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too-much-tma-stuff · 6 months ago

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Double Date (part 6.5)

Better late then never here's the mentioned double date between Harley and Ivey, and Hyena and Hood. It's unedited so please point out any errors you find.

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They really should have expected this when Harley had mentioned Jason and Danny joining her and Pam for a double date. Of course Harley would forget to actually plan, and would just show up, dressed to the nines with Pam on her arm yelling about an event at Penguin's club.

"Come on! we're going to be late for karaoke!" Harley yelled before she processed that Hood had ducked to hide his face and Hyena had a gun trained on them, his mouth stretched too wide in a snarl. "Oh, oops," She said sheepishly as Pam sighed and shook her head.

"Harley, did you forget to tell them we were coming?" Pam questioned with fond exasperation.

"No she did not," Jason said, returning with his helmet on and offering Danny his muzzle. Danny shrugged and took it though he didn't put it on right away. "She mentioned a double date when she brought Danny the flowers but we hadn't heard anything since."

"Oh shoot I'm sorry guys! I got so excited I guess I made the plan in my head! I could have sworn I'd asked," Harley apologized, pouting at the two of them. "Can we still go out though? I really want to do the Karaoke night, I was really looking forward to going with both of you."

Jason glanced at Danny, who glanced back at him, first uncertainly, then when Jason shrugged indicating he didn't mind, with puppydog eyes. Danny wanted to go. Jason sighed. "Fine, get out and give us 20 minutes to get ready and then we can go."

Harley cheered and Danny grinned, scrambling off to their bedroom to grab their clothes. Danny decided on a pair of leather pants and a shirt just sheer enough that his scars weren't obvious, and a more casual cloth facemask with a pattern of bared fangs. It covered his mouth and nose but he could slip a straw under it to have a drink, and it wouldn't muffle his voice too much when they sang.

Jason chose black pants, a red shirt, a brown leather jacket with plenty of concealed weapons, and a wide domino mask. He also took a minute to colour the white streak in his hair black so he'd be less distinctive, insisting Danny did the same, once he'd finished his eyeliner. Danny groaned about it but did it anyway.

"Okay, we're ready to go?" Jason asked, checking Danny out. He sure as hell looked ready for a night out on the town, he looked so fucking good with eyeliner, and those tight black black leather pants... No, Jason couldn't focus on that!

Danny, who smiled with his eyes and nodded eagerly, grabbing Jason's hand and dragging him towards the door. "We're ready to go!" He cheered as soon as he spotted Harley, who immediately cheered as well and lunged forward to hug Danny tightly as he laughed.

"Good now let's go! We're already late!" Harley babbled, dragging Danny towards the door as Pam and Jason followed at a more languid pace.

"And who's fault is that Harls?" Pam chided gently. "You need to learn how to communicate plans like this with people."

"I know, but I really thought I had," Harley said with a pout as she continued to drag Hyena out of the building and into a car they all piled into, Jason insisted on driving Eben though it wasn't his car because he couldn't imagine Harley was a good driver. Pam laughed and said she wasn't while Harley pouted, Jason drove.

They arrived at the iceberg lounge with no trouble. IDs weren't needed to enter, just being recognized as one of Gotham's rogues and since right now Hood and Hyena were practically royalty they were welcomed with open arms. Penguin even got them a last minute table and comped their first bottle, he knew it would pay to stay on the good side of Gotham's new power couple after all. Harley chugged her first glass of bubbly and took off to put her name down for the song she wanted.

"She's not a half bad singer," Pam assured them as she sipped her own glass of champagne more slowly. "Are either of you going to sing?"

Jason glanced over at Danny, who seemed to be hesitating, looking uncertain. Jason shifted closer and wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's waist. "Do it if you want to, I'll go up with you," he encouraged and Danny relaxed a bit.

Danny turned a little to whisper into Jason's ear. "I don't really sing, I'm good at it but since I'm a banshee my voice can be powerful. I've always been worried that singing will have, I don't know, do something?" He said like a question.

"Has it ever done anything?" Jason asked and Danny hesitated before shaking his head.

"No, not unless I scream," Danny admitted reluctantly.

"Alright, then we'll give it a try," Jason assured, kissing the side of Danny’s head before taking a sip of his drink.

Danny nodded and grabbed a straw, slipping it into the drink so he could sip it. Pam topped up their drinks when they were half empty.

"So what song do you think you want to do? Harley'll probably drag me up to do a duet. I always say I won't but she gets me with those puppy-dog eyes," she chuckled fondly, clearly not actually upset about that.

"Oh I know the feeling," Jason agreed, shaking his head.

"I have excellent puppydog eyes," Danny chirped, snuggling closer. Jason rolled his eyes behind his mask.

"I bet he does," Pam laughed softly, amused by the two of them.

"What song should we do? Do you think they have Come With Me Now? We've sung that one together before? Or Vicious, No no! We should do Zombie Love!" Danny suggested sounding excited, though that might just be two glasses of champagne in a body unused to managing alcohol. As long as Danny’s ghostly abilities didn't clear toxins as quickly as physical injuries.

"They can find whatever you want," Pam promised with a snicker. "Pangoo wants to be on both your good sides really bad."

Jason snorted, leaning back against the booth with a crooked and cocky grin. "He knows what my rules are, everyone does, follow them and we'll be fine," he said with a careless little wave.

"Oh don't tell him that!" Harley said, popping out of nowhere and making Jason and Danny jump. "It's so fun watching him scramble," she snickered, flopping down next to Pam, wrapping her arms around Pam's neck. "Come sing with meee," she pleaded as Pam poured her another drink.

"Harley you promised you wouldn't make me this time," Pam chided her without any heat. She didn't actually mind it seemed.

"We'll go first and you can talk her into it," Danny cackled, grabbing Jason's hand and dragging him up and over to the sign-in desk.

They signed up to do Zombie Love because they both thought it was funny. It wasn’t a traditional duet or anything but they could sing it together, that seemed to make Danny feel better too. His voice was beautiful, and he kept his distance from the mic so it wouldn't be too loud because he had very powerful lungs. He seemed more interested in practically grinding on Jason anyway, who was just trying very hard not to blush and potentially taint his fearsome reputation by blushing at his boyfriend's antics.

Harley was whooping and wolf whistling at them excitedly before the song ended and Danny dragged Jason back off the stage laughing breathlessly. He seemed thrilled as he pressed himself against Jason purring under the cover of the music and nuzzling against his neck.

"Hyena we're in public," Jason half joked with his hands gripping Danny's hips too tightly.

"No one's going to say anything, they're scared of us," Danny murmured into Jason's ear making him shiver.

"Hey lovebirds! We supported you while you sang!" Harley accused them, bouncing over to practically pry the two of them apart.

Danny let go while laughing, smiling at Harley with his eyes. "So did you two decide what you're going to sing?" He questioned, raising his eyebrows.

"Ya! We're going to do Promiscuous Girl," Harley yipped, Ivy just smiling at her indulgently.

"Then of course we'll cheer you on! But then we're going to dance!" Danny insisted with a wicked glint in his eye that nearly had Jason swooning. Oh he was absolutely going to be pent up and suffering by the end of the night. They should do things like this more often.

Harley and Ivy's duet was pretty good, Pam kept Harley from going too off key and they were clearly having fun. Jason decided to be more stoic about his support, nodding his head to the beat and letting Danny howl and whistle for the both of them. They both clapped when they finished and Harley bounced off the stage again with Pam close in tow.

Danny grabbed Jason and dragged him to the dance floor, and Jason wondered how he could be so graceful and confident in a fight and so fucking lost on the dance floor. He was too aware of his body, and the eyes that were on him and didn't fully know how to behave. Thankfully Danny made sure that didn't last long as he dragged Jason into dancing with him. Jason was content to be essentially a prop and watch as Danny moved with more sensual grace than he had any right to be, flowing with the music in a way that was almost hypnotic.

Jason only became aware that other people thought so too when Harley cut in demanding to dance with Danny as well! Jason chuckled and relinquished Danny to her, going to sit back at their table with Pam. Only then did he notice all the people staring at Danny, the little ring of watchers they'd acquired.

"Is he part siren or something?" Ivy teased him as Jason drank a glass of.. something probably too quickly.

"Something like that," Jason agreed vaguely. "Why are the Gotham City Sirens recruiting?"

"No, but the Birds of Prey might be," Ivy said, smirking at him.

"Hey, no planning to steal my boyfriend," Hood joked, his eyes drawn back to Danny and Harley dancing together. It was... something, they were both completely unaware of the eyes on them, confident and at home in their bodies and sexuality. It was quite the show, and Jason was just glad he was the one Danny would be coming home with.

"Can we borrow him at least?" She asked playfully.

"Weelll I suppose if he agrees to it I can't be too mad," Jason relented, hesitation only for show. They would be good friends to Hyena he was sure.

"Good, now let's just enjoy the night, and how fucking sexy our partners are." Pam said, raising her glass to Jason in a toast, which he returned, clinking his glass against hers.

#dc x dp #fanfiction #jason todd #dead on main #danny phantom #my writing #Hyena!Danny AU #poison ivy #pamela isley #harley quinn #harley x ivy

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suzukiblu · 6 months ago

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Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Octopus behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I mean, unless you’d rather have gotten a tutor or something, I guess, probably Batman could’ve helped me find you a tutor,” Billy says, shrugging a little awkwardly. He used to help other foster kids with their homework a lot, though, and he taught a couple street kids he knew some bits and pieces of stuff, at least. And also–“Wisdom of Solomon, you know? It’s, um, kinda a thing. Anyway, I’m gonna help you with your powers, so it’s the same kind of thing, right? And it’s normal to read to your kids, too.”

“I don’t need to read to be a weapon,” Lynn mutters, still looking down at Tawky. “Not if I’m being deployed with a team, anyway.”

. . . Billy thinks maybe he could just go ahead and burn down whatever’s left of Cadmus. Like. Morally, and all. Ethically. Whichever.

“I’m not helping you with your powers so you can be a weapon,” he says firmly, making himself keep his voice even so Lynn won’t think he’s mad at him. Or, uh–royally fucking pissed at him, more accurately. That’s Cadmus. Like, definitely it’s Cadmus that he’s royally fucking pissed at. “I’m helping you with your powers so you don’t get hurt or accidentally hurt anybody else. Like–so you can use them however you want.”

“I’m the thing that gets used,” Lynn says as he folds one of Tawky’s ears back and forth, voice and expression both just distant enough to make Billy hate literally everything that’s made Lynn feel like that.

He is definitely gonna put in a request with the League to let him burn down whatever’s left of Cadmus. Either that, or there’s gonna be a real convenient thunderstorm concentrated right on top of it, and a whole lot of equally convenient and equally concentrated lightning strikes.

And if that fails, then there’s gonna be a twelve year-old “civilian” sneaking in with some matches and lighter fluid, and he’s just gonna commit arson the old-fashioned way.

“If anyone ever says that to you again, I’m gonna make them sorry for even thinking it,” he says as evenly as he can. Lynn’s mouth tightens. He keeps his head down.

“. . . why would you have read to me?” he asks, the question a little guarded. “That wouldn’t have taught me anything.”

“It would’ve taught you that I’d read to you,” Billy says. Lynn–frowns, like maybe he doesn’t understand what he means. Billy’s not sure he understands what he means, just . . .

His dad read to him. And his mom too.

And Uncle Eben definitely did not.

And Cadmus didn’t read to Lynn either, he’s betting. As far as he can tell, all Cadmus ever did was jam a really biased education into his head and lie to and mind-control him, in fact.

Cadmus was just really awful to Lynn in general, as far as Billy can tell.

Lynn thought they’d have kryptonite here, so . . . yeah. Cadmus was definitely awful to him.

Billy really, really wants to make sure that Lynn’s first thought is never something like that again. Or at least, that his first thought is never something like that when it’s about him.

About the person who’s taking care of him, he means. Lynn should–he shouldn’t–

Billy always felt safe with his dad. With both of his parents. He wants Lynn to feel that way too, because Lynn deserves to feel that way too. Like no matter what tries to hurt him, it’s gonna have to go through somebody else first, and somebody who’d never just stand by and let it get to him.

Billy doesn’t know if Lynn’s ever felt safe in his life, all things considered. He grew up in a pod being lied to and woke up to mind control and more lies and got attacked by, like, a giant mutated jerk of a doctor who’d been controlling and hurting him all his life already, and then he left the only place he’d ever known just because he thought it was the right thing to do, and . . .

Yeah. Billy can’t imagine “safe” is a feeling Lynn’s all that familiar with yet.

Can’t imagine he’s ever really felt it at all, at this point.

He–swallows, a little, and then makes himself smile at him again. Lynn’s still not looking at him, but Billy figures he’ll hear it in his voice, if nothing else.

“I’ll read to you anyway, if you want,” he offers as he links his hands together behind his back, his voice coming out a little awkward; a little quiet. He doesn’t mean for it to, but . . . “Even if you can do it yourself.”

Lynn doesn’t say anything. He rubs the pad of his thumb across one of Tawky’s paw pads and then squeezes it, just a little. Billy doesn’t blame him for wanting to hold somebody’s hand right now. It’s–a lot, probably. All this is probably a lot.

All this is definitely a lot, and Billy doesn’t blame Lynn for anything he’s feeling about any of it at all. When everything changes all at once like–when somebody’s whole life changes and they lose everything and everyone they had before, and . . . and . . .

It’s just a lot, he knows.

Like–yeah.

Of course it is.

“. . . sure,” Lynn says, and glances up–not at Billy, exactly, but in his direction. He’s looking at his shoulder more than anything else, Billy’s pretty sure, but that’s fine by him. He brightens instinctively, resisting the urge to float up a little in excitement.

“Cool!” he says. “Um–okay, yeah. Cool.”

Lynn ducks his head again, looking more towards the wall now. He’s still holding Tawky’s paw, though, and he didn’t, like, go run off and hide in his room or get mad or anything, so Billy thinks things are going okay, really. Even if–even if some of this is a little harder to talk too much about, maybe.

He really does want Lynn to feel safe with him, though, so he’s gonna have to be able to talk to him about the harder stuff too.

He can do that, he promises himself. Or–he’s gonna do that, anyway. He’ll figure it out, one way or the other.

Lynn deserves a dad who can do that, and Billy’s already decided he’s gonna be the kind of dad Lynn deserves, so–yeah.

He can do it.

He wonders if his parents ever felt like this with him. Felt like–like it was hard and scary and weird, but like they still needed and wanted to figure it out and do it right, whatever it took. Like it was more important to do it right than . . . than anything else.

He doesn’t know, obviously. And he’s never gonna get to ask. But . . . but he hopes he’s at least doing this right enough that they would’ve been happy about it. Been–proud of him, for taking after them. Being like them, even just a little bit.

They were both really good parents, and he just . . . they’re gone, and he’ll never see them again, and no one really remembers them the same way he does. No one loves them the same way he does. Not anymore.

So–so if he can be a good dad to Lynn like they were good parents to him, then maybe at least there’ll be a little bit more of them left in the world. A little bit more that they got to do; got to make happen. Make matter.

And maybe . . . maybe that means Lynn will love some part of them too, technically, if Lynn ever loves him.

If Billy does this right, anyway.

“Do you wanna walk to the library too?” he suggests. “It might be a little farther away than the diner, I think, but not too bad. And, um, we’ve got super-stamina and all, so yeah.”

“. . . I’ve never walked that far before,” Lynn says. Billy blinks, wondering how Lynn knows that. He didn’t say how far it was for sure, just–

Oh.

“You’d never walked as far as the diner before?” he realizes. Lynn nods stiffly. Billy’s chest sort of–hurts a little, maybe. “Did you like it, or was it too much? I know it’s kind of exposed and there’s a lot more people than you’re probably used to and all, so it’s okay if–”

“It was fine,” Lynn cuts in, and then hunches his shoulders a little. “Uh. I mean–it was fine.”

Billy’s own shoulders slump a bit in relief, and he smiles wider at him. Okay. That’s–okay, yeah.

He really likes Lynn. Like–Lynn’s really easy to like, he means. He’s glad about that. Not that he was gonna take anything back or send Lynn back if he was hard to get along with or anything, obviously, but . . . he’s still glad, yeah.

Really glad.

#octopus #wip: billy adopts conner and it actually goes pretty good!

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axenyan · 1 year ago

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NEVERMIND NEVERMIND NEVERMIND I GOT HIM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

IN ONE (1) PULL TOO............ AAAAAAAAAAAAA OTSUKARE LE RERUN 😭😭💖💖😭💖😭😭😭 everyone is at their strongest now!!

i REALLY SAID "let's do one more pull, maybe he will come" and he really came, I.. you... aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh *smacks eben (affectionately)*

Whew, finally 😭

I still need one more goat, but I'll just wait for cert shop rotation (unless he decided to come again in under 5 pulls next week, which sounds impossible tbh).

Oh, and I'm still working on the new freebies that I promised on my previous post hehehe please stay tuned!

#axeposts #arknights #I CAN SAVE UP FREELY NOW YAZZ #i'm scared of the prospect of eben alter #it's just an imagination #but we never know what HG is cooking #better safe than sorry

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cerastes · 8 months ago

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can i get other examples of gamepress being wrong about arknights? i've been using them as my main source since i started and now i'm worried i'm missing out on some operators i haven't bothered to upgrade 🙃

We could be here literally all day because it's not like they have one or two outliers, Gamepress is just mainly edited by people that live in an echo chamber and that have authority in their own circle so it's just off-the-hip, all too often wrong biased takes based on their own really reductive metrics. Chiefly, Gamepress ranks characters 1) as if they were the sole unit in the battlefield almost exclusively, and 2) using the single most broken units currently live as the barrier of entry. The unit you are looking up can't clear a chunk of map in one tap? Worthless and sub-optimal, according to Gamepress. Their only metric is Mlynar, Ch'ung the Hung, Surtr, that kind of Press To Win philosophy, and if a unit can't do that, Then It's Bad And Not Worth It.

Now, you may be thinking, "goodness me, Dreamer, you are being awfully harsh to call them complete dogshit at every angle of the game in this manner!", well, see, it's not just their Operator "reviews", they have articles sometimes. And they are god awful dogshit as well, such as "What Happened To Blaze?"

You can't see the comments anymore, but the author was getting reamed. I have one screenie at least:

Comments were mainly of this nature. Because, well, the article is straight up awful, especially since it reduces Blaze to "laneholder" and compares her to "competition" like Thorns, Mudrock, and Mountain, who, yes, they all can hold a lane, but Blaze has her own space of "infinite duration, high statline, healable 3-block with 2 tile range" that has historically allowed for Funny Tricks like clearing enemies through "walls" on tiles that could shred Thorns even with a healer, or, you know, in conjunction with any of Mudrock or Mountain, given you have 12 whole slots for you team. Again, Gamepress editors rate characters as if they were your main in a fighting game and not one of 12+1 characters you can throw in at any time. They also tend to shit on non-specialist characters (generalists; more versatile units that can do a bunch of things without really breaking the game in any regard), which is very interesting because those usually will make up a strong backbone of any competent Integrated Strategies team, so the specialists in role can do their thing while the other needs of the map are being met.

"Ebenholz is nothing special." "Goldenglow is nothing special." These are takes they genuinely held until, you know, it turned out that Eben and GG are the most relevant Casters, up there with Eyja. To be fair, it wasn't just them being wrong on Eben, but how do you look at the global blasting of GG with her numbers and don't immediately realize that's an ICBM button? All it takes is having the game installed.

The biased nature of Gamepress is also blatant:

Imagine rating April as "Really Good" while relegating Dorothy as only "Really Fun". Even before her Module3, Dorothy was absolutely devastating, bringing huge damage multipliers, crowd control, one of the single best class autoattacks in the whole game at 6* stat weight, and a Talent that gives her even more Attack for basically using her as intended. I'm not saying April isn't good, mind you, I'm just trying to highlight how biased the hands behind Gamepress are: They can't figure out Trapmasters? Then surely they are merely "really fun". Can't drop and forget them like April or Surtr, after all.

About the only thing Gamepress is good for is objective, in-game info: Dates, mat requirements, what skills do, that kind of stuff. It's got a good interface and is a good place to just quickly look up what you need to know that can otherwise be found in the game. The moment their personal opinions come into play, though? The most absolute dogshit takes. Unless you are a "unga bunga drop Surtr and Mlynar and win instan-- WAIT WHY IS INTEGRATED STRATEGIES AND RISK 23+ KICKING MY DAY 1 PLAYER ASS...!?" kinda player, then you don't really want to follow Gamepress advice.

Because they simply do not give good advice as a whole.

#corvidthots #arknights #gamepress

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sonnenreich · 6 months ago

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𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋

Do you dare to check in? 🛎️ The infamous Overlook Hotel, nestled in the isolated Colorado Rockies, has a dark and mysterious history. Known for its eerie atmosphere and paranormal activity, the hotel has attracted visitors looking for a thrilling experience. This weekend, a group of individuals, each with their own reasons, has checked in. As night falls, strange occurrences begin to happen, turning a weekend getaway into a nightmare. ⸻ imagine yourself in the situation and create your character as they are trapped in a horror movie come true. bonus: get your creative juices flowing and write a oneshot. what happened before the picture? where is your character headed now? are they searching for their friends/the people that arrived with them or are they investigating something different entirely? what else is lurking amongst the shadows?

“This will be fun, he said”, murmelte er, ein viereckiges Glas in seiner Hand, dessen Boden so schwer war, dass es höchstwahrscheinlich noch als Waffe dienen könnte. Weswegen dieser Einfall von Relevanz für ihn war, erklärte er sich mit der plötzlichen und unerwarteten Abwesenheit jener Gesellschaft, für die er eigentlich angereist war. Isaiahs Euphorie nach waghalsigen Entdeckungen, die in Zeev den unstillbaren Drang hervorbrachte, eine davon zu sein, war letztlich ein Grund gewesen, weswegen er die Sicherheit seines eigenen Heims verlassen hatte.

Die Aussicht auf ungeteilte Aufmerksamkeit und das hautnahe Erlebnis eines sagenumwobenen verfluchten Hotels, hatten ihn auf einen entfernten Kontinent gelockt, der nicht ganz seiner englischen Höflichkeit entsprach — dafür aber seine Geschmacksknospen beanspruchten, wann immer er den zwanzig Jahre alten Whiskey öffnete und berauscht vom Geruch nachschenkte. Es überspielte das durchdringende Aroma vom billigen Bier, das unweit des Hotels an der nächsten Tankstelle unverschämterweise verkauft — und vermutlich auch im Keller gebraut — wurde. Zeev war wirklich nur kurz zur verlassenen Bar gegangen, hatte sich eine Flasche gegriffen und war augenblicklich zurückgekehrt, doch anstelle von erfreuten Gesichtern, wurde seine Rückkehr von betretener und gähnender Leere begrüßt.

Als wäre es nicht mehr als ein jugendlicher Streich, lehnte er sich an den splitternden Türrahmen und bereute es, als sich die Fasern in sein Hemd bohrten. Mit gerümpfter Nase stieß er sich ab und fuhr mit der Hand über den Stoff.

“If this is your understanding of fun, I'll have you know that I'm bored”, rief er in den Raum hinein und nippte vom Glas. Aufmerksam schwenkte er seinen goldenen Blick durch den Raum, sondierte ihn nach einem Zeichen dieser verwirrenden Wende der Ereignisse. Trotz seines humorvollen Kommentars, erwartete er keine Antwort. Unlängst war ihm bewusst geworden, dass seine Realität nicht mit jener übereinstimmte, in der er sich gegenwärtig befand. Ein Spuk war nur eine fehlerhafte Kopie, ein Sinnbild dessen, dem es entsprach. Selbst in der Magie war es unmöglich, Dinge zu erschaffen, die einander identisch waren. Dafür war sie zu unwillkürlich, in ihrer Kontrollierbarkeit limitiert. Zeev bemerkte, dass eine Bierdose fehlte, die Hayley beim turbulenten Diskurs mit Isaiah zu Boden gefallen und gegen den Fernsehtisch der Lounge gerollt war. Der Mond schien zu hell ins Zimmer, Zeit war nur eine flüchtige Idee, ein ungreifbares Konzept. Oftmals waren es Uhren, die in Träumen keinen Regeln folgten. Und auch diese schien befreit von Zeiger und Ziffernblatt. Je länger Zeev um sich sah, desto mehr fühlte er sich wie ein Gast des Uncanny Valleys.

Der blonde Hexer seufzte schwerfällig, obwohl die Aufregung der Neugierde seinen Puls erfasste. Zwar war die Gruppe — manche von ihnen nahmen eher unfreiwillig Teil — aus genau dem Grund in das Hotel eingefallen, eben weil es angeblich verwunschen war, nichtsdestotrotz bedeutet es nun für Zeev, dass er Bemühungen auf sich nehmen müsste, um sich dem Zauber zu widersetzen.

Er war schlichtweg zu faul für einen Spuk.

Eine Wahl hatte er jedoch nicht und so schlenderte er in den Raum hinein, wandte der nächsten scheußlichen Tapete den Rücken zu und setzte sich gelassen auf den Sessel. Erneut nippte er an dem Whiskey, der ihm in diesem Abbild eines brüchigen Spiegels geblieben war und war drauf und dran auszusitzen, was auch immer das Hotel ihm zu bieten hatte.

Bis es im Flur polterte. Auf die niedrige Wahrscheinlichkeit hin, dass es sich um seine Begleiter handelte, wanderte er in einer fließenden Bewegung dem Geräusch entgegen und schwenkte das Glas nahezu geistesabwesend. “Enid?”, rief er unnötig dem Treppenaufgang entgegen, der in die altmodischen, aber doch recht geräumigen Hotelzimmer geführt hatte. Die Brünette hatte sich früher von der Gruppe verabschiedet und war zu Bett gegangen, vielleicht hatte auch sie die Veränderung bemerkt. Immerhin war sie genau wie er von magischer Natur. Doch anstelle ihres verschlafenen Gesichts, sah er nur einen dunklen Schemen, nicht mehr als ein Schatten. Erst als sich ihre Blicke trafen — wenn man einem Schatten einen Blick zuordnen konnte — verschwand dieser mit gewählten Schritten.

“Fine”, atmete Zeev aus. “I hope you got something good in store for me. Don’t hit me with those poor ass metaphors about how my self-consciousness will be my downfall and how my good looks are just a facade to hide my true feelings and trauma.” Er stapfte die Treppe hinauf, den gesamten Aufgang brummte er Beschwerden. “I won’t allow this kind of lazy writing, give me some Flanagan, will you?”

Der obere Flur war breit, sodass damals genutzte Servierwagen neben Gästen unbeschwert nebeneinander Platz fanden, der Teppichboden hatte an Intensität verloren, ergraut vom Einfall des Sonnenlichts und des Schmutzes der Schuhe. Nicht, dass Zeev ihn in irgendeiner Form geschmackvoller gefunden hätte, als er noch vor Farbe getrotzt hatte. Im gleichen Zug bemerkte der exzentrische Hexer, dass alles an Intensität verloren hatte. Das sonst kräftig rote Mahagoni des Treppengeländers war fahl und kraftlos, brüchig und porös. Die Tapeten wirkten von Insekten zerfressen, die sonst auffälligen Muster und Farben waren nur ein verblasster Schein dessen, was damals als modern gegolten haben musste. Zeev blickte an sich hinunter. Nur er war wie immer. Auffällig, strahlend, wärmend — ein wandelnder Sonnenschein, selbst im kläglichen Schein des Mondes, der sich jeden Abend die Strahlen der Sonne borgte, um in ihrem Glanz zu baden.

Gelangweilt, aber mit wachsendem Interesse, schwebte er regelrecht über den Teppich, der jegliche Schritte erstickte, und passierte dabei mehrfach Zimmertüren. Vier zu seiner linken, vier zu seiner rechten. Alle, bis auf eine, waren verschlossen. Das leise Kratzen einer Nadel drang an sein Gehör, nur die Musik blieb aus. Stattdessen ein gleichmäßiges Rauschen, erfüllt von der Erwartung, den Raum mit Klängen zu füllen, die Gelassenheit, Entspannung oder Aufregung und Freude antrieben.

Die Erwartung wurde allerdings nicht erfüllt, als er den Raum betrat. Die Musik blieb aus.

Das Hotelzimmer wirkte verzerrt, als wäre der Spuk überrascht worden und hatte nicht genügend Zeit aufbringen können, um Gedanken in die Einrichtung fließen zu lassen. Das Bett war schief, der Teppich brüchig wie alter Marmor, die Regale überlappten einander und die Fenster bogen sich nach außen. Spätestens jetzt wäre er sich der Unwirklichkeit klar geworden. Statt Furcht stellte er sich die Frage, wie es möglich war. Und welche Macht nötig war, um es zu reproduzieren.

Als wären seine Gedanken nicht verschlossen vor neugierigen Geistern, löste sich ein Laken von einem Standspiegel und gab die Oberfläche frei, dessen goldener Rahmen aus Blütenknospen zu bestehen schien. Er kannte sie besser als jede andere: Chrysanthemen. Die zulaufende Spitze wurde von einer filigranen Sonne akzentuiert. So schön der Rahmen war, so brüchig war das Glas.

Je näher er trat — nicht ohne einen abschätzenden Blick über die Schulter zu werfen — desto klarer wurde das Bild. Tiefe Farben, schillerndes Licht. Der Raum wirkte so lebendig, wie der Teppich unter seinen Füßen womöglich niemals war. Das Sonnenlicht wirkte einladend, sodass sich jede Faser in seinem Körper danach sehnte. Er war so abgelenkt von dem deutlichen, unverzerrten Raum, dass er nicht bemerkte, dass er nicht alleine war. Als er die Hand hob, um seiner Sehnsucht nach dem Licht körperlich nachzugeben, begegnete sein Spiegelbild ihm mit einer tiefschwarzen Hand.

Keuchend stolperte Zeev zurück und stürzte in den staubigen Ohrensessel. Sein Spiegelbild tat es ihm gleich.

Allerdings konnte Zeev nicht akzeptieren, was er sah. Fahle blasse Haut und Haare so schwarz wie die Nacht. Sein Körper — obwohl es ihm widerstrebte, sich mit dem Abbild zu vergleichen — bewegte sich mit ihm, als er sich aufsetze. Seine Augen waren jeglichem Glanz beraubt. Es war, als würde er in das Nichts starren. Zeev schwieg, lehnte sich zurück und stellte mit Enttäuschung fest, dass sein Glas heruntergefallen war. Lange starrte er sein Spiegelbild an, unklar darüber, wie er fühlen sollte. Es war ein Spuk, nur welche Bedeutung hegte er für ihn? Was wollte er?

“The same as you”, antwortete sein Spiegelbild, losgelöst von den Fesseln des anderen, lehnte sich seine dunkelhaarige Erscheinung zur Seite, den Arm lässig über die Lehne gebeugt. Im ersten Moment reagierte Zeev nicht und starrte stattdessen weiterhin auf den ihm Fremden.

“And what's that?”

“All and more”, säuselte er sich selbst zu. Zeev wusste, dass Hexen eine einnehmende Ausstrahlung besaßen — und er machte täglich Gebrauch davon — selbst dem ausgesetzt zu sein, fühlte sich merkwürdig falsch an.

“Would you kindly be a bit more specific?”

Sein Spiegelbild lächelte lediglich.

“For someone who claims to be me you are oddly quiet.”

“Maybe we came to the conclusion that actions speak louder than words.”

Ein schwaches Lachen löste sich aus ihm. “Yeah, I doubt that. I tend to do both in equal measures.”

“Then this could be a memorable night for the both of us.”

Zeev räusperte sich. “I knew that I'd be one of those who'd sleep with myself, but ask me out first, would you?”

Sein Spiegelbild lächelte, eine gewisse Unmenschlichkeit glänzte in den pechschwarzen Augen. “Wouldn't you like to know what it's like to be me?”

“You're confusing”, schnalzte Zeev. “I thought you are me?”

“In a sense, we're much alike and closer than you could imagine.”

“I feel like there's a but in there.”

“There isn't, you'll get to know me quite well in a given time. However, I can give you a glimpse of what's to come for us.”

“Why should I want that?”

Sein Spiegelbild lehnte sich nach vorne, selbstbewusst fuhren die schwarzen Finger durch sein Haar. “Because there’s nothing you don’t want.”

“I highly doubt that, but keep going.”

“I’ve got an offer for you.”

Zeev überschlug die Beine, die Hände gefaltet, den Blick fest geradeaus. “Now you’ve got my undivided attention.”

“But you should know it always comes with a price.”

Diesmal war es Zeev, der seine strahlend weiße Zahnreihe offenbarte. “Didn’t expect anything else.”

“I’ll teach you my ways and you’ll set me free. What do you think?”

“Sounds marvelous.”

tagged by: @ausgetrieben & @vikasgarden

tagging: @nepnthc, @vasted, @hochmvt, @vcnenum , @never-be-tamed , @thesiciliansiren , @shevampyre & as always whoever wants to check in!

#*✹˰ ʾ & shenanigans . ʿ they said you was high classed ; that was just a lie.#*✹˰ ʾ writings . ʿ i’m a man of my words ; if i feel like it.#( didn't proofread; didn't care :)) )

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