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The Seeds of a Thousand New Worlds by Firestorm Coop
A virtual interview about ATR, storytelling, and rural solidarity with Robert Evans and Margaret Killjoy.
#firestorm coop#atrbook#after the revolution#robert evans#margaret killjoy#books#youtube#videos#interviews#firestorm books & coffee#AK press#rural solidarity#appalachia#texas
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Stained
Chapter 6: Subterranean // start at the beginning
tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr
subterranean adjective 1. beneath the ground 2. hidden; secret --- Before she can move forward, Scully must first look back.
She is weightless light dancing through the clouds; she is a floating mote on an endless ocean; she is cradled in a bower of roots buried deep within the warm, dark earth. She is in all of these places, and nowhere, at once.
She is not alone; she is with a woman, or she is with three, or she is with every woman who has ever been or will be. The woman is barely more than a girl, rose-blooming and doe-eyed in the fullness of her youth; she is a mother, soft-eyed and soft-armed font of life; she is a crone, withered and stooped, the milky-eyed abyss. She is Scully’s mother, her sister, her daughter. She is all of these things in turns and at once.
Scully knows this with all the surety of a dreamer, who can hold wonder and nonsense in either hand and see no difference.
They touch her face with one hand, three, a thousand—spotted with age, plump with the last dreams of baby fat, roughened palms that smell of milk and bread. They stroke her cheek as a mother would, thumbing away the bright and shining tears spilling from her eyes. In their touch she feels peace, forgiveness, the promise of a place lush and quiet where she can lay down and let go.
“We see you,” they say in a chorus of voices, in one voice and in the silence beneath the world. “We see you both.”
Scully’s memories flash before her like a shuffling deck of cards, like a thumb rifling through a book. Laughing in a cemetery as rain pelted down around them. Drums and fire and a swinging axe, and his fingers brushing her hair away from her face. Superstars of the Superbowl. A hospital, a revolver, his hand trembling as the barrel moves toward her like a dark eye. The hallway with a sting in her neck and the barest brush of his lush bottom lip against hers before darkness closed in.
These and so many more, pouring through her like a torrent, like a firestorm, her soul laid bare before the Morrígna who watch with a loving and sorrowful gaze on their ever-shifting face.
And then a brick wall slamming into her, a locked box where her memories should be. The Morrígna frown, their hands patting the air or the water or the surface of the darkness. “You are incomplete,” they say, confusion in every voice, infinite brows knitting above infinite eyes. “What comes next must be faced with no lies, no secrets. The flame must be pure if it is to burn the darkness away.”
Scully wants to tell them no, wants to beg them to leave the lid and the locks and the chains where they are. She doesn’t want to see what’s inside.
But already she is falling, hands clawing toward the surface as she is sucked down into the darkness, and then—
Silver starlight trickled through the trees. The scent of wet grass hung in the air like a memory or a promise and the night breeze tasted of wilting flowers, the sweet and cloying lushness of decay. A hush lay over the cemetery, heavy and deep as six feet of damp earth.
A hush broken only by the sounds of an old and familiar argument.
“What the hell are we even doing out here Mulder?” Scully asked, though it was mostly rhetorical. She knew he wouldn’t really listen; he never did. She just needed to hear something more than the bone-dry whisper of the wind in the trees and the deep silence of the dead. “It’s two in the morning, the coffee ran out an hour ago, and neither of us has slept in two days. Can we just give it up for the night, go back to the motel, and get some sleep?”
“Not a chance, Scully,” he said from his perch atop a particularly massive gravestone. It was a family plot, with the earliest death dating back over two hundred years to the town’s founding; the most recent was only a few days ago, a boy named Edward Butters who was three months shy of his twentieth birthday. His mother and father’s names had already been inscribed, birth dates carved in stone but blank spaces where their deaths would someday go; how sad, she thought, for a parent to bury their child. She thought of her own daughter’s grave, just a few hours’ drive to the south, and wondered if she might find time to lay flowers on it before they left California.
Mulder spit a sunflower seed shell into the freshly turned earth, where funeral footprints were still clearly visible; the flowers beside the stone had barely begun to wilt. “Anyway,” he continued, oblivious to her train of thought, “we’re not hunting. We’re waiting. I have it on good authority that this young man is going to rise from his grave.”
“Mulder, your ‘good authority’ is a nineteen year old girl who thinks she’s a witch, that you met in a chatroom called Myth or Myth-staken: the Truth about the Supernatural World. I autopsied that boy myself; believe me when I say if he wasn’t dead when I started, he absolutely was by the time I finished.”
“See that’s the thing about this town—the dead don’t always stay that way.”
Scully dug her knuckles into her orbital sockets, fighting back a yawn and a migraine. The young man in the grave at her feet was just the latest in a string of what Mulder claimed were vampire slayings and she insisted were the work of a serial killer: a young man would be found dead and drained of blood, and then on the night of his funeral, his grave would be robbed and the body of his lover left in his place, covered in gray ash, her own heart clasped in her lifeless hands. What became of the men, no one was yet sure, but here they were on a stakeout—no pun intended—hoping to find out.
The cycle had repeated four times already, with the death of Edward Butters marking the beginning of the fifth. The males had all died in the same way: a cluster of puncture wounds to the neck—something the local coroner had listed as “neck rupture”—through which nearly all of their blood had been removed. Moderate amounts of blood had been found inside the victims’ mouths and stomachs, suggesting it had been ingested close to time of death. The blood matched the saliva found around the puncture wounds, but had not been connected to any suspects yet.
The female victims, on the other hand, had met a variety of more brutal ends. Scully shuddered, recalling the crime scene photographs and autopsy reports that Mulder’s little cadre of internet friends had sent, projected three feet tall on the screen back in their basement office as he enthused all over her about the potentiality of a vampire serial killer. All suffered various degrees of brutalization; two had broken arms, one a fractured collarbone. Bite marks had been found on all of them, but never in the same places: thigh, arm, torso, throat, breasts—all had been bitten in one or more of the victims, but always different patterns, different teeth impressions, often but not exclusively accompanied by clusters of deep punctures.
The saliva around the bite marks was a match to each woman’s partner, and their hearts had all been carved from their chests with the same blade, possibly while they were still alive.
Both Mulder and Scully agreed there had to be two killers working together, but that was where the agreement ended; Scully thought they had to be taking samples from the dead boys to use in the murder of the girlfriends, whereas Mulder thought the second killer in each case was the dead boy in question.
“And the dust found on the female victims?” she had asked.
“That’s what happens when a vampire is staked through the heart.”
Scully could only roll her eyes so hard before worrying they would fall right out of her head—no matter what her knowledge of anatomy might insist. “So your theory ,” she’d said, clenching her fists to keep from making sarcastic air quotes, “is that there is a vampire out there somewhere changing these young men—”
“Siring,” he corrected. “New vampires are ‘sired’ or ‘turned.’”
“Of course they are. So there is a vampire siring these men, siccing them on their own girlfriends, and then staking them when the deed is done?”
“See, Scully,” he’d said, grabbing their plane tickets off the desk and his jacket from its hook on the door, “it’s like we share a mind.”
Yeah , she thought, looking around the dark and silent cemetery, and I have custody of it six days a week . She kicked mud off her shoes and began to pace around the grave site, trying to work some blood into her chilled limbs. She had wanted to stay in the car, but the cemetery was so expansive that they hadn’t been able to park anywhere with a view of this particular grave. She longed for a fresh thermos of coffee, the blanket she had started packing for long nights like these, the trashy novel she’d picked up in the airport and had only barely gotten to start.
She stepped a few paces away, studying the names of Edward Butters’ neighbors. The headstones stretched in all directions, row after row, until they disappeared into the mist. So many graves for such a small town . And this was just one of dozens of graveyards nearby. A chill ran down her spine. “Mulder, shouldn’t guarding the grave of a potential vampire who could rise any minute be the responsibility of your precious Slayer and her friends? They’re the ones who called us in on this, after all.”
No response.
“Mulder?” she called, heart lurching painfully in her chest. Her hand moved to the holster at her back and she crept back toward the grave, crouching to keep her head below the level of the gravestones as best she could. She drew her gun as she came around the front of the large stone, hoping that she would startle him, hoping he would tease her for getting spooked, hoping they could share a laugh and then leave together.
But Mulder was nowhere to be seen.
Scully clutched her weapon tightly with one hand, reaching down to touch the damp soil with the other. The grave itself was still intact, but skid marks marred the mounded earth as if from a brief struggle, and then two deep lines from something being dragged. She eyed the woods in the distance, the open ground between here and there, wondering how a man of Mulder’s size could have been subdued and moved so quickly and quietly. I was only a few yards away.
She had no warning; one moment she was crouched on a fresh grave and the next she was on her back, head ringing like a gong. Her vision swam as she tried to aim her gun, but it was knocked from her hands. Something—no, some one— pressed their weight into her chest and she gasped for breath. A hand closed around her throat, impossibly strong, and though she thrashed and tried to roll her attacker, they cut off her air with ruthless efficiency; her vision turned black at the edges, her struggles weakened, and then the darkness came flooding in.
—
Pain. That was the first thing Scully knew when she came back to herself, a throbbing ache throughout her body and a bright, clear agony behind her eyes. The overwhelming waves of it almost pushed her out of consciousness again, but she forced herself to breathe, slowly, in and out, checking in with herself piece by piece. Her fingers and toes wiggled without tingling; nothing seemed broken or dislocated; and though she tasted blood in her mouth, and the pounding in the back of her head was a sure sign she had a concussion, she was surprised to find herself otherwise intact.
Unfortunately, she was also bound quite tightly, ankles together and wrists behind her back in what felt like metal shackles.
Experimentally, she cracked open one eye. Even the dim light speared like a hot needle into her brain, and the world swam; her stomach revolted violently, and she might have collapsed if she wasn’t already on the ground.
“Oh look, it’s waking up,” cooed a soft, feminine voice. “Look, foxy, it stirs.”
Scully fought through the pain and nausea and forced her eyes open again, glancing quickly around the dark, damp cavern before landing on the sickening tableau at its center.
A creature—there was no other word to describe it—held Mulder on his knees like a spider wrapped around a fly, its legs twined around him from behind and pinning him against itself. It was dressed in tatters of what might once have been a lovely dress, maybe even a bridal gown, but now the beads were dull and the fabric gray with age, stained with what could only be blood—both the bright red splashes of fresh and the brown, flaking remnants of old. It had one clawed hand clenched in his hair, holding him in place. Its other hand held both of his wrists behind his back.
Mulder’s shirt was dark and clinging to his chest; it took Scully a moment to realize it was soaked with his blood. The creature had punctured his neck and was lapping tenderly at the little fountain of crimson. Not punctured , Scully realized as its face caught the dim light from the candles scattered around the space. Bitten . The thing turned its yellow eyes to her, beneath a monstrous brow of bumps and ridges, and smiled, revealing teeth sharp and long and smeared with blood. Scully felt a deep chill settle into her very bones.
She was staring at a vampire.
Her limbs began to tremble, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The pounding in her head doubled and redoubled until bright colors exploded across her vision like fireworks. She felt herself slipping into hysteria.
Then Mulder moaned, a weak and tiny noise in the darkness. His eyes were open but rolling wildly inside his head. The sound hit her like a splash of cold water. It washed away the mindless terror, leaving her with a more familiar, focused kind of fear. Survive now, scream endlessly later , she told herself.
“Mulder!” she called, or tried to. Her voice was barely more than a painful rasp, and she wondered distantly if her larynx was bruised. “Mulder,” she tried again, clearer this time, “can you hear me?”
“Scully?” he finally answered, woozily. His swimming eyes focused on her for a brief moment before sliding away again. He sounded drunk, and his skin was so pale. How long had she been unconscious? How long had that thing been feeding on him?
“He’s a tasty little foxy,” the vampire mused, licking languidly from his collarbone to his ear, like a child with an enormous ice cream cone. It hummed in satisfaction as it swallowed. “I just couldn’t resist taking a little taste before the party. But don’t worry, there’s still plenty of fun to be had.”
Its laugh was the rattle of bones in the pit, the rustle of a coiling snake, the rasp of stone against a blade. Scully’s heart thundered in her chest, the pressure of it setting off more bursts of color in her vision. The claw in Mulder’s hair tightened, wrenching his head to one side until his neck strained nearly to the breaking point, exposing the long, golden line of his throat; the artery there throbbed beneath the skin, skittering with fear like a trapped animal. His eyes found hers again, wide and wild and pleading.
The vampire reared back like a cobra, then buried its fangs in his throat.
Blood gushed around its mouth, spilling in thick rivulets down Mulder’s shirt. His spine arched and he thrashed in its grip until she thought he would snap his neck, but the vampire didn’t seem to notice. Strange, primitive sounds of fear came from his mouth, a whimpering counterpoint to the vampire’s slurping moans of pleasure. It held him until his struggles weakened and he sagged in its grasp, his head rolling on his red-stained neck like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
All Scully could do was watch, straining against her cuffs until she bruised and bled against the edges of them, crying out his name in helpless fury as the light drained from his eyes.
When Mulder was limp and glassy-eyed, the vampire lifted its own wrist to its mouth and bit down; thick, black blood trickled from the wound. It held the blood out to him like a gift, and he turned away with a weak sound of protest. “Don’t be rude, little foxy,” it chided, pulling his head backwards and jamming a cruel finger into his mouth to pry open his lips. “Lettie’s got a treat for you.”
Blood dripped into his protesting mouth, and the thing that called itself Lettie pinched his nose shut until he was forced to swallow.
The vampire released him and he sagged bonelessly to the floor. He gave one last, weak cry of, “Scully,” and then lay horribly, finally still.
She screamed and struggled toward him as best she could with her arms and legs bound, inch by agonizing inch. The rough stone scraped skin off her cheek, her knuckles, her knees; it tore at her clothing, and somewhere along the way she lost a shoe.
“Poor little pet,” the vampire crooned, watching her struggle with a mocking pout. Its voice rubbed against the inside of her skin like sandpaper. “I know it hurts.”
She was just a few feet away from his body when Lettie stepped into her path and leaned down close to her, the sickly sweet scent of blood and death clinging to it like a perfume. She cringed away, but it didn’t attack; it simply grabbed her chin in its vice grip until she had no choice but to meet its glowing, golden eyes. “It’s going to hurt so, so much more when he wakes up.”
It let go, almost dismissively, and left the cavern in a swish of tattered cloth.
Finally Scully wriggled her way across the cold, damp stone to where her partner lay. “Mulder?” she said in a trembling voice. “Mulder, please. Wake up.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she nudged him with her hip. He didn’t move. She managed to sit up, then rested her head on his chest, praying to hear a heartbeat.
She was met with only silence.
Not one but TWO major character deaths in one fic!? Yes, I am a deeply terrible person. You're welcome. Picture me kicking my feet, blushing and twirling my hair as I read your comments.
#stained#my writing#my fanfic#crossover#txt#the x files#btvs#buffy the vampire slayer#fox mulder#dana scully#buffy summers#willow rosenberg#tara maclay#xander harris#rupert giles#spike btvs#anya jenkins
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𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓
repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc
𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
name: louise lincoln
name meaning: famous warrior / lake colony
alias: k.iller frost, ice queen, lulu (called by her sister victoria), lulu or ma fifille (called by her her father), ma princesse (called by her mother only)
age: 30s-40s
ethnicity: american
zodiac sign: aries
species: originally a human and willing turned herself into a metahuman in a new and improved thermofrost chamber experiment she had reinvented in S.T.A.R labs
gender: female (she/her)
orientation: bisexual
profession: former thermodynamicist at S.T.A.R labs, currently an assassin for hire and interrogator for T.A.B. she's one of the few exceptional interrogators in their business but allows her sadism and bloodlust to interfere once the information from a suspect is obtained. T.A.B has never referred her by her real name and prefers to call her k.iller frost like most of their operatives
birth place: manhattan, nyc
𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄
eyes: icy blue. stares daggers at everything and everyone. it's as piercing as it gets, but once her eyes land on a special someone her icy gaze melts away
hair: styled in a spiky pixie cut. short at the back, relaxed waves on the front. silky to the touch. appears wild yet regal in its perfect form. do not touch her hair. ever. it is her crown and only a selective few will have the privilege of touching louise's hair
skin: pale. clear skin with the exception of her burn mark on her right hand. other than that she has a simple skincare routine that mainly focuses on hydrating her dry skin
notable features: icy eyes, porcelain-like features, narrow chin, high cheekbones and outward ears. looks more like her father than her mother
body type: curvaceous hourglass maintaining a toned, muscular form which took years to obtain. before louise became KF, her body was often
height: 5′3''
colours: warm reds, pinks and greens as a civilian. cool shades of blue, black and white when on the job. sometimes purple is introduced into the mix
clothing style: louise's taste in fashion can range to hardcore punk, goth and in some cases girly girl whenever she attends a formal party. fur trim boots.
would never wear: anything cheap and a trend she finds ugly enough not to wear
𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
fruits: fresh grapes, strawberries and lemon
drinks: water with fresh lemon, cappuccino, chi latte with oat or soy milk and black coffee
food: crème brûlée, beef wellington, new york style pizza, buffalo chicken wings and lobster
snacks: cherry and blueberry lollipop, lu pépito cookies, chocolate bar and gelato
alcoholic beverages: champagne, rosé champagne, martinis and mimosas
flowers: anything that's named after royalty, although her personal favourite are lilies. loves to keep orange, blue, purple and white lilies around her penthouse
day or night: day
smokes: yes, but only when stressed. she's trying to quit after all. was quite the heavy smoker when crystal died and only listened to dr. matthews (who was her psychiatrist) to eat sunflower seeds or chew on gum
drugs: never again. had a bad experience trying out cocaine once
drivers licence: yes, she earned it as a teenager. was pretty much eager to drive herself everywhere
usual mood/demeanour: moody AF. other than that pleasant trait louise can be pretty chill if she's not being provoked in some way
habits: occasionally smoking when stressed (trying to quit), obsessed with elegant mannerisms/behaviours that fool people into thinking she's a snobby elitist and uses makeup to hide her sleep deprivation
sleeping habits: has trouble sleeping properly without having a nightmare of firestorm or crystal. always has to keep drinking whisky to knock herself out, smoke, listen to her favourite bands on the radio, read a book, meditate and write out different yet positive scenarios of her nightmares of her getting her revenge. she even thinks of a happier ending with crystal a lot in her journal.
eating habits: prim and proper like a queen should represent herself which means she always follows the dining etiquette based on her parents teachings such as eating with her mouth closed, doesn't talk with a mouthful of food, never has her elbows on the table, chews slowly ect. louise looks down on people who share rude table manners. she's also one of those people at restaurants that eat their burger with a fork and knife. very particular with her diet and rarely eats junk food except a cherry lollipop on cheat days.
#˗ˏˋ ༄ ──── 𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 〳 ❪ helluva party ❫#˗ˏˋ ༄ ──── 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 〳 ❪ violence creates and molds as well ❫
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blog update (5.22.2023)
An update on myself, some fics, and my plans for the forseeable future!
Good timezone to you! Thanks for taking the time to check out my update. I’ll try to keep things brief:
My semester has ended, so more or less, I’m more available for the remainder of May + all of June + July + and 95% of August. This means I’m going to have some more time to be around here and work on fics!
I’m hoping to wrap up some of my current short term projects like:
Off the Book - Firestorm (Jett/Phoenix), sfw, Phoenix-centric with heavy references to theatre productions and the like as I explore his experiences as an ex-performing arts student. Very fluffy, brief piece I intend to cap at 2-3 chapters.
Coils and Coronets - Galaxsea (Harbor/Astra) sfw, Astra-centric. Continuation of the Crown of Curls series in which I explore the black agents’ cultures and comforts and calamities with their hair as a black individual myself. Intended for 2 chapters, may get 3.
To My Dearest, - Tremorheal (Breach/Sage) sfw Breach-centric. Planned for 4 chapters at most. Breach’s got a long-term crush on their resident healer and chaos ensures as Valentine’s day arrives. Includes plenty of love letters and gushing. Heartbreak here and there too.
And then continue my long term projects, such as:
How Do You Take Your Coffee? - Tired Parent Trio (Brimstone/Sage/Viper) sfw BUT rated for mature audiences (includes non-sexual nudity, profanity, and canon typical violence with near-death experiences + mental health struggles). Slow-burn story of the three most mature agents falling for one another in all their chaos and woes. May be subject to revisions as I go forward but the entire story is planned from start to finish already.
Within the Cigarette Ash, You May Yet Find Rose Petals - Cyphora (Cypher/Nora) Currently sfw, plans to include nsfw chapters. They will be standalone from main plot progression but still there. Incredibly headcanon-based story centering Cypher, Nora, and their daughter Munira as the latter 2 have to take refuge at the VP headquarters and chaos ensues.
Thank you all for your patience! I hope to get some more art queued to reblog here, answer any asks, and post headcanons every now and again too. Let’s have a great summer!
#macch talks#valorant#riot games#first person shooter#fanfiction#fanfic#brimstone#viper#sage#jett#phoenix#breach#cypher#nora#harbor#astra
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𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐆𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒, ginny weasley, lucius malfoy, narcissa malfoy !!! s, eri, jasy, you can find the checklist & please turn in your account within the next 24 hours or your roles will be re-opened !!!
ϟ — { sadie sink / cis woman / she/her } ♫ dark on fire by turin brakes —— isn’t that GINNY WEASLEY walking down the corridor ? aren’t they 21 in 4TH YEAR from GRYFFINDOR? they’re ESFP which makes sense as they’re notoriously known for being JOCULAR & DAUNTLESS but also IRASCIBLE & OBSTINATE. though when i see them i can’t help but think of YOU ARE ALL BLUSTER AND TORRENT, A FIRESTORM WITH SKIN — YOUR EYES ARE THE COLOR OF BLACK WOODSMOKE, ALWAYS BURNING, AND YOUR FISTS ARE ALWAYS CLENCHED SO TIGHT THAT YOUR DIRT-SEEPED NAILS BITE FURIOUS CRESCENT MOONS ON YOUR PALMS — GIRL, THAT FURY DEEP WITHIN YOUR CORE THAT BURNS AS SWELTERING AS DRAGON FIRE, IT'LL CONSUME YOU IF YOU LET IT / THERE'S A FAINT BITTERNESS ON YOUR TONGUE THAT TASTES ALMOST LIKE IRON AND RUST AND SALT (OH, STUBBORN GIRL, YOU’LL BITE YOURSELF TO BLEEDING BEFORE YOU GIVE IN TO THIS) / SOMETIMES YOU THINK, IF YOU COULD, YOU’D SHARPEN YOUR HEART INTO A GLEAMING, SERRATED KNIFE, MAKE YOURSELF SO RAZOR-EDGED THAT NO ONE COULD TOUCH YOU AGAIN WITHOUT PIERCING THEMSELVES — IT’S BETTER TO CUT THAN BE CUT / THAT FERAL, SEETHING GLINT HIDDEN IN THOSE ELECTRIC EYES — THERE’S SOMETHING WILD ABOUT YOU, YOU RAGING TEMPEST OF A GIRL, SOMETHING THAT BEGS TO BE UNLEASHED — YOU LOVE LIKE A PUNCH TO THE STOMACH, JUST THAT HARD, JUST THAT SHARP / YOU'RE SICK OF PEERING INTO THE MIRROR AND SEEING A REFLECTION YOU DO NOT RECOGNIZE STARING BACK AT YOU — NOT A GIRL BUT A DISTORTION, RIPPLING LIKE A RIVER — OH, AREN'T YOU TIRED OF BEING ALL BIRD BONES AND CAGED HEART? IT'S TIME, GO ON — CRACK THE MIRROR, SHATTER THE GLASS INTO JAGGED PIECES, BREAK IT ALL — NO, BREAK FREE. with war looming they have chosen LIGHT. ( s, 27, she/her, pst )
ϟ — { drew starkey / cis man / he/him } ♫ crossfire by stephen —— isn’t that LUCIUS MALFOY walking down the corridor ? aren’t they 22 in MARAUDERS ERA from SLYTHERIN ? they’re ESTJ which makes sense as they’re notoriously known for being DEDICATED & CHARMING but also INFLEXIBLE & JUDGEMENTAL. though when i see them i can’t help but think of the weight of responsibility on the shoulders of someone past boyhood but barely a man; anxiety hidden within firm touches and a sharp tongue; exhaustion around grey eyes that never dull and always inquisitive; pride in silvers and emerald — pride in having a sanctuary away from home; broken lips — broken bones, and broken pride behind closed door . with war looming they have chosen DARK. ( eri, 28, she/they, gmt+8)
ϟ — { lucy boynton / cis woman / she/her } ♫ what was I made for by billie eilish —— isn’t that NARCISSA BLACK MALFOY walking down the corridor ? aren’t they 22 in MARAUDERS from RAVENCLAW ? they’re INFP which makes sense as they’re notoriously known for being PASSIONATE AND INSIGHTFUL but also GUARDED AND PERFECTIONISTIC. though when i see them i can’t help but think of OLD SHEET MUSIC RESTING ON A PIANO; BLACK COFFEE AND OLD BOOKS; DELICATE, BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS THAT CAN KILL YOU; THE PERFECT LITTLE DOLL; A BIRD IN A GILDED CAGE. with war looming they have chosen NEUTRAL. ( jasy, 28, she/her, mst )
#new rp#hp rp#harry potter rp#marauders era rp#magic rp#marauders au rp#dark rp#mature rp#appless rp#mumu rp#ervs. accepted#oc rp#college rp
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library (45)
robin (45)
reading (44)
bookstore (44)
reading is fundamental (44)
books (44)
black canary (41)
it is what it is (39)
sometimes life be that way (39)
cthulhu (36)
dr fate (36)
lovecraft (36)
justice league of america (35)
aquaman (35)
dead astronaut (34)
zombie (33)
justice society of america (33)
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many tentacled wonder (32)
atom (32)
great old ones (31)
yog sothoth (31)
nyarlathotep (31)
the king in yellow (31)
elder gods (31)
dead (31)
cosmic horror (31)
green arrow (29)
spectre (28)
captain america (27)
star wars (26)
captain marvel (26)
firestorm (25)
the one ring (25)
sauron (25)
gandalf (25)
frodo (25)
parallel universe (24)
bilbo (24)
multiverse (24)
dimensional counterpart (24)
alternate universe (24)
gollum (24)
pippin (24)
merry (24)
samwise (24)
cats (24)
alternate reality (24)
lord of the rings (24)
the two towers (24)
fellowship of the ring (24)
return of the king (24)
aragorn (24)
boromir (24)
token tolkien (24)
gondor (24)
mordor (24)
ring of power (24)
alternate earth (24)
tagstorm (24)
power girl (24)
parallel earth (24)
red tornado (23)
supergirl (23)
beginning to think that there are more of us than there are of them (22)
somewhere on the spectrum (22)
aliens (22)
dr midnite (22)
avengers (22)
x-men (21)
scarlet witch (20)
starman (20)
hourman (20)
elongated man (20)
💩💩💩 (19)
legion of superheroes (19)
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (19)
iron man (19)
sandman (18)
uap (18)
and shit (18)
coffee (18)
wolverine (18)
hey i don't judge you for your fetish don't judge me for mine (18)
beast (18)
coffee keeps you alive and me out of prison (17)
color theory (17)
caffiend (17)
thor (17)
uso (17)
vision (17)
the truth is out there (17)
i’m not saying it’s aliens but it’s aliens (17)
ufo (17)
zatanna (17)
hulk (17)
the coffee pot book club (17)
the coffee is the life (17)
memeage (17)
first cup of coffee and dark thoughts (17)
wildcat (17)
the elder gods are coming (17)
cyclops (16)
storm (15)
liminal spaces (15)
creepy (14)
hercules (14)
the horrors persist but so do i (14)
i can't brain today (14)
the empty space where my brain used to be (14)
colossus (13)
i am the evil twin (13)
lex luthor (13)
this tape will self-destruct in five seconds (13)
hawkwoman (13)
blank stare (13)
stupefied (13)
evil twin (13)
good luck jim (13)
martian manhunter (13)
huntress (12)
your mission should you decide to accept it (12)
nightcrawler (12)
wonder girl (12)
should you or any of your force be caught or killed the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions (12)
johnny thunder (12)
doctor who (12)
superboy (12)
perspective (12)
signs (12)
shazam (12)
joker (11)
christmas (11)
zero fucks given (11)
science fiction (11)
wizard (11)
woof!!! (11)
batgirl (11)
kid flash (11)
whizzer (10)
hawkeye (10)
double woof!!! (10)
star spangled kid (10)
starfire (10)
riddler (10)
sausage to me (10)
slap my balls on it (10)
captain marvel jr (10)
dogs (10)
solomon grundy (10)
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Happy (Upcoming) Independent Bookstore Day!
Happy (Upcoming) Independent Bookstore Day!
As you may know, Independent Bookstore Day was rescheduled this year, but no matter the date, there’s been no year in which it’s more important to show whatever support you can. Behold, here are a bunch of wonderful indies that show great support to queer books, each with a little recommended list of books to buy from them!
This year, with the advent of Bookshop, some of these stores have shifted…
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#Avid Bookshop#Books Inc.#Books of Wonder#Brain Lair Books#Brave and Kind Books#Changing Hands Bookstore#Copper Dog Books#East City Bookshop#Firestorm Books + Coffee#Fountain Bookstore#Harriett&039;s Bookshop#Interabang Books#Loyalty Bookstores#Mysterious Galaxy#Parnassus Books#Porter Square Books#Powell&039;s Books#Raven Bookstore#Silver Unicorn Books#The Ripped Bodice#Third Street Books#Tubby and Coo&039;s#Vroman&039;s Bookstore
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#my firestorm books and coffee order#david shields#books#nobody hates trump more than trump#justine briggs
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November 1985 || Six Months Will Never Be Enough || Eddie Munson x Reader
Near the start of the 1985 school year, two teenagers meet, unaware of the firestorm headed their way in six months. 182 days. What would you do with that time?
Eddie Munson x Reader // Fluff // Slow Burn // Will follow events of season 4
Parts
[oct] [devil's night] [ November 1985 ] [dec] [jan] [feb] [mar]
Friday, November 15, 1985
"Okay, wait. It's still farting out errors, but I'm 100% positive we have it isolated to the lines here." Crackles of static followed Dustin's finger where it connected with the CRT monitor glass screen, pointing to the suspicious bit of code. After a month of work, the attendance tracker program was almost done, and the soft launch date was looming. The school admins wanted to start testing the program now before it was expected to be in full use at the start of January. Dustin had taken the rickety wood and metal seat at the computer; he looked back at YN standing over his shoulder. The only computer allocated to the computer science club was left overnight Thursday to compile the last batch of code changes. YN and Dustin dragged their sorry asses into school at 7am to review everything. Mr. Younge, who had drawn the short straw to let them in early, left the two nerds on a desperate hunt for coffee. The tired, struggling computer fan whirled in protest for being left on nearly 24/7 since the project began at the start of October.
"Okay, can you print it for me again, just that section though. Mr. Younge is gonna kill us for wiping another forest off the map." YN rubbed her eyes while stifling a yawn as she pulled back from leaning over Dustin's chair to look at the monitor over his shoulder. "We have to finish this by tonight so the whole thing can compile over the weekend."
"Hehe, yeah, right." The soft chuckle indicated that Dustin thought it was a joke. He turned around on the chair to face YN, gripping onto the back of the chair for support. YN stopped mid-stretch to scowl at him before Dustin quickly raised his hands in defensive protest. "It's Hellfire tonight. I can't" YN continued to look at Dustin, unblinking, letting her arms drop to her hips expectantly, "You know how Eddie is; he would skin me alive. We just made it to Makbar." A hint of a whine crept into Dustin's tone while he attempted to plead his case.
"I can work on it, but I might need to tap you in." YN snorted as she bent down to grab her book bag and flung the strap over her head so it rested across her body.
"I'm happy to help YN, but when? The school is locked over the weekend. We need to wrap this shit up today."
YN bit her lower lip and clasped her hands around the back of her neck under her hair. She started pacing the length of the computer desk, her eyes glued to the ground as she spaced out, trying to come up with a solution. Dustin spun around to insert the print commands into the computer operating system. "What if I come to Hellfire? There is space to the side there–"
"Are you serious?" Dustin whirled around.
"I won't bother you until I need you to second check my changes. I have to stay at school to punch in the changes anyways."
"You're gonna have to talk to Eddie about that one."
"Yeah, no problem." YN's voice rang with a false sense of bravado; she knew damn well it would be a big problem. Dustin raised his eyebrows with an arrogant smirk.
"No problem? Just tell me when you're gonna talk to him so I can get out of the carnage splash zone."
"He's…. Reasonable, kind of." She went back to pacing in front of the computer desk. YN started nervously to chew on the inside of her cheek. Who was she trying to convince? Dustin or herself?
"I'm sorry, have we been hanging out with two different Eddies?" Dustin sat back with an incredulous look on his face. His eyes followed YN as she walked in front of the desk.
"Eddie will understand."
"Yuhuh. I think we still have the box the computer was shipped in." Dustin scanned the area before gesturing to the massive box shoved unceremoniously on the top shelf of the classroom far out of anyone's way." You might want to tape together some armour before you talk to him at lunch." YN's eye followed the direction Dustin was pointing, her brows furrowed as she continued to bite at the inside of her lip.
"A shield wouldn't hurt."
———
"Ah, Eddie, do you have a sec? I just want to run something by you." YN called down the table where Eddie had come to a dead stop at the sound of her voice, hovering over his usual seat, mid-sit-down.
"Uh, sure." He snatched the sandwich bag of pretzels he brought for lunch before he sauntered over the empty chair to YN's left. "You okay?" his eyes bounced between the new printouts and YN, who was fidgeting under his gaze. "How's the coding thing going?" He pulled out the chair before taking a seat, resting his arm on the table as he swung his body around to face YN's side. His cheek rested on his shoulder, and YN could feel that 100% of his attention was entirely on her.
"It's going." YN shrugged, drawing in all her strength to ask her question; his intense stare made it difficult. She leaned back, resting against the back of her chair, folding her arms across her chest before turning her head to meet his gaze. "We are at the end of it. The school wants to see a working program by Monday morning." She bit her lip as her right hand reached out to fiddle with the folded corner of one of the pages. YN could feel Dustin freezing up on her right in anticipation of her question. "W-would it be okay if…at Hellfire tonight..." Shifting her attention from Eddie back to the printouts in front of her. "If I sat in?" YN's eyes darted to Eddie to watch him draw a sharp breath to respond as he sat back. Not wanting to let him convince her it was a terrible idea, YN quickly continued. "I won't be in the way, and I won't distract the guys. I just need Dustin to double-check my work towards the night's end. You guys have breaks, right? It won't pull away from your game, I promise. If you don't want me there, I can work in the –" All the points she had been mentally practicing all morning during her classes, words tumbled out in a panicked rush. YN could feel the anxiety bubbling up in her chest, and her very core started to shake, threatening to overwhelm her.
"Woah, hey, hey." Eddie's eyes were worried as he searched her face, watching the panic build up. He reached over and gently placed his larger hand on top of hers. The metal chains holding the broken zipper on his jacket sleeve clattered against the table's surface. She could feel the roughness of his fingertips from years of playing guitar as they brushed the back of her hand and fingers. His thumb slid between the paper and her fingertips, giving the poor crumpled and folded corners a break before they disintegrated from her fidgeting. "It's okay, YN. It would be great to have you there."
"R-Really?" YN pulled her hand away, tucking it close to her chest, hoping Eddie didn't feel her shaking. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to hide the blush that blossomed across her cheeks from his touch and close proximity.
"Uh, yeah" A soft, kind smile played across his lips as he chuckled and leaned back, letting his hand that had been abandoned on the printout fall to his lap. "I, uh, been meaning to ask if you wanted to check out the game for a while anyways." His attention fell to his hands in his lap as he started to break apart some pretzels through the closed sandwich bag. "All I ask is that you save any questions until after I'm done narrating a scene for the guys."
"So no interruptions at all?" YN rolled her head so she could feel the tension leaving her body
None" Eddie's eyes sparkled with excitement. His lips attempted to hide the wide grin that was trying to break through.
"What if your seat was on fire?" YN giggled.
"Let me burn, baby." Eddie chuckled, shaking his head for added emphasis, the wide goofy grin finally breaking through. YN's heart skipped a beat at his use of 'baby.' "If you have any questions about what's happening in the game, save them until after the session, and I'll be happy to answer them for you, 'kay?"
"No problem. Not sure how much I'll be able to pay attention. I'll be pretty focused –"
"Well, I'll just have to add an extra flair to my storytelling to pull your attention to me."
Jeff snorted, and Grant choked on the sandwich he was eating at lunch; YN thought the group had been too quiet. This was the reason they had been listening to the entire conversation.
"Extra flair?" Gareth asked incredulously, "What else are you gonna do? Put sparklers in your butt?"
"If that's what it takes to get Duckie's attention" Eddie flashed a smile as he gave YN a wink.
For the rest of the lunch, Eddie didn't take up his usual seat at the end of the table. Still, he stayed by YN, watching over her shoulder as she worked in-between eating and table conversation. He had even opened her coke for her after watching YN struggle with the can, flipping between code pages and conversing with Dustin. It was the quietest she had seen Eddie, only one outburst the whole lunchtime, a new record for him, according to Gareth.
———
A soft metal on metal knocking interrupted YN's focus. She had just finished punching in the command for the computer to compile the program code. Turning her head, she saw it was Eddie, he had knocked on the door, and it had been the sound of his ring hitting the metal door frame with his right hand. Using his right arm as a brace, Eddie leaned against the doorway, and in his left hand, his D&D book and well-used black binder tapped against his leg. "You, uh, almost done, YN?"
YN felt guilty for all the fuss she had made at lunch about interrupting Hellfire night. Together with Dustin, they pinpointed the problem earlier in the night, so the bulk of her time was spent in the classroom where the computer science club computer lived. Punching in all of the changes, double and triple checking her work as she went. YN had barely spent time in the drama room where Hellfire was playing.
"Oh, you guys are done?" Yn rubbed her eyes as she pushed herself away from the computer desk. "What time is it?"
"Around 8:00, we wrapped up 20 minutes ago and just finished cleaning up." Eddie pushed off the door frame swinging his left leg in a kick as he stepped further into the computer room. The arm that rested on the doorframe fell to his side as he walked away from the entrance towards the computer desk. "You were missed at hellfire, Duckie." Eddie teased as he sat on the corner of the desk; his eyes bounced between the very clearly exhausted YN with droopy eyelids and the computer screen.
"I'm so sorry I thought it was going to take longer to figure it out, but –" YN's words started to slur together.
"It's okay; there is always next Friday to indoctrinate you into The Cult of Vecna." Eddie's voice was low and soft, his eyes searching YN's face as his head tilted in concern over her current state.
"Wait, I thought you guys played Dungeons and Dragons?" YN looked up at him through squinted, tired eyes.
"Yeah, uh, Cult of Vecna is the name of the– " Eddie's eyes dropped to his feet. He kicked at some dust bunnies on the classroom floor before looking back up to YN's sleepy face, "It doesn't matter. I'll explain it to you before next Friday. Common, I'll walk you out."
———
Eddie grabbed YN's bookbag from her shoulder as he swung her jacket so the hood hooked onto her head. Their soft, tired laughs echoed through the empty hallway heading towards the parking lot. The silence wasn't awkward or felt like a void that needed to be filled. It was calm and warm, both of them finding an unfamiliar comfort from simply being in the other's company. Eddie took a few extra steps to reach the heavy metal door leading to the parking lot first. With a loud metal-on-metal bang, he pushed the latch open and with a hint of a bow and a fluid sweeping motion of his arms, he directed YN through the door first.
Walking through the door into the parking lot YN and Eddie caught sight of Jeff, Grant and Gareth leaning against Jeff's car in conversation. Getting closer, Eddie called out, "You guys haven't left yet?
"No, we've been waiting to see if you needed another jump or not." Gareth called back, his attention pulled from Eddie as he watched YN stumble toward the bike rack.
"My mighty steed is fine; I got a new battery for her last week." Sensing YN's absence from his side Eddie dramatically whirled around to see where she was headed. "Where're you going, YN?"
"My bike is over here." YN yawned as she pulled out her keys to unlock her bike.
"Nope, absolutely not. You can barely stand. It's freezing. What were you thinking? Riding your bike in November" Eddie rushed over to YN's bike, placing one hand on the handlebar while attempting to brush her hand away from the would-be death trap.
"When I biked this morning, it was clear I'm fine." YN bent over her bike, unlatching the lock and twisting it back around the middle bar for storage
"Yuh-huh, and it's 46 degrees, raining and dark as hell now1." Eddie got onto the bike a peddled it over to the back of his van. YN followed, dragging her feet with a pout but was too tired to fight as she watched him toss her bike into the back of his van. "I'm driving you home. No arguing Duckie." Eddie placed his hand on the middle of her back and gently guided her to the passenger side. Opening the door, he let his hand trail down along her back and then her arm before gently holding her hand. "In you go." Using his hand as support, YN pushed herself onto the worn black leather seat.
Eddie shut the door as soon as YN was settled; He turned around to face the guys as he started to walk around the front of his van. "Go home and think about the mess you made tonight, you gaggle of murder hobos."
"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Gareth called back to Eddie. The three of them waited until Eddie closed the door behind him before they started to frantically wave and call to her. YN stared blankly at the group, taking a few long minutes until what they were trying to tell her clicked. She twisted around to grab the buckle, shaking it in front of her face so the guys could see that she listened to their warning. Even from a distance, she could see their sigh of relief as they all flashed thumbs up before turning around and piled into Jeff's car.
"They, uh, don't like my driving." Eddie's deep voice cut through the silence as he threw the van into gear and ripped out of the school parking lot.
After providing directions to her house, YN slowly released her death grip on the door handle. Since they were going straight for most of the trip, YN grew accustomed to Eddie's speed. Eddie had been fiddling with the heater, turning it up as high as it would go and attempted to direct most of the warm air towards YN.
"How much explaining are you going to have to do when you, uh, get home? Being dropped off by the town freak won't go over well. I won't be shot at by a pissed off over-protective father or brother, will I?"
A soft chuckle escaped past YN's lips. "No, I live alone." Eddie reached for the volume dial to turn down the metal music blasting through the speakers; he remained silent, waiting for the rest of the explanation. "Last year, my parents were posted to the Embassy in East Berlin. I'm 18 and want to go to MIT next year, so it just made sense to finish high school stateside. My mum grew up here, so she knows some of the folks around town and gets them to check in every so often. It works." YN looked down at her hands in her lap as they fiddled with the hem of her jacket sleeve before looking over to Eddie. His profile was lit up as they drove by the occasional street light. "Um...Thank you for tonight, Eddie. Agreeing to let me crash Hellfire and for also driving me home."
"Crashing hellfire?" Eddie snorted. "You were barely there, Duckie."
"Is that a hint of disappointment in your voice Munson?" YN let her cheek fall to her left shoulder. The last remnant of energy was quickly leaving her body.
"Maybe," A crooked smile spread across Eddie's face as his eyes flickered to YN, "I'm always on the hunt for, Uhm, new players."
"Ah." YN couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice; for a moment, she let herself hope it was her he was excited to have at Hellfire and not just new blood for the club.
Eddie's grip on his steering wheel shifted around nervously. "If you, uh, wanted, we can meet up this weekend, and I … I can walk you through the game and campaign so far?"
"Really?" Between the excitement of hanging out with Eddie without the rest of the group and the exhaustion, YN's response came out like a whisper.
Eddie let out a soft chuckle as he pulled his van into the driveway of YN's house2 and put it into 'park.' "Yeah, We can order pizza or something. Make a night of it tomorrow." Eddie turned off the ignition, opened his door, and jumped out to pull YN's bike out of the back.
YN got out of the van and walked around the front to the garage door, unlocking it with one of the keys off her keychain. Eddie rolled up on the bike to meet her as She lifted the door open to let him through. "Okay, I'll bake some of my world-famous cookies too." She started to walk towards Eddie as he got off the bike and leaned it against the wall of the garage of her parents' small house. They had purchased it years ago with the hopes of it being their forever home once they had retired from Government work. It had been rented out up until last summer when YN moved in.
"Cookies?" Eddie laced his finger through the belt loops at his side as he took a sheepish step forward, a mischievous smirk on his face with an accusatory glance. "What will be in these, uh, cookies?" Eddie teased as they both walked back to the garage door. She reached out and lightly jabbed him in the stomach.
"Chocolate chips and salt flakes on top, that's it." YN laughed as she watched Eddie duck back under the garage door.
"Hehe, alright, I'll come by tomorrow around 6?"
"Okay." YN and Eddie both reached for opposite sides of the garage door handle, smiling back at one another. YN thought about wrapping her arms around Eddie's waist for a hug good night, but before she could move in, she found herself pulling down on the garage door to close it back up. "Good Night, Eddie," was all she managed to get out before the garage door stopped on the cement floor.
"Sleep tight, Duckie." Eddie's muffled voice called out from the other side. Followed by soft metal-on-metal tink as Eddie's brushed his palm against the garage door before turning around to head home. His head was swimming with thoughts about tomorrow night.
References
“November 15, 1985 Weather History in Indianapolis Indiana, United States.” Indianapolis November 15, 1985 Historical Weather (Indiana, United States) - Weather Spark, https://weatherspark.com/h/d/14754/1985/11/15/Historical-Weather-on-Friday-November-15-1985-in-Indianapolis-Indiana-United-States#metar-07-00.
👀
#eddie x reader#eddie x you#eddie x y/n#eddie munson#eddie munson my beloved#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson slow burn#stranger things season 4#six months will never be enough#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x you#joseph quinn#fanfic#soft eddie munson#eddie munson x female reader
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LGBTQ-owned bookstores have been around for decades. Founded in 1973 in the City of Brotherly Love, Philly AIDS Thrift @ Giovanni’s Room—honoring James Baldwin’s queer classic—is perhaps the oldest surviving LGBTQ and feminist bookstore in America. Charis Books and More, in Decatur, Georgia, was launched a year later. A Room of One's Own has been a fixture in downtown Madison, Wisconsin since 1975, and Chicago’s Women and Children First was started in 1979 by two women who fell in love as students at the University of Illinois.
These stores are more than shops to browse for books; they are hubs for both entertainment and enlightenment, meeting grounds for hearts and minds. They are, above all, vital community spaces.
-Michelle Hart, "53 LGBTQ-Owned Bookstores You Can Be Proud to Support, published June 22, 2021
This awesome list includes 53 bookstores in 23 states across the USA. I don't know about Ya'll but I can't WAIT to check them out. The link has them sorted by state; here's a list of all of them, alphabetical.
1977 Books (Birmingham, Alabama)
All She Wrote (Somerville, Massachusetts)
Another Read Through (Portland, Oregon)
Antigone Books (Tuscon, Arizona)
Astoria Bookshop (Queens, New York)
Beausoliel Books (Lafayette, Louisiana)
Big Blue Marble Books (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)
Black Garnet Books (Minneapolis, Minnesota)
Bluestockings Bookstore (New York, New York)
Bookish (Atlanta, Georgia)
BookWoman (Austin, Texas)
Burdock Book Collective (Montgomery, Alabama)
Bureau of General Services - Queer Division (New York, New York)
Charis Books and More (Decatur, Georgia)
Dog Ear Books (Russellville, Arkansas)
Dog Eared Books (San Francisco, California)
East End Books (Provincetown, Massachusetts)
Firestorm Books and Coffee (Asheville, North Carolina)
Foggy Pines Books (Boone, North Carolina)
Hello Again (Cocoa Village, Florida)
Here's the Story (Union, New Jersey)
The Irreverent Bookworm (Minneapolis, Minnesota)
Kismet Books (Verona, Wisconsin)
King's Books (Tacoma, Washington)
Kona Bay Books (Kailua, Hawaii)
Kramers (Washington DC)
Lavender Library (Sacramento, California)
Left Bank Books (St. Louis, Missouri)
Left Bank Books (Seattle, Washington)
Lit. on Fire Books (Peoria, Illinois)
Loyalty Bookstores (Silver Spring, Maryland and Washington DC)
Montana Book Company (Helena, Montana)
Omnivore Books on Food (San Francisco, California)
One Grand Books (Narrowsburg, New York)
Philly AIDs Thrift at Giovanni's Room (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)
Outwords Books (Milwaukee, Wisconsin)
Rakestraw Books (Danville, California)
Red Emma's Bookstore Coffeehouse (Baltimore, Maryland)
The Ripped Bodice (Los Angeles, California)
Rofhiwa Book Cafe (Durham, North Carolina)
A Room of One's Own (Madison, Wisconsin)
Rust Belt Books (Buffalo, New York)
The Salt Eaters (Inglewood, California)
A Seat at the Table (Elk Grove, California)
Tombolo Books (St. Petersburg, California)
Tubby and Coo's Mid-City Book Shop (New Orleans, Louisiana)
Unabridged Books (Chicago, Illinois)
Under the Umbrella (Salt Lake City, Utah)
Village Books (Bellingham, Washington)
Violet Valley (Water Valley, Mississippi)
W. Whitman Books (Middleburgh, New York)
Women and Children First (Chicago, Illinois)
Womencrafts (Provincetown, Massachusetts)
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Issue #3 is heading to print!
You can find it in one of these fine infoshops:
So-called “Canada”
Camas Books, Victoria
Spartacus Books, Vancouver
Alleged “United States”
ABC No Rio Zine Library, NYC
Monkeywrench Books, Austin TX
Wooden Shoe Books, Philadelphia PA
Sporeprint, Columbus OH
Táala Hooghan, Flagstaff AZ
Longhaul Infoshop, Berkeley CA
SubRosa, Santa Cruz CA
CMC, Gainesville FL
Firestorm Books & Coffee, Asheville NC
Supposedly “United Kingdom”
Cowley Club, Brighton
ACE, Edinburgh
Code Name “New Zealand”
Freedom Shop, Wellington*
At 36 pages and 118 copies, it’s the most fire yet!!
(If you know an infoshop we don’t, hit us up and we’ll see if they’ll carry the zine!)
*postal system permitting
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FireSable
[ the sequel to MoonStorm ]
Warnings: death, hyunjin exhibits yandere behavior, mentions of smut, suggestiveness, superhero reader, supervillain hyunjin.
Part 1: (MoonStorm)
You twisted and turned, wide awake. You couldn’t fall asleep.
You’d woken up in your bed this morning, having no idea how you got there. The last thing you remember was falling asleep in Hyunjin’s arms, your pussy dripping with his cum.
You hadn’t moved out of your apartment all day, feeling as mindless as a zombie. You didn’t even bother turning on the news, because you knew your superhero alias would be referred to about a thousand times...and at the moment, you really didn’t feel like much of a hero.
You closed your eyes, willing yourself to sleep. It took about another hour for sleep to finally overtake your senses.
•••
You sat on the bench, reading your book in silence, headphones playing indie music in your ears.
Suddenly the book was ripped out of your hands, and you looked to your side only to see Hwang Hyunjin sitting there with a shit-eating grin on his face. You frowned.
“Give that back, Hyunjin!”
He raised his arm high, so that you couldn’t reach it. You leaned over, desperately trying to reach for the book, but ultimately failing.
“I hate you.” You mumbled under your breath, and he grabbed your chin, tilting it so that you were looking up at him. You made a face of mock anger, scrunching up your nose like a mad bunny, and his heart clenched with affection.
“Come on, you know that isn’t true. You love me.”
You rolled your eyes. “I don’t.”
“You do.”
You didn’t deny it this time, leaning a little closer. Momentarily distracted, Hyunjin’s arm lowered a little, and you took the opportunity to snatch the book out of his hands.
He groaned.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You sneaky little shit.”
You winked.
•••
Two weeks had gone by, and you had tried your best to go about a normal life. Your suit lay forgotten in the back of your closet.
You had a coffee cup in your hands, walking back to your apartment and taking little sips as you strode along the street.
Perhaps trying to be a normal person for so long had really taken a toll on your superior reflexes, because you weren’t aware that you were being followed until you were pulled into an alley.
Before you finally regained your senses, and swung a fist back to punch, the man holding you took off his face mask.
You sighed as you stared into Hyunjin’s eyes, so close to yours as he pinned you against the wall.
“Seriously, can’t you leave me alone? I knew you staying quiet while I take some time for myself was short-lived.”
Hyunjin pushed his hair back, anger evident in his eyes.
“You didn’t come by last Friday, or the one before that. I tried my best to wait and give you some space, but I can’t. I fucking can’t.”
He leaned in to press his lips to yours feverishly, and you fought for all of a second before you gave in, pulling him closer with your arms around his neck.
He hooked an arm around your thigh, pulling it up and pressing his clothed crotch to yours, softly grinding as you let out a series of whimpers.
“Fuck. Let’s go back to my place, now.”
Your brain snapped back into attention and you pushed him away. He looked confused.
You collected yourself. Your lips were tingling delightfully and you were feeling a little woozy from the way he’d made you feel...but you steeled yourself.
“H-hyunjin...I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.”
He shook his head. “What do you mean? You will. You have to.”
You crossed your arms. “No. This is wrong...and I should have stopped it a long time ago.”
Hyunjin looked around, disbelief taking over his features. He scoffed, and looked back at you. “Y/n. You have no choice. Remember our agreement? You don’t wanna know what I’d do to this city if you left me.”
“Hyunjin, I’m not a fucking prostitute! I’m a superhero, and lately I don’t feel like one at all. Most superheroes fight their nemeses...I sell my body to him, suffering just so my city can be safe.”
There were tears prickling your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. You remembered your dad’s face, telling you that he was proud of you for being bold, standing up and putting things right.
If only he could see you now. He’d kill himself with shame.
Hyunjin’s voice shook as he spoke. “So...”
You looked back up at him.
“So that’s it? That was the only reason you kept coming to my lair? You were ‘selling your body’ to me?”
There was hurt written across his face. You frowned. “Well...”
He clenched his hands into fists. “All that time, I was forcing you? You didn’t harbour any feelings whatsoever?”
“Hyunjin...”
He didn’t say anything. His glare was so icy that it cut through you. He turned...and in a second he was gone.
You leaned back against the wall, the tears finally spilling out. You cried for so long that the sun had set by the time you left that alley, trudging back to your dingy apartment for another sleepless night.
•••
You woke up to the smell of smoke. You shot up, scrambling off your bed and peering out of the window sill.
In the distance, you saw the smoke, billowing endlessly as the State Library burned.
You had a feeling that you knew just how that fire had come about. You felt like screaming in frustration as you bolted to your closet, digging around as you finally found your suit. Pulling it on hastily, you climbed out of the window, and quickly ran across the roofs of the buildings, hoping you would get there in time.
When you finally reached, you crouched so you could see just what was happening. A large crowd had gathered outside. No fire department in sight.
You felt helpless. What exactly were you supposed to do in this situation? For the first time in your life, you wished you had hydro-based powers instead.
You looked up and saw a full moon framed against the night sky.
Muttering under your breath, you jumped off the building, landing on the pavement gracefully.
You ignored the cheers and whistles caused by your arrival, making your way into the building with determination set in your eyes. Thankfully, it seemed like no one was left inside.
You found a staircase. The flames raged all around you, but you couldn’t have been bothered less. You quickly ran upstairs, making your way to the second floor.
There was a section off to the side of the second floor that housed books that were banned in other countries.
•••
You leaned against the bookshelf, flipping through a book that was apparently banned in 50 countries. You desperately tried to tune out the incessant whining beside you.
“I’m so boreddddd.” Hyunjin said.
“Well I didn’t force you to come here, so shut your trap.” You snapped, trying to focus on the words gracing the pages in front of you.
“Y/n, let’s do something else. Come on please, this is so mind-numbing. Why do you even wanna read these?” He picked a book and scoured through it.
“So these are all banned books?”
You nodded.
“Huh. You’d think that a banned book would be more interesting than this.”
You rolled your eyes, grabbing the book out of his hands and observing it. It was a radical politics book.
“Well, in some countries the rules are a lot more stricter. Banned books aren’t all just satanic bibles.”
You turned back to the book that you’d been looking through before. “And to answer your earlier question...it gives me a little bit of a rush I guess. Knowing that this is something I’m not supposed to do, something I’d get punished for if I was in another countr- woah!”
Hyunjin had ripped the book out of your hands, pressing you to the bookshelf, body up against you.
“I can think of a few things we shouldn’t be doing right now...things which would get you punished.”
He leaned closer, nosing at your neck. You squeaked in shock as he pulled away to look at you with dark eyes.
“Unless you’d rather get punished by me than some random librarian.”
And with that, he brushed his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You didn’t resist, kissing him back almost immediately. You opened your mouth slightly, letting him slide his tongue in.
Butterflies filled your stomach as his hand made his way under your shirt, sneaking up your bare skin as your breath hitched.
“Just what do you kids think you’re doing?”
You leaned away to see the strict librarian lady with her hands on her hips. “Out, now!”
You giggled as Hyunjin took your hand, pulling you as he ran.
•••
You walked between the bookshelves, flames licking at you as you passed. Standing at the end, you saw him.
He was in his supervillain get-up, his arms behind his back as he waited for you to get close enough to hear him.
“Firestorm. You’re here.”
“What the fuck, Hyunjin?!”
“Ah ah ah! It’s Moonsable.” His eyes were covered by his mask, but you saw his mouth twist into a smirk.
“Remember this place? We had our first kiss here.”
You wish you didn’t. You wish you didn’t remember the way it had made you feel when he’d put his arms around you, the fireworks that had gone off in your mind as he’d moved his lips against yours.
“Years later, here we are! How do you like my little idea? There’s nothing you can do to help in this case...your powers are utterly useless.”
“Hyunjin, you have to stop doing this. I’ll...do whatever you want. Anything. Just please...don’t hurt more innocent people.”
He rolled his eyes...or at least you thought he did, from his demeanor.
“No one was hurt. I made sure of that.”
“Then what was the point of all this?”
“To show you the lengths I would go for you. I’d set every building in this city on fire if I have to. Anything to prove to you what I feel.”
You felt your head hurt. “What do you feel, Hyunjin?” You asked, voice breaking. “Cause I truly can’t understand. If you felt anything for me, you wouldn’t do this. You wouldn’t go out of your way to make me utterly miserable.”
Hyunjin tilted his head. He didn’t say anything for a while. “Y/n...I just....I don’t know how to live without you.” His voice was quiet now, softer. “I don’t know how I’d go about my life without you in it. I go completely mad if I can’t see you even for a few days...never getting to see you again sounds horrific. Sometimes...you have to be prepared to take drastic measures.” You bowed your head, unable to speak. You didn’t know how to reply.
“Hyunjin...I miss you.”
“Huh?”
“I miss you. The person who was always there for me in the morning with a cup of coffee, the one who let me drag him to libraries even though he didn’t care for books. The one who was my friend.”
You walked a little closer. “The one who I lo...” you trailed off, not wanting to continue. “You’re not that person anymore. When I got back, I was expecting to see my best friend again...not a super-villain. I feel like...like I don’t even know you anymore.”
Suddenly, you heard sirens outside. Good. The fire department was here.
You turned to look at him. He was still frowning.
“Y/n, just know this. I’ll do anything to keep you beside me. Anything! And if I can’t have you, I’ll make sure no one can.”
You smiled sadly as you found a window to jump out of. “Friday. 8 PM.”
He watched as you disappeared into the night.
•••
As you made your way back, your mind was filled with conflicting thoughts...but one thought stood out brighter than the others.
It scared you.
The inbuilt radio in your suit crackled as a news reporter babbled on and on about your heroics. It irked you because you didn’t know if you deserved any of the praise.
As you reached your home, you saw the portrait in your living room of your family. You were sitting in between your parents, grinning toothily. Your dad gazed down at you, his eyes big and filled with hope and the surety that you would grow up to make him proud.
The tears came too easily these days.
•••
It was Friday, 8:10 PM. Hyunjin sat in his chair, his eyes glued onto the CCTV camera feedback as he waited for you to come.
He had been thinking a lot for the past few days. Thinking about how he was in love with you, and couldn’t ever be without you. He needed you to be in his life forever...the words you’d almost said at the burning library had told him that you might actually return his feelings after all.
Hyunjin spun around in his chair, closing his eyes as he fantasized about a future with you. A future in which the two of you would move to another country, one which has never even heard of a Firestorm or Moonsable. The two of you would get a big house, maybe one on the beach.
He imagined you with a swollen belly, the mother of his baby. The image of a tiny baby boy with his eyes and your nose. He imagined him to have his father’s charisma and his mother’s strength and determination. Would the baby also inherit his parents’ powers?
Hyunjin’s mind conjured up a starry night sky with a bright moon. You were both on the balcony, kissing under the stars, your son safely tucked in his crib.
Minutes later, he realized he was crying. Just thinking about being with you forever filled the empty hole in his heart that he’d hoped he could fill by committing crimes and being feared.
That was it. He was going to change...for you. He would never commit a crime ever again, and he would properly confess to you tonight. He’d tell you how happy you made him, how ‘forever’ with you was all he wanted...and that he wanted to make it work.
•••
A second later, the door burst open and you were walking over to him.
“Y/n...” he started to speak, but was cut off by you climbing onto his lap and pressing your lips to his, effectively shutting him up. His hands naturally went around your waist, melting into the kiss. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, kissing him passionately.
He hugged you close as you moved your lips to his cheek, then to his forehead. You pressed your lips to his other cheek, and finally came back down to his lips. His hand came up to cradle your cheek and you nuzzled into it, eyes staring into his.
“Baby...” he whispered against your mouth as he thrusted up slightly, making you moan as you felt yourself lose control. You shook your head, trying to keep a clear and focused mind so you could do what you came here to do.
“Y/n...there’s something I need to tell y-“
Blinding pain.
It took him a few seconds to realize what had happened.
He looked at your face, streaked with tears as you burst out crying, your face wrecked with emotion as Hyunjin’s gaze drifted to the knife stuck in his chest.
The world slowed down for a moment. The pain caused by the knife was not nearly as hurtful as the tears that were running down you as you pressed your face to the other side of his chest, your hand clutching on to his shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
•••
Hyunjin smiled as he let his fingers ghost over your cheek. You were lying in his bed in his dorm, his roommate having gone out to spend the night with his girlfriend. In a few days, you were set to move across the country, for a job opportunity that you would be stupid to pass up.
“You’re my best friend, Y/n. I’m really going to miss you.”
“We’ve kissed too many times to keep calling ourselves that. But it’s true, Hyunjin. You’re my best friend too. And don’t worry, I’ll call!”
He chuckled as he let his finger drag down your cheek, down to your neck.
“I don’t even know what we are at this point. But we’re next to each other. We have each other right now, and that’s all that matters.”
You giggled before quickly pressing a kiss to his lips and pulling back. “Yup! Best friends for eternity.”
He stuck out his pinkie, waving it in your face. “Pinkie promise that you’ll stay with me forever. That we’ll never abandon each other.”
You linked your pinkie with his.
“Promise.”
•••
“Y/n...” He chuckled painfully. “You always...” He groaned. The blood was seeping out at a steady pace, soaking both of your suits.
“You always find a way to surprise me.”
You brushed the tears away. “I had to...I had to do this.” You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself rather than him.
“You were getting out of control. I couldn’t stand by and watch as you destroyed the city I love.”
It was getting harder for him to breathe. He wanted to tell you...even if he was dying, he wanted to let you know how he felt. But talking was too difficult.
You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, leaning back and biting your lip. There was pure agony carved in your heart. The world felt like it had lost all colour.
“I love you, Hwang Hyunjin. We’ll meet again, one day...and circumstances will be different.”
The last thing Hyunjin thought of before the world went black was a little boy with his eyes and your nose, a shelf stacked with banned books...and a broken promise.
#i cant tell if this is good or bad#Hyunjin angst#Hyunjin fluff#Hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin angst#hwang hyunjin fluff#hwang hyunjin smut#skz smut#stray kids smut#skz#stray kids#kpop imagines
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Hello: Countess Nemo Bathory 🦇
Here are my selections:
Sookie Stackhouse
Scarlet Cherie
Ingrid Dracula
Prince Anton Voytek
Fair thee well! 🦇🦇🦇 *Bat hugs*
*cackles at the name* WHY YES. THE BLOOD COUNTESS INDEED.
*puts Karliene's "The Blood Countess" and relish in vamps*
SO, FOR THE ASKS. Sookie Stackhouse: If you could own any business as a vampire, what would you choose and why?
If I could own anything, as an entrepreneur vampire, I would be super boring and just own a coffee shop/ tea house, open 24/7 (because as a vampire I could run the night shift easily), filled with books and nice music, where the people can enter and be clad in the historical garments (that could be provided directly by the tea house. After centuries of being around, one had all the time to collect a humongous quantity of clothes).
Scarlet Cherie: If you could control any element which would it be?
UH. UH. THIS ONE IS TOUGH. Because I do favour two elements above anything else. uhm. Ok, I think I would go with water. If I could control any element, I would go with Water. I already have too much Fire in my soul, I would run the risk of setting myself on fire!! 😅😅🤣🤣 I need Water to counterbalance the firestorm in my heart!
Ingrid Dracula: If you could be king/queen of all the vampires would you, or would you rather stay in the shadows?
LEMME STAY IN MY SHADOWS, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. WITH ALL THE RESPONSIBILITIES THAT COME FROM A POSITION OF POWER? AMONG VAMPIRES? WHO AM I, ONE OF THE CAMARILLA?? I am going to be a hermit vampire, hiding away by the seashore, collecting seashells and reading books for all eternity, thank you very much!! WHO NEEDS THE STRESS.
Prince Anton Voytek: What skill or hobby would you like to perfect if you had eternity?
Ohhh...having an Eternity ahead of me, I would spend most of my time perfecting my art skills. I would try to master every single technique, studying from the greatest artist (hopefully some of them are Vampires themselves, so I can learn from the source directly) and would surround myself in artistic beauty. I would probably collect so many artworks from my favourite artistic movements, and keep everything in that cottage by the sea I mentioned in the previous question.
THANK YOU FOR THE QUESTIONS, GIULIETTA!! <3 I HAD FUN WITH THESE!!
--Nemo
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Chapter ???
(I have become a slave to my own creative whims on this stupid crossover and need to scream into the void so just take this draft since it’s more comprehensible and easier to skip than a fuckload of bullet points. Look, I have a general plot now and its taking a real shape and I’m so mad)
Luxord (well, that’s what he was still intent on calling himself. Much like Xigbar he grew too attached to the name) sat himself down at the nearest plush blue barstool in the jazz lounge, card fiddling between his two fingers. How long had it been since he’d felt like this? He’d been a Nobody for so long, playing his part to a faceless master, watching the eternal servant to the Master of Masters...for how long? Don’t get Luxord wrong, there was a visceral enjoyment to running around Castle Oblivion while Xigbar continued to be none the wiser, but it felt good just to enjoy a gin and juice without dealing with muted emotions.
And, he reminded himself, no more bulky overcoat to keep himself safe from corruption. He had the choice to blend into his actual environment. Or, more likely, fit his aesthetic. Maroon sport jacket and tie, straight out of someone’s fantasy of Las Vegas. Something perfect for sitting in a lounge featuring a live band filled with people pointedly not infected with malaria, playing an actual jazz song. Couldn’t get that luxury back with those pirates, much as that world was his go-to in those days.
Then again, the drinks were cheaper. And, unlike now, he actually knew the generalities of Xigbar’s plan. If that black box didn’t contain whatever was left to return Xigbar’s master, it was at best a clever ruse to keep the other pieces of Xehanort busy while Xigbar put together the pieces to bring his true master back.
Well, you can’t win them all.
“Pretty abnormal to see a Brit come in here. They generally keep to the more touristy places up in the red light district,” the bartender said pleasantly. She was a pleasant looking woman, long dark hair braided down her back and large, round glasses behind brown eyes. Wearing an apron over what looked like a pantsuit.
Another boon: the bartenders are much cleaner now.
“Then again, nothing’s quite returned to normal yet after the whole Phantom Thief fiasco.”
Luxord raised an eyebrow suspiciously. He was a gambling man, after all. Kept his cards close. This was no exception. Phantom Thieves were not something that casually popped up. If nothing else, it was worth the inquiry.
His gaze swooped the lounge. In the back corner, secluded to themselves sat a young androgynous person in a dark blue cap and peacoat, so quiet as they tapped away on a laptop they might just disappear into the hazy blue of the wall had it not been for the singular empty glass on their table. Two patrons, a young stern woman with silver hair and an old man in a fedora, debated philosophy over a table littered in drinks. Two others, obviously tourists if their pallor skin indicated anything, in dark sunglasses played billiards. An empty lounge, mostly. Thank God for off days, or else he’d worry about Xigbar having ears somewhere. He shifted in his seat, letting him lean closer on the dark wood of the bar and asked, “Phantom Thief fiasco?”
“Did you not hear about it? A whole string of high profile celebrities and politicians, all confessing to various crimes because of some seventeen year old kid thinking he was changing the world. And, on top of that, this is the same kid who our former prime minister claimed assaulted him! A scrawny high schooler, calling himself a Phantom Thief! Can you believe?” She shook her head, holding back a laugh.
“And it made national news?” Luxord asked doubtfully.
Truth be told, in all the iterations of Japan he’s visited over the years - both in his stay with Organization XIII and before - he hasn’t been to this specific iteration for longer than his memory can adequately say. But matters like that he struggled to imagine the government wanting such a controversy getting out of its borders.
“Eh, you know how it goes. Kids on the internet go crazy for that anti-capitalism, vigilante rogue bullshit. Guess we’re lucky the Americans were still flipping out over some gorilla or else Twitter would’ve been an absolute nightmare that year.”
He flashed the bartender a smile, the kind that indicated he appreciated the conversation, but he also had a drink to attend to. “Quite.”
The song shifted from whatever upbeat tune they were playing to something more somber. The old man in the fedora was up at the bar now, asking for two more cocktails and giving a bit of trivia at the same time.
He took another sip of his gin, running through what he knew once more. First, Xigbar was not Xigbar. Luxord knew that from the start. No one pulls two Keyblade wielders, Dandelions no less, from the first war as Nobodies and manages to strip them of their memory of such without knowledge of such. He’s lucky Xehanort was apparently a bigger fool than Luxord initially took him for, or else that would’ve tipped him off right away. But, unlike Xehanort or Xigbar, Luxord never moved until he knew he had a good deal.
Second, while Xigbar likely had the box, and acquisition of said box wasn’t great news for Luxord, Xigbar would not ever be able to find the Book of Prophecies. Xigbar, Luxu, he was smart after all. He’d know the best place to hide something is right under the searcher’s nose, and would know it would be somewhere in Radiant Garden. But while he was focused on kissing Xehanort’s ass, he never once thought to check someone. And taking a book from a child, the one remaining totem of his home before Radiant Garden? From the good master’s ward, no less? Why, such would get him thrown out of the castle immediately.
(There were moments Luxord worried Xigbar knew who exactly carried around the Book of Prophecies like his lifeline around the castle, and grew concerned the reason why Xemnas was so willing to consider a teenager as his second in command was Xigbar’s own meddling. But, if such were the case, he likely would have done more to stop Saix and Axel’s Castle Oblivion Massacre. His long con worked out in the end albeit in an unexpected fashion: illusions work well for hiding what you’re holding.)
Third, and most worryingly of all, the damn Foretellers were back. Theoretically, this was a point directly in Xigbar’s court. He was a Foreteller after all, albeit not the leading Foreteller. And all of the Foretellers worked directly for their master. However, in the past, the Foretellers have been incapable of working together the second hardship arises. If fortune fell in his favor, history would merely repeat itself. If it didn’t, it could be tricky.
He finished his drink. If there was any time to check how his deck was stacked, now was as good a time as any.
He swooped the card into the sleeve of his jacket, exchanging it for a different card from a different deck and letting it drop onto the table.
The Fool.
He swooped up the card and planted it back into his sleeve. In any other world, he’d blow it off and draw again. For matters like this, drawing the Fool meant literally anything. The beginning of a journey, with roads and challenges yet uncovered. A non-answer and a sign his tarot cards had enough of his shit for the day. But he wasn’t in any other world. He was in a world ruled by cruel gods and the humans that chose to surmount them. In a jazz lounge where all the walls looked to be the same dreamlike, hazy blue. No, this was a person.
A thief, if his intuition had anything to say about it.
“Ma’am, one more question. If you will.”
The bartender strolled over with an inquisitive look and grabbed his drink, topping off the gin and juice.
Funny enough, Luxord used to hate gin. He acquired a taste for it, spending days at a time in Port Royal, downing gin and tonics to keep the mosquitos (and the malaria, fuck that malaria) away.
“The supposed Phantom Thief high schooler. Do you know their name?”
The bartender frowned. “Can’t say I recall it, no. His lawyer fought hard to keep it out of the press. But if you want to talk to her, she’s right over there.” She pointed behind him, back to the table where the heated debate sounded like bickering. “Nijima. Absolute beast in the courtroom. Can’t believe she turned to defense.”
“And the man with her?”
“Sakura. He runs a tiny hole in the wall coffee shop down the way. Leblanc, I think? Named after a French painter, I think. Been there once or twice, but coffee’s not really my thing, you know?” She shrugged helplessly. “Anyway, they’ve come in together every now and then and end up arguing politics every time. You think he’s trying to get with her? Cause that’s what I’ve been thinking.”
Luxord fought back the urge to snort. He was too dignified for that. “Not the way they’re arguing. You said she was a defense attorney, yes? Probably just helping her blow off steam.”
“Eh, I think if he wanted to do that, he’d make her free coffee. I don’t know much about Sakura, but he pours a damn good cup of coffee.”
“Hm.” He pulled out his card from before and threaded it between his fingers. Old habits die hard, after all, and cards were an ancient habit of his. “Do you think he plays cards?”
She rolled her eyes. “Hell if I know. You’ll have to go to Leblanc yourself and ask him yourself.”
Approaching someone like Nijima for the name of a particular Phantom Thief wouldn’t yield results. Not if she was unwilling to name him for the media firestorm. However, if she’s getting drunk on the regular with this Sakura man, he might know. Might even tell Luxord, if he’s lucky. “I think I will, thank you.”
The bartender grinned. “No problem! Hope you enjoy your game!”
He grinned. The game was on. “I believe I will.”
#fanfiction#kh#luxord#kingdom hearts#persona#brylis dumb kh megacrossover#look LOOK i know this only has persona in it right now but that's because he's in persona world#it'd be a fucking kh crossover you think i'd limit myself to just one world?#also i liked to imagine the band went from playing whims of fate#to something like white host green room#y-you know#from the homestuck soundtracks
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2. Band Names and Personality Differences
A/N: Hello everyone and welcome back to the CALM Band!AU. So this is the second story chronologically! The first one can be found here, one shot can be found here, and the fic that started it all here! Thanks so much for reading and for your kind comments! As always, enjoy!
Word count: ~2500
Warnings: none
Also I can't get Keep Readings to work so I'm very sorry for the long post!
Logan double checked the address on his phone and glanced back at the building. Yes, this was the place. It had taken about two weeks for them to find a time where their schedules aligned and Patton had invited them over for a song writing session at his place. It was a nice apartment building, close to downtown, but not over the top.
Shrugging, Logan entered the building. He had sent Patton a text and a moment later, was buzzed in, where he then proceeded to the fifth floor.
“Hey Logan!” Patton called from the kitchen. “Come in and make yourself comfortable, I’m just finishing up.”
“Thank you.” The music producer hung his coat up and slipped off his shoes before fully entering the apartment.
It was lovely, homey place. The front hallway led to a spacious living room decked out in blue and white with huge windows overlooking the city. A keyboard, guitar, bass, mic, and music stand were set up against the wall facing the couch and coffee table. To his right was the kitchen, separated from the living room by a bar counter. Patton was just pulling a sheet of cookies out of the oven.
“I didn’t know everyone’s favorite, so I made a couple different types.”
“That’s very kind of you Patton. You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”
Patton just shrugged, a pleased, if somewhat shy smile on his face. “I like baking, so it was no problem.”
Logan sat on the couch, perched on the edge of it, trying to look comfortable, but absolutely failing at it. He was looking around, just kind of taking it all in, when the doorbell buzzed.
“Hello? Patton-cake, are you home?”
“Oh!” Patton quickly ran over to the PA. “My neighbor,” he quickly explained. “Hi Mrs. Foster.”
“Hi dear! Could you help me with my groceries? I think we can get them all in one load if you helped.”
“For sure! I’ll be right down.” He turned to Logan. “I’m sorry, but she just had hip surgery recently, and, anyways, this’ll be really quick! I’ll be right back.”
He was out the door before Logan could reply. Alright then. The music producer looked around and stood to go inspect the instruments.
The guitar was baby blue and obviously well loved. Logan had done some research on his fellow compatriots and knew that Patton had been playing ever since he was a kid. The bass looked newer as did the keyboard. There was a box of sheet music tucked underneath. A quick rifle through revealed loose sheet music of random pop songs, and beginner’s Disney, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Star Wars books. Patton seemed to dabble in piano at least.
Glancing at the door to make sure Patton hadn’t returned, he got up and pressed the power button and pressed a couple keys. Hm. Not a bad keyboard.
Logan shifted to be more directly in front of the keyboard and played a chord. His hands shifted and he began to improvise- he’d had a tune stuck in his head earlier and built off of that.
Logan loved piano. It had been his first instrument and he had never given it up, even when he got into electronic music and DJing. He loved that too, but he loved how logical and expressive the piano could be.
Hand over hand, he finished with a scale that ran the length of the keyboard and was left echoing, a pleasant resolution to the melody. He nodded in satisfaction and turned around only to nearly stumble back.
“Well don’t stop there,” Virgil said.
The other three were all sitting on the couch, Patton on the edge of his seat, Roman looking attentive, and Virgil actually looking at ease for once, guitar case leaning against the couch. Logan could feel a hot flush creeping up his cheeks.
“Logan that was so good!” Patton squeed.
“I say, you’ve been holding out on us! That was amazing!”
“Yes, well,” Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Ah, thank you, I suppose.”
“How long have you been playing?” Patton asked.
“Well, my whole life practically.”
“What song was that?” Roman asked as Patton got up to grab a cookie (or two) and a notebook.
“Oh, it, uh, doesn’t have a name. It was inspired by Rewrite the Stars, but I just kind of… made it up as I went.”
“We’re using it!” Roman yelled, jumping up. “That’s the melody of our first song and Logan’s going to play the piano for it.”
“Only if he wants to,” Virgil cut in. Logan made grateful eye contact, but now he was thinking.
“I suppose it makes sense. If we are trying to keep our identities a secret, then no one would suspect me of being the keyboard artist. Or of Patton being the bassist for that matter.”
“Being the basis of what?” Patton joked, settling down on the floor near Virgil. “Anyhoo, I’ve got my notebook and I’ve been working on some lyrics and I think they’d go really well with your melody, Logan.”
Virgil leaned over and pulled his electric guitar out of its case along with a mini amp and played an experimental riff. “Logan, you want to play that again?”
Logan nodded and played the same experimental starting cord, followed by another, before starting into the melody.
“Starting off alone, can make the road seem pretty long,
“Going, going, going, and before too long, you’re gone.”
Roman scooted over to join Patton on the floor, reading over his shoulder. Virgil joined in, rounding out the sound with some supportive chords.
“Thinking no one understands. No one can relate.
“You hope you don’t lose yourself, caught in a stalemate.”
“Calm down,” Patton sang. “You’re doing just fine. You’ve got others by your side!”
“Calm down,” Roman echoed. “It’ll be alright. Just keep on going, that’s how you’ll find the light!”
“When troubles come and things all change,” they sang together. “Calm down. You’re gonna be, you’re gonna be, gonna be alright.”
Logan took off, running through scales and complicated melodies, backing off to allow Virgil to knock out some impressive rifts.
“That’s all I’ve got so far,” Patton admitted.
“I love it,” Roman announced as the others trailed off and nodded supportively. Roman pulled out his phone and opened a note. “I came up with some lyrics myself. Could we somehow put them together?”
“We can always try!” Patton announced.
Two hours later, personality differences had become clear and, while they had their first song nearly done, and the lyrics for another one started, Patton called for an enforced cookie break, putting himself between Logan and Roman, who were trying not to fume, and Virgil sat on the bar counter, looking annoyed, trying hard to not quit then and there.
“I’m just saying-“
“Logan, shush. It’s cookie time.”
“I just don’t understand-“
“Roman. Eat your cookie.”
“Yes, Dad.” Roman muttered and munched on his cookie. Virgil snorted.
“These are really good Patton.”
“I’m glad you like them! And there’s plenty more, so help yourselves. Just don’t get a stomach ache!”
He really is like a dad, Virgil thought, swiping two more cookies. “Y’know,” he mused. “We still need a band name.”
“I’ve been thinking about that!” Roman cried. “What do you guys think of Dreamers Come True?”
Virgil gave a hmm of disapproval that accompanied Logan’s confused look.
“I don’t think so,” the producer said. “We need something more straight forward. Perhaps… Variety? Or Farrago?”
“Boring!” Roman moaned.
“Come on now Logan, we aren’t opera singers,” Patton joked.
Logan stared at him confusedly. “You realize ‘farrago’ is not Italian in origin. It does stem from Latin though, so I could see how you-“
“It’s a joke Pocket Protector.”
Patton seemed to sense things were heating up again. “Calm down guys.” Virgil spoke over them, before they could start arguing again.
“Maybe that should be our name,” he smirked. “Calm Down. We’ve said it enough today. And it is in one of our songs.”
Surprisingly, the others actually considered it.
“We should also probably have codenames,” Logan mused. “Calm is a four letter word and there are four of us. It would not be hard to make it an acronym.”
Patton immediately jumped in. “You could be Logic! ‘Cuz it kind of goes along with your DJ name and it starts with L and you’re the smart one in the group!” The others looked like they wanted to protest that last statement, then thought about it and realized he was right.
“And Roman, you could be Creativity since this was your idea in the first place! And your lyrics are really good.”
“I will admit, it has a nice ring to it,” Roman mused. “What about you two?”
Virgil raised his hand. “Just call me Anxiety. It’s how I feel 90% of the time anyway.”
Virgil caught Patton looking like he wanted to say something, but stopped. Instead he said, “So that leaves me with M.”
“Mom! You made us cookies.”
“No,” Logan said, shaking his head, Patton looking grateful. “Remember, people will be calling us these names.”
“What about… Morality?” Patton suggested. “I know it’s kinda weird, but-”
“I like it. It suits you somehow,” Roman said.
“You are the common sense in this group after all,” Virgil agreed. Again the others looked like they would protest, then realized there was no use. “So is this, like, official?”
“CALM it is!” Roman declared. The others nodded.
“Sweet. I’ve got to get going, but thanks again Patton. This was… fun, I guess.”
The others bid their farewells as Virgil left and the others left soon after as well. Roman’s head was buzzing as he- or, well, his driver- drove away, and he pulled up a drawing app on his phone. After all, they would need a logo and as Creativity, he figured he could get a head start.
Taglist: @celestial-firestorm @oddball-wqri @fioxypurr @kaytikitty @purplesoul-at-hogwarts @stop-it-anxiety ((I added you cuz you said you like to be tagged in things ok byeeee))
#band au#calm band au#sanders sides#brittany writes#thomas sanders#patton sanders#virgil sanders#roman sanders#logan sanders#sanders sides fanfic#sanders sides fanfiction#band!au#long post#i love you all
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This OR That
Bold which one your muse prefers.
Bold OR if Both
harry potter OR lord of the rings
coffee OR tea
day OR night
summer OR winter
rain OR shine
sports OR books
movies OR theatre
being liked OR being feared
having lots of acquaintances OR having a few close friends
reading OR writing
camping OR hotels
small towns OR big cities
cats OR dogs
texting OR talking on the phone
sleeping in OR getting up early
staying up late OR going to bed early
talking OR silence
money OR talent
lying to spare someone’s feelings OR being honest and direct
avoiding confrontation OR fighting absolutely everyone
working hard OR taking things easy
not touching a single human being OR cuddling everyone ever( it really depends)
optimism OR realism
one night stands OR a long term relationship
telling a joke OR hearing a joke
accepting comfort OR giving comfort
kissing OR touching
helping someone OR being helped
taking from others OR sharing
keeping secrets OR being an open book
telling the truth OR telling a white lie
cooking OR eating
takeout OR restaurants
sweet OR savory
drugs OR alcohol
alcohol OR food
pop music OR rock music
pancakes OR waffles
library OR museum
love OR money
chocolate OR vanilla
cheese OR chocolate
pasta OR pizza
online shopping OR in-person shopping
smoking OR non-smoking
smoking OR vaping
paintball OR the arcade
rollercoaster OR Ferris wheel
formal OR casual
sneakers OR dress shoes/heels
poker OR chess
anxiety OR depression
fear OR anger
zoo OR aquarium
spa OR gym
office work OR outside work
shower OR bath
leather OR lace
security system OR a dog
hero OR villain
optimist OR pessimist
ghosts OR hallucinations
quick temper OR controlled
kisses OR hugs
structured routine OR flexible
neat freak OR messy
New Year’s OR Valentine’s
Christmas OR Halloween
Sex OR Cuddling
Music festival OR Broadway show
Introvert OR Extrovert
Teleportation OR Mind reading
Stephen King OR J.K Rowling
Forget who you were OR who everyone else was
Forgiveness OR Vengeance
Know when you will die OR how you will die
Work with an asshole OR a liar
Tagged by: Stolen!
Tagging: @cariicature-of-intimacy @darkerdeariegold @miami-blanke @miami-summer @erringemperor @xking-of-the-cloudsx @firestorm-heroes and everyone else. Steal it like me if you like! 💖
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