wall of brown stone suddenly shot up twenty feet and the Stone Dragon slammed into it.

 “Hey, I’m getting a big energy reading!” Jack called out and before they all heard the roars of the Gargoyles and the slice of something and a roar from the Dragon as the wall broke apart. Valarie stared in awe as from the dust Phantom appeared swinging a brown long sword with magma veins on it.  He had on gauntlets of brown metal that went from his hand to his elbows.  As a Gargoyle charged at him Danny slashed in in two down the middle and stood there, slowly raising his sword and pointing at the Dragon who roared as the Gargoyles charged at him.

 Danny raised his sword and stone pillars rose from the street and shot at the Gargoyles like arrows and the flying ones were destroyed as the others could only watch.  The Stone Dragon reared its head back and roared, moments later the Agent who had been talking to Valarie’s free hand went to his earbud.  

 “What…. Oh hell! Listen up!  All the Gargoyles are leaving the shelters!” The Agent barked out and started to recheck his riffle.  “I want everyone to rearm themselves and get ready, if they’re leaving the other shelters alone because that thing roared then they’ll be coming here! Before that happens we need to get the civilians out of here!  You staying or coming Huntress?”

 Valarie looked at him and tried to figure out what to do when her suit detected motion come from all around them.  “Too late, we’ve got incoming!”

 The Agent and the others looked around at the rooftops and saw Gargoyles all around them snarling and looking at the cowering civilians and swallowed before he made a choice.  

“Okay, fighting time! Fentons, move this thing backwards and use every weapon, everyone else protect the civilians!”

 “Got it, if I see a shot I’ll take Phantom down!” Jack said and the Agent looked at him before paling and grabbing Jack through the open window.  “Hey, what’s the deal?”

 “Leave Phantom alone, that stone things are the threat!” The Agent barked at Jack and he felt the stares of the others on his back.

 “Agent Z, are you sure sir?” One of the other GIWs asked as they fired at the Gargoyles as they tried to protect the civilians.

 “Directive 1; Protect the People above all else.” Agent Z said and kept firing with his riffle as he backed up and the Ghost Assault Vehicle moved backwards as Jack used the inbuilt weapons to blast away the Gargoyles.

 Valarie jumped off the roof of the Ghost Assault Vehicle and formed up her board and started to fly upwards, blasting away at the Gargoyles as they flew at the people, the GIWs and the Fentons adding their fire to hers.

 Danny meanwhile had finished off the last Gargoyle and pointed the sword at the Stone Dragon with one hand and a pillar of black and red stone sprouted from the ground and tore away the Stone Dragon’s left wing as it tried and almost succeeded in dodging what Danny caused to form under it.  It roared and flexed it’s other wing and the Gargoyles broke off from attacking the civilians and flew at Danny.  He looked up and jumped at them, spinning around and slicing with the sword and he destroyed one Gargoyle with each blow, landing one handed he pushed off and spun around in the air and landed looking at the Stone Dragon and shot at it.  The Stone Dragon opened it’s mouth and shot balls of black energy that Stone Danny dodged or sliced apart until he sliced off the Stone Dragon’s right back leg.  As it tried to balance itself as Danny ran around beneath it and sliced off it’s left foreleg, as it tried to balance itself Danny jumped upwards, his sword glowing red and he cut through its head.  The rest of the Gargoyles flew towards him when he jumped and trust his sword into the base of the neck and red veins raced up the neck before it roared and melted away, revealing a gemstone where the head had been that glowed black.  Danny pointed his free hand at the gemstone and fired a sphere of red energy that hit the gemstone and exploded, the Gargoyles eyes stopped glowing and fell to the ground as the dust settled and the gemstone was revealed to have been destroyed.  

 Danny blinked and looked around.  What the hell?  The last thing I remember I touched that spark and then……. wait what!  Danny thought as the last half hour coming back to him and he looked down at the sword in his hand as it disappeared along with the gauntlets.  

 He looked around, noting the GIWs and his parents as they aimed at him and decided to freak out later before going transparent and flew away, a frown on his face.  Somehow when he formed his legs into a tail; it felt weird.

 The people cowering behind the GIWs and Fentons stayed where they were before they started to scream and roar in happiness as they realized they were safe!  Lance Thunders looked at his cameraman with a shocked look on his face. “Tell me you got that, tell me you’re still broadcasting?”

 “You saw and heard it here folks!” Lance said with a smirk as his cameraman gave him a thumbs up. “The threat of the Stone Gargoyles and the Dragon is gone, thanks to Amity Park’s Phantom!”

 Valarie saw a squadron of GIW skysleds coming and speed off, not willing to risk that these GIWs wouldn’t attack her, a strange feeling going through her.  What happened today, I think I need to look into the Ecto-Act a bit.  And the next time Vlad sends me out after a ghost I’m going to ask Phantom about it.  She thought as she flew away.

 On the ground Agent Z removed his sunglasses and looked at the Red Huntress as she flew away, a frown on his face as he tried to figure out just why his agency had decided to go after the girl, one thing was sure, there was something very wrong with the local branch.  

 OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 “WOOHOOO!”

 “PHANTOM KILLED THE DRAGON, YESSSS!”   Dash exclaimed and smiled.

 “Where’d you think he got that sword from?!” Paulina asked with stars in her eyes.  “Do you think he has matching armor?”

 “It was a broadsword, the kind of sword Excalibur was said to be, the old weapon of knights!” one of the nerds said and a few of them got strange looks on their faces.  Sam smirked and Tucker slammed a fist into his palm and grinned.  A siren from outside caused Sam to smile as she looked at the doors as one of the teachers opened it and Sam moved off, the usual habit of the school closing after a major ghost attack was a godsend since now she could go and visit her grandmother at the hospital.  

 Tucker moved to follow her when someone dropped a hand on his shoulder.  Looking back he saw Mr. Lancer looking down at him with a frown.

 “Let’s talk about how you got around the blocks we put in place Mr. Tucker.” Mr. Lancer said frostily and Tucker winced as he tried to figure out how he would get around this.

 “Isn’t that illegal under the town’s laws?” Tucker asked weakly and Mr. Lancer just looked at him stone-faced.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 Danny flew back towards the construction site and saw a bulldozer blocking a building and went through the walls and saw nobody was in it smirking he transformed back to human form. He leaned against the wall and panted. What was that, where’d that sword come from………  Danny’s thoughts died as he saw a door in his mind, it opened and the sword and gauntlets were there, waiting to be called upon.  As Danny focused on the armory he saw something beyond the sword and gauntlets but her couldn’t see it clearly, but the sword and gauntlets were as clear as day and he knew what they were .  “Volcanic Arms!”

 As he cried out he held out his hand and his lava surged up to his elbows and formed the gauntlets, the sword formed in his right hand.  Looking at the hilt he saw a ruby on one side of the pummel and a brown gemstone on the other.  He looked at the veins of magma on the blade and saw them pulse with light as he held it.

 “Amazing, but how do I?” Danny muttered as he looked at the weapon in his hands and the gauntlets on his arms.  Strange, it’s like I know what I can do with these things…… he thought as he started to swing the blade around for a few moments before he raised his free hand and a column of red crystal grew to his palm.  He looked at it and grabbed the top and broke off the top and put it down on the ground and willed the column to drop back into the earth, a little bit of dirt messed up the only sign something had been there.

 “Amazing!” Danny breathed as he pocketed the shard and walked off.  Maybe I can use this to make something from this……..any way I wonder why I’m so thirsty, and what was that? He thought as he walked back towards his home.  His phone buzzed and he pulled it out and saw a message from Jazz and he smiled.

 SkyBoy; Hey sis, heading home.  Will tell how I survived if asked, see you there.

 OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

  Sam walked into the hospital and stared as she looked around and saw a lot of people waiting or being helped as doctors and nurses moved around.  

 “Do you need help?” Sam looked to the side and saw a tall Japanese woman with her black hair in a bun and a sensual figure in a white lab coat over black slacks and jeans walk towards her rubbing her eyes with glasses on her forehead.  She squinted at Sam and then brought her glasses down and then winced. “Oh it’s you Sam, hear to see her.”

 “Hey doctor Kobayashi, how’s the hospital handling this?” Sam asked and Maiko Kobayashi laughed bitterly.

 “With those government hacks commandeering the other entrance because of ‘security concerns’ we’ve had to get everyone through admissions.  Thank god we set up the emergency entrance seperatly after the first time this happened.”  Maiko said bitterly and Sam winced.

  I can’t believe what happened, the GIWs are terrible fighters but to have actually stood their ground instead of running, I might have misjudged them a little.  Sam thought as she walked and stopped when she noticed Operative K was talking on a phone near the bathroom and moved closer to listen in.

 “…..Yes, we’ve got no choice anymore.  The others will hear about this, we have to purge the labs of all our research and what we were able to get from the Fenton’s.”  Operative K said and nodded.  He started to turn and Sam slipped into a nearby room and closed the door, leaving it open slightly so she could hear him as he walked past the room.

 “Yes, we need to send copies of all the research to the secondary base……We can’t let those fools in Washington stop us now, once we have the tech right we’ll show them the truth. No the creatures weren’t ghosts, they were based on the secondary power, also Phantom was detected wielding the same power.  Yes we have to prepare Exodus no matter what Masters says.” Agent K voice came and stopped and Sam felt the door twitch as Agent K slammed his free hand against the door.  “Agent Z did what?!  I suppose the directives do say that…….. keep an eye on him, we need to be sure that he never finds out about Exodus, he wouldn’t understand.”

 Sam left the room a few moments later, worried about what she had overheard and moved to the elevator and quickly was carried to the floor she wanted.  After a few minutes walking she entered a room and saw her Ida Mansion laying on a hospital bed connected to a heart monitor.

 “Sammy, with what happened at our unhonorable mayor’s ceremony I was worried that you wouldn’t come today.” Ida said as she reached over and grabbed Sam’s hand.  Sam smiled back at her and looked at her with a look of concern.

 “I couldn’t stay aware grandma.” Sam said as she looked at Ida looked away.  “Grandma?”

 “I’m not.” Ida whispered and Sam looked down at Ida with a look of concern and confusion.

 “What are you saying?” Sam asked and Ida looked at her and sighed

 “I’m not your grandmother, I’m your godmother and guardian.” Ida said and Sam gasped as Ida looked down and away from her.  “I’m sorry that I never told ya, I wanted to before this all happened but I couldn’t every find the time or figure out the way.”

 “what?” Sam asked and Ida smiled at her and rubbed her check.

 “I took you in you because your mother, your birth mother was a friend of mine.”  Ida said with a laugh that turned into a cough and she reached for a glass of water that Sam grabbed and hurriedly handed it over.  As Ida took a drink Sam looked at her, shocked and confused.

 “What….. why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asked as she stared at her…. God-mother?  It doesn’t matter, this woman raised me more than Pamela and her husband did and this explains everything about why I’m so different from them. Sam thought as she looked at Ida who looked back.

 “I let that idiot son of mine convince me to let him and his wife take the lead, but whenever there was a decision that needed to be made to take care of you I made it.”  Ida said and gripped Sam’s waist.  “Never doubt I love ya Sammy, I kept secrets that’s true, but they were to protect you and never doubt that I love you.”

 “Grammy.” Sam whispered as tears came from her eyes.

 “No tears Sammy, this isn’t the end just yet, this is just see you later.”  Ida said forcibly.  “Now listen, I set it up so you’ll be emancipated, and with what I know you’ll be fine once you’re out of their hands.  I left a book that will explain everything you need to know, it’s in that language that you and your friends needed to talk to Big Bad.”

 “Big Bad……that’s!  You knew.” Sammy breathed in shock as Ida laughed.

 “I knew from day one Sammy, I had been watching you all and when it happened at school the first time I knew it.”  Ida asked and Sammy could only stare at her.

 “How….” Sam asked as she tried to understand the roller-coaster of events, tried to make sense of what Ida was saying and she could only look at her shocked.

 “I’ll explain next time we see each other Sammy, I promise.” Ida said before she looked out beyond Sam’s shoulder and smirked.  “But my lawyer is here to talk to you so go on.”

 Sam looked behind her and saw a woman in a business suite looking into the room and smiled slightly at her.

 “Miss Samantha, I’m the lawyer that Ida hired.  My name is Rachel Lortong, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”  Rachel said as they shook hands. “There are a few papers that you need to sign, a few I’s to dot and well it won’t take long.”

 “Go Sammy, no matter what happens we will see each other again.” Ida said and waved her off.   As Sam left Ida looked at the ring on her finger, and called up all the efforts of strength she had left.  “Come on Ida, just ten minutes more than you can rest until your back.”

 OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 Belphegor walked around the destroyed battle site with a wide grin with a backpack in his hands as the sky darkened.  Oh this was wonderful, I can’t believe that my grade had to miss this wonderful carnage!  But I always thought that this place was something, but to think I never found the time, what I could have done.  Belphegor thought as he wondered through the ruins towards the building that had been destroyed by the GIWs.  “This is amazing, I mean I knew that my beliefs were true with the ghosts but this, this is proof!”

 He bent down and picked up a piece of the stone gargoyles, moving his thumb over it and smiled.  Oh what I can do with you my pretty!  All those old books I bought over the years said there needed to be a spark to give the power, being around ghosts wasn’t enough, a few of these each and then we’ll really be cooking with true power!  And if I can gain enough to craft a few items or even just alchemy, then I might be able to rule this town!  He thought as he took off his backpack and started to put as many of the stones as he could fit into it.  As he reached the limit of what he could carry and move quickly he grinned as he stood up and looked around.  “Oh, this is perfect; I don’t know who made these wonderful toys but I am sorry that they were dealt with so easily, my own plans have to reflect that.”

 “Hey, don’t hog all the good ones Belphegor!” Hecate’s voice caused him to turn and see both of the girls walking towards him with bags around their shoulders, each one having taken some of the stones from the destroyed gargoyles.

 “Don’t worry sis, we’ll share everything.  And this is only until we can find out where they’ll move the rest of these things.”  Lamashtu said with a giggle.

 “Yeah, but if we can’t get anything else then we should grab what we can and leave before anyone comes and confiscates this stuff!” Hecate said with a pout.

 “I wouldn’t worry me dears.” Belphegor said as he moved ever closer to the ruins of the building the gargoyles had come from subconsciously as he looked at the girls. “With the pounding the GIWs took, it will be a while before anyone will be back here, but I suppose you’re right, we should leave once I look over the this place.”

 As he turned around and walked into the ruins he heard a crack and within moments fell through the floor.  He dropped ten feet and hit the dirt with his feet and started to look around, wondering what he had found.   The chamber he that fallen into was lined with glowing crystals and at the far end was a tome bound in chains with an open door way behind it.  He stared at it hungrily as his meager senses could tell that it was something special.

 “Master Belphegor, are you okay?!”  Looking up he saw Hecate and Lamashtu looking down at him from the edge of the hole. He grinned back at them and looked around the chamber and saw a small corridor

 “Perfectly fine girls, I found something that I think will help us.”  Belphegor said as he walked towards the book and as he touched it the chains shot off and he felt something connect with him, something that told him that his life was forever changed moments before a unseen wave of something went out from the stand.  He picked up the book and felt a rumbling.  Looking around he saw the cavern start to collapse and ran for the door he ran up stone stairs and behind him he heard the sounds of falling rocks, all he could do was hope the girls were safe.  He saw a door and bashed into it, breaking through it into a wooden hallway in a Victorian style.  Before he could take what it looked like the grounds started to shake and he looked around and saw what he hoped was a door to the outside and he ran towards it, ramming his shoulder into and he ran into the yard, the girls seeing him waved and they ran towards where they had parked Belphegor’s car, hoping to get away.

 “What’d you find down there?” Hecate demanded as they drove away, Belphegor ducking the car into a side street as civic vehicles and Belphegor handed her a book as he drove.  She looked down at it and frowned as she read the text.  “This is Greek…… Mageía av petra…. That means Magic of Stone!”

 “Could this have anything to do with those wonderful, wonderful things Master Belphegor?!” Lamashtu asked and Belphegor started to cackle.

 “Girls we might have finally made it.” Belphegor said as they drove towards the main part of town.

[chicagocryptid]

'you’re the one in class who has tattoos all over their arms and piercings and everybody’s scared of you and one day I catch you watching cat videos and doodling in the middle of a lecture and wow you’re a dork' with larry and ash? i only ever seem to think of sad stuff about them and they need some cute silly stuff too.

((wow this has been sitting in my inbox for ages i’m so sorry))

False Pretenses // Larry x Ash

Warings: None

She was curious about him. 

Their first day in class, most of the students had made a conscious effort to steer clear of where he was sitting, and she could see why. He looked about two decades too late, with long hippie hair and the air of a high school burnout. He was tall, too, and quiet, which most people didn’t like. They never knew what to say, she thought. They don’t know how to enjoy silence. 

The next time they had class, she sat a little closer to him. Not right next to him, not yet, but two rows back, so she could spy a little better without looking suspicious. His handwriting was neat, but sloping. He had tattoos on his hands that disappeared underneath the sleeves of his flannel. He had worn his hair up, knotted at the back of his head, and she could see another tattoo peaking out at the base of his neck. She wondered if they all connected. A perfect tapestry of art. 

She found herself waiting for him. She would get to class early to watch him come in. She would stay behind to watch him leave. Once she caught him in the art room, sitting behind the pottery wheel. She had to stand on her tiptoes to see him through the crosshatched window, and only left when another student rudely asked her to move so she could get inside. 

She watched for weeks, but she never saw him with anyone. He always came to class alone, and left alone. There was always a circle of empty seats around him, as though he were infected with something contagious. When she saw him around campus, which was rare, he was always by himself. But he didn’t seem to mind. It didn’t seem to bother him that people cowered in his path or moved when he sat too close or avoided speaking to him as much as they could. She had thought she would feel sorry for him, but this only intrigued her more, made him an even more unattainable attraction. 

It had taken a while to gather the courage, but one week before fall break, she steeled herself and set her bag down at the seat next to him in the lecture hall. She tried to make her voice as strong as possible when she asked if he would mind her sitting there. He glanced at her, and gestured to the seat, but didn’t speak. Feeling foolish, she settled into the chair and tried not to seem eager to leave. 

Maybe he was a bad guy, she thought. After all, she didn’t really know him. They had never spoken. She didn’t think he’d ever even really looked at her. Maybe he did hard drugs. Maybe he was in some kind of gang. Maybe he was a murder. 

Next to her, he laughed. Small, stifled behind closed lips, and she jumped a little. Oh God, she thought. He can read my thoughts. I’m thinking about him murdering me and he’s laughing. She looked over at him from the corner of her eye and was surprised to find that he hadn’t been laughing at her at all. He was watching a video of a heft orange cat climbing into a refrigerator and curling up on the shelf. The camera shifted, someone was putting it down, and then a blue haired boy entered the shot. He picked up the cat and carried him off screen. A moment later, the cat ran back to the fridge, still open, and crawled back inside. The blue haired boy picked the cat up again, and the same thing happened. Finally, resolved, the boy left the door open, picked up the phone, shrugged into the camera, and the video stopped. 

Her classmate was doing his best to hold back his laughter, but it ended up backfiring and sending him into a fit of coughing. Ash laughed a little too, partly because of the video, and partly because of how flushed his face had gotten when the professor stopped the lecture and watched him until the coughing had died down. She tried to pretend she hadn’t been watching him too. 

For a while, she got caught up in notes. She had been so transfixed by him all semester, she had barely paid any attention at all, and it had shown dramatically on her mid-terms. Still, every so often, her eyes drifted to his paper instead. He took notes, though far less than she, and the edges of the page were covered in drawings. Some of them were campy, a bug and a flower, a bee in a tophat. Others were filigree and decorative. Some were realistic, half of a lion’s head, part of a palm. They were gorgeous, even the cartoons. He must have caught her looking, because he cleared his throat just loud enough for her to hear, and when she looked up, their eyes met and she blanched. 

“Oh.” She kept her voice at a whisper, which only served to elevate the shaking in it. “I’m sorry, they’re just -”

“Do you like them?” His voice was raspy and warm, even though he was whispering too. His eyes were the deepest brown she’d ever seen, never-ending and vast. She couldn’t tear herself from them. 

“Yes.” He smiled, one side of his mouth turning up more than the other, and he looked down at the notebook. She followed his eyes and saw that he was turning pages, closer to the back. He found what he was looking for, and folded the pages over so she could see. It was her. Sketches of her leaning over her desk, focused. Of her in the cafeteria drinking diet coke, holding a french fry in her fingers, laughing. A small one of her in the common area, reading a book.  She pulled the notebook towards her, awestruck, careful not to touch the graphite so it wouldn’t smudge. In the bottom corner he had written the words “Mystery Girl” in blue ink. 

“They’re beautiful.” She ignored the sudden urge to cry, and pushed the notebook back towards him. 

“I noticed you watching me. So I started watching you too.” She would have been embarrassed that he had discovered her doing what could probably been considered stalking, but she was too busy looking at the sketches. “You wanna keep them?” He asked, not waiting for an answer before tearing the page out of the notebook and sliding it across to her. 

“Oh, no. I couldn’t. They’re yours.” Even so, she put her hand on top of the paper.

“They’re you, Mystery Girl.” His eyes sparked, and her stomach flipped. 

“Ash.” She picked up the paper and slid it into her notebook for safe-keeping before looking back up at him. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “I’m Ash.” 

“Larry.” He smiled that lopsided smile again. “Nice to meet you, Ash.” 

“Nice to meet you, too.” 

[skulfuggery]

Playing The Nice Killer

Request: the legion's frank cornering an amab reader and threatening them w/a knife? lots of blood, crying and knifeplay, maybe wound fucking/blood as lube?

I stray from cozy pastures to bring you this, my first Legion fic and certainly not my last. Rated Grapefruit for gore & light n-oncon, read it on Ao3 here.

 Frank had no issue  admitting   to himself that he had a bit of a god complex. To say he was a control freak would still somehow be an understatement; there was so much more to his method than pure control. There was fear, the panic when his prey realized that he held their life in his hands. There was capitalizing on that fear, toying with the idea of mercy and letting them think that if they begged, pleaded, and bargained with all they were worth, Frank would let them crawl away.

 That became a bit more complicated in the Entity's realm. Under normal circumstances, nobody would live to fall for that trick twice. But once the survivors caught their first wind that Frank wasn't known for his merciful moments, their deaths became more resigned, a grim acceptance. Those who did beg stopped, and those who didn't made it a point not to respond to his verbal jabs.                                    

 He thought it a shame. The Entity's realm was both a gift and a curse, allowing him never-ending sovereignty over those weaker than him while losing half the fun of chasing them down. Eventually he just held his tongue, straining to hold in his taunts and give the same silent treatment that he was always received with.

 He didn't make the connection when another killer--the first new one since his arrival--joined them by the campfire. He didn't think much of it when he materialized in a trial. It wasn't until he caught sight of the new arrival, focused intently on the moving lips of the pig-tailed girl, that the opportunity before him spelled itself out in his mind.

 Someone who's never died before.

 Frank's fingers twitched. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, he fell forward and his feet were suddenly moving faster than his mind, knife flipped overhand and raised high in the air.

 He broke into the conversation with a single slice, running from the girl's shoulder all the way down to her elbow. Underhand grip, Frank whirled around as she screamed and lunged for you. Your hands flew up to defend yourself, not totally helpless even if you were no match for him. With practiced precision Frank forced a grimy blade inside of your guts, then quickly yanked back.

 You stumbled backwards, clutching your new open wound and screaming bloody murder. Fresh fear. Not practiced or restrained or in any way prepared for what was to come. Frank didn't realize how much he missed the sound until it sent tingles coursing throughout his entire body.

 While you panicked, Frank turned his attention back to the other girl, who had managed to get a good head start in the opposite direction. Killer instinct said to follow. The glowing crosshatch that she left in her wake was tempting. But not so much as his own hedonism.

 You had pressed your back against the brick wall behind you, shirt pulled up and wordlessly staring at your new wound. As though it fascinated you, the narrow window into your own inner working. Frank closed the distance in two steps, drawing your attention up in the same instant he shoved two fingers inside your newest opening.

 Again he trembled at your cry. Blood squelched between his digits and flowed out the small gap. He placed his right hand against the wall to steady himself, knife loosely pinned beneath his palm. Waited calmly for you to finish screaming before he opened his mouth. "I can tell you're new here."

 He watched the flurry of emotions cross over your tear-stained face, everything from terror and pain to pure bewilderment. Frank's grin beneath his mask widened. "What'd she tell you?"

 "Fffucking--She just--!" Frank tilted his head. You were pushing your voice awfully deep when he was sure you were on another octave just a moment ago.

 "Mm, cute." His fingers spread, stretching your narrow wound apart. But you didn't scream, this time you clenched your teeth and inhaled sharply, tears bubbling over with twice the intensity. "Not a very convincing tough guy, are you?"

 You exhaled as Frank brought his fingers back together. He was slow to push inside of you, savoring every new expression it gave. Soon his hips were twitching, bringing himself closer to you until your bodies were nearly pressed together and his mask rested firmly in your hair.

 And though you grunted and howled and everything in between, you never fought back. Because you knew it would get you punished, knew that he was the one with the power, knew that you were at his absolute mercy.

 "You know, the others will know how to fix this," Frank wiggled his fingers to show what he meant though he knew he absolutely didn't have to. You whimpered, tilted your head down further.

 "Others?"

 "Oh, sure. " Frank pulled his knife away from the wall and jabbed it down into a nearby crate, well within arms reach. "Couple others, they can mend you up and get you out of here. And since I'm so nice--"

 He pulled back and grabbed the bottom of his mask, sliding it up until it was pressed up into his hair. The Entity gurgled in the back of his mind, and he was all too happy to ignore it.

 "I'd be willing to let a newbie go." Your head snapped up, eyes immediately falling to his smug grin. He finally pulled his fingers out of you, looking first over his bloodstained fingers then at your wound. They never bled out as fast as they did in the real world, but his time was still limited. "I just need one thing from you."

 Your eyes narrowed. "No."

 "Don't want to hear my generous offer?" Without the mask there was no hiding it, Frank knew his excitement was written all over his face. Yet you shook your head again. He sighed without a hint of disappointment and moved his bloody fingers to his jeans, pulling down the zipper.

 And just as he expected, that simple noise changed your attitude in a heartbeat. You shrank away as you watched him undress, tripping over your own words until you could hardly speak at all. Once he tugged his jeans down his boxers were worthless, his cock springing up and poking out of the open fly. At the perfect height to push forward and rub the tip of his cock against your wound.

 You tried to squirm away and his free hand snatched your wrist, pinning it to the wall beside your head. Meanwhile he swiped away blood from your gushing wound to wet himself, shamelessly jerking himself off in your fluids. Your eyes met, and he broke away from biting his lip to smile.

 “Why don’t you give me a kiss?” You no longer hesitated. You shut your eyes and puckered your lips up, and Frank took a moment to simply admire that sight in itself before diving in. He grabbed you by your hair and pressed you to his lips, holding you there as his other hand slowly worked himself to orgasm.

 He held that for a long moment, amused as he watched your eyes slowly open and fill with betrayal as you realized that this wasn't going to get you out of this. He didn't want to break your hopes so soon, he wanted to let you go this time just so he could get one more out of you. So, with an annoyed roll of his eyes, he broke the kiss.

 "Well, a deal's a deal," Frank muttered on your lips. He felt you shake beneath him and he hoped you felt how it made his cock twitch. He pulled his head up and planted one more kiss on your cheek, brushing his lips over your ear as he pulled away. "You were a good boy."

 You tried to pull away from him but his grip in your hair tightened, holding you still. "Don't like when I call you that?"

 "Just...fucking...." Frank let go of your hair and you collapsed to the ground, your blood loss finally getting to you. You slumped against the wall, face going pallid as blood slowly pooled around you. Frank stroked his cock a few more times, really fighting the urge to finish himself all over your face.

 Then again, what was stopping him?

 You were barely conscious  enough   to feel the warmth splattering over you. First your forehead, then your cheeks, until you were covered in him. He wiped the last strand off on your lips, the head of his cock leaving a smudge of your own blood as it went.

 "I'll point the others your way." The voice was faint, muffled by his mask and growing dimmer every moment.  "But if I were you, I wouldn't want to be saved looking like that."

[probably-writing-x]

High Society (Chapter 6)

~A Tom Holland AU Series~

Tags: @imarypayne @sunshine112 @sleepwalkingdragon @supernatural-girl97 @vibhati123 @butithasntkilledyouyet @faefictions @carisi-sonny @trap-house-homiecide @shamelessbookaddict @tommydaspidey @oneblckcoffee

Warnings: Mentions of murder, drug use and money troubles, language warning, suggestions of a manipulative relationship.

Inspiration: It's interesting to see how the other half live, how their perfect lives are pieced together by secret scandals. It's beyond anything you can imagine until you're a part of it. It's High Society. (Based on the Netflix series 'Elite')

Notes: Thanks to @oneblckcoffee, there's going to be a bigger emphasis on the supporting characters in this story! Starting now with Harrison! Let me know what you think x

~~~Wednesday 30th January 2019~~~

"Imogen wanted to be exactly like everyone else in that school. She wanted popularity. But she felt like she was constantly in Lily's shadow. So, she was willing to go to great extents to stop that. And that was one of the worst decisions she made,"

~~~Saturday 20th October 2018~~~

You'd somehow found yourself at another event tonight. This wasn't in the setting of Harrison's house, it was instead a fancy event that you were now attending. Tom had asked you to go with him - he hadn't used the word date but his intentions were clear. It was some sort of charity night hosted by Imogen's mum and so all of your class were in attendance.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" You turn around to recognise the familiar voices of Noah and Zendaya. They had turned up together but made it clear to everyone it was simply as friends.

"Hey," You smile, hands still brushing down the material of your dress that already made you feel ridiculously uncomfortable. This wasn't like you and you still couldn't find Tom, "Have you guys seen Tom anywhere?"

"I saw him when he first came in, I think he went that way," Noah comments, directing you to a point away from the crowds.

The party was being hosted at a large ballroom and it was already starting to fill with alcohol influenced bodies. You directed yourself away from it all in the hopes of finding your company for the evening.

As you got closer, the distinctive sound of raised voices became clear. Tom. Harrison.

"Harrison, listen to me! We're going to fix this," Tom's voice sounded full of a certainty you couldn't mistake. Should you really be listening to this?

"Tom this isn't just a small thing anymore. My dad is losing everything!" Harrison exclaims, "And I'm sat here at some pathetic party whilst my family could be going bankrupt!"

You start walking away then because you fear you've already heard too much. But then there's the sound of a door opening.

"(Y/N)," Tom begins, standing in the doorframe as Harrison storms out and straight past you, "Sorry I didn't meet you,"

"No, that's okay," You shake your head.

"You," He stops and breaks into a smile through his stress, "You look beautiful,"

You look down at your feet and force yourself to hide the blush that grew on your cheeks.

"Can you come here a minute?" He asks and his bashful request warms your worry slightly.

You follow him into the room where he had previously been with Haz. It is a quiet sitting area with a large window door exposing a balcony behind.

Tom leads you through the room and the two of you stand on the balcony without anything spoken. For a long moment, the only noise is the sound of necessary chatter in the party and the juxtaposing breeze that kissed the nature in your sights.

"So Harrison is having some problems," Tom admits, leaning forward slightly as his hands rest on the concrete boundary of the balcony, "His dad lost a lot of money. One of his clients found out that he's been dealing. And they've cut all ties with the company,"

"What happens from here?" You frown, subconsciously stepping a little closer to him. Maybe it was the cool air that meant you desired his warmth, or maybe it was the sadness behind his chocolate eyes that made him need yours.

"I really don't know. Last time his dad had anything bad happen, he turned to drugs and he left home. They didn't hear from him for weeks," Tom sighs, "God, I don't want to see Harrison go through that again," The pain in his eyes seems to wrench at your heart and weaken every part of you that could resist him.

Your words fail you as you simply go over to him and place your hand over his. It is a worthless gesture, one that could have been done by anybody. But the feeling of comfort was one beyond normal worth to him.

"He's like a brother to me, you know?" He shrugs, "Anything he goes through, I've probably been through the same. And there's always a way we can fix it. Not this time, he could lose everything, (Y/n)."

You realise now that it was better for you not to speak. Staying silent meant he could let it all out. Something he rarely got to do in his life.

"When my dad... When he first..." Tom stops because admitting anything about the abusive nature of his father brought a feeling to him that he couldn't fathom, "I remember going to Harrison's and we just played football. He didn't ask anything, and it felt like it solved part of it. But I think we're past that point now. He might lose everything,"

It is the repetition of his previous words that encourages you to speak this time, certain that you couldn't watch him downgrade his worth like that.

"No," You say quickly, far too instinctively, "He's not losing everything. He's always got you, even if you feel helpless,"

~~~Wednesday 30th January 2019~~~

"I was losing it all," Harrison shakes his head, "My family were going through hell and all Imogen cared about was making it a route for her own benefit. She thought that helping me out would make me fall right into her arms,"

"You seem to hold a lot of anger over this?" That flick of the woman's eyebrow had become overly irritating and Harrison was letting it out in the clench of his fists.

"She was willing to destroy me, my family, everything. If I didn't do what she wanted, I would have been out of that school, out of everything," He clenches his jaw and his whole body is completely tense.

"And would you have wanted revenge for all of that?"

~~~Thursday 1st November 2018~~~

The past weeks had been a whirlwind at this school. You and Tom had been secretly inseparable. You met up whenever possible but avoided each other in front of prying eyes. But the real issues lay with Harrison. In the dramatic events of her mother's party, Imogen had discovered Harrison's family troubles and had begun to 'help' him. She was willing to pay off debts that his father now owed and even offered that Harrison stay with her until everything had calmed down at home. Something about it seemed off to Tom.

"I don't know, I just think she's trying to help," You sigh, relaxing into the feeling of his hand tracing the crosshatch stretch marks on your thighs.

"She's got an ulterior motive," He comments, shuffling as though he was trying to close any extra space between you.

The two of you had spent your class in the gym and, after your showers, you eventually ended up in the boxing ring, as always. However, your tame sparring sessions had now resulted to intimate moments like these. You were sat between Tom's legs with your back flush against his chest as he leant back on his elbows.

"It seems like it's actually helping Haz," You point out, "He hasn't fallen asleep in class for the past couple of days, I actually saw him eating something at lunch yesterday and he's been turning up to all of his lessons. That has to count for something,"

"I just don't want her to manipulate him or something," He mutters, clearly bashful about his protective nature over his best friend.

You turn your head so that you can see his face from the corner of your eye, "Then we can keep an eye out, but don't get too caught up in it,"

He hums in response and nuzzles his head into your neck, forcing a little laugh out of your lips.

"We should be getting back to class," You comment, using all your energy to push yourself away from his torso.

He lets out a groan and flops back against the floor of the ring, "So I can have Lily sticking around like a bad rash?" He smirks, "I'd rather stay here,"

You hold out your hands and pull him up, going to step out of the ring. It is then that you hear the sound of someone coming into the gym. Two people. Their voices are recognisable: Imogen and Harrison.

Tom presses a finger to your lips and tugs you to the ground with him so that you're completely out of sight from the pair.

"Oh come on, my mum wants to introduce you to everybody!" Imogen chirps, hurrying after Haz as he directed his path to the treadmill, "She wants everyone to meet my new boyfriend,"

"Imogen, we never said we were official. What happened to taking things slow?" Harrison's voice sounds fatigued, it echoes in his sunken eyes and the dishevelled nature of his golden locks.

"Harrison, honey," You watch intently as Imogen walks over and tugs gently on the towel that Haz had hooked around his neck, "Remember what I said?"

She pouts and you watch his head roll back, a deep sigh evident in the rise of his chest.

"I'm helping you out, aren't I? You'd be in deep trouble without me," The manipulation soaks every syllable without missing a beat, "So, you're going to get dressed up in your finest suit and we're going to go to my mother's event... As a couple,"

Tom's eyes aren't focused on yours anymore. He's now looking down at the floor with his hand still gripping yours. He was right.

"Hey," You whisper, certain your words were only audible to him, "We can help him, we will help him,"

It is as though your words pass right through him. He doesn't know how to respond because the thoughts rushing his head made speaking too difficult. Imogen was using him. She was using her money to hold a power over Harrison and threaten his livelihood if he even tried to question her actions or decisions.

The swinging of the door opening is recognisable with the fact that Imogen has now left and the sound of the irritated yell that Harrison releases gives you a certain point to be seen.

"Haz," Tom calls, running over to where his best friend was hunched over the treadmill, clearly burdened by the weight of everything at the moment, "You can't let her treat you like this!"

"Well what else do you want me to do?" You can tell that H wanted to yell the words but his emotion washes them with a weakness, evident in the way the words crack, "My parents might be getting a divorce. My Dad has more debts than he originally told us about, and now the only thing I can do to cope with any part of that is to pretend I'm in a stupid relationship with Imogen,"

~~~Wednesday 30th January 2019~~~

"One of the good ones, are you still sure about that statement?" She raises her brows, now leaning back against the slightly flexible plastic of the uncomfortable chair.

"Imogen did bad things. But I can't hate her," You shake your head, "I couldn't. A lot of people in that school had reason to hate her, but, whatever I thought, I couldn't be one of them,"

~~~Wednesday 7th November 2018~~~

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Noah's voice echoes in the quiet classroom, his paper slamming back down onto the table, "How did I fail another test?"

"Noah, please calm down," Mr Fitz sighs, making his way back to the front of the class, "Nobody's scores are changing, please just accept your marks and try to do better next time,"

"It's this stupid way you have of marking everything," Noah grumbles, slumping back in his seat.

"Well, the projects you will he handing in before Christmas will be marked completely differently. So, all of you can focus on that," Your teacher assures, sitting back against his metal desk.

"About that, Mr Fitz," Imogen's voice had become the new Lily in class, you dreaded its presence for fear of what it could bring, "Can we talk about more than one other person from the class?"

Heads snap round to her. This whole thing was about exposure, and she now had something she was willing to expose about more than one of you?

"You can interpret it any way you'd like, Imogen," He waves her off, too busy looking at the laptop in front of him.

"Mr Fitz?" Lily's voice rings in tired ears.

Your teacher's head snaps up and he is quick to go and help her as much as he can. It makes you smirk internally. The beauty of favoritism, the art of powerful teens managing to wind a teacher around their finger so much that it was evident to everyone.

When the teacher returned to the seclusion of his own desk, Lily turned in her chair to face Imogen.

"Come on, sweetie, stop trying to hard," She rolls her eyes, "It will come back to bite you in the ass one day,"

You and Tom exchange a look across the class. He's still sat next to her and you can see how his shoulders tense whenever she gets a little too close. You watch as he slowly shuffles his chair away whenever hers inches towards him. It gives you a slight comfort you didn't realise that it would.

"Are you going to say something Harrison?" Imogen tries to whisper the but it echoes on awaiting walls.

Harrison looks up and you're certain you've never seen anyone look so defeated, so fed up with a person, "Lily, are you really one to talk?"

The cock of her brows tells him his answer.

"You act all high and mighty but you've got Tom next to you who would rather spend every day beside (Y/N) than spend another minute with you!" As soon as his words are spoken, he regrets them. You can tell by his quick gazes towards you and to Tom. Guilty.

The silence in the classroom was screaming to be replaced. But there was nothing.

Until Lily's chair scraped harshly at the tiled floor and she rose, "Excuse me," she flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and strode out of there like nobody else was watching. In fact, nobody actually was. Everyone had opted to stare down at the papers in front of them and wait for the moment when tensions would lessen.

In the moment of blaring silence, you thought back to only a couple of months earlier. When all of this was utterly deranged to you, they seemed like they were living in another world. And now, you were a part of it. You had become the secret affair of the school King. You'd become laced in Harrison's family stresses and, now, the certain enemy of the school Bitch. You were one of them. No matter how much you denied it to your Dads, it was true. They couldn't pull you out because you were too far in. But, none of the other kids mattered to them. Just Imogen. Why was she the problem?

[louislouisrap]

in which bakugo accidentally explodes at the gym

So I know I said I wasn’t really planning to make a fic out of this but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I kinda want to now? I might? Make this a thing? Or at least write up a little drabble about how each character discovers their power? I have no idea but this was fun and I wanna do it again.This was super loose and rough, very little editing. Was just for fun  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also the entirety of my time spent in the gym until now was in preparation for writing about Bakugo and Kirishima going to the gym, so never give up on your dreams I guess

Also it’s super cool that some people started following me after reading my previous drabble! Thanks for doing so and I hope you continue to enjoy my dumb lil writings! （*´▽｀*）

It had been a week since Uraraka had been to the dermatologist, and they were still no closer to figuring out why her skin was behaving the way it was. The doctor had determined, at the very least, that the pads on her fingers were benign, and had suggested she try a callus cream. If nothing else, surgery to remove the pads was a last resort, but as they weren’t necessarily bothering her, Uraraka had initially dismissed the option.

It wasn’t alarming, but it stuck in the back of Bakugo’s mind as he headed to the gym with Kirishima.

“Hey man.” Bakugo greeted the redhead with a hearty clap on the shoulder as he emerged from his apartment.

“Hey!” A grin spread across Kirishima’s face, his mood infectious as always, as he stepped out into the apartment hallway. His broad hand enveloped the back of Bakugo’s neck and he went in for a combination chest bump and back slap, with a bit of a hug mixed in. After a moment, however, Kirishima broke their embrace and gave Bakugo a funny look.

“Dude, you’re like, really sweaty. Or greasy or something.”

“I know, right?!” The tips of Bakugo’s ears went pink in spite of himself. He wasn’t ever really ashamed of his body, and bodies did weird things from time to time, but he had found it odd that in even in the comfortable autumn air, he was suddenly working up a noticeable sweat. “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on but I’ve been sweating like crazy the past few days.”

“I’m telling you, you need more cardio,” Kirishima laughed as they made their way out of the apartment complex and into the quiet morning streets of Shibuya.

“It’s not even that,” Bakugo argued. “It’s like I’m sweating, but it doesn’t even smell or feel like sweat. Like—” he rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie and sniffed the crease of his elbow, then shoved his arm in Kirishima’s face— “it sort of smells like chemicals? Kind of like a sweet chemical smell?”

Kirishima cautiously sniffed, then looked up at Bakugo suspiciously. “That’s weird, man.”

“I know.”

They walked on in silent contemplation for a few minutes. Then Kirishima peered at Bakugo’s face.

“Your skin looks really good, dude.”

Bakugo regarded him quizzically.

“Like it looks really smooth. Like a baby’s butt. Maybe it’s your weird sweat.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kirishima.”

Kirishima laughed, a low giggle that erupted into hearty peals. It wasn’t that funny, but Kirishima somehow managed to find humor in almost everything, and with his childlike, friendly demeanor, he was often mistaken for a high school student, rather than twenty-two. This was especially true when he let his normally spiked hair go natural, falling around his face in a way that brought out the baby fat roundness in his cheeks. Today, however, Kirishima had decided against his usual styling routine, in favor of pulling his hair back in a low ponytail for their gym session. “I’m serious! Well, kinda anyway. Here—” he grabbed Bakugo’s forearm and rubbed his cheek against it— “we’ll see tomorrow how my face looks.”

Bakugo tore his arm out of Kirishima’s grip, then smacked him on the back of the head. “You’re a fuckin’ weirdo, you know that?” he barked out, suppressing a laugh. “Besides, that’s not even how that works.”

Kirishima shrugged. “Worth a try.”

“This is why you failed science in high school,” Bakugo snorted.

Kirishima was still arguing that he had been unfairly graded in science class (“Every science class?” Bakugo had asked) when the two of them reached the small gym. It was on the ground floor of a bigger building, not necessarily large, but tall, like most buildings in the area were. The gym itself was cozy, not really exclusive, but its members were more like a community, a family rather than a collection of random gym-goers. Bakugo liked it that way, and had convinced Kirishima to switch from the commercial gym he’d been a part of for the past year.

It was early in the morning, and while there were a few early risers like themselves that frequented the gym, today they were the first ones in the building. Being as tight-knit as it was, Bakugo and Kirishima had keys to open the gym whenever they pleased. They let themselves in and made their way to the locker room to change. Bakugo tore off his black hoodie and shoved it in his locker, revealing a very plain grey t-shirt that matched his grey and black gym shorts and black and white sneakers.

Kirishima, in comparison, had a slightly louder fashion sense. Unzipping his bright red sweatshirt revealed an equally bright red tank top that did a wonderful job of showing off his chest and broad shoulders. His gym shorts were, similar to Bakugo’s, an average dusty grey, while his maroon and white sneakers finished the ensemble.

Bakugo stuck a pair of earbuds in his ears, slipped his phone into the pocket of his shorts, and followed Kirishima to one of the squat racks in a far corner of the gym. Today was deadlift day. Nothing too hard, just some lighter reps for more volume and to help with his grip strength. Before Kirishima set himself up with the barbell to start warming up for his squats, Bakugo grabbed a second barbell from behind the rack, set it on the metal spotters, and loaded two large plates on either side.

With a quiet grunt, Bakugo lifted the barbell off the spotters and shuffled over to set it down next to the squat rack where he and Kirishima could lift side-by-side. He started off with a few light warm ups: positioned the bar midway over his feet, pulled back against its weight, straightened his back, and pushed his soles into the ground as the heavy barbell lifted up off the floor. He felt the pull in his hamstrings, the fullness of his lungs holding in a giant breath of air and the slight dizziness of holding that air in until it all came out in a whoosh after a couple reps.

Bakugo counted out ten quick reps, then took a minute’s rest to get some water at the drinking fountain. He returned, then added another 45-pound plate to each side of the barbell to start the actual work.

Even with his earbuds in and his music playing, Bakugo could still hear Kirishima next to him, whooping and grunting every so often. The two of them were usually courteous enough to be as quiet as possible whenever there were others in the gym, but since it was empty, they could let loose a bit this morning.

Bakugo bent down and adjusted his hands on the bar, the grippy crosshatched metal digging into his skin. He sucked a breath deep into his belly, bent down, back straight, and pulled. The barbell was heavy, but lifted with little resistance. Bakugo held his form for a second, two, three. He felt an itch in his palms, felt sweat trickling down his face, his forearms, into the creases between his fingers.

Suddenly, he felt the bar in his hands slip, his skin too slick to keep a tight grip.

“Fuck,” Bakugo muttered as his forearms strained to keep the bar up. “Fuck!” he shouted again as the bar slipped farther, and he felt the knurling grate against his palms.

And then, out of nowhere: a multitude of whip-like crackles, then an intense heat bloomed and spread through his arms. A bright flash of fiery orange-red, dark smoke enveloping his hands. An explosion, loud enough to shudder the squat rack that Kirishima was occupying, made louder by the accompanying thud of the barbell as Bakugo dropped all 225 pounds in an instant. The force of the explosion was enough to knock him back on his ass, and he rolled back a bit onto his shoulder to soften the blow. His palms buzzed with heat and energy, and even though the explosion seemed to have come from his very own hands, he felt no pain. Just an all-encompassing warmth that traveled up his forearms and left his heart racing.

Bakugo’s chest heaved as he stared at the barbell on the floor. Thin trails of smoke whisped and curled from his hands. Kirishima rushed to his side, eyes wide and terrified. “Holy fucking shit, Bakugo, are you okay? What the fuck happened?” He knelt down and placed a firm hand on Bakugo’s sweaty, trembling back.

“I have no fucking idea,” Bakugo breathed, his voice trembling as badly as his body. He swiped at his brow with his forearm and noticed that the sweat that had been dripping down his face a moment earlier had almost completely dissipated.

Kirishima sat down next to Bakugo, drew up his knees and rested his elbows atop them. “You hurt?” he asked, brows furrowed in concern. He regarded Bakugo, who glared intensely at his open palms.

“I…I don’t think so, but—Kirishima, my hands literally just exploded.”

A beat.

“Your hands—”

“Exploded, Kirishima. It sounds insane, I know, but I swear to god that’s what happened just now. I felt it.” Bakugo’s voice regained some of its strength. “When the bar slipped out of my hands, it like, ignited or something.”

“What did?” Kirishima asked cautiously.

“I think,” Bakugo said slowly, “it’s this stuff I’ve been sweating.”

Kirishima was silent, then carefully reached out to touch Bakugo’s hand. Bakugo recoiled immediately.

“Are you crazy, Shitty Hair?”

“Just relax, would you?” Kirishima rolled his eyes and grabbed Bakugo’s wrist, pulled it close to him, and brushed his fingertips across Bakugo’s open palm. Both boys stared at Bakugo’s hand, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, Kirishima seemed to noticeably deflate. “Well that was disappointing.”

“So you wanted me to incinerate your hand?”

Kirishima shrugged. “I dunno, I just…wanted to see if something would happen. But your hands didn’t feel sweaty at all, you know.”

Bakugo opened and closed his hands a couple times, brushing his fingers along the edge of his palm. Kirishima was right; all of the perspiration from earlier was practically gone.

“Something fucking weird is going on,” he muttered. He scrambled up off the floor, then held a hand out to Kirishima to hoist him up.

“Yeah,” Kirishima agreed as he let Bakugo pull him to his feet. “Between you and Uraraka, there’s something in the water these days, man.”

Uraraka. Bakugo pulled his phone from his pocket and saw, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that she had called recently. For reasons that Bakugo would later attribute to the mysterious workings of the universe at large, he knew he needed to call her back right then. He didn’t know why, but he just knew.

With a heavy thumb he tapped on the missed call notification and brought the phone to his ear. She picked up after one ring.

“Uraraka? Hey, I—”

The sinking feeling in his stomach bottomed out as she interrupted him, her voice shaking as badly as his had moments ago. “Bakugo, I need you to come over, right now.”

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

“Just get here as soon as you can. Please.”

Bakugo ended the call immediately and grabbed Kirishima hard by the arm. “We have to go,” he explained, forcing down the panicked edge in his voice. “Now.”

[my-heart-in-his-teeth]

The Devil You Know (Part 4 of 4)

Story Summary: A follow up to Mischief and the Maiden , Loki interferes with Elaina in the best ways. Contains both silliness and smut, consider yourself warned on both counts.

Author’s Note: Due to the huge drop in activity/interest in this blog, If I write any more of these, I’m just putting them up on A03, though I will probably throw the links up here repeatedly. Hope you guys enjoy and thank you so much for reading!

Should Tumblr Implode: I’m over here on A03

                                                             ***

The English countryside was unseasonably warm for this time of year, which meant that while it was still freezing, it was at least not snowing yet. The ground had been crisp with frost when she’d woken up this morning. Fortunately for as old as her rented cottage looked, it was well insulated and the fire had kept her so cozy that she stole an extra couple of hours of sleep.

However, she was now wide awake at midnight. Not that she had any place to be in the morning- that was the point of a vacation. Though she wasn’t certain she could call what she was doing a vacation anymore. She hadn’t been home in more than three months and she could only hope that James wouldn’t tire of house sitting.  

Byron was stretched long on the floor in front of the fire, where he’d spent most of his time since arriving two days ago, a black puddle of fur and contentment. At least cats don’t have jet lag- or maybe they always had jet-lag, which would explain a lot. Getting him over to the UK was a bit of a pain but worth it. She wasn’t sure when she would be going back to the States and she didn’t want to leave her oldest friend behind.  

She wandered over to the tall row of crosshatched windows overlooking the garden with a glass of wine in hand. The red reflection of her flannel pajamas moved along the diamond pattern as she walked by. The garden must be beautiful in the summer, but currently it was carpeted with dead leaves and the large stone urns that dotted along the evergreen hedge stood empty.  

The moon was impressively bright tonight and she thought how peaceful it would be to sit under it while she drank her Bordeaux and enjoyed the quiet solitude before she attempted to get some sleep. Remembering how bitter cold the wrought iron patio furniture was, she slipped on her thick robe and slid her feet into the boots she’d discarded by the door after hiking earlier before popping out the back door.

A thousand stars greeted her, twinkling in the cloudless sky with varying brightness. She loved the country at night. A white light blazed across the sky and she tried to call up a wish but she was interrupted when something moved across her legs. Byron. She must’ve forgotten to close the door tightly.

She called to him with the clicking sound he usually responded to, but he ran to the other end of the garden wall, and hopped onto the stone fence. He looked back at her, twitching his tale defiantly. “Byron,” she scolded. “Don’t you dare.”

He responded by immediately hopping down to the other side. She cursed and hastily set her glass on the bench, running towards the gate and swinging it open. He was there on the path that led to the lake, just far enough away that she couldn’t reach him, watching her with golden eyes. She called him again and he turned and trotted further away. “You’re going to get yourself eaten by something.” She told him.

The moon must be making him crazy, she thought. He wasn’t exactly the most adventurous beast these days now here he was diving into fox country without a care and he annoyingly maintained his distance, just out of her reach, until they’d reached old wooden pier that stretched onto lake. He chose then to run.

She started to run after him, relieved that he had cornered himself, but then she stopped. There was no cat ahead of her, but a man. Or rather, a deity. She recognized him instantly though he faced away from her. It might have been the cape.

The water was still as a mirror. He did not give any indication that he noticed her as she approached, his eyes remained set on the moon’s massive reflection on the lake’s surface. He was dressed in what she would guess was more formally than she had ever seen. More metal then usual adorned his shoulders and chest. And then there was the cape; dark and heavy, flowing to his feet.

“Well, one of us is having a very vivid dream.” She announced as she stood at his side.

“Are they?” Loki was stroking Byron, who was draped across the length of his forearm, like a villain in a Bond movie. “This seems real enough.”

“True. And I don’t remember falling asleep. But no one is trying to kill me tonight, so to what would I owe the pleasure of your actual company? Just in the neighborhood?”

“My kingdom is a bit too busy for my liking at the moment, preparing for a coronation.” The way he pinched that last word told her that the coronation wasn’t his. “I’m laying other plans for my own amusement as a distraction.” He looked down at her and smiled. “But since I was visiting other realms, I thought I’d steal a moment to visit yours.”

“Ah, so in other words, ‘yes’.” Maybe it was the wine that she had most definitely really drank at some point this evening, but she had the urge to ask him about what plans he spoke of, or any of the details about his life really, but she swallowed it down. She didn’t want to pry, which was ridiculous considering that he not only knew her whole life, but he had walked through her subconscious several times now.  

The thought of having reached the point where the Norse god of Mischief was just casually swinging by from a whole other world was a little impressive. “That’s my cat, by the way.”  

He drew a slender finger under Byron’s chin and rubbed it there, Byron lifted his head and purred appreciatively. “Oh, this feline and I have an agreement and he does a bit of my bidding now and then. Off you go.” He told him, and the cat leapt down and obediently headed back up the path.

“Well at least he listens to someone. Surely you don’t need him to spy on me.” Though remembering what he hinted at their last encounter, maybe he did. It seemed from his words that things were changing for the Prince of Asgard.

“Tsk, of course not.”  His alabaster skin looked bluish in the moonlight and the shadows carved the hollows of his cheeks deeper, giving an almost supernatural look to his devilishly handsome face. “Why would I deny myself that enjoyment?”

“Why did you have my apparently treacherous cat lead me to the lake instead of popping inside?” She asked.

“Too confining. And it is quite beautiful here is it not?”

It was. Snow was falling now, glinting like a million specks of falling stars around them. What a perfect painting this would make, she thought; the two of them with the moon on the black water and in sky, and the silver bits drifting down around them. And her flannel pajamas she just remembered she wearing.

“But if you prefer ...”  

With a flash she found herself to be in large room with smooth stone walls, a crackling fire and a large, and if she remembered correctly, very comfortable, bed. Her eyes lingered on that bed.  Loki’s hidden sanctuary in the forests of Asgard hadn’t changed at all. “So I am dreaming after all.”  

“Hmm.” He chuckled. “In a way. Your body rests on Midgard, safely guarded, but your mind is here with me. It’s easier to keep to familiar settings when meeting like this. And this place reminds me of you when I think of it. You are the only person I’ve ever brought here, you know.”  

“No, I didn’t.” This was as close to sentimental as she had ever thought him to be and she didn’t know how to take it. “But thank you for trusting me to not run and tell all my friends.”

There was just a hint of a smile on his lips as he brushed her hair back from her shoulders and eyed her up and down. “Let’s remedy this as well.”

She felt something soft envelope her and looked down to see that she was wearing a long crème colored nightdress. The semi- sheer material felt smoother than silk against her skin.

“Now, that’s better.”  

She loved the way his eyes lit up with a playful spark when he was up to something and the way they creased at the corners when his smile was genuine. He took her hand and led her to one of the soft, throne- like chairs near the fire. She sat and took in how much had changed since the first time she’d sat here and was introduced to the God of Mischief.

He sat across from her and stretched his legs out on a footstool, two fingers of one hand on his temple and the thumb on his chin as he regarded her thoughtfully. “I’ve wondered,” he said. “what you must want out of life, Elaina. I know better than to ask because something I’ve learned about Midgardians is that they so often do not realize what they want, what they truly want. You even have a saying about being careful what you wish for, do you not?”

“Yes?” Elaina answered hesitantly, curious but cautious about where this was going.

“You enjoy a certain freedom, that I’ve seen. You enjoy knowledge, which is admirable. But you have a love of stories that I think is what has shaped who you are and are what you love most of all.”

“Well...yes. I suppose you’re right. Stories last longer than most things and they’ll never stop being created and there’s a certain comfort in that.”

He smiled then and a book appeared in front of her, large and leather wrapped with a golden latch, it was suspended in the air at eye level until she reached out and took it. A current of energy moved through her as she pulled it to her and her eyes raised to Loki.

“A gift.” He said. He had never directly given her anything before. “A book of endless stories.”

“Oh, like a Kindle.” She mused.

He cocked his head. “You think I jest?”

“No. I think you are giving me a Kindle. The Asgardian version. And I love it.” She beamed as she stroked her fingers over the plain brown binding and slid open the latch. It was actually very sweet for him to give her such a thing. To get to read the lore of other realms that no other human has ever seen was an appeal to her book nerd heart.  She opened it and it flipped through the thick white pages. It was completely blank.

Loki stretched cat-like off his chair and sat on the footstool at her knees. “I think you should create some of your own stories.”

“Oh.” She never thought of herself as a writer, though she supposed she did have enough to write about at this point in her increasingly strange life. She thought it better, if she had to choose, to live a life worth writing about than to be able to write about lives far more interesting than her own.

“Try it.” Loki handed her a pen. An ordinary black bic. She flicked clicked the top a couple of times as he watched, his broad hand rubbing just above her knee. “Start small. Write of something you would like to happen right now.”

No pressure or anything, she thought, then smiled as an idea popped into her head. She began to put it down, her handwriting dancing neatly across the perfect page until the thought was ended with a period.

Loki was grinning at her wolfishly when she clicked the pen closed and it didn’t take long to see why; he wore nothing but the firelight that danced on his smooth skin, just like she had playfully written moments before. On the page and the words were glowing gold and green as they sank into the page and disappeared.

“The fuck?” She asked poetically as realization rolled into her head too slowly.  

“Whatever you write in this book, will shape what happens.” Loki closed it and knelt before her. “But the word’s reach is not infinite and works best when applied to yourself or those closest to you. For example, if you are sick, you can write yourself well; that is a self- contained desire. But if you were to write that you become queen of the world, a crown would not appear on your head, but after a fashion, a king might find his way to your door. Or not.”

“I said I didn’t want powers.” Though she had to admit that she’d enjoyed the feel of the book in her hands and the flare of...well, of mischief she’d felt watching those words eaten by the page.

“Ah, but this is not power that changes you. It is not tied to you. It’s completely bound within this book which you could pack it away or leave it to gather dust as another keepsake on your shelves if you wish but, “he looked down at his fingers that were absent-mindedly making circle patterns on the bare skin of her leg. “If there something were to happen...”

“In case of emergency: Open Book.”  It wasn’t a bad idea really. And she doubted she would ever use it to change her fortune more than he already had, but if James got hit by a car tomorrow and she could use the book to heal him, surely that would be a worth having it for.

She brushed the top of his hand with her fingers and met his eyes as he lifted them to her. “Thank you.” She told him and rested her hand on his with a gentle squeeze.

Without another word, he tossed the book to the footstool and his hands moved up under her dress to her hips as he kissed his way up her thighs., stopping just before reaching her center, which was just starting to stir.

He raised up on his forearms and kissed her mouth, sweeping his tongue inside as he took her face in his hands, lightly nibbling her lower lip as he pulled away. She looked down at the ridges of his muscled torso and wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her weight to him, sliding his arm behind her knees and scooping her up.  

He carried her to the bed and then, kneeling between her legs, he looked at her with a wicked smirk. “Now, I need your help with something, Elaina.” her name sounded like silk falling from his mouth. “I would be remiss if I didn’t make sure you were fully capable of using a gift of magic. I think that you should have a touch more practice using it tonight. Just to ease my mind, of course”

Before she could question what he meant, there was a soft flash of light and the book and pen were by her hand. She looked to it and then to Loki, naked and waiting.  

His tongue wet his lips, one brow raised and a knavish twinkle in his eyes as his rasped out a single word.  

“Write.”

[stickballl]

Sunshine after Moonlight Pt 6

read on ao3

The night had gone by as a blur, event after indistinguishable event, culminating in an indecipherable mess that Jean would never be able to figure out.  The last clear thing he could remember was standing by the goal when the Master stepped up to the court, face ashen but otherwise completely composed, and walked over to Riko.  Whatever he said lit a fire in Riko Jean had never seen. The grip of his racquet had almost splintered under his fierce grip as he shouted for everyone to get off the court. The weight of his stare on Jean made sure he knew to stay put.  It was only seconds after the last Raven was out of sight that Riko rushed forward and attacked.

Now, he was lying on the court, helmet thrown carelessly off to the side what felt like hours ago, at the full mercy of Riko’s racquet.  Jean could no longer discern whether or not it was tears or blood running down his face.  It was a safe guess to assume both.  His voice had given out and now all that escaped were strangled whimpers.  He could barely see from his swollen eyes, thundering painfully with each breath.  His forearms were bruised beyond imagining from misguided attempts at protecting himself.  His knee was engulfed in white hot pain and he could barely feel his foot.  He was limp on the court floor, completely vulnerable to whatever Riko had planned.

He barely registered Riko’s racquet before he felt the impact spanning his left ear down to his cheek bone.  He howled in pain, a resounding buzz filling his head as he felt repeated blows up and down his body.  A high-pitched keel filled his ears and he could just make out Riko’s voice above the overwhelming sound.

Riko grabbed a handful of Jean’s hair, pulling him to his knees with one painful tug. His racquet fell to the ground as Riko’s other hand wrapped around Jean’s jaw.  A knife appeared from thin air and pressed just below the inside corner of Jean’s eye.  Riko shouted something, his voice muffled by the pain, before he sliced Jean’s cheek open, crisscrossing with the scar he’d received years ago, and continued a painful pattern down Jean’s chest.  He saw Riko off to his left, lips moving in aggravated shouts.  The constant ringing in his ears drowned out any attempts at getting Jean’s attention.  In his frustration, Riko yanked at his hair, pulling patch after patch out, each time stopping to yell something new at Jean.  Despite the crushing need he felt to close his eyes and slip away, the tugging fear of what Riko would do kept him alert enough to stay conscious.  He faintly registered Riko shouting a slur of Japanese to someone out of Jean’s line of sight before he was shoved back to the ground, head bouncing off the wood.

His vision went black and the next thing he could remember was being dragged back to his room by his arms.  The odd mix of a dull pain and numbness in his shoulder must have meant that while being carried, his handler pulled a little too hard and dislocated it.  He wasn’t sure if he was moving his fingers, but he prayed with any ounce of faith left in him that there wasn’t any permanent nerve damage.

They tossed him in his room, not bothering to help him into bed, and slammed the door shut behind them.  The darkness overtook him and Jean felt it choking whatever life he still had.  His body moved on its own, filtering through his drawers until he finally realized what was happening when he heard a soft voice whisper his name.

“Jean?” Renee murmured, voice dragged by sleep.  A phone was pressed to his right ear, knuckles white at his grip.  A feeling of relief crashed over him, pushing out a painful sob at the concern in her voice.  It took him a couple tries before he was able to push the words out.

“I need help,” he whispered, and even then, his voice was barely enough to be heard. He heard some rustling on the other end and Renee’s breath quickened.

“What happened?”

“Kengo is dead,” he said, laughter bursting out unbidden from his lips.  It was more of a wheeze than anything, but it warranted a sharp breath from Renee.  When he calmed down enough to find his voice again, he said, “At least I think he is.  Riko didn’t say much before…”

His voice trailed away, leaving the rest unsaid.  He knew Renee would understand.  She was well aware of what went on in the Nest, especially to property like Jean.  He heard her breathing hitch on the other end, then a soft exhale.  She was steadying herself, he realized, focusing every unwanted emotion into a line and executing them swiftly.  He’d done it every day with Riko.

“I’m coming.  Don’t move, Jean,” she ordered.  Jean barked out another laugh.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” he remarked before the line went dead.  Jean sighed and laid his unharmed cheek on the floor.  He still clutched the phone in his hand, holding it above his heart.  The aching in his bones and throbbing in his head seemed to dull a little bit as his eyes fluttered open and closed.  He fought as hard as he could to retain consciousness, but ultimately, he gave up the fight and embraced the blissful sleep.

He woke to a devastating headache and a heavy air of nausea pressing down on him. He didn’t dare open his eyes, choosing instead to pretend to be asleep for as long as he could.  He couldn’t remember anything of what happened the night before, couldn’t remember what he’d done to warrant such a punishment from Riko.  He shifted each part of his body, bit by bit, cataloguing each injury the best he could, a sense of dread filling his chest when he could barely feel the fingers on his right hand.  His eyes flew open to an almost blinding white room.  He thrashed in the bed, suffocated by the thin blankets covering him. It took only seconds for the nausea to take him and he turned his head to the side just in time to vomit over the side of the bed.  He braced himself weakly, just able to keep himself on the bed.

He was vaguely aware of someone gently pulling him back onto the bed, their hands embodying a tenderness he’d never been handled with before.  Once he was settled, he shoved them away, knocking himself back into the wall.  Stars appeared before him, distracting him temporarily from the pain.  He blinked his vision clear to a concerned pair of warm eyes studying him.  When his breathing slowed and his sight returned to normal, the girl in front of him smiled.

“How are you feeling, Jean?” she asked, voice soft and hesitant.  The smile on her lips wasn’t malicious, filled with only worry, but there was something angry in her eyes that Jean simultaneously understood and feared.

“Where am I?  What is going on?” Jean demanded.  The girl’s smile turned to a frown and she reached for something behind her back. Jean flinched back violently, raising his arm to shield his face.  His eyes stayed on the girl though, as she pulled a small black phone out.  She kept her movements slow and measured, giving him enough time to predict each action.  He let his arm drop on the blankets.

“You’re safe.  You don’t have to worry,” she said.  Her lips spread back into the small smile, causing an odd warmth to spread throughout his chest.  He was used to a hot spike of fear tearing through his stomach and the burning in his lungs after being deprived of air for too long, but the comfort he felt by just a quirk of the lips was almost disorienting.  Something tickled in the back of his mind.

“Renee,” he breathed, relief cooling the aching fire in his veins.  She smiled, covering his hand with hers.  She started to say something, but the door opening cut her off.  Renee pulled away and let the Foxes nurse take her place.  Jean scowled at her, shying away from her touch.  She sighed and let her hands fall in her lap.

“I need to help you, Jean.  I could only dress your wounds while you were unconscious and I need to make sure nothing is permanently damaged,” she pleaded, voice even and low.  Jean glanced at Renee and only received an encouraging nod.  “Renee will stay in the room and I’ll tell you what I’m about to do before I ever lay a hand on you.”

“Have some experience working with fuck ups?” Jean drawled sarcastically, shifting slowly onto his back.  His response elicited a tight smile from Abby but nothing else.  She pulled gloves on in the silence, each snap felt like a strike against him.  “My right shoulder was dislocated.  My nose is broken.  Both of my forearms have fractures and I’m assuming my cheekbone does as well. Something is torn in my knee and with my luck, it’s the unhappy triad.  How’d I do?”

“That’s my guess as well,” she whispered, the shine of tears beginning in her eyes. Jean sneered and averted his gaze, choosing the safety of her white walls instead.  Her pity would do nothing for him.  It was useless to dwell on things no one could help.  He’d pitied himself for years before the realization that nothing was going to change hit.

“Years of practice,” he muttered and Abby flinched.

“I’d still like to examine you, make sure everything is fine, starting with the cuts and bruises along your torso.  Is that alright?” Abby asked, completely still.  Jean ground his agreement out through his teeth, knowing all too well how much easier it is to just play along.  She reached for the blankets covering his chest and for the first time he noticed the dried blood on the bandages and the fabric.  Dark bruises highlighted each cut as she began pulling dirtied gauze away.  It wasn’t even close to the worst he’d had, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. He looked away from the crosshatching of scars across his torso, both healing and long healed.  There was always a specific mix of rage and despair that shot through him whenever he added a mark to his body.  He’d learned how to control his external reaction. Jury was still out on how to deal with the internal one.

Once Abby had assessed and redressed the cuts, she poked at his shoulder and forearms, frowning deeper with each bruise.  Her fingers barely ghosted over them, yet pain radiated throughout his arms. She turned to Renee, whispering something Jean couldn’t hear, before she looked at him with wide, doughy eyes and a heartbroken smile on her face.

“The cut on your face required some stitches.  I am going to check that now, okay?” Jean nodded, keeping his gaze stuck on the ceiling.  She instructed him to turn toward her to give her a better view of his left cheek.  He painstakingly shifted, shooting a glare at Abby each time she reached out to help.  The gauze pulled at the cut as she took it out and Jean hissed through the pain. Abby muttered her apologies through a light stream of tears.  He ignored her, thinking of anything other than her meaningless attempts at making any of this better.  He settled deeper into the bed, pressing his face into his pillow.  He calculated the amount of time before he could really play again.  His grip was too weak, but that was his only concern.  The cuts he could deal with.  He’d cleaned blood out of uniforms before.

A touch on his good shoulder shocked him out of his thoughts.  He cursed and both women held their hands up in innocence.

“You weren’t answering my questions.  Is everything alright?” Abby asked.  Jean nodded and noticed the new gauze taped to his cheek.  A familiar frown appeared on her lips.  “Humor me for a second.”

She pulled a phone out from one pocket and headphones from another.  While she was configuring whatever plan was in her mind, Jean looked toward Renee for comfort or some idea of what Abby would do next. She just shrugged, that sweet smile still lighting up her face.

“Can you put this in your left ear?” Abby said, handing the earbud to him.  He glared at her, but did it anyway, wincing as he pressed against the bruising.  His gestured for her to continue.  “Do you hear any music?”

Jean shook his head.  Abby pressed something on her phone and looked at him expectantly.

“How about now?”

Jean shook his head again.  He couldn’t hear any music or any noise at all, but he felt the vibrations in his ear. Immediately, his heart seized and his stomach dropped.  He tore the headphones out, hyperventilating through clenched teeth.  He tried to sit up, restrained by his sheets and the panic clawing at his throat.  Pain blacked out his vision, trapped his breath in his chest, amplified the roaring of blood in his ears.  He struck at anything forcing him down until hands wrapped around his forearms and he let out a sharp cry.  He froze as fear threaded its way through each of his muscles, integrated itself into his core, mixed with the pain to make a toxic cocktail.

“Jean, it’s okay.  It’s just me,” Renee’s voice filtered through.  She pinned his arms to his chest, hands wrapped around his forearms. Her body covered his and left no room for him to move.  “This isn’t the end of the world.”

“What if I can’t play?” Jean asked, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. Renee’s eyes soften and she climbed off of him to sit on the edge of the mattress.  She left her hand palm up in front of her, an offering Jean was desperate for.  He gripped it like it was the only thing tethering him to his body.  “They won’t take me back if I can’t play.”

“You’ll still be able to play, but Jean,” she turned his head so he was looking right at her, “I’m never letting you step foot in Edgar Allen again.  Not as a Raven.”