#even though the wings look like they end with the third row of feathers which they do not

[yeahimaloser]

Hi lovely! I adore your writing style and noticed you were taking requests. This is my first request ever so if it comes off a little awkward please forgive me! 👉👈

I was hoping for a scenario where Hawks has been wondering why y/n has been skipping out on get-togethers with him for the past week or two. He gets curious enough one day that he just-so-happens to patrol the area where you run off to after you reject another date with him.

He finds out that you have been going to an outdoor avian clinic and taking classes on how to pamper/massage or preen bird wings in order to surprise Hawks for your anniversary coming up.

But not like totally before Hawks confronts you and blurting out “Have you been cheating on me with a parrot?” 😂

Thank you! I hope this all makes sense. Hugs and kisses!

Hello there!! You are so sweet! and you didn’t come off awkward at all! <3

I am so sorry I didn’t actually mean for this to become an angst fic in the beginning ;-; 

but it is fluffy don’t worry!

warnings: avian Keigo (Keigo having bird like tendencies)

Also I schedule this to be a bit later than I normally post, I’ll most likely be asleep when this goes up so I just wanted to say to everyone thank you for reading!!

word count: 3.3k

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He tapped his foot against the floor of the restaurant, his patience deteriorating every second as he stared at the door.

As the fastest hero, Keigo never really had any patients for just about anything. One thing he hated more than anything was people being late, he moved fast, he wanted people to move fast with him.

All he wanted to do was go on a nice date night, have some dinner, and go home and watch a movie or something. He just wanted to spend time with you.

You normally never skipped out on dates, so why now? 

He had noticed your absence in the last few weeks, more and more you would skip out on him. 

The anxiety bubbling in his heart was starting to spill over, seeping into his attitude in daily life. In his head, he wondered if maybe you were trying to signal to him that you weren’t interested in dating anymore, that maybe you were just silently drifting from him. But he loved the 11 months he got to spend with you, he’d never experienced anything like it. It was fresh, new, loving, he didn’t want it to end. Those thoughts had made him feel miserable for the last week or so, but he was still confused by you. Although you skipped out on dates and such, you still acted so lovingly towards him. You would still come home and snuggle up to him, you would still run your fingers through his hair at night, you would still talk mindlessly about your day, as though nothing was remotely bothering you.

So, maybe you really were busy, perhaps he was just looking too much into the issue.

But still, getting stood up for the 4th time in a row would make anyone a bit upset. 

He left the restaurant, paying for the drink he had ordered, and went on his way home.

Maybe it was a side effect of his quirk, but when he had these sorts of thoughts his wings would get all twitchy. He had done the research and found that when birds were in a high-stress situation they plucked at their feathers. The article also said that when a person that said a bird was attached to someone that abandons them, they get even more stressed and irritated. Which he supposed made sense. He would never admit it to very many people, (and if the press got a hold of it he would honestly shoot himself) but he had some bird tendencies.

Not big ones, just small ones.

He would bob his head in time with music sometimes, his pupils would dilate and contract when he was concentrating on something, he would mindlessly coo and cluck randomly as well.

Luckily, the commission taught him to control his bird-like tendencies, they told him that some of his bird traits were “off-putting”. But he really wasn’t sure what they were talking about, animal quirks weren’t uncommon, but he didn’t complain, he didn’t mind the help. 

But since he’s been dating you, he found himself getting more and more of these tendencies.

A few times, he would find random shiny objects and give them to you, he acted all excited about it too, saying, “I saw it and thought that you could keep it! It’s super pretty so, I don’t know, I thought you’d think it was cool.” After he said that, you just took the objects and told him he was so adorable. 

Another time, when you two were just out and about, he had seen you talk to someone with a similar bird quirk to his. He didn’t even know what came over him, but he squawked at the man, effectively freaking him and you out.

He apologized profusely after that. 

There was one bird-like quality he didn’t mind all that much, and that was the preening of his feathers. It was honestly so relaxing, the dirt and dust from flying seeped into his feathers, so he always found himself soaking his wings in water and then rubbing them with a special kind of oil.

There were some days, however, were all he could do (or all he had time to do) was take a warm towel and gently rub off his feathers. 

And lately, he had found himself going overboard with his preening, pulling more aggressively at his feathers, sometimes even hurting himself. He suspected that it was due to the stress of worrying about what was wrong with you (or him).

He hated all of it, loathed it even. Worse was how hard it was for him to broach the subject with you, whenever he got close he always wussed out. In his mind, even though it bothered him, he didn’t want to lose you. He was so scared that if he brought it up he would hear something he dreaded, and you two would fall apart. 

He loved you so much, he wanted you to stay with him. Another bird trait he learned, some birds mated for life, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel that way about you. He just...he didn’t want to lose you.

There was one possibility that was the worst, and yet the most likely. You had been cheating on him.

He really didn’t want to admit it, but it all sort of added up.

You skipped out on dates so you could go out with this other person. When you would become affectionate with him could be a sign of guilt, he read about that online. And the way you wouldn’t see his texts or missed calls when he knew you were on a lunch break, maybe you were seeing someone else. 

Was he a bad boyfriend? He thought that he had become better at this whole relationship stuff, maybe not perfect, but he was getting there. He knew he was hard to deal with, he wished he could be better for you, he really did. He knew he was busy a lot, tired from work, he knew he wasn't the most affectionate guy, but he wanted you, he wanted you so much it hurt.  Keigo thought that you loved him because he really loved you. 

The thought of having to let you go crushed his heart crushed his spirit too. He really did care for you, he knew that you were the one for him, so the thought of you not returning that feeling hurt him.

He flew through the night sky, looking down at the lights of the city. Normally, a sight like this would have made him smile, made him feel like he was on top of the world.

But his wings just felt uncomfortable, the wind blowing through them just increased the feeling. 

He just felt… done. Like the whole world felt heavy to him. Maybe he really was overthinking everything, but he couldn’t help it, he was made to be observant. 

He knew he had a strange habit of over-complicating things, but it was just his nature he supposed. A trained government agent always has to look into the fine details, at least, that's what he was taught. So, with your absence, he found himself becoming more and more paranoid.

He brought it up to his side-kicks and hero friends, and they all said the same thing; he was just being paranoid. They told him that, “sometimes in relationships, things get a little rough, it happens.” But Keigo couldn’t help but hate the whole ordeal.

He sighed, flying faster to his home.

One time, he had tried to follow you on your lunch break. He supposed it was pretty stalkerish, but he was getting desperate. All he needed was reassurance, just to know if you were actually busy or if that had been a bullshit excuse. He told himself it wasn’t a huge deal, he was just making sure you were doing ok.

...ok maybe it was a bit of a breach of privacy.

He had perched himself on top of a building near your workplace. Keigo had made sure that you wouldn’t be able to see him as he followed you, keeping out of sight as best he could.

His initial thought was you would go to a coffee shop, maybe some sort of expensive restaurant if you were meeting someone. 

Yet, to his surprise, he saw you scarf down a sandwich as you entered an animal clinch.

Were you cheating on him with an animal clinch employee?

He wanted to confront you then and there, but from where he was, he didn’t have any reason to.

It looked innocent enough, you were just going to an animal clinch.

He immediately felt guilty. There was no reason for him not to trust you, you had done nothing wrong in this situation. Maybe you really were working overtime and he was just overthinking everything.

He shook his head, sighing, he unfolded his wings and flew off the building he was perched on.

That was a week ago, it was after the third time you stood him up. And now, although he didn’t have any proof of you cheating, he still felt like he had a reason to confront you. He just felt sick of worrying and overthinking everything, and in all honesty, you weren’t helping the situation. Every time he asked you about it, you always came up with some sort of excuse. 

He landed on his balcony with a loud thump, not caring all that much about the noise. 

As he entered his home, he lifted the hem of his shirt off his head, throwing it on the floor unceremoniously. Walking over to the bathroom, he filled a special bowl full of water and made his way back over to the bed.

It was probably a bad idea to preen himself when he was so aggravated like this, but he wanted to do it, his wings felt so uncomfortable. 

His right-wing raised a bit as he sat down, pulling the feathered stump closer to him.

But before he could even graze the feathers with a damp cloth he had, he heard the front door open and close.

Before he had even realized it, he was already zooming down the staircase of his luscious penthouse, knowing full well you were already inside of his home.

“Hi honey,” you slipped your shoes off, not looking at him yet. “How was your day- Oh,” he crossed his arms over his chest, he was sure his expression was one of utmost anger. 

“Where were you,” his tone was irritated, his wings twitched behind him.

“I was working. Baby what's wrong,” he nearly rolled his eyes at your concerned tone.

“Don’t baby me, you stood me up,” he huffed, “again.” 

He didn’t miss the sorry expression that flashed on your face, “Kei, I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve just been so busy lately. I know I haven’t been fair to you, but I’m not doing anything tomorrow! Look I’ll even make dinner for you, ok? Really, Kei, I’m ”

“Y/N,” here it came, “if your gonna break up with me, just do it already

Well, that certainly shocked you (and him if he was being honest). Your whole expression fell into one of confusion, your eyes looked up at him with genuine hurt.

“What? Keigo what are you talking about? You’re not making any sense, why would I want to break up with you?”

“I don’t know Y/N?! Why have you been avoiding me for so long!?”

You sighed, “Is that what this is all about? Well,” you pulled out some sort of form, reaching it out to him, “here, I wanted to surprise you on our anniversary, but I don’t want you to think that I’m doing something dishonest.”

He snatched the piece of paper out of your hand, maybe a bit too harshly. He looked at it and was immediately confused.

It was information on a class about… how to preen birds?

He gave you a confused look, to which you gave him a light smile, “I see how frustrating it is for you to preen them, so I wanted to help out. I saw that I could learn how and thought it would be a cute thing for us to do together.”

He stood in shock for a few moments, letting the guilt wash over him. 

“I-I’m so sorry.”

You chuckled a bit, “Don’t be, it was wrong of me to leave you high and dry on dates, I just had to work overtime in order to get these classes in.”

Now, he felt twice as guilty.

This whole time he had thought you were drifting away from him, and worse, he thought you were cheating on him. He felt sick. His friends were right, he really was overthinking the whole situation. And worst of all, you were working overtime to do something so nice for him, and here he was, yelling at you.

“I-I’m so sorry, Y/N. Jesus,” he shook his head, “I’m an idiot. You were off doing something so thoughtful for me, and I was being a prick, yelling at you. I’m sorry honey. Is there something I can do to make it up to you?” 

But you just chuckled, “Keigo, really, it’s ok. I should have at least done something to convince you, or rescheduled our dates. It’s ok honey, don’t feel bad.”

You moved in to give him a hug, which just happened to be the moment you realized his shirt was missing.

“Uh,” he saw your body straighten up, and your face makes a flustered expression, “why is your shirt…”

“Oh, well,” he scratched his feathers nervously, “it’s kinda funny, I was just about to preen my wings. So I have to take off my shirt in order to get the water to the back. Kind of a weird coincidence, huh.”

“Well,” you looked at him, eyes softening, “can I help?”

Keigo was sure his heart had frozen, after a moment or two, he answered, “S-sure.”

-----

You pulled a stool for him to sit on as you sat down on the bed.

Keigo wasn’t sure why, but he felt so anxious. To tell the truth, he never really had someone preen his wings before. He would always do it himself, it was an annoying effort sometimes, but the commission was very big on him looking good for the public eye.

His wings weren’t super sensitive, but the light touches of your fingers running through them felt like pure heaven to him. The sensation was like having someone giving a message, but… different. It felt nicer, more loving, more slow and nice.

The whole sensation made him shutter.

“Is this ok,” he didn’t miss the anxiety in your tone.

“Yeah,” he said, breathlessly. “Perfect, keep...keep doing that babe.”

The little pulls of his feathers relaxed him more and more, making him seep into the back of the stool he was sitting on.

When you had started to add water to the mix, he didn’t notice his cooing.

“Kei?”

“Hmm,” his mind was so far gone in the relaxation of your hands that he barely registered your voice.

“Are you cooing,” you had to suppress your smirk as his body went rigid, as well as his wings.

“I,” his face was almost as deep red as his wings, “s-sorry.”

You giggled, “Don’t apologize,” you pressed softly into the apex of some of his feathers, “if it feels good, it’s fine if you coo. I won't judge you.”

Softly, he let out a few coos, but he didn’t want to freak you out.

But soon, he realized he couldn’t keep them in, you were just doing so well. 

You moved softly to grab his feather oil, “Uh, so how does this even work? Do I take a few drops and run them through each individual feather or something?”

You’ve seen him preen his wings before, but until recently you had just started to pay attention to how he exactly did them. You had noticed that the oil he used on his feathers gave a shine to the red plumage, but you had noticed he was a bit cautious with the serum.

“O-oh,” you didn’t miss the light stutter and the soft up-take of his voice, “Um, if you want you can just put a few drops in your hand and rake them through. You don’t have to do each one if you don’t want to.”

You thought for a moment, “Alright, I think I’ll just do each feather. I wanna get this right after all.”

And, honest to god, Keigo gulped.

You’ve never seen him this relaxed and yet so tense, you would have thought he was drugged. You would be lying if you didn’t enjoy it though, the way Keigo melted into you, it was weirdly adorable.

“Yeah,” he let out, “yeah ok.”

After that, it was like Keigo could barely talk. 

For a moment, you considered something. When you and Keigo had started to date, you had noticed how he was a bit touch-starved. He craved affection, whether he was aware of this or not, you weren’t sure.

But it made sense, his childhood past, and plus, this was his first real relationship. You wondered if Keigo had ever been shown so decent, honest love before.

Perhaps his bird instincts also played a part in how affectionate he could be. You read once, that when male birds became attached to their mates they tended to get affectionate as well as loving. Plus, some birds preened their mates as a show of love, you wondered if what Keigo was doing was just his way of showing how happy he was with you preening him.

After you were done, Keigo’s head was light and tired. The whole experience for him felt magical, he wasn’t sure why though. He preened himself a bunch of times, why was this the first time he felt this way?

But Keigo’s head couldn’t really process the question at the moment.

“You wanna go to sleep,” you asked, bringing your hands lightly over his shoulders, kissing his forehead.

He let out a small, “Mhm,” as he stood up. You had to help him to his bed because of how wobbly he was.

After you carefully helped him into bed, you turned to go to the bathroom to wash your hands, but Keigo dragged you down.

“No,” he whined softly as you tried to get out of his grip, “cuddles.”

(You couldn’t lie, this had to be the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen him do)

He nuzzled into you, his body flushed against yours. 

That’s when you heard it, the little chips. You didn’t say anything, scared that if you did he would stop. You played with his hair as he chirped into your neck, his wings shivered a bit.

You decided to ask him, “Hey, Kei.”

He hummed lightly.

“I’ve never seen you like this, does it have something to do with your bird instincts?”

Keigo thought for a moment, “Maybe,” his voice was light you noticed, “it could be. Kinda just something I experience because that’s what birds do with their...mates.”

You chuckled, running your hands through his wings again, “Maybe it’s because you're also, like, really touch starved.”

“Oh yeah, maybe. I mean,” he looked at you, like a lovesick puppy, “you are my first time in a real relationship.”

You laughed lightly, going back to lightly stroking his hair and feathers.

“Hey Y/N,” Keigo’s voice was tired, and yet, it was soft.

“Yeah honey,” you asked in an equally gooey voice.

He nuzzled in closer to you, giving you a soft, yet deep kiss, “I love you.”

[wherethewordsare]

Birds of a Feather

For @notsafeformurphy who was having a day of it the other day and we got to talking and.... oops this happened. This honestly started out as a nature docu au and ended up a coffee shop au? Idk man.... Anyway, Shay I hope you enjoy this! 

Also tagging @herostag since it was requested. and @jaskierswolf cause I think they’re gonna start yelling at me if i keep forgetting. Going to try to get my tag list back together if anyone is interested. <3 <3 <3 Hope yall enjoy Jaskier huffed as he flopped over again, his body refusing to just relax down into his mattress and let him sleep. It had been a stressful day and to make matters worse, it had been the third night in a row where he was simply unable to sleep. 

Giving up, he reached for his phone, scrolling through youtube for a moment, looking for something that he could just zone out to for a little while. Usually he would put on music or white noise but even that didn’t seem like it would be helpful. He had to find something extremely dull and maybe a bit pretty. 

He scrolled past a thumbnail of three large men in park uniforms. Two of them looked like they were at least somewhat interested in being there while one tall man with near white hair simply scowled at the camera. 

Wild Wednesdays with the Rivia Nature Reserve the title read. 

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Jaskier huffed as he rolled onto his stomach. He pulled the kickstand of his phone case out and set it up before pressing play and curling his arms around his pillow. 

“This week, we’ll be talking to Geralt Rivia, our resident raptor specialist about what goes into rehabilitation efforts when it comes to conservation,” someone said off camera, cheerily. When the camera panned to Geralt Rivia however, he did not seem to share the narrator’s same upbeat tone. 

For a few minutes, the narrator off camera seemed to try to ask Geralt about himself, only getting stilted answers and that same scowl that had been in the thumbnail. Jaskier snorted with a smirk. 

“You’re not having any of this, are you? You’re gorgeous though,” he chuckled. He felt his back relax as he yawned, snuggling closer into his pillow. 

And then it happened. From off camera, someone handed Geralt a leather glove that he put on easily before taking a cord. He clicked a bit and the scowl he had moments ago melted into a fond smile. 

“And who is this?” the narrator asked. They clearly had picked up on the shift in Geralt’s demeanor as a small falcon took up perch on his forearm. 

He actually cooed at the bird for a moment before holding it up for the camera. “This is Roach. She’s one of our recent rescues.” He smiled, a barely there tilt of his lips and his honey colored eyes softened. Jaskier got the impression on anyone else, it would have been a full grin. 

“Oh, I like that look,” Jaskier murmured, feeling his cheeks heat up. 

“And what is Roach?” the person asked off camera. 

Geralt took a step back, turning his arm slightly, causing the bird to flap agitatedly at him as she kept her balance. “Yes, I know, but I have to show off how pretty you are,” he said to the bird, fond and warm. 

“Oh no,” Jaskier whispered into his pillow. “He’s soft and hot.” 

“Roach here is a red-tailed hawk. They’re pretty common through North America,” he explained, pointing out the red-brown of her tail. The hawk nipped at him as he got her to open her wings for the camera and he only chuckled. “She’s about six, the same age as my daughter actually. And,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure which one is less well behaved.” 

Roach must have understood a bit of that because she gave a cry before nipping at Geralt’s hair, clearly annoyed. 

“Listen, if you weren’t so hornery, I wouldn’t say it,” he said to Roach, pulling another scowl but there was clearly no heat in it. 

This was not the same man from the thumbnail or the same man that barely gave answers about himself at the beginning of the clip. When that bird sat on his arm, he lit up and Jaskier was weak. 

Geralt answered a few other questions about hawks and about the reserves program for rehabbing hawks, his voice deep and gravely. He would have sounded gruff if not for how much he clearly loved what he did. 

Geralt looked at Roach a little sadly. “Unfortunately for our little lady here, she won’t be able to return to the wild. Due to her injuries when she came to us, she won’t be able to hunt on her own,” he gave her a soft smile before he petted down her neck gently. 

Jaskier’s eyes were starting to feel heavy. He had turned into the pillow, letting Geralt’s voice wash over him with simple facts about red-tail hawks as he drifted off to sleep. It hadn’t been dull at all but there was something about the way Geralt spoke that just melted him into his mattress. 

When he woke, his phone was dead, probably from being set to autoplay. As it charged, he looked at the videos that had played while he was asleep, most of them from the Rivia Nature Reserve. There were a few specials with other team members but Jaskier picked out the ones that mentioned Geralt Rivia directly. 

It had become a near routine and soon, Jaskier found that he just slept better after watching those nature clips. Sometimes, Geralt wasn’t even on camera, simply walking through the process of population counting for the reserve as the camera panned around to different birds up in the trees. There were other videos featuring Roach the red-tailed hawk as well and it was clear that she was a favorite, not only of Geralt’s but the viewers as well. 

Within three weeks, Jaskier had made his way through nearly the whole catalog of the reserve’s videos. He knew he would move on from tall, silver and brooding and find his next sleep fix but for now he simply enjoyed it. 

~

He should have said no, he should have mentioned that he simply did not do morning shifts, and there was a reason for that, but Essi had been persistent, almost feral about him taking her shift. 

“Please, Jask. I promise, you won’t regret it!” She grinned at him and there was something in her eyes that sent up a dozen red flags. 

“What are you plotting?” He asked flatly, squinting at her over his glass of wine. 

“Not a thing, darling, just trust me on this,” she giggled, sipping her own wine neatly. 

~

It hadn’t been a terrible morning, though Jaskier was barely managing to stay upright by the the coffee grinder. He was used to staying up long nights and it hadn’t changed anything when he knew he would have to open. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

I know you mentioned he had a kid, but he’s single. You’re gonna want to put a blueberry muffin in right now. 

He blinked at his phone, squinting as he tried to decode just what the fuck Essi was saying. 

What?

But he put in the blueberry muffin, his phone on the counter as he watched the three little dots dance where Essi was texting back. 

You still owe me a no questions.

“What the fuck is she even-” Jaskier heard the bell above the door just as he set the timer for the oven. 

“-and so I tell him that if he isn’t going to at least make an attempt to clear out the back trails, we’re going to find a new contractor.” Came a voice behind him. 

Jaskier froze, his hand on his phone. He nearly threw it in a panic. He recognized that voice. He’d recognize that voice in the dark, though to be fair, he usually listened to it in the dark. 

He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, Geralt Rivia was standing at his counter with two others from the nature reserve. 

“Be with you in just a minute!” he tried for cheery and landed firmly in panicked. He ducked behind the large coffee machine and shot a text back to Essi. 

I haven’t decided on whether or not I love you more than anything or if I’m ever going to

speak to you again!

Have fun! ;)

That bitch. It had been a setup! He adored her, the meddling little sneak. He schooled his face the best he could, knowing full well that his ears were still the color of the strawberry frap they served. 

“Morning, what can I get you guys?” He asked as he wet his lips, trying not to stare right into Geralt’s gorgeous face. 

“Three coffees, a blueberry muffin warmed up and a plain bagel, untoasted,” Geralt said offhandedly as he looked around. “No Essi today?” 

“Uh, no. I’m filing in this morning. Jaskier, at your service.” As he dipped his head in a mock bow he internally cursed himself. One day, one normal day, that was all he asked for. “Hope the bagel isn’t for Roach. I’m not sure she’d like it. How is she? We haven’t seen her much recently?” He shot off without thinking as he started to pour the coffees. He froze again as his brain caught up with his mouth. 

Behind Geralt, both of the men snorted. “Looks like you’ve got a fan, pretty boy,” the darker haired one jostled Geralt’s shoulder with a smirk.

Geralt only stood there, tilting his head slightly as though he wasn’t sure what had just happened. 

“Ah, I mean…” Jaskier fumbled, nearly spilling one of the coffees down his own front. 

“She’s doing fine actually,” there was a soft smile on his face, the same he wore when he got to handle the birds directly and Jaskier could feel himself melt on the spot. “Naughty as ever. Learned a new trick to take a swipe at Lambert here if he’s holding the feed bucket,” there was a low rumble of a chuckle. 

The dark haired one behind Geralt stopped laughing abruptly. “She’s a menace.” He growled, picking up his own coffee from the counter. 

Behind Jaskier, the oven dinged. “Oh and your muffin!” He turned, letting himself have the moment his back was to them to silently scream. He had been tricked! He had been set up! He was going to try to get this man’s number and he would never hear the end of it. 

“You already had it in?” Geralt asked, that smile still in place. 

“What can I say, we make sure to take care of our favorite customers.” He was almost proud of himself at how smoothly that had come out as he turned to look back at Geralt. He should have been paying attention to the muffin as it dropped, missing the bag completely and splatting on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier nearly cried. “I am so sorry. Give me, just a moment, I’ll get another one in for you.” 

He watched as Geralt ducked his head, smirking. “Would you like to meet her?” He gave another tilt of his head, his eyes clearly looking Jaskier up and down. 

He was sure he had died. This wasn’t real. This was the good place. Or the bad place. Either way, this place was the place his soul had clearly left his body. He stood there, cold muffin in hand as he gaped at Geralt. 

“Uh-”

“You don’t,” Geralt cleared his throat, “I was just wondering since you seemed… to be a… fan.” His face slipped into a scowl and no. No that wouldn’t do at all. 

“I would love to, yeah. I’m off at three?” 

“Oh! Jaskier! Thank you for coming in to open. I can take it from here,” Essi slipped in beside him, taking the muffin from his hand. “Morning, Dr. Rivia,” she nearly sang, her face smug. 

“Dead. You’re very very dead when I see you again,” Jaskier whispered to her though he couldn’t stop grinning. 

“So you were saying?” Geralt asked, leaning against the counter. 

“Turns out, I’m free as a bird, you’d say.” Jaskier chuckled as he slipped his apron off and made his way around the counter. 

Geralt snorted and rolled his eyes but took his coffee and muffin from Essi. “You know that phrase ‘eat like a bird’ is really not that good of a way of saying that someone doesn’t eat much?” 

Behind them, Lambert scoffed. “Here we fucking go again. I said I was sorry for bringing it up!” 

Later that afternoon he found himself wearing a glove similar to the one he had first seen Geralt in, a small tawny owl bobbing on his arm as he looked on in wonder. He had met Roach and she had nipped at his hair and shirt, screeching when food wasn’t produced. 

“Hmm, let’s get Scorpion. He won’t tear you to shreds,” Geralt gave Roach a fond little tap on her wing with the back of his fingers. 

By the end of the day he left with a few knicks in his fingers and a phone number. He had never slept better.

[daisybeewrites]

Academy Blues — Prologue

word count: 1.8k

warnings: not any for this chapter

ship: Dousy, background Fitzsimmons and Philinda

okay y’all.. here it is. the first installment of my first LONG TERM SERIES!!!!!! ahhhh i’m so excited. literally i cant wait to continue this and see where it takes me. i have an idea and a few different planning sheets, but honestly i have no idea where exactly this will end up. i love each and single one of you <3 thank you for reading!! this is also posted on Ao3, and linked in the masterlist.

Daisy hated the sound of the bells at The Academy. Screeching, awful, way too loud, the bells were the bane of her existence. They all wore standard-issue watches from the lab that monitored vitals and gave them reminders, and also told the time, for god’s sake! Fitz had even modified hers so that she could play snake on the tiny watch face! There was no need for the bells to be so excruciatingly disruptive. Though, Daisy guessed, there were many things more tortuous than bells ringing every hour and fifteen minutes.

Daisy slowed to a jog, cutting her morning run short. The bright side to being a third-year was that you chose your schedule, for the most part, and that meant Daisy had a free first period for four out of five days of classes. She usually spent this free period getting an extra hour in at the gym, boxing or sparring with Mack or Bobbi, two fourth years that had reluctantly taken her under their wings, or sleeping in. She reserved sleeping in for especially rough nights where visions of ashes and earthquakes and lightning returned time and time again, no matter how many deep breaths she took or sheep she counted.

But this morning was not one of those mornings. She had been up before sunrise, a little before her usual alarm and silently headed out of her dorm for a run. It was humid this time of year on most Virginia mornings, but never so hot that it made Daisy feel as if she was being smothered. The cooler air chilled her sweaty skin, her chest rising and falling as she jogged up the three flights of steps to the second years’ dorms. Down one long hallway, and she arrived at her room.

Daisy had been given her own room at the start of last year, complete with poly-adaptic-proto-whatever panels, which she had painted a pastel shade of purple, to compliment the greens of her cacti and the dark purples and blacks of everything else in her room. Even May had agreed that the stark white was too ”psych wing” for a bedroom. Daisy was grateful for the space, but considering the panels and the private room were only necessary since...

She shuddered. Grabbing her shower caddy, Daisy set off to the bathroom at the opposite end of the hall, hoping no one else was spending a free first period at the dorms.

Her shoulder-length waves were wet from bouncing against her neck, and starting to become annoying now that the sweat had dried and was starting to itch. Picking the white tiled shower furthest away from the door, Daisy quickly turned the water on, checked the temperature, pulled her sports bra and shorts off and hopped into the shower. Shampoo, condition, soap body, rinse. Checking her watch, Daisy found that she had showered in record time, less than three minutes. After spending another five just enjoying the hot water, she hopped out and changed into her class clothes.

Dark purple leggings, Coulson’s grey vintage SHIELD tee and a pair of white running sneakers she had “borrowed” from Jemma completed her look. Passing the mirrors, Daisy tried not to glance at herself. If her hair was messy or her undereye bags a bit too dark, she didn’t want to know. Instead, she headed back to her room to pack her bag for the day.

SHIELD-issued laptop, extra hard drives and a charger, Advanced CS 3: Ethical Hacking: Theory and Application, Advanced CS 4: Secrets of The Coding Languages, Physics notebook, an essay that was three days late on some boring book about international laws, and her sparring gear were all thrown into the black bag. She gave a second glance at the Russian notebooks Bobbi had loaned to her, promising that she’d learn without taking the class. Oh well, she still had all of this term to start. Plus, would she ever really need more than the dirty words?

One look at the alarm clock that sat on her dark hardwood night table showed that she still had almost forty-five minutes before she had to be in the computer lab. Sitting down on her bed, Daisy ran a hand over the grey blanket May had given her.

Daisy’s relationship with May and Coulson had been something of a problem with other students when she first got here. Some had been okay with the obvious paternal love Coulson showed for Daisy, showing her around and checking up on her, scheduling lunch dates and reminding her of tests. May was more subtle, texting her links to tai chi videos when she noticed Daisy getting too stressed or letting Daisy do her own thing if she saw that she was overwhelmed. Of course, none of the other students knew her family history, what she had gone through just to realize that May and Coulson were more her parents than her biological father and mother could ever be. She would see them later today—May during field training and Coulson in between lectures in the canteen.

Daisy walked over to her window to open her blinds, staring out at the campus she had grown to love. The large brick buildings scattered around acres of the Virginia countryside; green fields meant for physical activities like sparring or obstacle courses, or simply basking in the weather to study or chat; the dorms—red brick and concrete melded together to upgrade and expand the charming style of previously-built homes.

Grabbing a protein bar, Daisy headed to the canteen to make a green smoothie (and maybe snatch a cup of joe before she had to listen to an hour-long lecture on the reason SHIELD must cooperate with the UN’s stupid rules at 7:30 in the morning). Smelling the pines and morning dew surrounding her, she smiled slightly. Maybe this term wouldn’t be so bad.

———————————————————————

Daniel Sousa was a man of honor. He was a man of great strength. Agent Daniel Sousa, previously Officer Daniel Sousa in the US Army, was a man who could fix his damn alarm clock on his own.

Just, not today. Or the day before.

So, Agent Daniel Sousa was now hurrying his way to class at The SHIELD Academy, books in hand and gym bag slung over his shoulders. Catching a glance at himself in the shiny glass doors of the bio-chem building, he groaned. He hadn’t even brushed his hair. And, looking down, he discovered he was wearing two different shoes.

This is the college experience everyone raves about, he thought bitterly. You see, Daniel Sousa had enlisted to the army straight out of high school, forgoing university. He climbed the ranks impressively quickly, earning his place as second-in-command and reconnaissance scout in the 28th Infantry Regiment. Unfortunately, after only four years in the army, Sousa was injured in the field, losing his leg and almost his life.

He came back to the US a war hero, and yet, he felt he wasn't finished. So, when a recruiter named Peggy Carter knocked on his door claiming to be from SHIELD (“Wow, you guys are still a thing?”), he leapt at the chance to continue fighti-...doing good. The Academy wasn’t exactly what he had bargained for, though. Trying to earn his B.A. and training to be an agent at the same time was grueling, but nothing he couldn’t deal with.

No, six different one hour and fifteen minute long classes plus mandatory physical therapy every day wasn’t going to break him. Learning how to be a communications agent and re-starting field training and catching up on general college education was no problem. Pressuring himself to be the best, to break the limits, to get past all his weaknesses was just another miniscule feather to add to the pile.

Unless his stupid alarm clock broke. Then yes, Agent Daniel Sousa would fail, buckle under the weight and be left on the floor to die.

Maybe he was being a bit dramatic.

One bunny-slippered right foot and a sneakered left leg carried him forward, propelled by a quickly chugged orange Celsius and his sheer will not to be late.

Daniel heard the late bell ring out, understanding that, on his first day of class, he would be counted late. It wasn’t like him, not at all. Especially when his first class was a refresher course on field tactics and covert strategy, something in which he was already aces.

He let out a sigh, slowing as he rounded the corner into the comms building. At the Academy, most buildings were grouped into categories: the cafeteria, gym and pool, and student resource building all to the south; the gun range, obstacle course, and specialized gym to the east; bio-chem labs, tech labs, and smaller rooms for lectures to the west; the computer labs and comms buildings right smack in the middle; and dorms to the north.

He swiped a key card with his driver’s license picture and student ID, unlocking the sliding doors that led to the computer labs. It was quicker to short cut through them than to walk around the building to the entrance closest to communications classrooms.

It wasn’t because he knew a certain broody brunette spent her mornings in the lab.

No, it wasn’t, because she wasn’t in her usual seat in the corner, typing away.

He slowly walked through the rows of computers, searching for a familiar black backpack. Nothing was there.

“Hey, Sousa,” an accented female voice called behind him. He whipped around to see who it was, feeling just a twinge of disappointment when Elena, or, as most people knew her, Yo-Yo, was leaning against the door frame. Yo-Yo, a fourth year operations trainee, who was very close with Daisy.

“Hey, Yo-Yo. Good morning,” he called, “I’m running a bit late.”

Elena checked her nails casually, “Way to state the obvious. You were running faster than I could trying to get here before the bell.”

Daniel rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “Yeah…”

“Daisy’s running late today, too.”

Daniel looked around, pretending that hearing Daisy’s name didn’t make him want to smile. “Oh, of course. She’s usually here early.”

Elena nodded, chuckling a little at his response. She couldn’t tell if he was oblivious or just a bad liar. It was charming, really. “Right. See ya ‘round, Sousa!”

“See ya,” He replied. He thought he heard a quiet ‘Lovable nerds’ coming from the direction she left, but he couldn’t be sure.

And so, with a last look around the computer lab, Daniel set off to arrive late to May’s lecture.

———————————————————————

okay okay,,, what do y’all think?? like/reblog and let me know! it’s the best way to support writers and it only takes a second! stay tuned for more chapters!!

[official-weasley]

The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 1, Ch. 4

PART 1: WHERE IT ALL BEGAN

Chapter 4 - Prank Gone Wrong

Nova

The first day of classes has finally arrived and I couldn't wait to meet all the professors, other classmates and to start learning!

Herbology was quite interesting, despite the fact that I had absolutely no idea how dangerous some plants are! I thought that Herbology was going to be something we would go to even when too sleepy and something that won't need a lot of studying or effort but Professor Sprout proved us wrong in merely 10 minutes from the start of the class.

It was so fun having lessons with Penny, Tonks, and Tulip that I started to regret my words from the previous day when I told Tonks it's okay that we don't have all lessons together. We had so much fun in Herbology. Perhaps a little too much as Professor Sprout had to shush us a couple of times as we were chuckling too loudly.

The reason for that of course was Tonks changing her nose in a nasty-looking green vine and changing her hair to have a very poop-looking color. Towards the end of the class when Penny and I finally decided to pay attention, Tulip decided to grab one of the thorny plants Professor Sprout had on display without Dragonhide gloves.

Needless to say that the class ended 10 minutes earlier because Professor Sprout had to rush her to the Hospital Wing. Tonks and I couldn't stop laughing as her surprised shriek still echoed in our ears. Penny, however, couldn't help but be a bit worried for Tulip as she wasn't sure what exactly she touched.

To say that all my excitement for the entire school year disappeared and drowned itself in the Black Lake was an understatement when we got to History of Magic. The only fun part of that class was when the lesson was about to begin and Professor Binns didn't come through the door but flew through the blackboard and the whole classroom went “ooo and aww.”

It's not like I don't like History of Magic. Don't get me wrong it was one of the subjects I was most looking forward to, giving the fact that we don't start Care of Magical Creatures until our Third Year.

However, the Professor is just dull. He barely told us his name and then simply started with the theories of how magic and wizards came to be without even an introduction. Something Professor Sprout did really well and made me excited for Herbology.

I was sitting with Tulip in the third row. Besides all my Ravenclaw classmates that I've met when we got sorted, it was Ravenclaw's official first class with the Gryffindors and the only two I've recognized were the boy with black hair that covered his eyes and the redhead boy with lots of freckles. They were sitting right in front of us. I tried to remember the rest of them but to be fair, I did stop paying attention by the end of the Sorting Ceremony.

Tulip couldn't help but giggle the entire class as I tried to mimic Professor Binns by closing my eyes and putting my head on those few notes I did manage to write as I pretended to snore and give the lecture in between.

I didn't want to lose all hope when it came to classes and decided that after that awful History of Magic lesson I would give other subjects a fair chance.

Before going to Potions we had lunch. Tulip and I met Penny and Tonks in the Great Hall and Tulip was telling them how boring History of Magic is and trying to show them how I imitated Professor Binns. Tonks laughed so hard at the impersonation that some orange juice came straight through her nose.

We still had 30 minutes until our first Potions lesson, so we decided to just stay in the Great Hall, and Tonks was describing how awesome Defense Against the Dark Arts was and that she can't wait to use the spell the Professor mentioned, on one of the teachers.

“Yeah, I really think that some of these spells shouldn't be taught to witches like me. I just can't be trusted with them.” Tonks said while the rest of us laughed.

I looked up as I thought I heard a familiar hoot. It was Pip with a letter in his beak. He landed on Tulip's empty plate, dropped the letter to me, and hooted proudly.

“Nice job, Pip! You delivered your first letter!” I exclaimed as I petted his soft feathers.

I opened it and it was my mum writing me back.

My dear Nova,

I was so happy when I saw Pip that when I read you were sorted in Ravenclaw I wasn't even sad. I will give those ten Galleons to your dad without any hesitation as long as you are happy with the sorting. I was wondering if the Hat was going to debate between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor and I am glad my House was at least considered.

The fact that you already made friends doesn't surprise me. Did you meet them on the train? That's how I met my friend Molly (the one I constantly talk about) and I think those types of friendships are the ones that stay the strongest. Can't wait to meet them when we come and pick you up at the end of your school year.

I will write a letter to your dad. Even though I am still debating to tell him the truth immediately or should I tease him that you got into Gryffindor? You should let Pip rest and have him for company. He is a wonderful owl. He was so proud when he found me at work!

And I was waiting for you to mention the Courtyard as it was one of my favorite places to study when the weather was good.

Have fun, sweetheart and write when you have any news! Say hi to your friends for me!

Love,

Mum

“My mum says hi.” I said after carefully folding the letter and putting it into my bag.

“Wotcher to your mum.” Said Tonks and sniffed as she was still bothered with the sensation the orange juice gave her.

I ordered Pip to go to the Owlery to get some rest, something he didn't want to admit he needed, and then it was time to go to our last class of the day, which made us all happy since we had it together. Penny of course being excited because she decided Potions was going to be her favorite subject even before it started.

I could hardly keep up my hope that the rest of the classes were going to be great as we went to the Grand Staircase and down to the Dungeons. The only fun part there was when Penny and Tonks showed us the way to their Common Room in case we would ever want to wait for them in front of it. As we descended further down, the air got colder, it got darker and the humidity was off the roof. The walls seemed wet and the floors were slippery which gave Tonks and Tulip an idea to cover the floor with slugs.

“Could you save your prank for after the class? I really want to impress the Potions Professor AND stay your friend.” Pleaded Penny.

“Alright, alright! We will wait.” Said Tonks with a mischievous grin on her face.

“We wouldn't want to get anyone in trouble.” Added Tulip.

We opened the door to reveal a very dark room that was our Potions Classroom with a narky-looking Professor right behind us. He had as much greasy hair as the floor in the hallway was and with that crooked nose, I couldn't help but understand the Muggles, where they get their witch looks from in their stories.

For some reason, all of us went quiet immediately as he came in front of the class and glared at us as though contemplating who he will hate the most in our year.

“My name is Professor Snape,” he said sluggishly, “and while in my class, there will be no chuckling or giggling of any kind. I expect hard work from every...single...one of you.” He emphasized the last few words.

“I don't have high expectations for any of you as rarely does it happen that someone is interested and good at potions. Nonetheless, I expect every one of you to try...their...best.” He almost hissed at us.

“A bit intimidating don't you think?” I whispered to Tonks.

“Too hopeful is what I would say.” Said Tonks rather loudly as she still didn't know how to whisper properly. “He expects us to listen in this gloomy, dark classroom as if Potions aren't a dullenough subject without it.” She added.

“Will you two be quiet. I am trying to take notes.” Whispered Penny.

“Notes? On what, he didn't say anything important yet.” Questioned Tulip.

“Not important you say? What is it, Miss...Karasu. Would you mind telling the class why Potions aren't important?” Said Snape in an even more irritated manner than he spoke so far.

“N-no, Professor.” Said Tulip embarrassed.

“Professor Snape.” He corrected her.

“No, Professor Snape.” Tulip repeated and Tonks gave out a chuckle.

“Tell me, Miss Karasu, if potions aren't important, what can you use if you get poisoned by a mild poison?” He asked her and for a second I thought I saw a smirk on his face.

Penny's hand flew up at once. I wasn't surprised that she knew the answer, even though I had a feeling Snape, I mean Professor Snape was talking about the Antidote to Common Poisons.

“I don't know, Professor Snape.” She admitted.

“The answer is the Antidote to Common Poisons which is a solution for most poisons that can cross your path and if you don't have that it can get much worse to the point that they might not be able to save you if left untreated.” Snape answered the question for her, much to Penny's disappointment, who thought that she could answer her first question in Potions Class and impress Professor Snape.

“Well, perhaps you will know this. What is the ingredient...” Before he could finish his question he was interrupted by Tonks'.

“Could I go to the bathroom, Professor Snape?” Snape glared at her as if she asked him to not give us any homework.

“What did you just ask me?” He said slowly as if he couldn't believe his ears.

“I asked, Professor Snape, if I could go to the bathroom?” Tonks repeated her question.

“Can't you wait until the end of the class, Miss Tonks?”

“It's really urgent, Professor Snape. You see, it's right after lunch and I have a fairly quick metabolism.” The whole class burst out laughing. We quickly stopped when Snape looked at us as if he was never letting us out of this classroom.

“Make...it...quick, Miss Tonks.” He said while rolling his eyes.

Tonks stood up and hurried out of the classroom. She wasn't back for quite some time Tulip and I noticed while Penny was scribbling on what seemed her third piece of parchment. Snape was telling us all about what happens if we leave the cauldron on the fire longer than needed, what happens if we stir the potion in the wrong direction and something about heating and reheating the cauldron.

By the time Tonks came back, the lesson was almost over. She hurried to sit next to Tulip and showed her something she hid in her ropes.

“Blimey, I thought I was going to be too late. Only one Herbology Greenhouse was open and this is all I could carry.” She said not-so-much whispering.

Tulip had to put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. I tried to pay attention to Professor Snape again who was now describing different types of cauldrons and what each was best for. But before I could go back to writing notes, I heard something, that sounded like jelly, fall to the floor.

“Bloody hell.” I heard Tonks say as another jelly sound came from the floor. Tulip and Tonks sat in front of us so I couldn't really see what was going on but soon there was another jelly slap.

Tulip was now biting in her robes not to laugh too loudly, while Tonks was looking at the floor, disappointed. After a few more splashes the bell rang and Tonks and Tulip disappeared out of the classroom so fast that we couldn't even ask them what they were doing. Penny was putting her parchment, now 5 pieces, in her bag, while I stood up only to land on the floor with a loud bang.

“What is all that racket?” Roared Professor Snape as he came to the desk where Penny and I were sitting.

“Are you okay, Nova?” Penny said, trying hard not to giggle at my confused face.

“What is the meaning of this, Miss Haywood?” He looked so angry that I wanted to pretend I was knocked out.

“I-I...Professor Snape, sir...” Penny mumbled.

“Are those SLUGS in my classroom?” Professor Snape interrupted her before she or I could say anything to her defense.

“20 points from Hufflepuff and detention for you, Miss Haywood!” Snape snapped.

“Professor Snape, I don't think Penny had anything to do with...”

“Do you want a concussion AND detention, Miss Blackwood?” Snape was now staring at me. After I didn't let out a sound, he continued. “So, Miss Haywood, should we say you stay behind, clean the mess you've made and then organize the potions on that shelf over there,” he pointed without breaking eye contact with Penny, “by name and usage.”

Penny nodded quickly, helped me up, and motioned towards the door.

“You should go before you get into trouble too.” She whispered. She then followed Professor Snape to the shelves in the far corner of the classroom and I ran out almost as fast as Tonks and Tulip did.

[vs-redemption]

The Tournament

Demon AU Demon!Hawks x Demon!Reader

Summary: You go up against Hawks in a demon tournament.

Word Count:1,233

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Character Death 

A/N: This story was written for a discord event. It was also inspired by the Demon World Tournament in Yu Yu Hakusho!

Shaking the tension out of your shoulders, you step through the large metal doors and into the blinding lights of the arena after hearing your name announced. The jeers and shouts of thousands of spectators overwhelm your ears but you hold your head high, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing how nervous you really felt. You’d spent your entire life training for this tournament, and now you’d made it to the third round after breezing through the first two.

The Demon Tournament was hosted once every five years. The winner was always granted permission to enter the mortal realm to feast on humans to their heart’s content until the next tournament was held. It was inevitable that a lot of low level fighters with more brawn than brain joined each time. They thought they could power through the tournament with sheer force alone. Those people tended to get weeded out within the first couple rounds. It was the true nightmares of demon world that made it into the later matches. That was also when things started getting a bit more brutal and bloody.

The announcer calls out your opponents name once you climb up onto the tall stone ring and the roars of the audience become deafening. The doors on the opposite side of the arena open to reveal the infamous winged killer known as Hawks. He was the reigning champion of the tournament and a fan favorite. He hadn’t lost a fight in decades and won the tournament almost every time. You had to wonder just how many humans he’d devoured with the amount of time he spent among the mortals.

As Hawks approached the ring, you felt your resolve begin to waver. His intimidating presence made up for his lack of height. His giant blood red wings were folded against his back but he had a long, razor sharp feather sword in each hand. His golden eyes were already locked onto you with such intensity they seemed to glow. The screams from the stands seemed to become hysterical once Hawks finally spreads his wings, revealing row after row of silky red feathers, each one deadly sharp and ready to maim. He flaps his wings once just to hop up onto the platform where you stood waiting.

“Both contestants are in the ring!” The announcer hollers into her microphone! “Get ready for a bloody battle! Three… Two… One… GO!”

You instantly cover your body in a layer of ice and wait for Hawks to strike. You had heard rumors that Hawks had lost to demons with fire powers before, but in your lifetime, you’d only ever witnessed him struggle in a battle once. He’d been fighting an insect species of demon with a tough exoskeleton that was impossible for Hawks to penetrate with his feathers. The downside was that such heavy armor slowed the bug down, and Hawks was fast! With an ice power like yours, you could choose the areas to cover and the thickness of the ice. Hopefully that would be beneficial for you.

The first wave of feathers come flying at your face and you manage to react fast enough to somersault out of the way. The tiny feathers zip across the arena before doubling back like boomerangs. You crush some ice in your hand and blow it at the oncoming feathers like a frigid gust of wind. Little crystals of ice form on the feathers and slow them down until they drop out of the air at your feet.

“Clever,” Hawks’ voice comes out low and dangerous. He could control his feathers telepathically, but the frozen ones on the ground spin and jerk as they tried to return to their proper place in his wings. They were too heavy. “Fine,” Hawks lets out a dry laugh, “It’s not like I don’t have plenty more.” He flaps his wings again and shoots into the air above your head, aiming this wings down and sending another barrage of feathers at you. You swing your arm up and create a thick shield of ice to deflect the attack. Some of the feathers fly around your defense and slice right through the armor you’d created on your arms and legs. You hiss in pain while looking at the deep bleeding gashes. The feathers retreat back to their owner and you freeze as many as you can in the air before they reach him.

Hawks frowns as he hovers in the air, glaring at his frozen feathers with a calculating look in his terrifying eyes. He stretches out his wings before blasting forward with incomprehensible speed. His wings create gusts of wind that made it difficult to stand as he flew in circles around you. Another wave of feathers comes from seemingly nowhere and you hurry to create more ice around your vital areas. Some of the feathers broke through, marring your skin with more cuts. You tried to keep up with him though, filling the air with ice droplets that weighed down more and more of his feathers until he was no longer able to remain airborne.

As he descended back down into the ring, you take a deep breath and blast him with a torrent of wind which carried hundreds of tiny shards of ice. He had no way to black the attack and he ended up with a few pretty cuts of his own across his cheeks and forehead. He smiles as little droplets of blood run down his face.

“You can’t win,” he promises once your attack dies down. You almost couldn’t hear him through the raging cries of the audience, plus you were exhausted. You’d taken out most of his feathers, but the cost to your stamina had been substantial. Hawks wasn’t even out of breath. He lunges at you with his two long feather swords and you create an ice blade of your own to counter him. Your legs nearly buckle under the sheer force of his blow. Hawks takes a step back before swinging his swords back at your head. You block him again but this time your legs give out and you collapse onto the icy floor.

You let out a groan and roll over to see him hovering over you, his golden eyes zeroed in so fiercely that you doubted he even knew what he was doing anymore. His instincts were that of a bird of prey and you were the target of his unyielding urge to hunt. You push yourself up onto your elbows and try to scramble back. If you could make it to the edge of the ring, you could go out of bounds and forfeit the fight. As you inched your way back, Hawks’ head tilted, watching your movements curiously. He smirks when he realizes just what you had planned. That wasn’t the way he liked to win. He stalks towards you slowly and as soon as your fingers find the edge of the ring, he raises his feather sword above you one more time before plunging it down. The pain hardly even registered as the arena filled with the sound of thunderous cheers. As your vision faded, so did your ice. The frozen feathers began to melt and fly back to Hawks and fill out his giant red wings. The victorious look on his face was the last thing you saw before everything faded to black.

[skzsauce01]

In Fair Verona︱Chapter 9

Synopsis: Jisung knows he is the Romeo to your Juliet. He could wax poetry about you all throughout rehearsal and even a little after. Except Hwang Hyunjin is the one playing Romeo in the school play, not him. Jisung is just another tech crew member that you don’t know, but he’s determined to win your heart... by any means necessary.

Warning: violent thoughts

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing: fem!reader x Jisung; fem!reader x Hyunjin

updates every Wednesday and Sunday @ 11 PM PST︱chapter list

O serpent heart hid with a flowering face!

Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?

Beautiful tyrant! Fiend angelical!

Dove-feathered raven, wolvish-ravening lamb!

He spends the night tossing and turning in bed, devising a plan to win you back. All the roads lead to getting Hyunjin out of the picture, but how does he do it? Eventually, the rain drumming against his window lulls him to sleep before he can finish fleshing out his idea, and when he wakes up in the morning, the storm has passed. Jisung takes it as a sign that the day will be better.

The preview of the show is happening at 3:30, and there’s a certain electricity in the air after school. Like Mr. Gi said, the cast and crew shirts came in the morning, and Jisung gets his before the preview begins. You and the girl playing Lady Montague are sorting out the shirts into piles according to size.

He goes up to you even though Lady Montague is closer to him. “Hey.”

You don’t look up from your shirt stacking. “Hi. What’s your size?”

“Medium,” he replies as he carefully watches you. At least you’re talking to him.

“Yeji has them,” you point to Lady Montague, still not looking at him.

“Thanks.”

He collects his shirt from Yeji and pulls it over his black hoodie. It makes him look puffy and bulky, and he waits for you to tease him like you normally would. Your eyes never stray from the shirts in your hands. He ruffles his hair, but you don’t even spare a glance. Both you and Yeji are starting to break down the boxes the shirts arrived in. It’s quiet except for the snapping of cardboard.

“The design is kind of nice,” he remarks in another attempt to get your attention.

“Yuna did it,” Yeji replies. Jisung is not pleased that she does, but he merely nods. “Hyunjin wanted to, but the design he came up with was so bad. Remember, Y/N?”

Your distant mood dissipates for a minute, and your familiar warmth is back. A wide grin crosses your face. “He really thought Comic Sans was a good font to use. And his drawing!”

“Ms. Park’s face when she saw it!”

“And Hyunjin’s reaction!”

The two of you are reminiscing and laughing. Jisung doesn’t understand a word of it, but you’re shining bright again. He feels a bit like an outsider, but his heart swells with pride, knowing that he was the cause of all this. However, the happy atmosphere slowly fades into a more mellow one, and the silence is back.

“Break a leg today,” he abruptly says. “See you on stage, Juliet.” He leaves the room but not before he hears you say, “Bye.”

It’s a good start.

He waits on stage for the play to begin with the rest of the floor crew. Over the speakers, Chan is playing different songs for the opening, and over the comms, he’s suggesting that he play one of his mixtapes. Neither Ms. Park or Mr. Gi agree apparently. A few minutes later, the actors, now all dressed in their costumes, are called onto stage for warm ups. In the meantime, the two house managers are sneaking looks outside into the hall outside the lobby and reporting back how many people are waiting. It’s turning out to be a lot.

Before the doors officially open, there’s a quick pep talk from both the director and tech director to everyone. Jisung studies the way you listen attentively and admires the slight curve on your lips as the director praises all their hard work. Your cheeks are tinged with pink with excitement, and you look restless. You repeatedly smooth out the pleats in your dress. Jisung scowls as he sees Hyunjin place a hand on your wrist mid motion and whisper something to you. You stop and flash him an apologetic grin. Goodness, he was controlling. Why doesn’t he just let you be you?

The show begins soon after, and you wait in the wings for your entrance in scene three. You, Yeji, and Yuna quietly talk amongst one another, which means Jisung can’t hear anything from where he is. Ryujin joins in at some point, and Jisung inches closer to eavesdrop, feigning the need to reorganize the already neatly arranged set pieces and props. He learns nothing substantial — it’s mostly just pre-show jitters talk — but at least you don’t jump when he brushes against you while switching around the swords.

You eventually make your appearance on stage, and there’s one audible cheer from the audience when you walk in. Hyunjin, who is now in the wings, quietly says, “Woo!” from his spot, which is unfortunately near Jisung’s usual waiting location.

“Oh, hey, Jisung,” he greets. He’s so flushed with adrenaline from performing in front of many people for the first time that he seems to have forgotten a tiny detail about their tenuous friendship: they hate each other, and said friendship does not exist. “Did you see how many people were in the audience? Wow, I can’t believe it.”

Changbin momentarily perks up at “Wow,” but he resumes reviewing the cues from his binder, leaving Jisung to deal with him alone. Both Yugyeom and Ryujin are on their phones, their faces lit up by their screens. Ryujin even has one earbud in.

“It’s the most famous play in the world. Of course, there’s going to be a lot of people,” he finally answers.

Hyunjin is in too good of a mood to be miffed by his rude tone. “Ah, you’re right. But still, that’s a lot of people. There’s so many eyes looking at you, it’s kind of weird.”

He could have said nothing, but he’s feeling extra mean towards Hyunjin today. “Are you nervous that you’ll mess up? It’s understandable if you do though since this is your first show.”

“I wish I was like Y/N,” he sighs. “She’s so good. You know, she said she gets so immersed in the play that her stage fright just kind of fades away.”

“Yeah, she told me, too,” he lies. It’s another competition: who does Y/N confide in more?

“I’m glad she’s Juliet. She’s perfect for the part.”

The sappiness in Hyunjin’s voice drips like slime, and Jisung’s top lip involuntarily curls up in disgust. Jisung knows he’s a lovesick fool, but he’s a much more classy one than him. He decides to end it there, so Hyunjin will shut up, and Jisung won’t get the urge to pummel him into the ground. They fall into silence, and the lights later go out when the scene ends.

During Romeo and Juliet’s kisses during the party scene, there’s gasps, cheers, and applause from the audience. It’s not real — he can see Hyunjin’s hand blocking your face — but he still shifts around in his seat. The close proximity between you two means that even a slight stumble would result in an actual kiss. Scenes like these are the only times Jisung prays that Hyunjin is a good actor for once and doesn’t mess up.

Normally, you just blush during the scene, but with the extra noise, you shake a bit when you say your next line. Jisung’s annoyance grows.

Because it’s a show and because he doesn’t want Mr. Gi to rip him into shreds, he promises himself to focus on the play, but it all goes out the window when you have a costume change. You curse when your pin snags your hair, and he instinctively goes over. His hand reaches for the pin, and you shrink when he hovers above you.

When he hands you the offending object, you politely thank him and then grab your dress from the rack. When you start unzipping the side of your costume, he turns away and replays the moment. There’s a new aura about you, and he doesn’t like it. Ever since you started close with Hyunjin, he has noticed that the radiance he fell in love with is slipping away. Normally you would joke about the incident to him or chat with him while waiting for your cues. He hasn’t even had a real conversation with you in days.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says. His back is still facing you, but he can feel the vibrations on the floor when you step into your dress.

“Hi,” you hesitantly reply.

“We haven’t talked in a while.”

“We’ve both been busy with the play.”

He almost rolls his eyes. You’ve been busy with flirting with Hyunjin, and he’s been busy with the play. Yet he still makes time for you. “Yeah, I guess. Are you nervous about performing today?”

“A little bit.”

“Did you ever give back Hyunjin’s hoodie?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can. He already knows the answer though; he saw it hanging from the back of your chair in the classroom.

You sound amused, but he can sense the irritation underneath. “I think this is the third day in a row that you’ve asked me that.”

“Well?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

You don’t reply to him. Instead you call for Ryujin to help you with your mussed up hair, so Jisung leaves the scene. He catches you staring at him, and you quickly look away. It’s not a shy “Is he looking at me?” stare; it’s a repulsed “What’s wrong with him?” one.

The answer is you. You are what’s wrong with him. You hardly acknowledge his presence anymore, and you only pay attention to Hyunjin. What about him? He’s been there for you since the very beginning, but as soon as Hyunjin starts encroaching on his territory, he’s forgotten. The longer he keeps thinking about it, the angrier he gets. His hands start twitching for something to hit, and he decides on the rolling platform next to him. There’s a loud, satisfying thwack followed by a few confused looks.

He doesn’t care.

Just another week, he tells himself. Before he never has to see this play or Hyunjin again.

During intermission, he sits by himself while the other cast and crew members go into the audience to talk with their friends who came to see the preview. You have a whole crowd of people around you, asking questions about the wretched kisses. He sees you repeatedly shaking your head, but that doesn’t stop anyone.

A similar thing happens when the show ends. After the bows and applause, you stick around in the audience to let your friends discuss the play with you. Jisung joins Chan, Jeongin, and Seungmin in the back of the house to listen in and to sit on Jeongin’s cushy rolling chair. Chan is still arguing about playing his mixtape over the speakers with Mr. Gi.

“There’s hardly anyone here anymore,” he protests. “And it’s like this one, too,” he says, referring to the current song playing.

Jisung fiddles with the knobs on the light board while straining to hear your conversation a few rows down. He surreptitiously turns down the volume of the music when Chan reaches for his phone.

He can catch a few key phrases said by your friends. He then wishes he could kick everyone out of the auditorium, so he can never hear, “Did you and Hwang Hyunjin kiss for real this time?” again. You say that you’re tired of replying to that particular question, but you seem too pleased by the prospect of kissing Hyunjin to actually be. Hyunjin, who is not too far away, is no different; he turns bashful when his friends ask, “Did you and L/N Y/N actually kiss?”

Jisung turns the volume back up, and his fingers “accidentally” slip, blasting the auditorium with the screech of a violin. Everybody winces, and he apologizes. No one starts leaving though.

At long last, they are dismissed for the day. There’s another pep talk about opening night, but no one’s really listening. They’re allowed to leave two hours earlier than normal, but Jisung feels more drained than usual. You’re the opposite. He passes you on his way to the prop room, and you’re talking animatedly with Yuna about the cast and crew dinner after the final show. Even as you head up the stairs, there’s a bounce in your step.

When he returns from his trip, you’re already inside the classroom, standing over Hyunjin, who is sitting down. There are other people in the room, but he can’t bring himself to go in. He hasn’t had the outside-looking-in feeling in a long time, but it hits him at full force right there. The two of you are both wearing the black cast and crew shirts, but they somehow look different from the one Jisung’s wearing, like it’s a deliberate couples outfit instead of a uniform for theater.

Hyunjin gazes at you like an astronomer would at the stars, and you have an identical expression on. Your lips move, but Jisung can’t make out the words. A soft smile spreads across Hyunjin’s face, and he absentmindedly winds a dangling lock of your hair with his index finger. You don’t flinch at the motion at all, but instead mirror Hyunjin’s smile. Jisung watches with bated breath and wonders when you got so bold. What happened to the girl who was too shy to stage kiss? Now you were being disgustingly close with your co-star off stage.

People start filing out of the room to go home. Soon, there’s no one but the two of you. You’re still mumbling, and Hyunjin’s replying at the same volume. Jisung still can’t move his legs to walk in. He could easily pop the bubble you and Hyunjin are in, but he’s frozen to his spot.

Hyunjin suddenly stands up, making you take a step back. Jisung can hear the hitch of your breath from where he is; that’s how surprised you are. Hyunjin then cups your face with his hands, but he’s not practicing a stage kiss. He places his forehead against yours, and your eyelids flutter close. You tilt your chin up and slowly wrap your hands around his wrists. At the same time, he lowers his lips to yours.

Jisung can’t breathe, and silence swallows the white noise around him. A million thoughts fill his head, but the single image of you and Hyunjin kissing is burned in his memory. He’s numb, then cold, then hot. It’s only a few seconds, but it feels like several lifetimes to him. His whole body starts shaking uncontrollably, and when he blinks, his vision has a crimson filter over it. He wants spilled blood, shattered ribs, shallow gasps.

Hyunjin is the first to separate. He looks stunned by what he just did, and he’s even more so when you pull him in for a second one. It’s longer and deeper, and when the two of you finally resurface for air, you’re flustered. You nervously lick your lips and squeak at the implication. Hyunjin softly laughs and hugs you close to his chest. He’s beaming, and you’re burying your face into his t-shirt.

Blood thrums in Jisung’s ears. He can hear his heartbeat, its erratic thumping and skipped beats. Meanwhile, the pretty, delicate image he has of you contorts into an ugly, slashed counterfeit painting. He hates you so much. As much as Hyunjin, maybe more. He gave you everything he could, and this is how you treat him.

His rage melts the ice at his feet, but instead of walking inside to confront the problem, he goes to his refuge, the restroom. Thankfully, everyone has gone home for the day, and no one is present. He screams bloody murder and kicks all the stall doors until the bangs echo throughout the room. He hates you, he hates you, he hates you. How can you betray him like that? With Hyunjin, his sworn enemy? You are as good as dead to him.

His reflection shows that he has the eyes of a feral animal, but he doesn’t even care anymore. He storms to the classroom to collect his belongings, disregarding how disheveled he looks. No one else is in the room, and he’s a little disappointed that you or Hyunjin can’t see what you’ve done to him. When he heads out to the parking lot, you and Hyunjin are sitting close to each other while you wait for your parents to pick you up. He glares daggers in your direction and flings open the driver’s door of his car.

Just one week, he tells himself. Before he never has to see you or Hyunjin ever again.

~ ad.gray

[niuniente]

I have had funny dreams in a row now, multiple ones in each night. I never have funny dreams, they are extremely rare, so I wonder what’s going on.

I write them down here so I can save them and return back to later. Maybe I understand them then.

First dream had two parts. In the part one, Kuroko called first to Aomine, then to Kagami, and told them both the same story with a shaky voice: “Kagami-kun/Aomine-kun, something horrible just happened to be. Oh, I’m still shaking when I’m thinking about it...”

Of course, both of the guys ran to Kuroko as fast as they could, afraid that something really bad is going on. I had seen that episode and knew it was something very silly from Kuroko, like dropping his milkshake on the floor and spilling its content everywhere. I didn’t get to see what it was though.

The second part started right after, this time about Aomine (partly Momoi) and Kagami. Instead of basketball, both were figure skaters. Aomine was especially good with it. Kagami had just arrived to Japan and was looking for a coach for himself. Aomine smugly grinned that “I know the best coach, after all, I’m the best figure skater here.”

“Yes, I know, I have seen you skating...” Kagami muttered, unimpressed.

Aomine’s coach was Momoi’s father and he was not going to share the coach. But he told Kagami he should go to find Alinko-named (Russian) woman. She was somewhere playing bingo and I had a feeling she’s pretty young with really long straight brown hair. Too bad I didn’t get to see Alinko* either, the dream ended when Kagami found the bingo place and asked one grandma if Alinko was here, and he was asked to go through these many hallways into the backroom (like VIP area lol).

*As always, if I hear weird names or words in dreams, I always check what they mean. There's Alinko named technology company in USA in North-Carolina and Alinco in Japan, in Chuo.

-.-.-.-.-

Second dream was about these Pokémons which don’t exist. There was a yellow bird, who went and retrieved a “forbidden” book from the stomach of a God (this gigantic anthro-bird). The trip was difficult and the yellow, parrot-like Pokémon lost all her colors and nice feathers on the way. I think she had to pay a price for the God by getting her wings cut shorter, too. So, very rough ride. But she got the book, which was hers and she had just hidden it into the stomach of this God.

She gave the book, wrapped in white cloth, to this owl Pokémon. He opened the wrap, saw the book and gasped, horrified:

“But...! This book! Oh no, how could you?! This book is absolute SHIT!!”

“Yes, I know”, the lady bird replied, still exhausted. She had read the book and liked it, and now she was done hiding the fact that she read garbage literature. I  got a feeling like the book was so horribly badly written nonsense that no one was supposed to read it or even like it, but she had and she did.

She proceed to tell that the author Peter Nybärg* had said that it was the best to write asshattery and shit in the same book. This way he didn’t have to write two separate books - one for the asshattery and one for the shit - but he saved time and effort. I laughed at it so much in the dream that the dream cut off.

*Peter Nybärg was clearly a nod to Finnish rap artist Petri Nygård who has made a career by making shitty rap with asshattery lyrics.

-.-.-.-

In third dream I went to a café on a cliff - literally just on a cliff, no room or furniture or anything - ran by Sophie and Howl. It was in Nevada (I don’t know why USA is in my dreams so much now). I wanted to order tea and Howl gave me a big cardboard mug, which had some black coffee leftovers in it. I can’t drink coffee so I emptied the cup on the floor. Except there was more liquid. I emptied it again. There was again liquid in it. I inspected the cup tryng to figure out where the liquid keeps coming from when Howl walked pass, saw the splatters of coffee on the ground and asked “What’s that?” (Like in that mother’s voice of “Who did that?”). I said I don’t know :’D

I left because I didn’t get tea and on my way down from the cliff I heard people talking that the place has gotten good reviews online but it’s new and in Nevada, so there aren’t many people there yet.

[yfere]

Shipping Calculus! Live Updates from C2E66(6)

A MASSIVE SHIPPING FEAST ON BOTH ENDS OF THE SPECTRUM this episode, hot DAMN. Thank you to @alarnia and @softazelma for helping with data entry. Masterpost here. I just...I don’t even have words, I’m too busy soaring.

-5 to Fjord/Jester unlike Fjord, as these two unfortunately give us a Complete Guide on how to Lose All The Battle Points—Fjord accidentally ditching Jester to get mauled by a winged monster for the third time in a row as he is Contractually Obligated to do, and Jester getting her own back by polymorphing the roc just as Fjord settled on its back, sending our dear warlock plummeting towards an early—and painful—landing. The hemorrhaging to the ship was mostly patched up by both of them being very regretful over the whole situation, Jester saying “sorry” a billion and one times, and so on. Then they dip back into point loss with Fjord Completely Failing To Be On The Wavelength when it comes to disguising as leaves, participating in dance parties, not making people exhausted with a hard ride on the moorbounders through the night,  etc etc, but these were largely made up for by Jester’s appreciation for Fjord paying for their inn stay, his continued helpfulness with Sending, and most importantly Jester taking every opportunity to point out how RIPPED and TOUGH and SMART and GOOD AT ACCENTS Fjord is as he flexes for her benefit. Overall, a rollercoaster week, but we at the lab feel it balances to point loss when you factor in the massive physical toll these two took on each other, and not in the fun way. They can do better (the fun way, for instance)

+20 to Jester/Caduceus as these two show us Battle Points Done Right, with Jester casting an insect plague in the most Caduceus of moves, and NOT ONLY THAT, but making them an Oprah BEES gif, recalling the most Iconic of Jester/Cads scenes, and the most Iconic Jester Ship Mascot, comparable only to jellyfish. Caduceus calling Jester a “sugar pea” and making her squeal and hug him, a type of #BodyContact which earns the most possible points without lips being involved. Dancing with Jester and having a grand old time. Them earning Battle Points?????? with their protracted bat-catching session, and Caduceus using literally all of his Banes so that the itty creature never so much as nicks Jester. That’s love.

+10 to Nott/Cat Shaped Creatures Speaking of lip involvement, Frumpkin got a kiss from Nott before being let down!!! Caleb better watch out, or she’ll steal his cat right out from under him!! Massive point loss however for Jannick yeeting Nott off of him for daring to ride alone, because Caleb’s precious pets are nothing if not loyal. (that’s a +15 to Caleb/Cat Shaped Creatures right there!)

+37 to Fjord/Caduceus These two have their strongest week YET, with Fjord—voluntarily! opening up about the Wildmother, and Caduceus giving some amazing advice about meditation which lets Fjord get more peaceful sleep to ASMR ocean sounds! Caduceus talking about a “shining beautiful” destiny (always a point earner!), and opening up about HIS Wildmother dreams and past and quests as well! Caduceus saying he has faith in Fjord—though there’s some point loss as Caduceus seems to have joined Nott’s “There is Evil in the Fjord Club” by implying it’s only his good friendships keeping him on the straight and narrow, smh Caduceus. Cads adorably suggesting that they can ALSO stop in the abyssal temple before they leave town if that’s what Fjord wants, like visiting a gift shop. Caduceus as usual being the first to Fjord’s side for That Good Hjealing and Emotional Sjupport, which Fjord petulantly demands, and Fjord encouragingly saying “C’mon, baby” as Caduceus looks around for the pursuing roc. In the Creepy Tunnels, Caleb gets +2 to Cockblocking as Fjord wanted to be the one to help Caduceus out, but Caleb gets the honor. Later Cads helps Fjord look for magical arms and armor though, that’s pretty sweet.

+42 to Jester/Yasha LOVE??? LOVE WAS SAID????? ANNNND THEY HUGGED?!?!?!?!?! The “we” puts ever so slight a damper on things, but that is a Point Earner right there, with a lovely conversation about being Yasha’s New Family and defending her from anything that would upset her. Yasha getting teary, saying Jessie once more and making a joke about the king’s instrument being a rock harp, like….they are love?? Love?????? AND, annnnnnnd they get the Sexy Points for “Comes more with another person” HOW DO YOU KNOW THIS JESTER I’M LOVsjkajkgakajksakjkasjksajkfukewk;HA;GKJ BKfjkcbdjabkjsdbalkbB  SJAK BKJBSAKJK;jkjdasbjksbjkdakasdsfnajdknmbznb

-1 to Beau/Pets While she gets point gains for charming a baby roc with some staff scritches and thrown food, she gets point loss for beaning the poor baby with that same staff, though luckily she doesn’t join Nott in the Baby Killing Club of this campaign. -1 to Caleb/Vulture Culture as despite using all of his spells to Live a Bird-Brained Life, he unfortunately drops his form too quickly to save Fjord, gets bit back to wizard form by the baby roc and told to shut up with the bird screeching by Beau. But Frumpkin gains some points for looking successfully for the pursuing roc.

-20 to Nott/Yasha You get the sense that Nott is trying to mend things with Yasha, but it always falls apart and falls apart horribly. “We’re safe in this smoke” leads to Yasha immediately leaving it, and after Nott has her flask taken she spends the rest of the episode talking about how shady and suspicious Yasha is which even Caleb “Nott is Never Wrong” Widogast can’t agree with. Searching the darling barbarian’s pockets and accusing her until Yasha gets fed up and yells that she didn’t FUCKING take it.

+15 to Beau/Yasha/Jester as they have another stellar week. Featuring Classic Threesome Moments, including “Should I give you some private time alone?” with both Beau and Yasha Very Much Wanting Her To Stay, and Jester sharing the Sugar Momma loveliness she’d been having with Beau with Yasha, in the form of a suggestive ring gifting joke and “dressing Yasha up” in the fancy clothing Beau recovered for the both of them. The three of them touching the stone Celestials and listening to their music

+17 to Beau/Yasha *starts singing Beyonce* she liked it, so she put a ring on it! ‘Nuff said. Beau’s terribly awkward but wonderful “We’ll protect you with our lives” also: goooooooooooooooooooooooood. Beau being incredibly worried over using Yasha as bait, more worried over dead Celestials, but forging ahead because they both know it’s the best option they have at the moment *sniffs* it’s Some Angst Here. Beau saying Yasha has “dope wings” and might be a “dope angel in irons” and suggesting that Yasha may have gotten her name by sleeping with a lot of people, the sheer dumbassery of which makes Yasha facepalm herself in the hopes of getting a Lesbian Amnesia concussion.

+20 to Beau/Jester as Dimension Door gets used once more for an incredibly sapphic and beautiful moment. Beau grabs onto Jester to try to throw her to safety, but stays when Jester asks, and Jester getting them both to safety?? Dare I say, Romance? Dancing together, loving shiny loot together, running their hands along the side of the tunnel and detectiving together. Beau saying Jester is pretty awesome, as always!

+4 to Fjord/Cowboy Vibes as for one glorious moment, he was yeehaw riding that roc. Alas.

+11 to Caleb/Fjord. Although a sincere effort was made, these two did not in fact earn any Battle Points as Caleb’s furious handwringing, running around, and smacking faulty cocoons and tossing feathers repeatedly failed to help Fjord out of his situation with the roc—only acting as a feathery transport to a cleric managed to do the poor man any good. Nonetheless, these two continued to Same Hat on planning as usual, going full speed (or not at all) with the moorbounders, Caleb directing Fjord towards Facely duties but admirably performing on some Facely duties himself when they first roll into town and get the side-eye. Fjord as always being Very Attuned to Caleb’s navigational skills, wanting to know what direction they’re going and wanting Caleb to do translation duty. Being excellent detective partners as they have been since the circus in identifying bodies and bones together. Point loss for Fjord apparently thinking that the best way to get Caleb’s attention is to throw an eldritch blast in the vicinity of his cat instead of, say, shaking him or something. Fjord…….when are you going to be nice to other people’s pets? Will you ever?

+1 to Caleb/Essik “But of course you must know of THIS EXTREMELY FAMOUS AND HANDSOME MAN ESSIK THEYLAS who will ABSOLUTELY VOUCH FOR US, IN FACT PLEASE ASK HIM TO I NEED AN EXCUSE TO TALK TO HIM.”

+5 to Jester/Graffiti as she pulls off a difficult prank in changing the sign to the “Ruddy Poon” in full view of the whole community. One of her weaker jokes of the episode, though, so less point gain.

+3 to The Mighty Nein/Oban as he’s apparently super impressed with how quickly and trustworthily they brought Yasha to the area. Compliments Jester on her singing skills. He must be a good guy then, right? Right?

-4 to Nott/Jester for Nott claiming erroneously that rocs eat leaves to Jester, absolutely wanting Jester to “waste” a spell looking for her missing flask (that Jester stole). Point gains for Jester casting lesser restoration on Nott and worrying about her alcoholism and recklessness to a heartbreaking degree….but unfortunately, balancing out to point loss considering the physical and emotional toll her thievery resulted in as Nott panicks and takes out her feelings on the rest of the party. We at the lab live in fear on what will happen once Nott discovers who IS responsible

+14 to Caleb/Jester she…..makes him laugh???? A rare accomplishment for which There Must Surely Be a Medal??? This alone earns All The Points for an Iconic Moment, but Caduceus gets +7 to Cockblocking for being the one Eagle Caleb carts around when the offer was originally extended to Jester. Caleb also catching onto Jessie (thank you Nott for this nickname I despise) and looking soft at everything she does, and dancing, and being the first to adorably compare Jester to a snap pea. Caleb agreeing with Jester that building bridges sounds nice. Point loss for Jester making far too much fun of Caleb for not knowing her demon stories and not seeing the obelisk, prompting him to weakly defend himself that he’s “doing his best.” More point loss for Caleb also pushing to ride the moorbounders to exhaustion, and just ignoring Jester’s “feelings” to talk to Caduceus, showing a lack of trust that is UNACCEPTABLE.

-500 to Nott/Alcohol Which needs no explanation.

+16 to Caleb/Caduceus as these boys get Good Quality Time, with Caleb flying Caduceus around everywhere, Caduceus continuing to think Caleb Magic is the Solution to Everything by suggesting alarms at the cave entrance and seeking out Caleb’s cat-based assistance three billion times. Caleb asking for Caduceus’ opinion and feelings specifically for guidance on what they should do, also thinking Caduceus Magic is the Solution to Everything by asking for a detect magic which Caduceus could not provide. Once more very emphatically forbidding Caduceus from wasting his spell slots on Daylight, because like a #KnightInShiningArmor Caleb wants to chivalrously cast that spell himself with the driftglobe. Caduceus chivalrously picking up the tab and buying incense both for himself and Caleb. Caleb holding onto Caduceus’ wrist for a full minute and proving Caduceus is a favorite for his Special Buffing Spells,  because the wizard is too much of a scaredy-cat to just hold his hand, I suppose.

+20 to Everyone/Detective Work for finding gems, bones, maps, emblems, and identifying the precise coagulation of blood to determine when it was spilled! Nothing Conclusive was learned, but boy did it increase the Creepiness Factor of the episode!

-100 to The Mighty Nein/This One Particular Roc who will hold  a grudge against them for the rest of time, woe unto them should they ever venture into the Barbed Fields again.

+19 to Jester/Cosplay of the Week for a much-complimented leaf disguise, and for dressing up in the bloody garb of some mauled nobles. Point loss because it was unclear to most of the judges that “leaf” is what she was going for, and not “healthy edible vegetable”

[kathyprior4200]

Falling From Grace, Landing In Love (AU)

Vaggie has to make a choice to decide her fate for her afterlife. She is trained to become an Exterminator due to her personality and expertise with weapons. She is sent with the other Angels of Death to purge the citizens of Hell once every year to reduce overpopulation and induce fear in the sinners. Along the way, she meets Charlie, the princess of Hell and falls in love.

Unable to kill her or any other demons, Vaggie chooses to be with Charlie and disobeys the others. She falls from grace and lands in Hell in her current moth demon form. She is left with a harpoon weapon to defend herself and a mission. Her mission is now to spy on (mostly) Charlie and the other demons to try and get them to redeem themselves. (and also to ensure that the citizens don’t pose a threat to Heaven, God and the angels). Only when she is able to redeem herself, her girlfriend Charlie and other demons can she ascend to Heaven (or an alternate realm).

  Ascension (Vaggie)

 “Vagatha…”

  “Vagatha…”

  The sound of her name mingled with the chorus of a choir. A black void was all she could see…if she actually had vision. Floating in the darkness, no physical feeling…she didn’t appear to have a body at all.

 For a moment, she just…was.

 “Vagatha…”

 The vocalizations appeared to be coming from above. Faint rays of white light appeared, slowly reaching out. Though bright, it’s wasn’t blinding…it was light at the end of a tunnel of space and time.

The light radiated closer, and as it did, her senses sharpened.

Wait…wasn’t she…dead? Why could she perceive this event in the first place? Death meant a change into energy, a merging with the universe…at least that’s what many spiritualists believed.

Had the choir not sung out her name, she may have forgotten who she is…or was.

 Vagatha was apparently her name…she knew it sounded familiar, but also wasn’t quite right. Too formal and too long.

A shorter, better-suited version would be…

 Vaggie.

 She felt every inch of her ethereal being yell out her name, but no sound came out. It was similar to a person declaring something in their sleep, or speeches inside the mind. Repeating it, holding onto the word that could somehow connect her to what was before…and what was to come.

   The darkness was soon dispelled by the light and the whiteness around her gained the form of large puffy clouds.

 Moving forward until an unseen force froze her in her tracks, the deceased soul saw a unique sight. A slightly rusted golden gate blocked her path. A silver sign next to it read “Low Level of Heaven.”

 Heaven?

 An angel appeared next to the gate, clothed in white dress pants, a white shirt with a golden bow-tie and a pair of white feathering wings folded behind his back. Strangely enough, his face was completely white, with red blushes off to the sides on either cheek. His hair was bronze gold and short, looking white. If he hadn’t looked so serene and regal, she would’ve considered him a clown.

 He stared at her and spoke wordlessly with his golden eyes. “What’s your name?”

She knew what to say. “I am Vaggie.”

   “Vagatha Gonzales,” the angel stated, looking at a holographic list that appeared in front of him. “Formerly of Earth. El Salvadorian ancestry, born to Jeffery and Margaret on May 10th, 1992…”

The angel’s words faded in and out in a haze. She was on the brink between matter and ether. Until something snapped her into focus.

“…died in 2014 of stab wounds and homicide.”

Brief traumatic-inducing images flashed in front of her, but she couldn’t quite piece them together.

 The angel then went on naming all the good and bad deeds that Vaggie had supposedly done in her previous human life. He started off with the good:

“A hard-working individual, devoted to her values/faith. Protective of children, animals, and flying creatures: Moths in particular…”

How in Heaven and Hell could he see through her?

 And then the so-called sins…

“…harmed and maimed various racist men in the name of your family and Hispanic women…displayed lustful feelings toward other females…”

A boiling feeling of rage filled her body-less form. Her previous memories started to rush back to her. “Love, not lust! It’s who I was. Who decides what’s good and what’s bad?”

“God, the Heavenly Father,” the angel answered.

“Read my mind again. I dare you!”

“You don’t technically have one as of yet.”

“Then where’s yours? Did you lose it?”

The angel sighed. “Let’s just get through this interrogation process smoothly. I have eternity to reside here, but I’d prefer to not waste much of it on arguments.”

Vaggie fell silent. “Anything neutral about me?”

“You liked punk rock music, 80’s music, and Latino music.”

“O…kay? When I get into this place, can I listen to them?”

“If you truly get in,” the angel added. “All souls begin with an evaluation and judgement. The majority are neutral, like yourself. The evil and unfaithful get sent down to Hell. Only the heroic and legendary can reach the highest levels of Heaven and find fulfillment with God.”

Vaggie was silent again.

The angel turned red in the face and summoned a piece of paper in his hand, glancing down at it. “Or Nirvana. Or Akasha. Or becoming one with the Universe and the Higher Self,” he read. The list of other faiths went on, though Satanism and certain Pagan faiths were not included. “Man, diverse times in the mortal realm call for more accommodations around here…”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“To answer your current question,” the angel added, unfazed, “My name is Puriel. I am an examiner of souls brought to Heaven. Each soul gets one chance in Heaven at the lowest level. Those who can prove their worth can ascend to higher planes. It is a starting point for the majority of souls. Sadly, there are more that end up going to Hell, which poses a big problem.”

Puriel continued.  

“But more on that, later. And yes…other realms do exist…Enlightenment, Avalon, Summerland, the Void, etc. The lower level of Heaven is a basic starting point for the afterlife, mostly because it’s been woven into mortals’ minds for centuries. Souls are given one chance, though there are, of course, exceptions.”

Vaggie could already feel Puriel’s eyes judging her.

Puriel waved his hand and spoke an ancient incantation. Vaggie somehow understood it: “Breath is lost, a new life found, Temporary form to this soul be bound.”

 Vaggie’s new form very much resembled her previous human form…thought it was also very different. As a human, she had thick dark hair, light brown skin, and a thin but strong physique. She had gotten her muscular tone from martial arts and hard work. She frequently wore gothic outfits of black, gray and pastel pink.

 Her skin was now slightly light gray, her hair long and white with faint bands of red along the tips. A pink bow was perched on her head, like the one she enjoyed wearing as a human. Her eyes were large and the sclera orange. She wore stockings over her legs, the right one navy blue, the left one with pink stripes on it. Her white mini dress with two xs over her breasts covered the top half of her legs and exposed her light gray shoulders. She wore a blue undershirt and a tight collar around her neck. A large pink X appeared over her left eye, the same eye that had been damaged in her previous life. Vaggie’s most stunning feature was a pair of white feathery wings that materialized from golden light and emerged from her back. Her wings also had thin red bands along near the tips.

 “This is the form that appeared in your mind, so at your request, this is your usual form for the afterlife,” said Puriel. “Your redeemed form will be the one you possessed as a human.”

 “Thank you,” she replied, staring at herself. She would have to get used to her alternate form, but already it seemed fitting for her.

 Puriel spoke another incantation and several portals opened up in a row above the gate. The faces that appeared in the holes were the faces of other angels: Michael, Raphael, Haniel, Gabriel, and even some Angels of Death: Dumah, Azrael, etc.

In the very center, another portal opened, revealing six winged seraphim angels guarding a hovering throne. God Himself, appearing as an elderly man with a great white beard, gazed upon his subjects and attendants. He began to talk with the council of angels residing in different spheres of Heaven.

 Vaggie couldn’t make out the words, as they were speaking in a divine language only few had the privilege to learn.

After what felt like an eternity, God left and one by one, the angels and the portals vanished.

 Puriel turned to Vaggie.

“Your misdeeds by themselves would originally send you right to Hell, but you also have a chance to repent based on your values of justice and wisdom.”

 “You have several choices. First, you can return back to the void of nonexistence. No feeling, no memory, nothing…thus bringing balance to the universe. For what emerges from the ether must eventually return. Those who die a second time in Hell, Heaven, or any realm, will cease to exist again.”

 “Just stop with the philosophical bullshit.” Vaggie clenched her fists, eager to get past this unbearable lecture.

  “Second, you can travel to other realms and see if they’ll let you pass…though it may take a while and it’s not guaranteed. Third, you could go straight to Hell and become a demon…though it’s not recommended.”

  “…Or, if you choose to stay here…you are to become a member of our Exterminator Angels of Death. This is determined based on both your proficiency in fighting and weaponry…but also on your neutral nature overall. Though your past human actions would be considered malicious, your overall intentions were pure. Once initiated into the soldier ranks, you will need to prove yourself in order to potentially ascend to higher levels of Heaven. What say you?”

 Vaggie thought for a moment. “I want to stay in Heaven and see my family.”

 “Do you solemnly swear to serve in the name of Christ the Lord and embrace His ways and the ways of the citizens of Heaven?”

 “I accept.” A flaming white halo with little spikes through the brim appeared above Vaggie’s head. A small white arrow with the shape of a French emblem appeared in the center of the halo.

 “Close your eyes and focus,” said Puriel. “Say, ‘Saint Samael, I’m ready for duty.’”

 Vaggie did so, and she instantly transformed.

 A harpoon weapon appeared in her right hand and an LED mask in her left. Dark curved horns arched slightly past her head, her white hair vanishing under a dark hood. Her wings now sprouted black feathers which were both strong as steel and lightweight for graceful movement. In replacement of her normal outfit, she now wore a kind of black body suit with feathered gauntlets over her arms and lower legs, all black. She stared at the LED mask which displayed a glowing white eye to the left, an x in place of an eye on the right and a large glowing white grin. There appeared to be faint red stains off to the sides. Vaggie almost recoiled at the grotesque item. Hesitantly, she put on the mask and was still able to see clearly.

   “Archangel Vagatha,” Puriel said, declaring her new title. “Your fate has been decided. Your mission is to purge the demonic citizens of Hell once a year to reduce overpopulation to a set quantity. Any relationships and fraternization with the citizens of Hell is forbidden. Your training begins at twilight.”

 The gates finally opened soundlessly and Vaggie flew through. She was amazed at how she quickly got used to her wings, like they were a second pair of strong arms. Her harpoon somehow felt natural in her hands. She was half tempted to throw it at Puriel, but she knew that the mostly immortal being would not be happy.

Was he immortal? Was she immortal, even in this peculiar plane of existence?

 “And Vagatha,” warned Puriel as she briefly glanced back at his row of strangely sharp white teeth, “Break the rules of God, and you’ll fall from grace. Your halo will vanish and your wings will burn off. You will become nothing else but a demon of Hell forever.”

   Preparation (Charlie)

“Charlotte, it’s almost time for the show to begin. Hurry on down!”

A young teen demon was sitting in front of a mirror decorated with yellow eyes with black pupils along the elegant rim. She put on a dash of red lipstick while her two goat dolls, Razzle and Dazzle fixed her hair.

 “Dad!” called the blond-haired princess from inside her room, “I told you to call me Charlie! Charlotte sounds too…strange.”

“Well that’s your name, you should be used to it by now.”

 Charlie rolled her eyes and stared at her reflection: golden yellow eyes, a ghost white face with red blushes off to the side of her cheeks, razor sharp fangs when she smiled. She was so excited, she could barely sit still.

 When her attendants were done, she stood up to admire herself and her outfit. A candy red pinstriped dress nearly touched the floor and felt slightly tight around her waist. An enchanted light purple snake was wrapped around her waistline, both serving as decoration and self-defense in case of grabby onlookers. It was very similar to the snake that her father Lucifer kept around his white top hat (though both were protective of their owners thanks to Lucifer’s magic). Spider web leggings covered her pale legs and on her feet were black tap-dancing shoes. One of her feet was already moving up and down slightly. Finally, Charlie wore a black spiked crown with a red apple gem in the center.

 “My 150th birthday!” she exclaimed, doing several happy jumps. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a while.”

Indeed, it had been 150 years since she had been born in Hell to the king and queen. Unlike humans, the demons hardly aged at all, or if they did, it was a very slow process. (Then again, they were already dead, so it didn’t really matter.)

 But Charlie had heard of the interesting human tradition they called “birthdays” on Earth. She insisted to her parents they had to celebrate hers once a year.

 While Lucifer had been reluctant, Lilith agreed.

“We can’t participate in that foolish human tradition,” Lucifer argued. “Especially since we aren’t alive and our people are supposed to be suffering twenty four, seven.”

“If it makes our daughter happy, then so be it,” she said. “Besides, no one else has to know. It’ll be one of our traditions.”

“Very well,” he said. “But since Charlie gets a special day of her own, why don’t we make some days special for us…if you know what I mean.”

He gave her a devilish wink and she grinned in return. “A special day for domination…I’m up for that.”

Charlie had then entered the room, asking “What’re you talking about?” and the topic was changed.

“So, about that meeting with the other overlords?” Lilith asked her husband.

“As usual, I warned them they needed to know their place.”

Rolling her eyes, Charlie had left to play the grand piano.

 “Are you coming or not?” Lucifer asked, snapping her back to reality.

“I’m ready!” she called, opening the door.

There was her father in front of her, smiling his nearly ever-present grin. Like her, he had (much shorter) blond hair, a white face, blushes on his cheeks, and yellow eyes. He wore his usual white and candy red suit, with his white top hap with a snake along the rim. A black staff appeared in his hand with the Forbidden Fruit on the top: a red apple. Lilith walked over to stand beside him, wearing an elegant red dress and her usual black crown between her red horns on her head. She had blond hair even longer than Charlie’s and was taller than Lucifer.

“Oh Charlie,” exclaimed her mother in a soft voice, “You look so beautiful! You remind me of me when I was your age.”

 Charlie embraced her mother in a happy hug. “Come on, now,” Lilith said, letting go and beckoning her to come forward. “Our guests are waiting.”

 The “guests” were actually some of Lucifer’s snakes which he reluctantly enchanted to take on the appearances of…

 “Disney Princesses and Harry Potter wizards,” Lucifer muttered in disgust. “It could’ve been wounded demons sprawling in pain on the ground like in the past…”

 Charlie walked down the curving staircase down to the lobby of her family’s mansion. The “princesses” smiled and waved at her and some threw flower petals to her (which were actually dried scales dyed pink.)

 “You know how much she doesn’t like that,” Lilith mentioned. Charlie took the stage and began to sing.

 “But those enchantments aren’t even real,” he said. “It’s one of the ways to prepare her for her future duties as Hell’s princess.”

“And what’s the other way?”

Lucifer whispered into his wife’s ear and her eyes widened in both delight and hesitation.

“Oh that’s right. Today is also that day.”

“Surely she will enjoy getting a glimpse of what happens out in the world,” Lucifer smiled.

“But…what if it’s too much for her?”

“Too, much?” Lucifer asked. “She’s 150 now. She has to be ready. It’s a growing up right of passage that cannot wait any longer.”

 They watched Charlie take a bow as her doll demons clapped.

 “Trust me,” said Lucifer. “She’ll be delighted to witness her first…”

 “Cake!” Charlie squealed. “Oh my Satan, that’s amazing!”

 A devil’s food cake was rolled and set on a table in front of her. It had chocolate frosting (per her request), spidery snakes on the top and a fat red apple candle.

 After singing to her in their deep hellish voices saved for certain occasions, Charlie pointed her clawed finger at the candle and the flame shot into the air, bursting into red apple fireworks. The noise spooked the apparitions and the regular snakes appeared once more.

For the first half of the private party, Charlie entertained her parents by demonstrating her dancing skills up on stage. For Charlie, dancing wasn’t just a hobby: it was a way of life and a method to express her deepest feelings that she couldn’t put into words. Razzle played the grand piano and Dazzle played a violin as Charlie sang.

 As the day neared its end, the clock outside rang out twelve times. In the past years, Charlie would head upstairs to her room to watch musicals while her parents went outside for some “entertainment.” Now this time, Charlie would get a chance to be with her parents.

 “It’s a special surprise, sweetie,” said Lucifer. “Since it’s a big day for you, I’d like you to follow us.”

 He said it as if it were an order. Feeling bewildered, but still very excited, Charlie let her parents led her up the elevator and toward the uppermost balcony. Razzle and Dazzle followed close behind.

Soon, the group walked onto the balcony that overlooked the crimson sky and dark clouds of hell.

 Charlie stared out into the distance as the clock tower rang one last time.

 “I don’t see anything,” she said. “Are we waiting for fireworks? Or a rainbow?”

“Silly Charlotte,” said her mother with a smile. “You’re about to witness something even better than those things.”

 “A spectacle that you’ll gladly remember for years into your rule,” her father added.

 Charlie smiled wide, until seeing a speck of something in the distance. It looked like a circle of white light that slowly grew larger into the shape of a portal.

 “Huh?” she asked.

 Lucifer smiled. “Charlotte, welcome to your first Extermination.”

 Then…a swarm of dark flying creatures burst out of the portal. The shadowy figures rained down on the city below. Charlie looked closer and could see they had black feathery wings, dark curved horns and glowing white halos on their heads. Each one carried variations of spears, harpoons and other weapons in their hands.

 “What are those things?” she asked.

“They’re angels,” said her mother.

“Angels?” she asked. “You mean like the ones in human myths?”

“No, dear,” said Lucifer, his grin wide. “These are no myths.”

 All of a sudden, one flew close by and Charlie reeled back in fright. The angel that glided past had an LED mask on with a large sinister grin and an x over its right eye. The angel threw the spear in his hand, and the weapon struck a large parrot-like demon in the heart. The bird let out a shrill squawk as it plummeted to the ground.

Charlie glanced down at the streets and let out a sharp gasp.

 Down below, demons of all shapes and sizes scattered from the onslaught of angels descending on them like hungry vultures. A demon with three heads was unfortunate enough to have a harpoon struck through all his heads, causing the creature to collapse. Two other angels were choking a red dragon demon, the creature’s eye bulging. Two hellhounds whined in pain as electricity from another spear struck them both in the backs. The bipedal canines crashed to the ground and did not move again.

Nothing but screams, robotic laughter, and carnage. The longer she watched, the more frightened Charlie became. Soon, the rotten stench of death filled her nostrils.

She glanced back at her parents casually watching the show from their chairs like it was a musical.

Tears sprang from Charlie’s eyes.

“What is all this?! Why are you showing me this?”

“It’s a yearly extermination to reduce the population of sinners once a year,” explained Lilith. It was like she was talking about the weather.

“Those are our people!” she cried. “And you’re just letting this happen?!”

“There’s no need to act so brash,” Lucifer scolded. “It’s just a natural way of ensuring that evil gets a through cleansing.”

“Cleansing? This is murder!”

“Sadly, it’s a necessary act,” Lilith added.

“As you know, I was once an angel,” said Lucifer. “I was banished down here and nearly killed myself. But then God, the angels and myself came to an agreement. The Exterminators could kill citizens in Hell once every year, while we, the royal family, would be left alone. It does make sense, considering we are the most powerful individuals here.”

Charlie took several ragged breaths. “What’s so special about us? What about them?!” She pointed down toward the fleeing demons rushing into cars, stores, and even dumpsters to try and get away. Down over at the poor section of Imp City, the imps were even less lucky. The one ones who could escape were ones with enough proficiency to create small portals or to shapeshift into Exterminators to trick them.

 “This is Hell, Charlotte,” Lucifer said, eyes narrowing in frustration. “Suffering is what those lowlife scum deserve to experience. Just be lucky that we don’t have to deal with that.”

 “Vaggie,” Charlie breathed almost in a whisper, already concerned about her friend.

 “Now stop fooling around and embrace this momentous occasion,” said Lucifer.

 “No,” Charlie said.

“Excuse me?” asked Lucifer, eyebrows raised.

“NO!” she cried, tears running down her face. Her eyes turned red and her long horns emerged from her head. “I’m not gonna sit here and let more of my people die. I can’t believe you hid this from me all these years!”

 Charlie summoned Razzle and Dazzle and the two goats lifted her up and carried her down to the streets.

 “GET BACK HERE AT ONCE!” Lucifer bellowed.

Ignoring her father, Charlie landed down on the cracked asphalt, nearly stepping on a severed horned demon head. Razzle and Dazzle hovered nearby.

She saw three angels corner a frightened cat demon with a spotted brown face who held her paws up. Spears pointed toward her head and heart, the feline gave one last sorrowful meow.

“HEY!” Charlie bellowed in her demonic voice. She was seeing red. Her black shoes clacked against the pavement. “STAY AWAY FROM MY PEOPLE!”

The three angels turned at the same time, their eyes glowing red and teeth spread out when spotting her. The cat demon scurried up the wall with her claws and leaped from roof to roof out of sight.

 Flames receding from her body, horns shrinking back, Charlie backed up in fear and gulped as the angels advanced, their weapons at the ready. Razzle and Dazzle shuddered and held on tightly to Charlie’s hands. Just as the angels threw the spears and Charlie closed her eyes…

 She heard a sickening thud.

The spears had struck a pair of black fiery wings. The spears vanished in flames before flaming swords materialized out of thin air. The angels were struck by the swords, causing them to back up.

Lucifer’s eyes were red, his temporary black wings made from his enchanted snakes merged together.

“LEAVE.”

His demonic voice could stop the heartbeats of an entire group.

 Charlie slowly stood up once the angels had retreated and stared into Lucifer’s glowing red eyes. He slowly turned his head toward her. Though he was furious with her, she could see a small tear roll down his cheek before being evaporated by the heat.

“IF YOU EVER DO SOMETHING FOOLISH LIKE THAT AGAIN, I’LL MAKE SURE YOU NEVER LEAVE OUR MANSION. YOU WILL BE GROUNDED UNTIL THIS PLACE FREEZES OVER. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

Charlie nodded with a whimper.

“YOU WILL ACCEPT YOUR ROLE WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT.”

 Charlie glanced over toward a group of demons and gasped. As her father raised his hand toward her, something inside Charlie stirred. A peculiar feeling in her temple, just between her eyes began to tingle with warmth. It was almost as if time stood still.

 When Charlie stared hard at the three homeless demons from a distance, she could almost see their faces briefly morph into their formerly human ones from their past lives: a white skinned bearded man with a bottle of alcohol in his hand, a mother with a cut-up face in torn prostitute clothing, a sobbing blonde boy in the mother’s lap just learning how to use a gun…

 Before Charlie could say anything, a glowing magenta pentagram surrounded her and she was transported back to her room with Razzle and Dazzle.

   Progression (Vaggie)

Vaggie couldn’t believe her eyes. Being so overwhelmed the day before with dying and becoming an Exterminator, she hardly had time to admire the shimmering city in the clouds.

 But now, as she made her way to the armory for her training session, she couldn’t help but stare in wonder.

 The architecture of the buildings ranged from Victorian mansions, to modern tech buildings made of glass and metal, to grand temples made of gold and silver, devoted to various gods, but mostly to Jesus. The streets were spotless and the roads were made of polished obsidian that was always smooth. Solar panels lay on every roof, powered by the sun. In the center of Holy City stood a mighty cathedral made of marble, reminiscent of Notre Dame. Several roman-style fountains were scattered around the city. One was a statue of Mary and Jesus as a little boy.

 Looming like Mount Olympus stood God’s palace, made of gold and precious stones, the gates made of indestructible diamond. A nearby garden connected to the palace housed the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge, guarded by several angels and a golden dragon.

 What was perhaps more intriguing were the citizens themselves. Some of them resembled typical white-winged angels: blonde or light colored hair, pale white faces with red blushes on their cheeks and yellow soulful eyes. Ironically, many of them had razor sharp teeth. The clothing they wore varied just as much as the outfits in Hell, coming from many periods throughout time. She noticed a dozen different ones: Roman tunics, medieval dresses and suits of armor, Egyptian clothing made of silk, top hats and suits from the 1900s. Some of the more casual people even wore modern jeans and t-shirts.

 Like in Hell, other angels had characteristics of animals and items. Vaggie spotted men with dove wings, women with white swan feathers for hair, and dozens of bipedal cats and dogs getting along just fine. A few other angels had heads of flowers and some had the heads of lyres, trumpets, and other musical instruments. None of them had to worry about falling; they could either fly or walk on air. There were several mythical creatures as well, including dragons, a few unicorns, fairies, and Thunderbirds.

 Several angels were in a circle in the sky, dancing the kumbaya and singing prayers while holding hands. Vaggie felt some nostalgia, remembering when she would wear brightly colored festival dresses for Cumbia dances and family events. She remembered dancing with her parents and extended family as upbeat Hispanic music played. How she longed for the taste of steamy quesadillas and juicy fresh fruit.

 Just where were her parents? And how safe could she really feel, even in paradise? The last thing Vaggie needed was to be gang-raped and murdered a second time by a bunch of beastly homophobic men.

  In the city around her, angels worked in ordinary jobs, especially in churches. There were also a few mosques, Buddhist temples and synagogues, but paled in comparison to the number of Christian places of worship. Volunteers and charity workers labored by the dozens, sending out food, blessings and miracles to the homeless and those residing in the lower levels of Heaven.

 Already, Vaggie was feeling like some sort of outsider.

 A small portal opened up to another heaven next door. Vaggie could see a glass building with bluish stained glass windows and classic art inside. A large sign on the roof read “Haven Hotel.” A bunch of angels were lining up and receiving white-winged keys in their hands. The portal closed before Vaggie could observe further.

 Soon, Vaggie reached the armory, a building shaped like a small white fortress. She stood at attention next to several angels, already fitted in their black Exterminator uniforms, black wings and LED masks. Vaggie looked and saw two muscular angels carry out a brown chest with planetary symbols on it. They opened it up and there lay dozens of sharpened harpoons, spears, and swords in neat rows. They were new weapons to be used for the time after the Purge in the next year. After a brief prayer, the recruits were called up in alphabetical order by a slender angel with long blonde hair and a light blue suit to retrieve a weapon of their choice. Gabriel stood next to Samael, the leader of the Archangels. He had red/brown curly hair and pulled out the flaming sword weapon he already had. Michael, another Archangel Leader, held a sword of his own: Excalibur, the weapon that defeated Lucifer. Raphael, the healer angel with long brown hair stood in the distance to watch.

 Samael called out the names of both new and old warriors one by one.

 “Azrael.”

Azrael was the first angel. He strode up and picked out a scythe, then pulled a hood over his head of long dark hair.

 “Camael. Cassiel. Dumah. Haniel. Hafineal. Israfil. Jegudiel. Jerahmael. Japhiel.”

 Vaggie yawned.

 “Kepherel. Munkar and Nakir. Metatron. Raguel. Ramiel. Raziel. Sandalphon. Sarathiel. Selaphiel.”

 The list went on and on.

 “Uriel. Uziel. Zachariel. Zadkiel. Zaphael. Zephaiel.”

 Finally Samael said “Vagathaiel…um, Vagatha? Is that right?”

 Vaggie looked up. “It’s Vaggie.”

 “Right. Come on up.”

Vaggie strode forward, ignoring the murmurs and whispers of her colleagues. It was embarrassing enough to be the last one chosen on accident, not to mention the only female angel in the group.

 Vaggie picked up the only weapon left in the chest, a harpoon spear. It felt good in her hands…like she was meant to wield it. Vaggie walked back to stand next to an angel with blonde unruly short hair, dressed in white.

“I’m Sam,” said the angel. “Many people call me Samael, but the real one is up there.”

 He mentioned to the lead Angel of Death: Samael. He had long flaming red hair, a white face, and crimson eyes. A scar ran along his neck. He enjoyed tormenting sinners more than anyone. He morphed into Exterminator form.

 “Welcome to training session and orientation. After our recent successful Extermination, it is now time to review what went well and discuss methods to increase efficiency.”

 Vaggie and the others flew thirty laps around a group of clouds then sat down for a lecture. The lecture covered Heaven’s history, Exterminator origins and the fall of Lucifer.

 For the next half, Vaggie practiced on using her weapon. She threw her harpoon at a demon training dummy at various distances. She worked on blocking, stances, aim, and flying patterns. At other times, she worked with other angels in a group.

 “Strike the head, between the eyes, the chest, abdomen and back,” Samael advised as he walked, observing the practicing soldiers. “Never get too close to some demons: their bites are venomous.” To others: “Swipe your weapon at the legs to trip your enemy. Keep a firm grip on your weapon. Follow orders and stick with at least two other angels during a raid.”

He continued: “If not enough demons are exterminated, then you all will have to repent for your failure of duty for three to seven days. Excitement of Ten Commandments, community service, fasting etc. Yes, I know we are all dead, but that doesn’t matter to the All Mighty Yahweh. Serve Him and happiness will serve you.” Samael showed a row of sharp teeth and a few angels flinched. “If you kill too many and linger too long and the portals will close and you’ll be trapped in Hell for a year. Either way, the demons must know their place, least they feel the need to bring war to Heaven.”

 He glared and stopped where Vaggie was.

 “Vagatha, your stance is way off. You need to spin faster when attacking multiple demons at once. Let your instincts move your body. And show less mercy to them or you’ll be begging for some during flogging, flying laps and scrubbing!”

Vaggie worked harder, feeling the pressures of this strange Heaven boot camp that felt like a living Hell.

After the intense training, they reviewed the Nine Circles of Hell, the seven sins and the seven virtues.

Vaggie was glad when the session was over at the start of twilight. Fortunately, she only had to attend six long days every other week (Sunday was rest day), as soldiers went on shifts. Walking into her designated home, Vaggie took off her uniform and tossed the mask aside, the creepy grin face staring at the ceiling. She concentrated, clearing her mind and the uniform appeared back on. Focusing again, the uniform came off next to her. She placed her weapon against the wall, not too far from reach. She lay down on a comfortable bed in a small house, which looked like the place she lived in when she was a human. In fact, other angels were living in different spots, in places that resembled their environment in their past lives. Colorful dresses and gothic outfits were neatly folded in nearby drawers. Punk rock posters from 90s bands were already hung up in her room. All of her favorites: Pearl Jam, Foo Fighters, Green Day, Blink 182. A nearby iPod had those songs along with Cumbia, Salsa, Reggae and other music from her parent’s home country.

 Vaggie was starting to feel creeped out. Everything seemed…too perfect. The room was mocking her, displaying her favorite things from her past…even an exact replica of a portrait of her and her parents! Her mother and father, both with dark hair, wearing practical clothing. Her as a little girl with light brown skin, long black hair, and both of her brown eyes. Her birth certificate was even in another drawer: “Vagatha Gonzales, New Mexico, May 10 1992 to September 11 2014. Age 22.”

 She sobbed.

She screamed.

 She ripped out chunks of her long white hair.

  “My life…or death is not the same anyone! I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like it is. Fuck you!” she yelled to no one in particular.

Vaggie sighed in exhaustion. She wasn’t sure what would happen next. She missed her parents and her previous girlfriend. She missed music and soccer and martial arts. If only she could go back to worrying about jobs and kicking douchebag boys in the nuts. She never asked to be an Angel of Death with a possibility of going to Hell.

 She buried her face in her hands. “What have I gotten myself into?”

   Contemplation (Charlie)

The young demon princess lay down on her queen-size bed, complete with an apple-shaped headboard, velvet red sheets and matching curtains. Her room was a blend of a vampire’s room and a little girl’s room: among the spider webs and skulls along a dresser were drawings of unicorns and bottles of makeup. Drawings of demons holding hands hung from old branches sticking out from inside the wall. One drawing showed a smiling Charlie and Vaggie in between her parents. Scattered among the dark red walls were rainbow paint splotches and a painted sketch of a flower. A typed motto of “Don’t worry, be happy” was taped to the side of a mirror.

 But on this particular day, the usually happy-go-lucky girl found it hard to be positive.

 “He…called me a failure,” she said softly. Razzle and Dazzle nudged her head affectionately, their faces full of concern.

“Just before sending me here,” Charlie said. She stared at a crumpled piece of paper with her drawing of a hotel on it. The sign read “Happy Hotel” but the page was ripped thanks to Lucifer’s accusing claw tearing through it.

 He had paced back and forth, clearly frustrated. “Ever since your foolish fiasco on your birthday last week, you’ve been…shall I say…frying my nerves with your random ideas.”

“What’s bad about a hotel that redeems sinners?” Charlie had asked.

“I’ll tell you what’s bad about it…everything! First, there is no hope for those low-class demon trash. They were sent down here for a reason; because there’s no chance for them to ever change their ways.”

“Dad, that’s not true…”

“Second,” he interrupted, “You’re supposed to keep up an important reputation as heir to the throne. No one will take you seriously again if you blab on and on about some fantasy you insist upon.”

“It can be true, though!” Charlie replied. “I’ve seen what those demons are like. Sure, they did bad things, but everyone deserves a second chance.”

“There are some people who don’t get second chances,” Lucifer answered, with a faraway look in his eyes. “And that also applies to those people out there. It’s just the way afterlife works, Charlotte.”

“What if, it doesn’t have to always be that way? There is a more humane way of reducing overpopulation without all the senseless slaughtering…”

“There is no other way!” Lucifer said, raising his voice. Charlie flinched back a bit. “If hell becomes overcrowded, then God and the Angels will not hesitate to eliminate the threat: us.”

He paused. The king hadn’t considered the possibility of a second death before…the final journey to the void.

“Dad, listen, I know it sounds far-fetched, but I’m confident that my idea will work. I just need to spread the word about the Happy Hotel.”

“And embarrass yourself and our legacy? Along with putting yourself in danger?!”

“I can defend myself, easily!”

“You may be powerful, but this place crawls with overlords and who knows what else that will kill you.”

“But we’re already dead.”

“No. I was born an angel, near immortal. You were born here in Hell. If you want to be able to have a stable future here, you will stop with your nonsense.”

“I’m not going to give up. I know there’s a rainbow inside every demonic soul. I’ve seen…”

She hesitated, debating on whether to tell him about the anguished human faces she had seen during the last purge.  

“…humanity,” she finished.

As if reading her mind, Lucifer leaned in close, flames in his yellow eyes. “Do not think like an inferior human mortal. Humans are nothing but temporary bland prototypes to demons. All arrogant, not worthy of divine respect.”

“Have you even met a human?”

“I’ve learned enough about them to stick to my conclusion.”

“Many humans are good, just like other demons can be. Demons, after all, used to be human! Maybe they can become human again.  Redeemed souls will be sent to Heaven and everybody wins! No more killings, no more sorrow. Enough with the “us versus them” speech. You will join me in paradise, Dad, then you’ll see.”

Lucifer growled, and flicked his daughter backward across the hall with his power. She landed on her butt and back with a surprised yelp of pain, as Razzle and Dazzle lifted her up off the floor.

 “THERE IS NO PARIDISE FOR ME,” he boomed in his deep demonic voice, eyes red. It sent chills up Charlie’s spine. “NO HAPPY ENDING FOR ANYONE.” He sighed heavily. “The sooner you realize that, the better. You and the other demons will never leave Hell, I’ll make sure of it.”

Charlie’s mind began to whirl. What did he mean by that?

 Charlie began to speak but her father held up a hand. “Not another word. One thing is for certain: based on your actions thus far, you are nothing but a failure.”

Tears pooled in Charlie’s eyes. “You…you don’t mean that, do you?”

Lucifer pointed toward Charlie’s room and then looked away. “Get…get out of my sight.”

Charlie could only stand frozen in disbelief and sadness as her father departed down the hall, staff in hand.

  After tossing the worn paper aside, Charlie turned around and sobbed into her pillow. Later on, she sang a lament while walking to her balcony outside. Razzle and Dazzle even howled mournfully with her as she sang. It was the only way for her to truly express herself and let out her emotions.

   “Why am I such a failure?

It always seems to be

Destined for the throne, yet I feel so alone

What is truly best for me?”

 “Happiness lies at the end of the rainbow

Feeling like that’s the place to go

An endless distance, out of reach here

Lost in emptiness, foreshadowing fear”

 “Inside of every demon is a soul (is a soul)

Trapped by events beyond their control (their control)

I try to help and brighten their day (to find their way)

But my hopes and dreams fade far away”

 “Seeing the light in the darkness

In this world I’m blind

I wonder why I cling to hope

For those cruel and unkind”

 “Goodness beneath the surface

Redemption beyond the mask

What is my role, my purpose?

How can I complete my task?”

 “Peace, love, is all I ask

(Oooh, oooh, oooh)

Peace and love, is all I ask

(Oooh, oooh, oooh)

All I ask…”

 “Inside of every demon is a soul (is a soul)

Trapped by events beyond their control (their control)

I try to help and brighten their day (to find their way)

But my hopes and dreams fade far away”

  Extermination (Vaggie)

 It was now time for Vaggie to put her skills she had learned to the test. One year had passed and the time for the Purge was upon her. Despite being a newbie in comparison with everyone else, Vaggie had become one of the best fighters among the Exterminators. The fateful day soon came, and Vaggie lined up in position with the other Archangels. All dressed in black. Vaggie’s harpoon was in her right hand. She had requested that her wings stay white, with the red line through them like her hair. Although she didn’t like to think of herself as a murderer, she told herself that it was for the greater good. Sinners would get what they deserved and balance and cleansing would be brought to Hell.

 The angels all saluted when Samael strutted over. He had a black scythe in his hand, black flames rising from the blade. His red hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, his dark uniform, horns and mask ready for use. He walked over to Vaggie, approval in his eyes. “Your dedication to the Lord has been commendable. You’ve adapted well from your previous novice status. As such, I now assign you with an additional task.”

 He continued, “You are to spy on Hell’s princess Charlotte, find her, and make her surrender to us. Be wary of her pyro kinetic powers. If she does not comply, you are to kill her on sight before the days end.”

 Vaggie silently gulped as she saluted.

 “But,” Samael added. “Don’t forget about the other demons. And…do not try to reason with Lucifer. The traitor and his promiscuous queen sealed their fates long ago.”

 “Yes sir,” said Vaggie.

 Samael nodded and walked toward the front to address the winged assassins.

“Remember to aim for the head, chest, groin and pressure points. Show no mercy to anyone or anything. May the Lord bless you and all your endeavors. The Father, Son and Holy Spirit will reside in our souls always. May He deliver us from all evil. Amen.”

 “Amen!” the angels repeated.

 Michael waved Excalibur and a round portal to Hell appeared against the white clouds. Samael led the way and the angels filed through, Vaggie following close behind.

   Vaggie descended into the crimson chaotic world. The Big Ben-like clock tower rang twelve times, the *BONG* *BONG* rings echoing like hell’s bells of doom. The citizens screamed and scattered and scurried in the streets below. The angels were black vultures, circling around their prey. The thrust their spears forward. One angel managed to stab through two chubby orange demons like a gruesome shish kabab. Another demon in a black and white stripped outfit fired a gun at an angel to no effect. The demon teased the angel by appearing and disappearing around him. The trickster’s antics were cut short by a well-fired bolt of electricity through the demon. Two spears crisscrossed through the paralyzed frazzled demon, finishing him off for good.

 Vaggie flew down and landed on the ground, stomping after other demons. One demon climbed up a tree, Vaggie followed it, lifting herself up, spear in her mouth and swinging up the branches. She sliced off the demon’s blue head then landed gracefully on the ground on one knee. Standing up, she spotted a red vampire with black wings. She threw her spear and the creature was struck down in a splash of blood. Retrieving her spear, she attacked other demons that got too close…or ones who ran in her line of sight.

 “CLEANSE! CLEANSE! CLEANSE!” The chants rang out like a constant war cry.  A demon held a sign that read “Fuck you, Heaven!” in large red letters. Nearby, demons with six arms held up protest signs which displayed hellish slogans on them: “God spelled backwards is Dog!” “Hail Lord Lucifer, our true savior!” “Salvation, Sex, Substances, and Slaying.” “Asshole Archangels Suck Dick!” “Go Home Jesus, We’re Drunk As Shit!”

  Vaggie quickly made short gory work of them.

 Then, Vaggie saw some things that made her freeze. A green frog demon was nursing a wounded doll child back to health. A long dark green snake demon hung motionless from a streetlight, looking like a piece of thick string in the shadows. Whining could be heard from a gray teenage hellhound wearing a black tank top in the middle of a road. She was kneeling next to the furry corpse of her hellhound boyfriend. She lifted up her head and howled in sorrow. Small mouse demons scampered away in fright when they saw Vaggie.

Vaggie stared at her bloodstained hands. “Have I truly become a remorseless monster?”

 “CLEANSE! CLEANSE! CLEANSE!” The shouts pounded through the dark among the sounds of breaking glass, screeching cars, demonic laugher and the flickering of flames.

 Vaggie’s gut clenched. There was no way she could kill these souls. They did bad things, yes…but surely there was still some light in them. “I never fully believed all they taught me,” she thought. Heaven isn’t perfect at all. It’s ignorant and exclusionary! How could I have followed through with that for so long?”

 Around midway through the Purge, Vaggie finally spotted the person she was looking for. The demon princess with her long curly blond hair and pal face was looking forlornly from a balcony. She was wearing a red Victorian style dress with apple designs along the ends of the long dress.

Clearing her throat, Vaggie flapped over to her, spear at the ready. The girl’s eyes grew wide as she approached. Vaggie’s outfit morphed from plain black to an elongated version of her usual stripped leggings and white tank top with Xs over her breasts. Still, she kept her mask on, her horns extended in slight curves. The girl turned to run, but Vaggie waved her hand and the doors locked. She spoke in an emotionless voice, “Princess Charlotte.”

“W-what do you want?” Charlie asked, her voice tremoring in fear.

“I have arrived here on behalf of my leaders and the word of God. You are to surrender yourself peacefully and come with me. You are now an official prisoner of Heaven.”

Tears welled up in Charlie’s yellow eyes. “N-no! I can’t leave Hell and my people. I can’t leave my family!”

“I will resort to physical force if necessary.”

Flames erupted around Charlie and her straight black horns protruded from her head. No other words were needed to get the intention across.

Vaggie raised her spear. “If you won’t come with me…then perish!”

Charlie flinched back. “Leave me alone and hear me out!”

 Vaggie stared longer at Charlie. She lowered her weapon. She wasn’t allowed to feel emotion for any demon, let alone the princess of Hell.

 But this…peculiar feeling of warmth…was something new. Like a trace of her humanity was rising to the surface.

 Charlie stood up, breathing a small sigh of relief.

“I don’t want my people to be slaughtered every year. It truly breaks my heart. I know there’s good in everyone…including you.”

Vaggie lowered her head.

Charlie continued. “I am proposing a way to redeem sinners by introducing a new hotel to help them reform.”

She mentioned to the building she was in, the one with the sign that read “Happy Hotel” in large pink lit up letters on the roof.

“I’ve tried for months but no one listens to me. It’s like I don’t really belong here. If you believe that there’s a soul in everyone…if you have a heart…”

 Vaggie stood, conflicted. She had been taught to ignore pleas and cries of mercy. But this was different. It appeared that Charlie felt like an outcast as well…

…and the rare humanity that she showed, despite her status as the daughter of Satan himself.

“I…I…can’t do it!”

She dropped her spear and collapsed to her knees.

 Transformation (Charlie)

 Charlie did all she could to promote her hotel. Nobody would listen. No matter how many songs she sung, art she created or speeches she made, she’d always be ignored, taunted, ridiculed or even threatened. Food would be thrown at her as demons booed. Her rival Hesla called her a crazed Barbie bitch. Aaron von Eldritch, her former tall green boyfriend, son of Helsa, told her to get a grip and to “start being the pretty, polite, and passive princess she was before.” Out of a new desire to be with a caring woman partner, Charlie broke up with him. Her parents were not pleased.

 Lucifer was vivid when he heard the news. “You’ve just severed a valuable alliance with the Eldriches. Now they’re our rivals. We can’t afford to have more competition against us than we already have. A family like theirs could easily turn the tides against us when they badmouth us to our citizens!”

 Lilith was disappointed as well and a little surprised with her daughter. “You want to date girls now?” she asked. “How will you raise your heir in the next two centuries?”

 “Yes,” Charlie said. “I love both men and women. I don’t see what the problem is.”

 The only one who’s the problem is you,” Lucifer seethed. “You’ve never done anything right for so long and, frankly, I’m getting tired of your teenage nonsense. Break away from your petty fantasies, stop tainting our legacy…” his eyes turned red, voice lowered… “And… Grow. The. Fuck. Up.”

Charlie raced into her room, crying fresh tears as she wondered over to the balcony. Lilith was chiding her husband in a harsh voice over how hard he was on her. Charlie looked away when she heard the clock ring out.

 Now here she was, with an Exterminator angel sobbing at her feet.

Charlie stared as the angel slowly stood up, picked up her spear, and then removed her mask. A beautiful angelic face appeared, light gray skin, long white hair, a yellow eye, and white shimmering wings. “I am Vaggie, but people call me Vagatha.”

“I am Charlie, but people call me Charlotte.”

“It sounds too formal,” they both said at the same time.

They looked at each other some more, surprised to find they had so much in common on their first meeting day.

Vaggie spoke up. “I was sent here to restrain you or kill you so you wouldn’t be a threat to Heaven. But now…that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“So…you’re not going to kill me?” Charlie asked.

Just then, Samael spoke telepathically to Vaggie. “Based on my observations, the princess cannot be reckoned with. Exterminate her and return to the portal. Over.”

Vaggie gulped.

“What’s wrong?” asked Charlie.

Vaggie looked around frantically. A few other angels stood in mid- air, watching her and waiting to see what she would do next.

“I really can’t do it…” Vaggie said, her body shaking. Charlie comforted her with an embrace. Vaggie stood, stunned, but briefly returned it. Both of them were bonding…and gradually falling in love.

Samael’s voice rang through her mind, making her flinch back. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, VAGATHA?! FINISH HER OFF AND RECONVENE WITH YOUR ASSOCIATES AT ONCE!”

Vaggie put her mask back on and stepped back. “I promise, Charlie, I will do whatever I can to help you out. Everyone deserves second chances.” She flew off.

   Damnation (Vaggie)

Vaggie flew toward the open portal. The angels turned their heads and their eyes glowed red. Samael pulled out his black scythe. Vaggie stood in front of him.

Samael pointed behind her. “Get back down there if you know what’s good for you. Kill her, or I’ll do it myself.”

“No,” said Vaggie.

 Vaggie couldn’t believe the word flew out of her mouth. Her thoughts were faster than common sense. Vaggie could no longer hide behind the metaphorical mask of indifference, nor her physical mask over her face. Vaggie took off the black abomination and tossed it to the ground far below.

Samael’s eyes gleamed dangerously red. “What did you just say?”

Vaggie pushed down her fear. “I said, NO!”

Samael growled, showing sharp teeth. “You dare disobey a direct order given to you?”

Vaggie pointed down to Charlie on the balcony. “Charlie wants to rehabilitate sinners and bring them to Heaven! Why should I stop her from pursuing such a merciful goal?”

 Samael leaned in. “You should know that we do not accept any sinners. They are inferior to us, plotting our destruction at every moment. Even God has limits on who He can let in.”

 Vaggie clenched her fists. “But that’s not just! Slaughtering people without giving them a second chance. I’ve seen bad demons, yes, but others are just innocent families that are poor shadows of who they once were on Earth. Whatever happened to “love thy neighbor?” “Love thine enemy?” Why would God just turn people away?”

“Because,” Samael stated, “They’re monstrous scum. Filthy bugs and maggots who need to be eliminated. They’ll kill us all if their numbers are too great.”

 Vaggie shook her head. “Charlie has shown more humanity in her soul than anyone I’ve met. And I’ve only just met her today!” Vaggie stood, defiant and filled with a new purpose. “I refuse to continue with my mission.” But her confidence wavered as more red eyed, angels closed in on her. “Blasphemy…mutiny…” they muttered, emotionless behind creepy grinning masks. One by one, they pointed their weapons at her.  

If you won’t obey the will of Christ and God…” Samael held out his hand…”then you’ll burn in Hell just like the rest!”

 From down below, Charlie gasped in terror. Vaggie screamed in agony as her gray skin peeled away in chunks. Her spiked white halo broke in little pieces above her head. Her horns and dark uniform vanished. Worst of all, her beautiful white wings rapidly caught fire, burning off feathers that flew to the ground, some stained with blood. Soon her wings were completely burned away, the remains turning into streams of multicolored light that vanished.

Vaggie plummeted to the ground with loud screams, spear still clutched in her hand.

“Vaggie!” Charlie cried.

Samael rushed at Charlie at lightning speed, weapon raised, but someone else was faster.

Lucifer landed a punch that sent Samael flying backwards in an arch. He flew after the angel with six black wings that materialized from his body. His eyes glowed demonic red. He spoke in a deep voice that shook the ground and seeded sheer terror to anyone who heard it.

“NO ONE TOUCHES MY DEAR DAUGHTER! RUN YOU COWARDLY PIECE OF SHIT, OR I’LL DESTROY YOU WITH A FLICK OF MY FINGERS!”

Samael and the angels retreated into the portal and it soon closed.

“This isn’t over, Lucifer!” came Michael’s voice before the portal completely snapped shut.

Charlie jumped off the balcony, her body surrounded by flames. She caught Vaggie before she hit the ground.

 Vaggie opened her eyes, now in base demon form, a large pink X over her left eye. White tank top and leggings, back to regular size. She gave Charlie a sad smile before passing out.

 Restoration (Charlie)

Vaggie woke up in a comfortable bed in the Happy Hotel. She opened her eyes and saw Charlie standing nearby. Her back and hands were bandaged up, her hair spread apart like resting moth wings.

“Charlie?” she grumbled.

“Yes, I’m here,” said Charlie sounding relieved.

“Thank you for saving me like that,” Vaggie said. “But…why would you do that? I’m your enemy.”

“Not any more. You’re my new friend,” Charlie mentioned. “I don’t want anyone to suffer, not even one of the Exterminators.”

Vaggie sighed, feeling her back. It felt naked and vulnerable without her wings.

“Well, I’m not anymore.” She glanced at her spear, leaning against the wall. “But at least I still have my spear. I think they let me keep it in the hopes I would repent and kill more demons. Which won’t happen,” she added. “But make no mistake. I will strike anyone down who lays a harmful hand on you. You’re too good for this world. Me though…I’ll never be redeemed.”

Charlie smiled and placed a small kiss on Vaggie’s head. She picked up a discarded pink bow and put it on Vaggie’s head of white hair. “You can redeem yourself,” Charlie said. “By helping others redeem themselves. Help me with this hotel. This is your new destiny. Our new destiny. We can live a new afterlife together, and we can get through whatever comes at us.”

Vaggie believed her words with all her soul. Then she glanced down, sadly.

“What is it?” Charlie asked.

“I didn’t get to see my family in Heaven.”

“I’m sorry,” said Charlie. “You must miss them. You were human once, right?”

Vaggie nodded.

“I was born here in Hell, but I can understand how you must feel. I promise we can make things right for both worlds. I’ve seen for myself that humanity can exist even in the blackest hearts.”

Vaggie sighed. “Not sure if I can agree with that part, but let’s see how it goes. You’ll need me to keep you grounded.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me, I’m still grounded by my parents. I broke up with this guy and challenged my parents’ opinions.”

“Do you feel guilty about it?” Vaggie asked.

“Sometimes I do,” Charlie admitted.

Then she squeezed Vaggie’s hand affectionately. Vaggie squeezed back. “But for now, I wouldn’t have this moment any other way.”

Vaggie laughed. “What do you see in the future, crazy girl?”

Charlie just smiled. “Rainbows inside every demon.”

[alnilam-fr]

-Down In Yon Forest-

The ice sparkles as though champagne were poured over the top of the snow, dripping off of the ghost-pale branches of the wyrwood. The crescent moon sings softly. 

Beneath the branches of the trees, the Progenitor walks. Her feet are bare as the white branches overhead, and she leaves no footprints. Light glimmers within the curve of her throat, the dusky skin spangled with constellations of blue and green. The wyrwood stirs for her as she raises a hand, the winter air steaming against her shining skin, and the branches move, angling a path down towards the river.

There is a road through the wyrwood now- architects from deeper in the Lightweaver’s territory laid it nearly a hundred years ago. It is still a new road, by the Progenitor’s long and aching reckoning of the years. Her Guardian, Baleen with the ocean eyes, came not long after it was completed. It is only Baleen who has stayed, though many come along the road and seek hospice. (Though the wood has not been cursed in living memory, time still flows a little differently in the Progenitor’s land, like amber, like syrup. Baleen looks little more than thirty, even now.)

The last merchant caravan to pass through before the snows came stopped briefly at the House, and a silk-voiced Wildclaw told them of the elemental magic surging around Sornieth. Emperor, he had whispered, his crest of feathers standing on end.

Emperor. They say it as an ugly word, and they always have, ever since the first. The Imperial dragons do not speak it at all. Do not permit the desecration to pass their lips. They do not bury their bodies in the ground, for fear of that disease which eats bone and blood and makes it into something savage and new. (“If I die here,” her love had said, long ago, when he had drunk just enough to think about it, “Be sure to burn my body. Bury the skull apart from the bones.” And then he had downed the rest of his drink and looked out the window at the slow dance of the stars.)

There is something lying sprawled across the river, blocking the flow of the water making its rambling way to the sea. Rivulets of overflowing water spill over the banks and track lines of ice in the snow. The creature has a mane of thick fur made heavy with frost, and as the Progenitor approaches she sees one pair of silver-blue eyes blink open, and then another, and then a fifth eye slits open to gaze at her as it exhales, rising steam billowing from its fanged mouth. The Progenitor looks at it, for a long time. This is not an Emperor, but it is something likewise ancient. 

“Are you wounded?” she asks. Her voice crystallizes like the starlight in the cold. “Do you have a two-legged form?” Lightfooted, shadowless, she steps closer. Another pair of eyes open, pale as mercury.

I am wounded, it answers. The length of its mouth peels open to reveal rows of ivory teeth. Here. Lifting a foreleg and wing- the stomach is gleaming and pearl-colored, but scored with red as vivid as a scream. Blood drips down into the water, and clots darkly along the edges of the wounds. Beast attacked me. It coughs a little, dark stains spreading along its teeth. Emperor.

“What are you?” asks the Progenitor. She places a hand upon its stomach, magic gathering beneath her skin as slowly- slowly- the torn flesh knits back into scale and fur. “I think I dreamed a thing like you, long ago. When I was a girl.”

It inhales slightly, tasting the air like a cat. In this draconic form, it is as large as an Imperial, at least. You are ancient too, but not like me. I was born in the great glacier. My people were made when the mountains and the rain were young. Nutaikok decreed it thus. The accent of its words is strange to her. Northern, and yet not.

She moves to the next wound. Blood and light and water run between her fingers, onto her wrists. The blue silk of her sleeves is stained with blood. Ankle-deep she stands in cold water, but the Progenitor does not feel pain unless she chooses to do so. “They named me Souhayla,” she says. “Souhayla the Sunbringer. Souhayla of the Empty Hall. The Progenitor.” 

I am Tekkeitsertok.

In a great rush of movement, he rises to his feet, blood running in sunset-red gouts from his stomach and side in the moonlight. The river water glitters in his fur, and then he folds in on himself with a ripple of magic. It is always difficult for large dragons, to turn themselves back and forth, but the man who collapses upon the side of the riverbank in the bloodred, copper-reeking mud is not so much larger than Souhayla herself. Perhaps a head taller. Broad in his shoulders. His many eyes still open and close- on his bare shoulder blades, along his arms, on the backs of his hands. The color of frost.

“I will bring you to the House,” the Progenitor Souhayla says, placing one hand on the bleeding gash on his stomach to seal it and looping the other arm through his. Tekkeitsertok nods, his breath still coming in ragged pants. I am of the Keepers, he says. Third Order. His voice still comes in a rumble from somewhere far away. Somewhere filled with ice.

“Be at peace, now,” the Progenitor murmurs. Her skin glows softly through her sleeves stained with water and blood, casting a faint light on the ground. “I will bring you home.”

[perfect-corroscience]

Chapter 37: In Devil’s Grip

“An abyss which in our language is called shin’en.”

37-1 Raining down like a hailstorm.

This chapter throws Graviton enemies at you. Luckily, I was able to roll Iskar, an A-class Photon unit, when the Wild Beast adventurers got introduced. I know people at the time were pissed that there were lower class units (which would dilute the pool) but… look, not everyone would whale for the higher units nor has the patience to max SB/Luck everyone.

In lieu of not having A’misandra nor Amina, I maxed out the Whitewyrm Wand and stuck it on Zafitte^ to make her something of a healer. The otomo casts Tera Heal, chain; so with that and Giga Regen, my party won’t be hurting for healing.

Someone asked me if I’ll tackle the two Animata bosses. I did fight them, but I dunno if I’ll post up any updates about them. Probably not.

It starts with a small number of these new enemies.

Pretty self-explanatory, I think.

I do like how you can see the two black Animatas in this stage’s background.

37-2 Scorching barrier stretched across the sky.

Nothing good, evidently. Anyway, in this stage twisters will spawn as you progress through it, starting with this one, adding one more as you move on,

and ending with four on the field.

37-3 A sharp gaze drilling into his back.

The whispering leader sensed a sharp gaze

drilling into his back. It was Pa'keppar.

 “Chief! How long do you plan to go on hiding here?!”

We’re introduced to some new enemies.

The Incapacitators, who only attack rows

...and Fragmentors, whose Powered Point Jammer skill will make the bar charge slower than normal for three turns.

37-4 Want us to stand back and do nothing?

A fallen Spirit with burned wings and

molten Negas lay in front of you.

 They sacrificed themselves to destroy

the barrier generator.

 “Why have you done this... for us?”

 No one could have known the answer.

All that remained was the path these

unexpected benefactors had given

their lives to clear for you.

 ---Audience room

 "While we're talking here, much blood may be

getting spilled, all for our sake! Chief, how can

you be so insensitive to their suffering?"

 "Thanks to their sacrifice, peace will be

brought to our lands, and we will be protected.

There is no better solution."

"You really think that?! You trust the word of

a devil who leaves death in her wake, and

want us to stand back and do nothing?"

 "Would you rather send our people to certain

death? I don't understand you, Pa'keppar!"

 "And these strangers who throw away their

lives for us, do they not matter to you?!"

Four of the five fights here are against the level 79 Incapacitators.

Finally, for the last floor, there is a stronger Incapacitator. Three rows! Golly!

37-5 Became tears that fell from his eyes.

It’s noble of them, but certainly foolhardy. Still, it’s good to know there are people who are behind the crew’s backs.

The fights here are against Incapacitators and Fragmentors.

37-6 Filled with the remnants of unconscious feelings…

And we meet, and get a name for, the second riftworlder.

There are only three battles, but there are a decent number of enemies. The twisters are more of an annoyance, but it’s still something to look out for.

Especially in cases like this.

Poor Bahl was on the verge of death when I cleared this part of the stage.

I guess if you’re not aware of the other floor positions or you like to clump your units together, the twisters could make moving them around a little annoying.

37-7 Come forth into this world!

“What did you create using the Animata?”

“Create?”

“Heheh... You don't know? I will show you.”

 The man cut off a cube of space and blew into it.

Smoke began to fill it, turning from grey

to purple, and then to green.

 “The life breeder hatched something interesting...”

 An awful sound, like scraping metal,

sounded. It echoed through the ground,

vibrating everything.

 “Come forth into this world!”

 The smoke-filled cube burst open, flesh

and mechanical parts combining into

some kind of bio-machine weapon.

Despite the story, we won’t see anything new in terms of enemies. Maybe it’s just to demonstrate that all the enemies the party’s been fighting were all Shin’en’s creations. Anyway, have a screenshot of Zafitte^’s Heigh-Ho attacks.

37-8 Horrified by how frozen solid she was.

Yeah, Mutoh is not a good person. This is of course meant to be tragic, but I feel it’d have a bit more of an oomph if we got to see what poor To’toa looked like.

The party, of course, has no idea that this is all happening. They’re still fighting off Incapacitators and Fragmentors.

37-9 I have a bad feeling about this.

---Battlefield

 "Now I must go. I want to get good

seats for the wonderful show!"

 The man disappeared. As if pulled by

a string, the remaining feathers flew

up and drifted back to the ground.

 "Where the hell did he go?"

 The battle ended suddenly.

“No! Don't do that!”

 The lizard chief never noticed that all his

actions played right into the demons' hands.

 Now, the planet's power which had long been

dormant would be unleashed.

 It came dancing down from the sky,

penetrated the ground and spread far and

wide, just as the demons wanted.

---Battlefield

 The ground shook with a rumble.

"What is it this time? This noise is horrific..."

 The ground split, and mystical light spilled

out from the chasm.

The light resonated with the two Animatas

sailing the skies in the distance.

 "I have a bad feeling about this."

So, 37-9 has only three battles, but the light mentioned in the pre-battle text isn’t just for fluff.

This line from, presumably, Mutoh, leads into a gimmick that this stage has. Every turn, the light mentioned earlier will blind the party and do 500 damage to them. It’s not too serious and can be healed off easily, but it’s something to be aware of, nonetheless.

Here’s a nice screenshot of what Graviton attacks look like, as well as the stage gimmick. Anyway, for the first two fights, it’s against the usual enemies.

And here is the boss of this part, Energos. Supergravity Breath is a 3x multiplier attack that also displaces your units, while Gravitonball is a 2x Graviton and weapon (staff) attack.

From my notes, Energos seems to consistently follow a pattern as such:

1. Supergravity Breath, Area (1) > Move

2. Supergravity Breath, Ring > summon reinforcements (2x Fragmentor lv 77) > Move

3. Supergravity Breath, Area 1 > Move

4. Repeat

Definitely make sure you clear out the adds as they come in, so you don’t get overwhelmed.

I believe that once you knock Energos’ health down to around 50ish%, it will start using Gravitonball, which will hit two of your units – for my run here, it started doing so at 99665/205790 HP. The wiki notes its skillset has stuff like Gravitonball (2), (3), etc. that seem to imply that as it gets weaker, Gravitonball will begin hitting more of your party until it’s attacking everyone.

Energos will continue to do its thing, by the way. But if you managed to wear it down to this point, you can finish it off. Of course, if you so wished (and had the units), you could use tap skills to one-shot it from full health.

37-10 Before you could answer, you were hit by an infernal heat wave.

So. Going into this, I have to admit I was a little worried because Iskar was my only Photon unit. But then RNGesus smiled upon me:

And I rolled her! So, not only is Sayu a great mage, but I think her character design is pretty great! (On the other hand, I don’t care for her recode’s art. It is obviously fanservice-y design, but I felt that it came at the cost of being creative.) When she was released, Sayu was actually one of my white whales for Terra Battle and I’m stoked that I managed to roll her.

I also managed to roll Kir’ue, an SS class unit who debuted same time as Iskar. The more the merrier, really! I won’t complain about having another person to cover Photon.

Some had wounds so grievous they were

unable to move at all.

 The harbinger of death shook the world,

settling down right in front of the you.

Its dark aura filled those who witnessed

it with fear.

 As you stopped to catch your breath,

you were just about to be assaulted by

yet another vicious heat wave when

someone called out...

 “Everyone, get back!”

 Hearing the voice, you jumped back and

dodged the heat beam by the smallest

of margins.

 “Pa'keppar, why are you here?!”

“I will explain later. For now, we must

stop that!”

For 37-10, you get a pretty interesting little mechanic here. This message pops up – in a display of unity for their fellows on this planet, any Lizardfolk units you have will have their attacking stats buffed by 1.3x, and their defensives buffed by 1.5x.

Compare S’naip^’s normal stats at level 90: 434 Attk, 245 MAttk, 291 Def, 254 MDef. It’s a pretty nifty buff, and it’s worth packing a Lizardfolk party, though as you can see I only brought S’naip along. This is partly because I didn’t really have a lot of good Lizardfolk units, and I felt Ma’curi might still be a bit fragile even with the buffs.

There are three battles; the first two are against the usual enemies. They aren’t too bad, but the twisters can be annoying if your units get knocked into them.

For the third battle, the boss is faced – Relic.

Relic follows a pattern, as well:

1. Supergravity Breath (SGB), 1 column > Move

2. Synergy Wave, 1 row > Move

3. Axionball > Move > Summons a Fragmentor

4. Repeat?

5. SGB, 1 column

6. Synergy Wave

While Relic won’t summon back the other adds, the Fragmentor’s Powered Point Jammer is annoying, so definitely kill them.

As you weaken Relic, it will add moves to its pattern.

7. SGB, Border - did this @ 205471/308420 HP

8. SGB, column

9. Synergy Wave

10. Energy Emission, All + Fragmentor summoned

Just keep at it and you’ll make it through.

  Their only consolation lay in the fact

that even after being toyed with by

malicious beings, Pa'keppar's group's

spirit wasn't broken.

 Although the two devils plaguing their

planet are not gone for good, for now

at least the Lizardfolk can enjoy a brief

respite from terror and strife.

 Pa'keppar spoke in a voice strong and

filled with resolve.

 “We will pull through. We will never

give in! And one day we will reclaim

our skies!”

 So what was the meaning of that encounter?

The lizard planet has a long and sordid history

of sacrificing lives and grudge-bearing, and

history likes to repeat itself.

 What was it all for?

 “If you find others in the same predicament

as ours, please help them like you helped us.”

 The only thing that can be said with any

certainty is that in this endless universe,

there are many other tribes and Animatas

that you have not yet come across.

So I had the feeling this is an in-story nod to the recoding mechanics. It’s just a little strange that it pops up now instead of earlier, given you get access to recoding as soon as you clear chapter 20. And prior to lambdas getting removed from the pool, you could roll them from the Pact of Truth... Oh well. With the threat to the Lizardfolk world beat back, so ends chapter 37. 

Next time: grief.

[juniperwindsong]

Dragonology 101 (4/10)

Summary: 

"Blimey...this is you just liking something? I hate to imagine what you'd be like with something you actually love."

If Felix Rosier, age sixteen, strict Slytherin prefect and manically dedicated 6th year student, had been told that one year in the future he would be spending nearly a third of each week sneaking out of school to visit a dragon in the dead of night, he would have docked points from whatever student was making up such a slanderous lie. And yet now he can be found, by those who bother to look, kipping in the back of classes, shirking prefect duties as often as he can get away with it, and nicking dead animals from the Care of Magical Creatures paddock whenever Kettleburn is not around.

Felix has no idea where this rebellious streak originated. True, he has never been afraid to bend or even break the rules on occasion in order to keep Slytherin the top house. He's jinxed other students, dueled outside classes, and lied to professors, but he has always justified his actions as necessary for the greater good of his house. Reckless rule breaking that does not further Slytherin's reputation or chances of winning the house cup, Felix considers selfish, a betrayal of their fraternity. He has never even broken curfew before, or sneaked down to the kitchens to steal food, let alone thrown nearly half the school rules out the window just to feed a dragon with Jacob Windsong's little sister.

Maybe she's been a bad influence, Felix thinks to himself one Transfiguration lesson after failing to answer Professor McGonagall's question for the second time. A year ago, he would have been livid with himself, but vanishing cauldrons seems so trivial now next to the very real presence that is the growing dragon. Felix is changing, he knows, his iron-clad discipline creaking under the strain of his newly discovered passion, and nights when he's not escaping to the forest it takes all his efforts to keep his mind on his studies.

Yes, it would be easy to blame the 13 year old curse-breaker, who has never met a rule she doesn't think herself above, but Felix knows that's not entirely true. Her influence and the dragon may have set it free, but this desire to do something - dangerous, physical, and just for himself - has always been there. He's just kept it hidden for so long he's forgotten.

-

They are halfway through October, and whether Felix or Juniper is better with the dragon is hard to say. Most of their evenings in the forest find Juniper at the dragon's head, feeding it treats and keeping it calm, while Felix circles its body, inspecting it from every angle. It is Felix who determines the dragon's sex.

"Male," he announces on his first perambulation.

"Well then, good boy, Sparky!" crows Juniper, stroking the back of the dragon's scaly head.

"It's still Sparky, then?" he asks bemusedly making his way steadily back around to her.

"Sure. Sparky can be a girl's or a boy's name."

"It isn't a name at all," insists Felix doggedly, but her only response is a merry laugh.

Felix also has better luck examining the dragon's (he refuses to think of it, him, as Sparky) injured wing. With Juniper holding its head and speaking softly, all while plying it with rabbits which it consumes in ever-increasing amounts, Felix manages to crouch down beside the dragon and inspect its injury.

A long gash has torn through the bottom panel of its left wing. Each side of the now parted wing has begun to heal up on its own; ugly, uneven scars forming on the torn edges. Felix is no expert, but as far as he can tell, through the absence of any pus or smell of rot, the wound is not infected. Still, the dragon seems to find the area tender, jerking involuntarily whenever Felix strokes his fingers feather-light across the developing scars, and it has still made no effort to fly away.

Felix begins to use the time not spent with the dragon to bury himself in the library researching wound care, healing spells, anything he thinks will help him discover a way to fix his dragon's wing. So single-minded has Felix become, that Juniper finds herself confronting him about the state of his schoolwork one afternoon in the library. She announces her presence by slamming a large book down on the table beside him in the corner where he has sequestered himself, earning a scandalized shush from Madam Pince shelving books a few rows over.

Felix looks up, startled, forcing his mind out of the book he's skimming on the potential use of Reparo on organic matter (the outlook not promising) and trying to focus his vision on the girl in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" he hisses, though his voice is too hoarse from disuse for it to contain any real venom. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"It's dinner," Juniper says, holding up her pocket watch as evidence.

"Oh," is all Felix can manage. He's a little disconcerted by the time, not realizing he has been in the library for hours. He looks back down at his book, put out, as he always is, at being interrupted while intent on reading. "Why aren't you in the Great Hall then?"

"Chester Davies is looking for you. He cornered a couple of first-years outside the common room demanding to see you."

"What?" Felix jerks his head back up abruptly. "Why?"

"Apparently," explains Juniper perching herself on top of the table, her back to the bookshelf so she can look directly at him, "you've missed your last two transfiguration revision sessions with the other prefects? Davies was worried we had you tied up or something."

She delivers this last as a joke, but Felix misses the humour entirely.

"I've been researching alternative methods of repairing the wing."

Juniper glances down at the books Felix has spread across the table, then cranes her neck around to read from the pages open in front of him.

"Reparo? You can't use that on animals, can you? And even if you could, I doubt the two of us casting it together would be enough for it to work on a dragon. You said yourself, dragon hide-"

"Yes, and you said yourself it's juvenile and more susceptible to magic," Felix argues, his bad temper rising. "Besides, I'm mainly researching the theory. To see if the spell can be modified."

"Wow," Juniper says, eyes widening, "that's... an impressive undertaking." But she looks more concerned than impressed. "And is this in addition to your regular school work or in place of?"

"What?" Felix snaps, itching to return to his book.

"It's just that..." Juniper swings her legs back and forth underneath the table nervously, "Davies mentioned you hadn't turned in your last transfiguration assignment which is really unusual for you so I just wondered -"

"Are you really going to try to lecture me about focusing on my schoolwork?" Felix's voice is waspish.

"I'm not lecturing, I'm inquiring," she answers carefully.

"Well, thank you for your inquiry, but I'm managing my workload just fine," Felix counters, staring pointedly back at his book to indicate the end of the conversation.

"Really?" questions Juniper, undaunted. "Would you consider that I, or anyone else in Slytherin, was 'managing just fine' if we were skipping our actual assignments to pursue personal projects?"

In spite of himself, Felix lifts his head again to glower at her, "Isn't that all you ever do?"

"Of course not! " Juniper retorts, looking slightly hurt.

"In fact, doesn't this all sound a little familiar to you? Have I not had this exact conversation with you at least once every term since you got here?"

Juniper's face is turning pink and she can't meet his eyes, "Not exactly, you yell a lot more than I-"

"And has it ever had even the slightest effect on your behavior? Because as far as I can tell it's all been wasted breath." Felix delivers his tirade in a furious hiss, quiet enough to escape the notice of Madam Pince, but Juniper leans further away with each word as though he were screaming at her. "So, one might conclude it's just a bit hypocritical of you to berate me for missing a single assignment when I know for a fact Professor Snape has banned you from Hogsmeade until you've brought up your marks!"

Juniper's face has turned a bright Gryffindor red, and she drops her head quickly hiding behind her long hair.

Felix stops, breathing heavily. He feels angry and agitated, and has half a mind to go on raging at her a bit more just to alleviate some of his tension. Before he can decide what to say, however, Juniper jerks her head up to look directly at him. Her cheeks are still burning, but her eyes are very clear and her mouth is set in that determined line Felix knows too well.

"You're wrong, you know. What you say does affect me." Juniper's voice comes out rough with suppressed emotion. She stops and takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I know you dog me about schoolwork because...well...you care. About everyone in Slytherin. In your way," Juniper adds hastily at the scandalized look on Felix's face. "You do, you know you do. You wouldn't waste your breath on us like that if you didn't. And I know it might not always come across because, well, I can't just give up on searching for my brother. But you've always inspired me to do better, for myself and for Slytherin."

Juniper looks down at the table where her fingernails trace random patterns in the wood.

"You know," she continues, haltingly, "when I first came to school, I honestly didn't expect to make it through the year. I figured I'd be expelled or killed or something. But none of that mattered... because finding my brother was the only thing that mattered. And you...you played a big part in making me realize that, well... there are other things that are important too. And I need to try and balance them, and not focus on my search for Jacob to the detriment of everything else."

Juniper says this last bit very quickly and somehow too easily, as though it's a line she's memorised, repeated to herself over and over.

Felix's anger flags as he takes in this rather alarming confession. He doesn't know whether he feels more touched that she appreciates his nagging, or outraged at the insinuation that their situations are in anyway comparable. He isn't obsessing about the dragon the way she obsesses about her brother. He's merely focused; the same way he is on any assignment.

Felix's ability to dedicate all of his attention to the task at hand has always benefited him, allowed him to master spells twice as quickly as his peers. True, it is taking him longer than he expected in this instance. And, in order to put in the time necessary to succeed with the dragon, he has had to back-burner other things sometimes...the occasional study session, or homework assignment, or... History of Magic class...

Felix surveys the table in front of him as if seeing it for the first time. Precarious piles of books and scattered parchment notes litter his usually well organized work space. He notices his stomach rumbling and casts his mind back for the last time he's eaten a meal but can't remember. He's sure he must have had breakfast this morning...or dinner last night, at least? His head aches as well, just over his left eye.

Felix thinks back over his actions of the past few weeks and winces. Windsong is right. He's been as wrapped up in the dragon as she has been in finding her brother, and the thought makes him blanch. Caught up in his unexpected adventure, Felix has put out of his mind entirely the future waiting for him at the end of this year. The thought of all his responsibilities, duties, and expectations floods over him all at once, leaving him feeling slightly sick. How could he have risked his entire reputation for this?

"You might have a point," says Felix abruptly. He stands up and begins to gather his things.

Juniper slides off the table in alarm at Felix's sudden movement. His unexpected concession renders her momentarily speechless, a surprising state of affairs for her.

"Oh...um...really?" she manages.

"Yes." Felix glances at her, and it's the sly, superior expression his face is most accustomed to. "It's obvious we're not going to be able to fix this injury. All this," he nods at the books he's currently stacking up " it's just been a waste of time, really. And I do have other things that require my attention."

"That's not- I didn't mean- you don't have to-" Juniper stutters, apparently caught off guard by his rapid change in demeanor. Her voice trails away as she watches Felix's brisk movements.

Felix is determined not to look at her as he carefully places his notes, quill, and ink back into his bag. He wishes bitterly that she'd hidden all this better from him, that he had never seen a dragon, never discovered what it was like to do something dangerous and wild and free...it had been so much easier to live before he knew what he was living without.

Felix squeezes his eyes shut and runs a hand over his hair, smoothing it flat unconsciously. How can he go back to that - long nights spent reading and revising - when he knows there's a dragon out there, waiting for him? This was always temporary, he knows that; adventures don't last forever. But he isn't ready for it to be over...not yet...

Juniper's hand comes to rest on his forearm and Felix's eyes open automatically. Somehow, he sees her hand before he can feel it: long, delicate fingers, with short, slightly dirty nails. What look like slender pink burns peek around the sides of her fingers, and Felix wonders why they couldn't have been healed by magic. Neither of them move. Felix hears Juniper swallow hard before she speaks.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that I thought you were doing the wrong thing. It's...really cool the way you care so much about helping Sparky."

She squeezes his arm, very lightly; the pressure encouraging rather than threatening.

"Maybe we can take some of these with us," Juniper inclines her head at the books, "you know, do some research while we're with him? I used to sit and study when I was helping Hagrid with the Thestral. Helped get him accustomed to company while I got a bit of work done as well. What do you think?"

Felix raises his eyes to find Juniper peering at him anxiously, and he feels a sudden shame at berating her so harshly.

She's just trying to help, he realises, it's what she does. Hagrid, himself, the dragon, her brother...she helps people, even when they don't want it, even when it's dangerous. And she's too young or too stubborn to think about the consequences to herself if she doesn't succeed. It's going to get her killed, thinks Felix. So really... really it's his duty to keep going with her, to keep her safe. Isn't it?

It's a weak excuse. But any excuse is all Felix needs right now. The thought that his adventure isn't over, that he will see the dragon again, settles the queasiness in his stomach.

Felix gives Juniper a small smile in an attempt to appease her. "That's not a bad idea, Windsong. Good time management. Here." He grabs the topmost book from a pile without looking at it and hands it to her.

Juniper takes the book cautiously, still looking uncertain, "So... we're okay?"

The smile reaches his eyes now. "Yes, Windsong, we're okay."

"Okay,” says Juniper, matching his smile with one slightly less enthusiastic than is her norm. "I'll see you tomorrow evening then."

She takes a step back.

"Tomorrow evening," Felix agrees with a nod.

Juniper turns, walking halfway down the aisle before doubling back and saying, "Oh, and do make sure and tell Davies you're alive before he and the other prefects mount a siege on the common room."

She flashes her signature lop-sided grin before hurrying away again.

-

"Can I ask you a question?" Juniper asks Felix the following evening. Their backs propped against the earthen wall of the ravine, they sit on a green and silver checked cloth Felix has conjured (to inexplicable giggles from Juniper) while she flips through the book from the library.

Felix watches Sparky trot away from them toward a sad little pool, hardly more than a deep puddle, at the other end of the valley. Seeing the dragon walk is something that has not yet ceased to give Felix a small thrill; the powerful muscles in its legs rippling as it moves so carefully and precisely, its wings stretched just enough to provide it a graceful balance. He can't imagine what it must be like to watch it fly.

Thus distracted, Felix answers "Yes," without thinking.

"What is it with you and dragons?"

Felix glances over to find Juniper staring at him, her head cocked to the side and propped up on one hand.

"What do you mean?" he replies, self-consciously. The way she stares at him reminds him of the way his mother looks at paintings in museums. Felix finds it discomfiting.

"You know what I mean." Juniper lifts her head off her hand. "You wouldn't be out here if Sparky were, say, an Abraxan, would you?"

It's a rhetorical question, and she doesn't wait for an answer. "When you agreed to let me sneak out of the common room that first night, I assumed you must have some secret motive, like wanting powdered dragon claw or something. But it was really just because you wanted to see a dragon, wasn't it?"

Felix doesn't respond to this, turning instead to watch Sparky drink from the little pool. It's strewn with leaves from the trees that overhang the sides of the ravine, and he notices the dragon makes a point of fastidiously avoiding them as it laps up water with its strangely narrow tongue.

"So..." Juniper persists, "What is it about dragons that makes you hang the rule book and skive off school work?"

Felix shrugs, studiously not looking at her. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" she repeats skeptically.

He sighs. "They're... interesting."

"Interesting?" Juniper repeats him again, and Felix makes an exasperated noise.

"What do you want me to say? There isn't any particular reason! I just-"

Sounds of splashing cause them both to glance over at Sparky. The dragon is now using a foreleg to smack the leaves floating in the pool. One soggy leaf catches on the dragon's claw, and it lifts it out of the water and shakes it vigorously.

Felix cannot stop himself. He smiles fondly at it and murmurs, "I've always liked dragons."

"Blimey," says Juniper, watching Felix again instead of Sparky. "This is you just liking something? I hate to imagine what you'd be like with something you actually love." She turns back to the book, shaking her head, a smile playing at her lips.

Felix tears his gaze from Sparky as the dragon trots back over to settle in the grass. Juniper returns to absently thumbing through pages , and Felix watches her debating whether or not to broach the subject he's burning to discuss. It's dangerous, he knows. It's a clear violation of their unspoken agreement to keep conversation about the dragon and not each other. But, Felix supposes, she's the one who made it personal first. He takes a deep breath.

"May I ask you a question?"

Juniper looks up from the book. " 'Course."

Felix takes the time to meet her eyes before saying, "Why is it so important to find out what happened to your brother?"

It's as though a light has turned off behind her eyes. Her face becomes entirely blank. She says nothing.

Felix is expecting this however, and presses on. He knows it's impertinent and not really any of his business. But after their confrontation in the library, he feels compelled to say what he's thinking.

"Look, by all accounts, Jacob was into everything he shouldn't have been: the cursed vaults, the dark arts. He was expelled for heaven's sake and you... you say you're looking for him, but you're really just following in his footsteps. And it's just made everything harder for you, hasn't it? Do you think that's what he would have wanted for you? To make his same mistakes? Rather than putting the past behind you and making a name for yourself? One that's about you and your talent and not about him?"

Juniper continues to stare at Felix, but now it's with something like pity.

"You don't have siblings, do you."

It's a statement, not a question.

"No," Felix confirms.

Juniper is quiet for a few more seconds.

"How about a best friend?"

Felix considers this. He thinks briefly of Evan, his closest cousin, who spent summer holidays with him teaching him rare curses and occasionally trying them out on him. He thinks of the other prefects that he spends time with during revision sessions and patrol duties. And of the Slytherin boys from his year, most of whom he talks to fairly regularly and some of whom can be counted on for a favor provided the cost to them isn't too high. But a best friend? Felix isn't even sure what that would entail.

"I don't...know," he finally says, hesitantly.

Juniper's smile is forced and somehow sad. "Then I don't know that I can explain."

She drops her gaze to where her fingers are absently drawing circles in the dirt beside the book.

Juniper's words rankle Felix. While he's used to accepting such pronouncements from his parents and professors, he has never taken well to being told he can't do something or know something by other students, especially ones younger than himself .

As if having "best friends" gives you access to some secret knowledge other people aren't qualified to understand, Felix thinks hotly.

"Try me," he challenges.

Juniper starts, clearly shocked at his combativeness. Her mouth opens and her eyes flash and Felix is sure she's about to snap something at him. But at the last second Juniper stops and sighs deeply, the fight gone out of her all in an instant. To Felix's surprise, she begins to speak.

"Jacob was my brother and my best friend." Juniper begins in a fast, flat sort of voice, as if she's reading from a book she's not particularly interested in. "Which is silly, he's ten years older than I am but..."

She pauses, eyes closed, collecting her thoughts. "My parents, they're older and they were always working, and they just didn't have time for a little kid. I had a house elf that took care of me and gave me lessons but I didn't really have any friends. We don't live near any other wizarding families and none of my parents' friends have children my age. So Jacob was really my only friend growing up."

Juniper can't help but smile as she speaks of her brother. "And he always treated me like I was his friend, not a kid sister. Over the holidays he spent nearly all his time with me, making up adventures for us to go on or just talking. Letting me ramble on about my life at home like I had anything worth saying." She rolls her eyes self-deprecatingly at this. "And he never made me feel stupid or like I was too young to have thoughts or feelings. And when he was at school he wrote to me, all the time, no matter how busy he was. He would tell me everything that happened to him, make me feel like...like he valued my opinion."

Juniper sighs again. "Of course, I know now it was mostly all lies, what he wrote. He never told me anything about cursed vaults or the dark arts or anything that would have got him expelled. I guess I didn't really know him at all."

She admits this last in a small voice and trails off, gazing at Sparky.

"But I do know," Juniper adds, looking back to Felix, her voice gathering strength again, "that if it were me that were lost, Jacob would never stop looking. Ever. No matter what it cost him."

Her eyes boring into his are as fierce as the dragon's and Felix is at a loss for what to say.

-

That night in bed, Felix mentally compiles a list of the people he's closest to, anyone that might be conceivably classified as a friend, and tries to decide if there's anyone he'd go to so much trouble to find if they went missing. No one name sticks out readily.

Felix considers his parents: his mother? Surely if his mother went missing he would look for her. No, he concludes, most likely his father would forbid him from taking any action, certainly any action that would harm the family's reputation. His father would look for her though, wouldn't he? Or hire someone to look for her? For some reason, the thought makes Felix uncomfortable.

Then he wonders if his parents would come looking for him if he disappeared.

Felix considers potential scenarios. Maybe if he were kidnapped or vanished without a trace one morning with no warning. They would certainly make an attempt to find him then; it would be a shame on the family not to. But... if he went poking around something he wasn't supposed to, was in trouble with the law, then finally disappeared in disgrace?

They would disavow me, Felix thinks brutally, strike me from the family tree, refuse to speak my name, pretend I never existed.

The knowledge leaves him cold, and Felix suddenly feels all alone in a castle of hundreds of students and teachers. None of them would miss him if he were to disappear, he realizes miserably, not really miss him. Not enough to find him. They would wonder about him for a little while, then forget him entirely.

Felix feels a sudden surge of jealousy toward Jacob Windsong. To have someone be so devoted to you they would stop at nothing, risk their whole life, future, reputation just for the slightest chance to have you back...

I want that, Felix admits to himself. But it's not a particularly comforting revelation, and he drifts off to sleep feeling lonely and morose.

-

Chapter 5 | Masterpost

[mtraki]

Morning greeted Arthur at the closing of the front door.  Still as stiff and hurting as the day before, his ribs protested when he struggled to his feet from the floor to peer around the curtain, out the window.  He could see Samuel heading for the stables in the dim light.  In this room shared with Lenny, there were no new notes today, and the tray from earlier was gone.  Breakfast would be downstairs.  Lenny was still out.

“Wake up soon, kid…”

Hosea was also still sleeping when Arthur went to peek in on him, and he thought his color looked a little better than it had some hours earlier.

Downstairs, he followed the scent of coffee into the kitchen, and there he found Miss Carrie working the stove with eggs and toast.

“Good mornin’, miss.”

“Mhmm,” Was the response, “An’ you.”

“Can I get some coffee?”

“Sure, gimme jus’ a minute to get you a cup.” Taking a moment to arrange the skillet, the woman turned and opened a cupboard a bit down the kitchen, plucking out a cup, “You want me to pour it for you?” “Nah, I think I can manage,” He chuckled, “Ain’t used to bein’ waited on like your Miss Bligh…”

It was apparently the wrong thing to say, as the dark eyes leveled at him, “… I know you ain’t comin’ in my kitchen to talk some nonsense about Miss Bligh…”

“Now, now… No, I did not, miss.  I’m jus’ sayin’ it how I see it–”

“–Well, then either you blind, mister, or you an idiot.  What?  You think ‘cause I’m colored, an’ Miss Bligh rich I’m some kind of slave or servant?”

“I see you in here doin’ the cookin’, an’ last evenin’ too– maybe I got it wrong…”

“Sure, I do the cookin’!  Not all of it, but enough of it.  I do some cleanin’ as well, as it needs doin’, but if you didn’t know, that’s how you care for a house, mister outlaw.  You gotta keep it clean an’ keep folks fed.”

“Well sure– Look, I meant no offense, Miss Carrie, just forget I said anything…”

“You’d best hope I do, mister outlaw.” In a huff, the woman turned for her skillet again, then remembered she still had the cup.  Even more irritated, she set the cup down firmly by the pot of coffee on the preparation table, “Here.  An’ don’ make a mess or I’ll have you cleanin’.”

Arthur quietly poured himself some coffee and started to retreat out of the kitchen.  Back at her skillet, Miss Carrie gave one last scolding.

“You take yourself outdoors, mister outlaw, an’ keep quiet.  Miss Bligh was up all night seein’ to your outlaw friends, so you let her sleep now.  Don’ let me catch you botherin’ her.  You ain’t so big…”

Outside, the morning was cool, almost cold, and Arthur slowly walked the property, deciding to avoid the stables for the moment, sipping coffee.  Immediately he was caught in the realization that this brew wasn’t burnt– as tended to happen in their camps fairly often– and there was something different about the taste itself.  Maybe something different with the coffee beans?  Wealthy people coffee.

Besides the stables and the house, he discovered the gardens and the chicken coop not far from the porch.  One turned over plot was lined with bricks in an oval and grew flowers and flowering herbs.  The other were neat rows of vegetables in a rectangle.  Further behind the mansion was another building that looked like a barn, but upon closer investigation– the doors weren’t locked after all– he discovered was the carriage house, with a very fine, custom carriage and harnesses for four, all well-oiled and waxed under their dust cloths.

He could probably get over a hundred dollars for it at the fence in Emerald Ranch, if he could get it there in one piece.

Out behind the property, the land grew rockier and steadily climbed up toward the forested foothills.  It was a good place from which to approach the property if somebody wanted to attack, though dangerous for horses.  Watching the slowly rising rocks and trees, Arthur had the feeling he was being watched by unseen eyes.  He wanted his guns.

When nothing made itself known, however, the outlaw turned and headed for the stables.  Samuel had apparently finished his fence repairs and was hauling hay bales from the barn.  Trotting in from the run behind his stall, Slim whickered at Arthur’s approach.

“Hey, boy,” He greeted warmly, “You been good?”

The long black tail swished in response and the big Ardennes trotted back out into his run.

“I know, you don’ like bein’ stalled, boy…”

Maggie was enjoying her run as well, and seemed altogether much more content.  Silver Dollar was on the other side, still half-asleep.

Lancaster’s stall was empty, and looking out into the paddock, Arthur could see the big black stallion, mane and tail long, big hooves full of feather.  He was a majestic animal, the outlaw could readily admit, and he carried himself like he knew it, trotting energetically around the perimeter before plunging and blowing, getting the concern of the mares in their pasture.

Feeling Samuel watch him watch the resident stud, Arthur turned to meet the look, taking a final sip from the coffee– the dregs cold by now, “…Miss Carrie don’ want me in the house,” he said, as way of explanation, “and I figure I ought to see to my own horses… but looks like you already done feedin’… Can’t say either of ‘em are used to grain like this…” The young man just blinked at him, flexing his work-hardened hands.

“Say, feller, you mind tellin’ me where our saddles and gear got stowed?  Or… showin’ me rather?”

After a moment, Samuel gestured to an open door between two stalls– a little room, tucked in there.  Moving to investigate, Arthur found a room full of saddles– but only four of them looked like any proper saddle he’d ever seen, and one of them was his, a second was Lenny’s, and a third was Hosea’s– it was propped on a stand instead of on a rack on the wall, and the leather looked recently cleaned, though it was still stained with blood.  The others were too small, and too sleek, hornless, and stirrupless.  Some others had crooked protrusions of leather off to one side, making the outlaw wonder how somebody was supposed to sit on the horse’s back at all.  But his saddle, saddle bags, longarm holsters, and bedroll were there, and as far as he could tell, so were Lenny’s and Hosea’s.  Their weapons, ammunition, and provisions were not.

There was a big trunk on the floor that was about to get Arthur’s personal attention, but then he heard Miss Carrie hollering from the porch about breakfast, and Samuel appeared in the doorway of the little room, gesturing for him to come along.

“… An’ she tol’ me to be quiet…” The outlaw muttered to the younger man who shrugged and gave the ghost of a wry smile.

Breakfast turned into a tense occasion.  Miss Bligh’s appearance caused her companions alarm and Arthur some mild curiosity.  Her face betrayed her sleepless night, but more than that, both her forearms were black and blue from wrist to elbow like she’d been on the wrong end of a fist-fight.  But nobody said anything about it.

They weren’t asking, and Arthur didn’t want to make it his business–though he had his suspicions and decided he would not be taken by surprise.

She informed him pleasantly about Hosea and Lenny’s conditions, mentioning how she was certain they were both recovering well.  Then there was a repeat of the chatter from dinner, asking after everyone’s night and plans for the day.  The outlaw did not feel it overly uncouth to interrupt– and even if it were, it wasn’t as if he minded them thinking him uncouth.

“Miss, I don’ mean to sound ungrateful for all your help, but I’m gonna have to ask you where you put the rest of my and my friends’ things.”

When the silent staring stretched too long, he pushed back noisily from the table, aware of the aggression in his movements.

“Miss… I’m gonna have to insist you tell me…”

Samuel was climbing to his feet as well, in a much less abrupt manner, folding his cloth napkin and setting it aside instead of letting it fall to the floor as Arthur had.  But the outlaw’s gaze was on Miss Bligh’s face, on her bruised-looking, lake water eyes.

“Now?” Was her question.

“Right now.” He affirmed, “Unless you got a good reason for keepin’ them from me.”

Well,” She said quietly, “I don’t intend to keep your things from you at all, mister, though I can’t imagine you have a reason for needing them, right now, at breakfast.”

“I’ll accept them after…”

“I’ll be happy to furnish you with them, then.”

Watching her expression carefully, still, Arthur added, “… The guns as well.”

She blinked at him, but otherwise that kind, quiet patience never shifted from her face, “You must excuse me, but I do not at all understand what you may need any weapons for.  Nobody here means you any harm, mister.”

“You’ll excuse me if I insist on them anyway, Miss Bligh.”

Still her expression never changed, but she looked him in the eyes, and Arthur felt the moment stretch.  There was something surreal in it, and he felt gripped by whatever power was in the space between breaths.  Like he was being pinned down and examined, body and soul, by those lake water eyes.

 "… Alright,“ She said at length, "but for now, please sit down and finish your breakfast.”

[ciphers-fr]

Astralis: 1- Eltanin

The first part of my story for the Sornieth Zodiac Event! 

Even in the early morning, the Clan Tempestas Clamanti was a flurry of activity.

The just-risen sun had yet to scrape over the dizzying high walls of the Great Tempest mesa and the Clan’s territory was still cast in darkness; still, dragons flitted amongst the gardens or picked their ways through the desert-dried earth and air. Some were just arriving from traveling throughout the night night, ready for foretold comfort and rest. Others were trying to get a start on the day’s business before the high-noon heat set in: whether it be helping tend the Oasis, training for when they went before the Stormcatcher for exaltation, or just getting to the next point in their journeys. Chaotic to a level, but in a way, beautiful. Like the buzz of a beehive, knowing that sweet honey lay at the end.

From the little lip of rock above the mouth of the Lair, Eulalia watched it all. Only a small respite, really, before she would be facing another day of leafing through endless papers, reading whatever reports might come, and helping train whoever asks of her. All the duties and more of a clan heir.

The petite Mirror clutched the steaming mug in her claws all the closer. Time seemed to have been flying by lately. So much had been happening… And yet it also passed unbearably slow. Every crest bookended by the doldrums of her work. When was the last time that she had a real moment of rest to herself? Eulalia lifted the cup, the sweet scent of the strong herbal tea curling around her as she took a deep drink.

A clearing throat interrupted her reverie. A supercell— one of the passers-through of the Clan— from what she could spot over the rim of the mug. They were familiar, too, one of the handful of longer term visitors staying down deep in the Grotto. The dragon shuffled their feet on the ground below Eulalia before lifting their head to call out: “Uh, excuse me? Miss?”

“Yes, what might it be?” Eulalia answered, setting down her mug.

The dragon looked away for a second and ruffled their wings. They turned back, “Hate to bother you right now, but there’s something we think you should know about.”

A silent sigh. Eulalia cast a wanting glance at her tea, perfectly honey-sweet. It’d probably be lukewarm and have no less than two insects skittering across its surface by the time she was finished with this. But she wouldn’t dare disrespect the dragon with slurping her way through their words.

She hopped from the ledge, flaring her wings to land daintily on the sand and rock below her. Two quick steps and she was standing in front of the supercell. A dip of the head to the larger dragon and she asked: “Is there a problem? A request?”

“A problem. One of your familiars kinda… attacked us? For no reason.”

“Oh dear,” Eulalia blanched.“Is everyone okay?”

This… wasn’t good. The potentially aggressive familiars should have been kept safely away from other dragons. Unless a wild one managed to get in unnoticed— which seemed far fetched, those types normally kept their distance— then there had to have been a breakout. But when?

“Luckily, no,” the dragon said sheepishly. “One of the others saw and pulled me out of its way.”

Eulalia nodded in relief. “Thank the deities. If you can, do you know if this particular familiar has been seen roaming before?”

The dragon turned their head back to the gardens. “We’ve been seeing them rustling around in there for a few weeks, but they always kept to themselves until now.”

“Weeks?”

“I think,” the dragon’s face screwed up. “I can’t remember exactly. Days have really gone by fast, huh?”

She took a step back, picking through the dragon’s words. “Did… did you say there were multiple of them?”

“Yes, miss. Dunno how many, exactly. Maybe a half dozen?”

Scratch that. This could be very bad. An unknown number of potentially dangerous beasts had been lurking in the heart of the territory for weeks. This was no escaped familiar by any means of thought. And while the Clan had no issue with sharing space among the native flora and fauna, incursions would be good for no one. For the beasts’ and dragons’ safety alike, they would have to be relocated. 

First, they would need to figure out exactly what they were dealing with.

“I appreciate you coming to me with this information,” Eulalia spoke softly. “But if you would come with me, there is someone else that you should tell, too.”

Her tail flicked stiffly towards the Lair and the dragon nodded. Together they padded in and descended into the labyrinthian tunnel system, the cooling tea forgotten.

When it came to the myriad of beasts that roamed Sornieth, Eulalia was, sure, knowledgeable. But in reality, she only scraped the surface: what they consumed, which of the common ones made good familiars, which to avoid. The practical information. For the true strange and expansive lexicon of every creature that crawled, swam, or flew (Or some peculiar combination thereof), there was one dragon in the Clan to turn to. Her (At least, in spirit) sister. 

She just had to find her.

It shouldn’t be too hard, though. Eulalia practically had the schedules of each Clanmember memorized. Those who kept one, at least. And to her fortune, Ciphers kept a rather regular one. Eulalia gestured the supercell into a long room just off the main passage. 

The first familiar roost was still quiet this early in the morning; only the sounds of stirring fur and feather and sleepy, sighing beasts drifted through the air. It was also where the small Imperial padded down the rows, sending quick looks over the familiars as she went to fetch breakfast for the rowdy Nochnyr prancing at her side.

It was the early riser in the pair, not her, and Eulalia counted on that. 

“Ci?!” she called carefully, trying not to disturb anything. “Could you come here?”

Ciphers bobbed her head without ever looking back. She tossed something unidentifiable to her jaw-snapping monster and, with a yawn, walked back up to the pair. 

“Yeah?” Ciphers was bleary eyed and still the better half of asleep. 

Eulalia looked to the supercell and found them a half-step behind her, looking like they were chewing at the inside of their cheek. “There may be a nest of… something in the Oasis that needs to be moved. I cannot be sure of what myself, but this one here has seen it.”

The dragon coughed and launched into an explanation. They weaved a tale of strange little beasts that they and others saw prowling through the Clan’s gardens. One with a too-large mouth. Another with a tangle of horns sat atop its head. A third with wiggling growths spurting out along its spine. Each one was a little bit more uncanny than the last, but all had a certain hazy quality to them, like they weren’t quite solid. And they had kept to themselves until that morning. Eulalia listen patiently but confused, it all went over her head. Ciphers, however, sat a little straighter and looked more awake with each description.

When the supercell had quieted, the Imperial was tight mawed. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll try to figure something out as soon as possible... But if that’s everything,” Ciphers briefly looked at Eulalia. “You can go.”

Eagerly, the dragon turned and dashed from the room.

“Well?” Eulalia asked.

For a second, Ciphers paused, wracking her brain. She then leaned down to whisper to her sister in a low voice, “I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think those are supposed to be here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, without seeing them for myself, I can’t know exactly,” Ciphers looked out the corner of her eyes. “But those sound like conjurings of some sort.”

Eulalia thumped her tail against the ground. Why would something— someone— send scouts to watch over them? And more importantly, why choose such gastly forms for it? “Do you think it could be spies?” 

“Maybe,” Ciphers answered with a twitch of her wings. “Or someone trying to scare away all the supercells from here. Or both.”

The Clan heir ran a claw down her snout. “We need to investigate this. Quickly.”

“So we’re being spied on,” Ambigram concluded tersely.

“It is a possibility, yes,” Eulalia corrected the white Imperial. Ambigram, the medical apprentice in the Clan, was known for trying to cut to the chase, but more often than not creating an extreme jump to a conclusion. “But we do not know for sure.”

“Exactly,” Ciphers added. “It could just be some familiars. I—“ her voice petered out— “never actually saw them.”

Eulalia and Ciphers had gathered everyone that could be found and/or spared to the Vault. It was the only room that was both large enough for multiple dragons to gather and safe from wandering eyes and ears— supercells were barred from entering. The risk of word getting out and rumors spreading and growing out of control was not a risk they were willing to take.

From there, they had laid out what occurred.

“If you aren’t sure, then why are we here?” Khione snapped, creating a chorus of chatter.

“Because,” Eulalia’s voice cut through the din, “something has happened that could be a danger to this Clan, and we must find out what.”

Just as quickly as it began, the discourse stopped. The Clan heir shot a sharp glare at the Ice ambassador as she continued, “As I said, a supercell was nearly attacked. Who knows what may happen if we let this continue.

“We need to see if there are any clues to point towards exactly what this is,” her voice softened. “If you have the time to spare, we need help searching the territory and beyond.”

Artemis, the Clan’s huntress, was first to raise a claw. The Nocturne bounced on her heels instead of speaking, but the question was clear enough.

“Of course, Artemis, you are free to search the outerlands. Khione, if you could go with her? To make sure nothing is missed.”

The icy Wildclaw half-frowned, but acquiesced. She was always soft when it came to her friend.

Eulalia relayed the rest of the plan: “Stratos, you and Ambigram should speak with the harpies. Ask if they had seen anything, and if they will keep a watch. Offer use of the Rocs if you must. Everyone else… look where and when you can. Adjourned.”

As the majority of the dragons rose, Eulalia leaned towards her mate. “Have you… heard anything?”

“No,” Pandora whispered back. The Bogsneak’s fins flattened against her head as she turned to the jar curled in her tail, like her unseeing stare could force the cryptic riddles to again be chanted in her ear. “In fact, the Speakers have spoke nothing new for many days now. Only the same tales I have already head.”

Eulalia pulled back with a sullen look. She watched as her Clanmates— her family and friends— dispersed, murmuring to each other over where they should look. They are good dragons, she tried to comfort herself with the thought. Whatever it was that was stirring, they could handle it. Worse things have happened, right?

But her self-placations lingered bitter in her mind. All her normal assurances were failing. Someone more knowledgeable than her being unsure; no odd whispers to suggest the future; nothing. When had she become so reliant on others? Eulalia was the heir; others should be relying on her to know exactly what will happen.

The fear of the unknown festered in her chest.

[tiny-ruby-seeds]

Way Down Below/ Sinister Kid 2- TEASER

.. As I pulled out the deck and looked over the old cards. I swear I could smell the scent of cigarettes coming from them, lingering like a ghost. It’s funny how such a small thing can trigger memories like the taste the humid air in my hotel room, and felt a slight pulse of history and power older then this country was. I could almost hear a deep musical, slightly accented voice speaking…

I shook my head to clear the memory. Echoes of memory starting to fade in my mind. Think of the question. Otherwise, the cards will give me one hell of a strange answer.

I took a deep breath trying to clear my head save for my question which I focused on more, and more and more. As I did this… I started to shuffle. First cutting the deck into three piles and then sorting the deck in those three piles. Then I started shuffling the cards like I was dealing poker or something. Once, twice, three times. I knew the cards couldn’t tell me an address, much less coordinates but… At this point, I would take a hint, ask the audience, phone a friend, anything. Hell, I was close to calling a psychic I had met during an LA trip to pull out her damn spirit board (as much as I hate those things) and talk to dead people. So anything the cards could tell me would be enough.

Finally, I took a deep breath, brought the cards up to my lips and blew across them like I was blowing out a candle.

Tell me where I can find him. Where I can find Michael Langdon. If not… Tell me what his plans are… Please.

As soon as I lost my breath I could swear the cards themselves pulsed like they possessed a heartbeat. It was an odd sensation but one I was used to, in fact, I have to admit I almost forgot how much I missed it. I sat the deck on the cover before me as I crossed my legs. Very carefully I pushed the deck so the cards lay face down, fanned out upon the bedspread. Their colored backs of moons, suns, and stars showing perhaps even more vivid when compared to the muted brown of the hotel sheets. Yet it was oddly fitting contrast. I chewed a little on my lip as I decided something really quickly.

3 card spread, I decided. It would be a good start for now. If I need to do something a bit more extensive later, I would. But with this deck, it was always good to start pretty broad and go from there. These cards have been pretty faithful when I used it back when I was with the Coven and I had a feeling it wouldn’t let me down.

Gently, I ran my pointer and middle finger over the top of the cards, lightly brushing their top corners. It's… Hard to describe what I was looking for when I did this. I guess the closest I could say would be a strange calling, a tug of sorts is but that’s not quite right either. I suppose it was instinctive, like the sense you had when you chose to walk a particular street at night as opposed to taking your familiar shortcut home.

Just a third of a length of the deck was I felt it, that strange sensation I was looking for. One I knew meant I had found the card I was looking for. Carefully I pushed the other cards around this particular card aside and set it aside. I didn’t turn it over though. Not yet. I did this strange ritual once more. This time from the other side. My fingertips didn’t have to skim that many cards this time though, as I felt it almost at the very end of the deck.

Just as before I pulled the card out of the deck and set it with the other.  And then I turned to the deck one last time and skimmed it with my fingertips from the start. This time I was at least 2 thirds of the way down the length of the deck until the final card captured me. I set it with its sisters before I pushed the deck together to either shuffle to put back in the box… We would find out soon enough.

I breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly. Wondering where that strange unease, that strange buzzing in my blood, was coming from but deciding not to focus on it. For now. I turned to the first card and flipped it over.

Instantly I was met with the image of a cloaked woman in a rowboat. Her hood was drawn and back to me. At her side was a small child rowing with her. It looked like the kid was just about to look over their shoulder but the image was frozen at that. Leaning against their seat, and laying on the floor of the boat behind them were several swords. I could count at least six of them.

Huh? I thought looking at the card in my hand. For a moment, I could swear I saw the waves of the river the women and child were traveling ripple. But when I blinked the image was still. I decided not to focus on it as it meant it wasn’t important… But the message…

Can’t say I saw that one coming… I thought.

This wasn’t what I was expecting for the start but I quickly filed the information away as I turned to the next card. Well… If I thought the last card was odd it was nothing compared to this one.

I was met instantly with the image of a vivid orange wheel of fortune and fate, with various symbols I recognized from past spell books on its face. The wheel was hung like a sun in the blue skies above but this was certainly no sun. On the left of the wheel was a golden snake, on the right was a jackal-headed man, and on top of it sat a sphinx looking directly at me. In the corners of the card were angels, and other winged creatures like bulls, lions, and eagles. For a moment I could have sworn I saw the wheel turn but I think it was just a trick of the light with foil.  

Once again I found myself utterly puzzled. Did I mess something up? The cards weren’t answering like I had thought they would. Plus I was getting the feeling that this may be… Something else at work.

But what?

I reached for the last card and flipped it over.

“You gotta be kidding me…” I couldn’t help but say aloud when I looked at the last card.

There before me was the image of a naked man and women, looking to each other longing, like lovers, in a beautiful garden. Behind the women was a tree of strange colored fruits, a serpent coiled in the branches, meanwhile behind the man was a strange flaming tree that wasn’t burning despite the blaze. Above the couple a blazing bright being was in the skies, wings outstretched, face hard to make out but the fiery halo most certainly wasn’t hard to see.

No way.

No way in hell this was about Michael. Then… Was this a message to me? But about what? Did I not focus on my question enough? No, that didn’t feel right. Maybe I had to be more specific? I tried to keep the cards and their order in mind as I reached for the deck about to shuffle them in and ask again.

Later I would wonder if the burst of cold air from my cracked open window was just a coincidence or fate. Either way, I had completely forgotten about opening it to get rid of that musty smoky scent tinged with cleaning supplies. I was remembering now as my cards fluttered across the bed and I saw one fly off to the floor.

“Shit!” I cursed, leaping off the bed and running to the window to slam it down.

I sighed as I turned to the mess. Well, I guess I won’t need to shuffle too much on some of the deck, I thought as I walked over to the bed and walked around it to see how many cards had flown off. I could see a few of them there on the floor still faced down and on top of them was….

Wait…

It was face up.

My head started to spin, thinking I was getting a head rush I knelt down, trying to steady myself.  I tried to ignore the strange feeling that had erupted in the pit of my stomach as I looked to the card before me.

There was the image of a being that was… Well, not a man but not a beast rather a strange mixture of both.

A great pair of wings came from it’s back, white feather’s singed and falling off as if the wings were mid-transformation to the veiny membrane of a bat; Like a moth shedding its cocoon. In one hand it held the chains that led to the collars of a man and women at its feet, in the other a blazing torch of black flame that stood out from fiery scene behind them. Its face was shark pale white… Well one could say hauntingly beautiful with angelic features and a face like a marble statue come to life, another could say horrifying with those red eyes…

Great horns coming from his head and the shining inverse pentagram that blazed like a star on the black background.

It’s not upright or upside down, I couldn’t help but notice. Interesting as most of the cards around it seemed to have fallen horizontal.  Was this coincidence? Maybe, but if I were to read it then it showed that this one was in flux. Torn between the normal and reversed spread.

It could be read either way.

I suddenly felt cold even as I could feel my palms get sweaty. My heart starting to hammer.  Calm down… I told myself. It’s just a card.  

Yet I couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t the case. Not in the least bit.

Taking a few deep breaths I swallowed down the strange fear and slowly started to reach for it, almost like it were an animal that could tear my hand off if I weren’t careful. Hand getting closer and closer. I could feel myself start to shake and I noticed something the air around the card… It was charged like a summer storm just dying to lose control.

I had felt that once before, a few years back. I had never forgotten it and never thought I would feel it again.

Oh hell, I thought pausing before...

Fuck it.

My fingertips touched the card. I barely had time to gasp when suddenly I was all but jerked away...

… Before me the figure in the card stood over the small boy, wings outstretched, feathers falling away to reveal large bat-like wings, behind him, red eyes glowing prideful as a black clawed hand set itself on the shoulders of the boy…

Or was that a boy?

No… Was they a man?

I couldn’t tell, all I knew is the boy was in between, tilting off the edge. I could see something in his hand bleed down his arm vivid crimson. I could see blood on his face as he pulled it away from his lips…

No…

Oh god no…

I knew what the boy had in his hand. I knew what he had done and I could feel my stomach turn.

“Father…” I could hear him say in a voice that sounded so hauntingly familiar but I couldn’t place as it was so soft yet it echoed like in a whisper hall…

“I am with you now.”

Sudden the boy looked up, looked right at me I… I couldn’t see his face but I could see his eyes.

My heart turned cold as beautiful startling blue became darker and darker until they were jet black…

And I found myself falling painfully on my ass in the real world, breathing hard.

“What the fuck?!” I all but screamed as soon as I caught my breath.

No one answered me.

I swung my legs around and faced the card head on as if I were going to pound the damn thing into the floor. But the air around it was gone. Faded like a morning fog yet the image lingered.

What the hell was that?

I reached over and tentatively, as if it were going to shock me, touched the card once more…

Nothing.

I took a few breaths before I picked it up off the floor and off the small pile of cards it sat on. Staring the creature dead in the eye as if challenging it do it again. Yet… The red eyes didn’t glint, didn’t blink. They were just a flat image printed on cardstock… Not the monster I saw just moments ago standing above that kid.

It was then suddenly my phone started to buzz. Pulling me out of my thoughts like a slap. I got to my feet and was about to grab it off the bed when suddenly the ring tone started...

More Coming Soon!

[2pcontinued]

A Silent Symphony

Standing at the edge of a ballroom, the beautiful golden chandelier holding many bright candles that illuminated the entire room, you watched longingly at the dance floor. How you wished to be there, waltzing the night away with a handsome stranger. Of course, you could, but lord knows you would be in a load of trouble for doing so. So for now, you simply watched. At least your uniform was cute, even if it was a but uncomfortable. A pair of black mary-janes were shown on your feet, while on your actual body you wore a black frilly dress that stopped at just below your knees, with a white band going around and cinching your waist, and short puffy sleeves that connected to the more modest version of a sweetheart neckline that was also decorated with frills. A pair of plain white stockings covered your legs. Your hair was pulled into a low bun, tied with a white ribbon, and you wore white gloves over your usual rough hands, due to the labor the master of the estate required you to do. Little did you know, a pair of eyes were watching you from afar, staring intently at your simplistic figure, with a look of interest.

Some time later, while you were escorting a guest to their designated room in the estate due to them drinking a little too much of the selection of refreshments you served during the ball, you had walked up to the third floor of the mansion to drop them off. Once you had left them in their room a drunken mess, you started to begin to go back to the party to finish the rest of your job. As you were walking back down the stone staircase, a small melody filled your ears. It was very quiet, almost nonexistent, but still prevalent enough for you to be able to hear it clearly. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, unable to choose your next course of action, yet settled on a decision mere seconds later. Nodding your head, you decided to follow the sound. You knew this land like the back of your hand, so nothing you discovered would be new to you, not to mention, you were always doing the same thing all the time every day, so a change of pace would be inviting. Your shoes clacked against the stone pavement of the stairs you were walking up, currently leading you to the second to last floor, floor five. Once you had arrived at your destination, you opened the brown wooden door at the top of the flight of stairs, and walked down the corridor slowly, making every step you made as silent as possible. The music only got louder. The wallpaper decorating the hallway was a lovely blush pink, with a small off-white stripe marking every every six inches or so of the wallpaper. The floor now had baby blue carpeting, a color you had always found to be joyous and quite adorable, the color itself expressing youth and innocence without even using a picture. Passing every door, you noticed that the music was coming from the very last door at the end of the hallway. It didn’t exactly make sense, since that room had always been vacant every time you had cleaned it, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. It’s not like you got a bad feeling from the situation anyway, because if it had, you would have stopped a long time ago. You trust your instinct with every fiber of your being, as it has never steered you wrong before.

Reaching the final door, pure white with small pink roses decorating the edges, you grabbed the brass knob, and turned it in your hand gently. Pushing the door open, a beautiful scene filled your sight. The usually ugly fading avocado green wallpaper had been replaced with a pristine white wallpaper instead, as the moon lit up every dark crevice of the room. Gold trimmings decorated the connecting area of the floor and wall, and a large white and gold rug covered part of the floor, as a shiny dark brown hardwood floor peeked from underneath the item. On the left side of the room, trays upon trays of pastries and the most delicious smelling sweets sat on top of a table with a white tablecloth, and pink roses occasionally decorated the table, completely snipped from their stems and the flowers left untouched and oddly  perfect. The finest wines and drinks stood next to the sweets on the table, along with a chocolate fountain, what you may say is arguably the best addition to any dessert table. A large window removed of it’s glass with a curved top allowed the full moon to show, it’s holy light shining upon the magnificent display before you. A man stood near this window, not very tall in height, only reaching about 5’6 at most. His back was facing you, however you could see his strawberry blonde hair glisten in the moonlight.

“Excuse me sir, I don’t think you’re allowed to be here.” You spoke, a little unease in your voice, due to the stranger standing across the room from you. He turned around, and you were able to fully take in his features.

What he lacked in height, he made up for in pure and absolute beauty. Extremely fair skin, slightly littered with freckles, as well as deep and sensitive eyes that resembled the color of sapphires when the sunlight hit them, filled your view. Thin, yet plump pink lips with a slight cupid’s bow as their shape, and a button nose that looked almost too tempting to touch with the tip of your finger. His eyebrows, slightly bushy yet well groomed, and long eyelashes framed those mesmerizing eyes of his. His face was slightly rounded, with his chin coming to a small point, his body looking a bit plump and more on the well-fed side, showing his status in society, and providing an explanation for his adorable somewhat chubby cheeks. He was wearing a soft pink waistcoat with a matching pink tailcoat, and a baby blue bow tie. A white wing-collared dress shirt was tucked into neatly pressed cream-colored pants, and he was wearing white gloves, while on his feet were white dress shoes. My god, was he gorgeous. And he was staring directly at you.

A smile graced his perfect lips, yet he didn’t expose his teeth. The music continued to play in the background.

“I’m terribly sorry, my dear, but I was hoping that I could stay a bit longer in here, if you don’t mind.” His voice had an English accent, something that charmed you further about this man.

“Actually, I don’t mind at all.’ You had no idea what you were saying, of course you minded, you could get punished for this, but something about the air around you made you change your mind. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Excuse me for interrupting.”

As you were about to grab the doorknob to leave again, a sharp wind passed you and you felt your freehand being grasped in another’s.

“I would actually enjoy it, if you stayed for a little while with me. I don’t like to be alone.” His hand was freezing cold, as if you were holding a cube of ice instead of the hand of another person. His voice was genuine and softened, showing that he wasn’t lying. At least you hoped he wasn’t.

Nodding your head, he didn’t let go of your hand, but instead turned you around to face him, palm touching palm, fingers intertwined. Your face burned up like the Sahara during the day.

He smiled at you, teeth barely exposed, but enough to show off some of his pearly whites. Even his teeth were perfect.

“Shall we dance?” He asked, and due to the close proximity, you could smell the faint scent of strawberry coming off of the man. You were so close, you could nearly count every single one of his individual freckles on his face. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad way to spend a lazy early morning.

“Yes, we may.” He gave you a reassuring look, then the song began to change. Wait, there was no piano or record player, so who was playing the music? You had no time to think, as he pulled you closer to him, you started to shift and turn in synchronization, one-two, one-two, feet moving together gracefully. Your dress swished all around you, and you could feel the air blowing past your face as you two moved together swiftly. It seemed as though he had you under a trance, your movements completely mimicking his, following his lead completely, not even thinking about anything else but the dance and keeping up with him. As the song began to end, he dipped you down, and you could feel his face nearing the left side of your neck, at a steady pace, slowly but surely making it’s way to the tender meat that was your flesh. Your eyes were closed softly, your head falling back, somewhat sleepy in your state, not fully conscious in a way.

Once he had gotten close enough, he began to open his mouth, and sink his teeth into your delicate skin. Close, so close he could almost taste it, which he could. Almost. Just as his fangs were about to pierce your skin, your eyes pushed themselves open, a look of anger written on your face, and you glared at him. You snapped your neck and head back up while he maneuvered his away from yours to avoid your head impacting his, and messily pushed him away from your body. The blonde looked surprised, and a little amused, to say the least. 

You lifted your leg up and attempted to kick him, yet in a flash, he was gone again, in front of the window you had found him in when you first walked through the door. Raising your fists up to protect yourself, your gaze hardened and eyebrows furrowed, as a hard frown set itself upon your features.

“Who are you, and what did you do to me, you sick man.” Your voice held no hesitation and no fear. You were ready to kick someone’s ass if need be.

The man simply giggled, and grinned at you, revealing his full set of teeth.

“My god..” You whispered to yourself, as you saw rows of fangs lined up on the sides of his mouth, the sharpness of them terrifying you to no end.

“What’s wrong, poppet? Are you surprised?’ His voice came out like velvet, yet held a dark undertone that you despised. He continued. ‘Let me introduce myself, then, to the pretty lady.”

As he said that, he jumped backwards into the window and landed slowly, floating like a feather onto the ledge, and bowed his head down to reach his waist, then lifted his head back upright. His tailcoat swished dramatically behind him. What a show-off.

“I am Oliver Kirkland, a powerful vampire! And you were supposed to be my next meal, my dear.” This part caused your eyebrows to rise and your shoulders to tense, but you stood your ground. No way in hell you were backing down now. Even if his voice got oddly high-pitched during this moment, and it aroused worry in your body.

“However, you, my love, resisted my charms at the last minute. How fun!’ He paused for effect, and lifted his right hand to his chin, stroking it thoughtfully, before he begun again. ‘I have a feeling we will meet again, dearest (Y/n), so, until then! Toodle-loo!” And with the wave of his hand, he was completely gone, as if he vanished in mid-air.

When he left, the entire room changed once more. The walls returned to it’s previous deteriorated state, the floors dusty and rickety, creaking under your body weight, and the treats gone. The room was completely silent.

“How did he know my… Where was the music coming from…” You questioned yourself aloud, knowing that you would probably never find the answers if he didn’t give you the answer. Well, this was beginning to get a bit too personal for you. Collapsing against the aforementioned nasty green wallpaper-covered wall, you sat on the floor, your knees pressed against your chest, the moonlight seeping inside from the window barely hitting the tips of of your shoes. A chill ran down your spine. You might need a drink or two to finally begin to process what had just happened.

(This is for anon! My first ever halloween event request fulfilled, so thank you for allowing me to fulfill your request, and have a lovely day!)