#four-speckled hover fly

[have-you-seen-this-animal]

You should definitely do Dioprosopa clavata! Not too much info out there about them, but they gotta be one of the most aesthetically pleasing insects out there in my opinion :)

[cyanophore-fiction]

Ballistic Guidance

Emerging from the airlock after five hours of EVA repairs, Mickey and Hunter stow their vacuum suits, Mickey’s canid-tailored one beside Hunter’s lagomorph model. Down in By Candlelight’s common room, they find Rau unconscious, laying on their bunk with cables draped across their iridescent plumage. One cable is routed to the back of Rau’s head, where their neural port is situated between their four ears. Resting in one of their tridactyl hands is a partially-eaten turkey sandwich.

On the floor beside Rau’s bunk is a salvaged missile, its nose cone dented from impact with Mickey’s fighter. At least a dozen cables lead into the partially-disassembled casing, through the cavity where some Solar Neutrality technician failed to install a tactical nuke, and down into the guidance computer. The entire setup leads back to an open maintenance panel, routed straight into Candlelight’s main computer.

Hunter grins. “Ain���t usually this messy. Little guy must be excited.”

Mickey’s eyes narrow as she examines the mess of cabling. “This is military liveware,” she says. “They shouldn’t have it talking to the ship.”

“Eh. Give ‘em a little credit. Probably more processing power crammed into their brain than the whole damn ship,” says Hunter, fishing for an unused cable and reaching for his own neural port. He sits by Rau’s bunk, crossing his legs, and holds a cable out to Mickey. “You coming or not?”

“Yeah. I’m coming,” she says. Taking a seat across from him, Mickey takes the jack between her claws and reaches to pull her collar down, feeling across the speckled tan fur at the nape of her neck for her port. She jacks in.

Slipping away into softspace, she finds herself hovering beside Hunter, suspended over a line of battleships. Behind them is the enormous curvature of a planet, its surface blurry and undefined to save processing power. Dozens of fighter squadrons streak through orbit all around them, maneuvering jets firing across their hulls as they weave between cruisers. The entire fleet is pointed outward in defense formation. At the center of it all, just ahead of Mickey and Hunter, is Rau. Their plumage bristles as they peer into space.

“What the hell, Rau? You trying to melt the processor?” Mickey calls out, willing herself to fly towards them. “How long have you been—”

“Quiet!” Rau says, glancing back. “It’s coming.”

For a moment, Mickey falls silent, her lips pulling back off her fangs. “You’re running simulator drills against this thing? We could've used some help with the hull repair—”

“There,” Rau shouts, pointing to an orange spark in the distance. All at once, the fighter squadrons pull into multi-g turns and converge on their target. One after the other, the capital ships discharge their primary railguns, electric arcs leaping between paired magnetic tines. Positional data is fed to Mickey’s nervous system as proprioceptive input so she can feel the kinetic munitions sailing out into space, swerving toward their target under power of their miniaturized thrusters. A sea of blue sparks ignite as the fighters fire their own railguns in unison, creating a wall of guided thumbtacks between the planet and their target. Soon, there’s so much tungsten flying that the proprioceptive feed feels like meaningless static.

“Just watch,” Rau says, transmitting command impulses to the simulated officers and pilots of the fleet. “I’ve been escalating all afternoon, throwing larger and more sophisticated forces at it.”

“Yeah, for what purpose?”

“Just watch, Mick.”

She shakes her head, pulling up a HUD to highlight the details of the battle. Rolling back to sit cross-legged, she glances over to see Hunter pull up beside Rau, lounging with his hands behind his head.

Under Mickey’s HUD scope, the orange spark resolves itself into a long missile with twelve interception lasers along its body, driven by a pair of rotating omnidirectional thruster rings. Squatting on its nose is a demon of neon light, all claws and teeth, with a mane of glass razors pouring over its shoulders. Hunter clicks his tongue, and Mickey feels her lips come apart. “That’s—”

All at once, the missile’s interception lasers begin spitting red needles into the cloud of thumbtacks. Each tack vaporized is replaced by two more, the fighters dropping acceleration to invest power towards cycling their guns.

A pulse of thrust pivots the missile hard, pointing it into the center of the cloud. Then, its thrusters swivel back to drive it into a dizzying burn down the planet’s gravity well. Bursts of precise thrust carry it in jagged lines, lasers intercepting tacks seemingly at random while the missile evades others by a hair’s breadth. One tack comes within a hundred meters, and Mickey’s eyes go wide as a millisecond pulse from a maneuvering jet swings the missile’s tail neatly out of the way. Her HUD lists the tack’s closest distance to target as two meters. The demon, eyes darting between tacks as it directs its laser fire, stops to look at Mickey for a moment. Its face splits into a jagged smile.

“It’s a Vargheist. Pared down, simplified to fit on a compact platform, but there’s no mistaking it,” Rau says, hands flying between interface panels as the missile approaches. “I haven’t been able to stop it. Not once.”

“So what?” Mickey says, trying to keep her voice steady. “It can fly like this in theory. Real combat is always more complicated.”

“Shit, simulation or not, I’ve never seen anyone fly like that. Spirit or organic,” Hunter says. Something about the respect in his voice makes Mickey uneasy.

The Vargheist streaks through the fleet under thirty gees of acceleration, faster than the cruisers’ railgun turrets can swivel to track it. An instant later, an antimatter blast blooms through the planet’s atmosphere, light so intense that Rau halts the simulation and brings up filters to keep the input safe. Rau yelps as the demon flickers into existence centimeters from their face, and Mickey makes an involuntary motion for the sidearm on her belt back in hardspace.

“I win,” it says.

_________

Around 1000 words, had to trim this one down some! Done for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt, "Against the Flow." Tried to do a (sort of) standalone piece for the prompt based off a longer sci-fi story I'm messing around with, titled Vargheist. Anthro cast for fun, riffing on Star Fox a bit.

Mickey, Hunter, and Rau are a trio of freelance freighter-escort pilots working at the edge of the solar system. They have stumbled into very, very deep waters.

[voidtouched-blue]

musesofawolf [Kaleh'a]--prior

Odd. His mind zeroed in on that, the spear swinging with his gaze as he looked around, carefully looking, and...there! Another, but this one...a light was glowing. He slowly stepped, fulm by fulm, towards it, his eyes locked on the strange object, breathing out as the spear tip hovered towards it, closer, closer, right by that light, tapping it, curious, but careful, hands at the very end of the spear shaft and-- It sprung, a flash of movement, half the spear disappearing, and Kaleh'a leapt like a coiled spring four fulm into the air with a caterwaul of shock, dropping the spear and turning back the way he had come, almost on all fours as he sped away in panic, tail tucked, close, his eyes wide with panic as he went flying right past Cyra where she stood, channeling the aether around them, yelping out, "IT'S A TRAP!"

The moment the hunter had set himself to work, proving to her his willingness to continue had settled her concern for the young man. At least, for the time being, he wouldn't be plagued by the same emotions she had come to know and welcome as grief and sorrow. Granted, her experience was far beyond that of any normal Miqo'te her age, and a Moon Keeper no less. Cyra had no love for the scum that had been trampled and bloodied into the earth. Long had she relished the sensation of ripping into those aetherically inept creatures that dared consider themselves on a higher level than the very people they sought to 'save'.

Every conversation she overheard in her imprisonment had referred to herself and every Eorzean as 'savages' or 'animals'; things to be tamed rather than respected. As she looked out onto the bloodied field, the bodies of those black-and-crimson soaked uniforms had been the only creatures that laid on the field of battle. Their hatred for a people that had done very little to act upon this unnecessary war had been little more than a child upset when the other had something they wanted but could not have. It was nothing more than a violent temper tantrum to the pained healer.

Her first cast had been to fill the crystal in her staff with whatever energy she could gather. Careful not to push the limits of the vessel, it was never her intent to allow it to crack under the pressure of energy that couldn't fit within it's container. She would be hard pressed to find another like it, and if it took her away from her duties, then it wasn't a task worth pursuing. Using what she understood of her own waning aetherwell, she pulled in as much of that ambient energy as he could, focusing on areas that tainted the surrounding elemental spirits that speckled the forest's many dense areas of aether.

With her own resource filled to the brim, the next step was cleaning the stain of blood from the land. The rest of the ambient energy would dissipate over time, and she would make it part of her duty to return frequently to ensure the aether wasn't stagnating to create corrupt sprites that endangered the surrounding communities. The benefit of using her magic to clean the land of blood meant that she could refill her pool again and again. Yet, the body could only handle so much of this expense. Aethersickness came in more ways than one, and repeated casting was a surefire way to put herself on bedrest until her balance had sorted itself out.

Right as she had come out of her focus, she heard a shriek that immediately brought her attention to the forefront.

Cyra had almost entirely forgotten about the present company that she had been adamant about joining on this foray. She had opened her eyes right as he had come to speed past her. With a raised eyebrow, she watched his terrified path of chaos for a moment before turning her gaze back to the pluming dust that had gathered in the air at his panic. It was with a huff of amusement that she saw the device he had been so frightened by.

"That's what you're so frightened of?" She chuckled.

Cyra brought forth the call of her power within her hand, using her staff as a conduit to pull rocks from the earth. They collapsed in on the point of her choosing in the air above the trap in question. She had been no stranger to Garlean technology. While it was beyond her understanding of how the devices worked, she knew quite easily how to set it off. Once the sizeable stone had gathered itself to a satisfactory weight, she clenched her outstretched hand into a fist and brought it down, commanding the rock to strike the trap.

Darkened jaws of ragged metal rose up from the loose earth to snap up at the air above them. The sound made her wince as it cut through the air with a shrieking snap. It was a far more efficient version of the very same traps hunters and poachers used within the Black Shroud. The same things that she often spent her time wandering around to disarm and leave out for the Twin Adders to dispose of on their patrols of the border. The Garleans weren't so foolish as to incite the ire of the Elementals this far into their territory. Using explosives to hide under the dirt would have been a fast track to losing their castrums seated within Eorzean territory.

"Think of it as nothing more than an elaborate bear trap, Kaleh'a." She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. "Look for disturbed earth along the ground and you'll come to find them far easier, I'm sure."

[onenicebugperday]

@aciddial submitted: many new bugs for you! no id request today because i have so many... apologies to the roaches for photographing their intimate moment. sadly the wheel bug was seen by my dad while i wasn't home and i missed it 🥲

They're all perfect! Especially that first robber fly and also the weird little hover fly mimicking a wasp. I hope they all know that I love them...

[anntidote]

Ding dong~ May I get tricked by Oikawa at 12:00 and 24:00 please? ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ) (By the way your writing is AMAZING! Got me feeling some type of way! (*´罒`*)♡ Stay safe and healthy, and good luck with school!!❤️)

a/n: thank you for the kind words 🥺 i wish you good luck in all your endeavors too! it means a lot to me.

back to: the candy bowl || ann’s playground

12. “i’ll suck the life outta you.”

24. “count to ten for me.”

jealousy.

the thought alone was most likely the bane of your existence once you’d stepped onto the beach that morning. swimsuit clinging to your sides, sand sticking between your toes, and dangling feet over the height of the lifeguard chair. the laughter of children who splashed amongst the shore, the chatter of teenagers and adults alike, and mixture of music and crashing tides.

all of this went on, but it took you less than a second to spot his minty blue swimmers and familiar back. hm.

your eyes flickered to steady flow of girls flocking toward him, and you definitely didn’t miss the old high school smirk etched on his face.

did he think you were stupid?

“a-aah shit! take it easy!” the sound of oikawa’s plea fell on deaf ears as you gripped his thighs, trying to push them farther apart, pressing needy kisses, and sucking bruisingly good hickies from mid thigh and barely hovering over his length. he swore it was pure torture.

finally having enough, you looked up at the art you’d created. the beautifully disheveled expression of dark eyes, heaving chest, and flushed cheeks. the glisten of sweat down his neck, and the tenseness of his abdomen. you smiled, hand coming up and grabbing his cock like a vice.

oikawa let out a hiss, unable to look away at the undoubtedly possessive yet enraged look on your face.

“i’ll suck the life out of you.”

and that’s how the jealousy went.

oikawa braced against the wall as the heat of your throat enveloped him in a tightness that had his toes curling. the angry red tip weeping precum as much as the tears that escaped the corners of his eyes. the quiver of his legs as you kept bringing him to the edge, only to rip away the tether of pleasure that barely touched the tip of his fingers.

another telltale throb in your mouth and you pulled away, lips swollen and voice hoarse when oikawa thrashed and whined your name once more.

the denial was driving him insane, and he needed release. he needed the pleasure. he needed the fire. he needed you.

“then hold it for me, tooru.” you proposed, gripping his length in a fist, bringing the tip to your lips again.

“h-huh?” his confusion almost endearing, and his desperation almost palpable.

“i said...” giving a kitten lick to the underside of his cock before making dead eye contact. oikawa swallows at the determined look in your eye.

“... count to ten for me.”

“w-wait, i- fuck!” his thoughts were immediately lost at the feeling of your warmth around him once more. the suction of your cheeks, and the tracing tip of your tongue-

one.

your hum around him, making him clench his eyes shut. everything so hot, sticky, yet slick-

two.

the way your eyes were dead set on him. he felt the fire in him blaze even hotter when you made a b-line towards him earlier. and when you dragged him into the break room and shoved your hand in his pants-

three.

speaking of which... just how wet were you right now?

four.

clenching your legs together, desperate for friction at your attempts to take oikawa even deeper, he feels the elastic of his orgasm grow tighter.

five— “fuck!”

suddenly flying over the edge, oikawa’s hands fly to the back of your neck as soon as your mouth bottoms out, complete deep throating him. involuntarily snapping his hips into you, making you choke, and the spasm of your esophagus making him see stars. feeling the warm of his cum spill down your throat, you swallow hard, trying to breathe with your nose as oikawa holds you in place- eyes speckling white.

you watch when he finally lets go, allowing you to pull off his softening length, lips swollen and eyes heavy. relaxing against the wall only to feel a chill run down his spine when hearing the tsk of your tongue.

“i said ten, tooru.”

so let’s try again.

[remmushound]

Radio Hearts, chapter 5!! @scentedcandlecryptid @digitl-art-monstr

Shelldon woke up.

Donatello was there in front of him and he was beaming! His face seemed several shades brighter with the joy that overwhelmed him and Shelldon’s sights even picked up the beginnings of tears starting to form.

“Dee?” Shelldon whirled. “I feel weird.”

Sheldldon tried to hover, but it felt wrong, so he stopped. He felt heavy, and Donatello seemed small. Had Shelldon grown?

“Easy, buddy.” Donatello soothed, rubbing a hand across some part of Shelldon. Wait, was that a shoulder? “Here, let me help you.”

Donatello grabbed the chair that Shelldon was seated in and wheeled him over to the standing mirror. Shelldon gasped loudly when he saw his reflection, reaching up to grab at his face. Three fingers gently caressed a fully formed cheek. In shape, it greatly resembled the one he was used to; triangular with a glowing pink mouth and pink, frog-like eyes. He had an upright posture and a plastron like Donatello, except with three glowing vents in his belly just below his mystic heart. He looked down at both his hands, modeled after the mutant turtles he lived with, but his feet more greatly resembled a tortoise, blocky and flat with four claw-like toes. He strained the limits of his tubular neck to look at his carapace, finding five spiked ridges and six valleys between them, speckled with light pink freckles that added to the textured effect.

“Woaaahhhh…” Shelldon leaned closer to the mirror to get a better look at himself. “I look radical!”

Donatello took Shelldon by the hands and lifted him from the seat and to his feet, keeping a tight hold of the drone— no, the turtle!— so he wouldn’t topple over. Shelldon wasn’t quite as tall as Donatello was, more Michelangelo’s height, but he didn't care. He was tall! He lifted a foot to get a better look at it and almost fell to the opposite side from the shifted weight. Donatello was there to grab and stabilize him, however, lowering him carefully to the ground.

“Easy, Shelldon. You gotta learn how to walk first.”

“I got legs!” Shelldon cheered, then fell over onto his carapace as his weight shifted. “Ow.”

Donatello laughed and helped Shelldon to sit up again. “You’re fine.”

“This was my surprise?” He asked, looking at Donatello.

Donatello smiled and nodded. “It’s been exactly a year since I first made you. Figured I’d give you a little birthday upgrade.”

Before Donatello could even finish the sentence, Shelldon had thrown his arms around the softshell and they both toppled over with Shelldon’s greater weight.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Shelldon almost screamed his excitement, “Where are my hovers?” He looked all around the length of his body searching for the flight feature.

Donatello grabbed Shelldon’s carapace at the base and lifted it up. The shell seperated in the middle and both halves sprawled out to their designated sides like a beetle’s wings. When the shell was opened, two large wings unfolded from just below where Shelldon’s shoulder blades would be.

“It’s gonna take you a while to get used to your new body, but I, of course, will be there to help.” Donatello boasted. “Once you practice, you will be able to unfold your wings on your own. I tried to incorporate your usual hovers, but with your increased weight, it wasn’t feasible. But this body does solve your overheating problem by adding a respiratory function to increase your cooling output.”

Respiratory? Shelldon opened his mouth and sucked in air— something he had never done before! The relief was immediate and cooling, making him slump slightly as he breathed out almost scolding steam.

“That means you only have to have one oil change a day instead of three!”

“That’s awesome!” Shelldon beeped.

“There are several other features that I am soooo excited for you to discover, but I want you to learn it by yourself! It’s your new body, you should learn at your own pace. But I will help you with the basics.”

Donatello stood up and held out his hands. It took Shelldon several times to properly adjust his motor function enough to grab the softshell’s hand, and when he did Donatello was able to yank him up with ease.

“Now: Let’s start simple.”

***

Shelldon was kept in the lab for two weeks following his upgrades, but he didn't mind it. Donatello was with him more and more each day teaching him about how to use the new body. First helping him to stand on his own and then teaching him how to walk, and then how to run. Occasionally, one of the other brothers would come in to help him improve his motor function, be it with card games or catch or simply typing their messages for them on a phone. Slowly, his bolts loosened up and the activities got simpler and simpler until he could even change his oil on his own! With his increased battery and cooling circulation, he was much more active. After the two weeks were up, Shelldon quickly found his new favorite hobby.

“Hit me with your best shot!”

Raphael charged with all the strength and size of a raging bull. Shelldon made no attempt to get out of the way, bracing himself for the impact. When it came, he was ready for it, and he brought Raphael first to a stalemate before slowly adding more force to press back against him. Then he was the one who was forcing Raphael across the dojo, but Raphael only let himself get so far before he gave up and dove out of the way so Shelldon was sent stumbling.

Raphael tried to charge Shelldon from behind. At the very last moment, Shelldon’s bladed wings opened up and closed on Raphael’s plastron to lock him in place, four spider limbs identical to the ones Donatello had revealed themselves to restrain Raphael’s arms and legs. The snapper was stunned for a moment, but then quickly tried to struggle against the bot.

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five!” Shelldon let go of Raphael as he counted down, closing his wings and laughing. “I win!”

“Ugh!” Raphael groaned. “No fair! Rematch!”

“You’re so on!”

“No you’re not.” Donatello appeared out of the shadows where even Shelldon hadn’t sensed him.

“Aww…” Shelldon pouted, “But Deeeee!”

“No buts.” Donatello crossed his arms.

“Please?” Raphael begged.

“Pretty please?” Shelldon followed up.

“Pretty please with a pepperoni on top?” Raphael clasped his hands together and stuck out his bottom lip; Shelldon copied the motion.

“No.” Donatello said simply, and waved Shelldon to follow him.

“Aw…” Shelldon walked as slowly as he could, dragging his feet the entire time.

Donatello looked back at him. “If you keep dragging your feet, you’re going to miss your flying lessons~.”

Shelldon gasped loudly and immediately picked up the pace. “Coming Dee!”

***

“Easy, Shelldon... “ Donatello soothed, “There’s no rush.”

The gap was small, hardly twice as long as Shelldon was tall, and Donatello was waiting anxiously on the other side with his arms outstretched ready to catch the drone.

“I got this, Dee!” Shelldon flashed his carapace open and gave the slightest buzz as his wings were unfolded and freed. The wings readjusted themself rather noisily as Shelldon got into position.

“Take your time.” Donatello encouraged, “Take a few deep breaths. Make sure you’re cool before—“

Shelldon jumped.

“OH DEAR MOTHER OF CHALUPA HE JUMPED!”

Shelldon glided effortlessly across the gaps and into Donatello’s waiting arms.

***

The flight lessons took up most of the night, and by the time Shelldon and Donatello got home, both of them wanted nothing more than to rest. The two of them still shared Donatello’s lab as their room and Shelldon didn’t care to change any time soon; he liked being around Dee! Donatello ignored the food that Michelangelo tried to offer him in favor of marching straight to his room and falling face-first on his bed, immediately asleep.

Shelldon went quickly to his charging pod; it was essentially an upright bed, fit with cushions and a blanket-like curtain to cover himself, and a pinned-up pillow. The only difference was that there was space designed to let Shelldon spread out his wings and soft holders to rest them on so that the charging plug in the middle of his back was exposed to the charging dock. Once Shelldon had got himself into position, tucked comfortably under the curtain-blanket and making sure his body was accepting the charge, he pulled the clear glass door closed so he wouldn’t fall out and nuzzled deeper into the cool cushions.

Shelldon went to sleep and dreamed of his family.

[hanadolphieron]

lunar artist!yeojin; chapter one~

warnings; none

genre; sci-fi, strangers to lovers, fluff, slight angst

pairing; im yeojin x gender neutral!reader

word count; 1.4k

summary; your small crater town on the moon was rarely visited. one day, artist!yeojin travels all the way from mars to paint the serene, wistful scenery of your planet.

staring out into the sparkling abyss beneath you is a favorite past-time of yours. something about floating a few inches above the dusty, grey surface of the moon and looking out at the endless glittering fireballs surrounding all that you can see appeals to the deep lunar being inside you.

sometimes it even feels as if you were born here.

your family was from neptune, a planet known for its imaginative artists with striking, green eyes that see more colors than any other species.

after you finished your first section of schooling, you moved to your current planet, the moon, as fast as possible. the dreary serenity of the planet had always piqued your interest. it was perfect for a budding writer like you.

and normally, you don’t find yourself regretting the decision to move. 

but today is different. the small crater you call home is far-off from the large civilizations. upon your first meeting with the small floating cottage, you felt more inspired than you ever had before! the place seemed full of life, even in the gloomy atmosphere of the moon.

now, instead of new ideas and an enhanced imagination, you are left with exasperation at the bleak nothingness surrounding you.

however, apparently it was time for a change.

you felt the air and gravity messing around behind you. after four years on the moon, you knew what this meant- someone was coming.

glancing behind you, you saw arguably the most beautiful being you had ever laid your eyes upon.

her auburn hair was choppy, and bangs laid haphazardly across her face, like she’d just been caught up in a gust of wind. with a shake of her head to maneuver her hair back into place, you caught sight of a sigil painted across her forehead. the red symbol was a circle, with an arrow coming out of it, pointing north-east. 

you recognized this emblem as a representation of mars. surprising, considering the tension between the moon and mars. history hadn’t been the nicest to the two of your planets, and there was always a struggle for food and wealth, which had caused your civilizations to prey on each other for as many resources as possible, in order to prosper off each other’s loss.

the girl continued towards you. her dark eyes surrounded by shimmering, golden glitter that was now visible enchanted you as she gradually got closer.

you stared back.

she wasn’t the tallest, most marsians weren’t, but her presence was overwhelming. it felt like a red storm was flying towards you, leaving stormy chaos in its wake.

once the girl was a few feet away form you, slightly hovering above ground, she asked, “can i paint you?”

finally noticing the art set filled with a fluorescent silver palette, you realized who she was- a marsian artist.

artists were scarce in the marsian society, most citizens pursued a career in mining or as warriors, but a few yahoos broke away and followed other paths. 

“why?” you ask. 

“i came here to illustrate the people of this planet, but it seems its almost completely barren. you’re the first being i’ve seen.”

she sits down, not waiting for an answer from you.

you’re a little awkward at this point. aggressive behavior isn’t a something you’re used to, and it throws you off guard. rolling your shoulders back a bit, you shift around, wondering how she’s going to paint you.

“what’s your name?” the girl says, almost accusingly. man, these marsians have a jarring way of speaking.

“y/n. you?” your softer, serene voice floats toward her.

“yeojin,” she says, slamming her painting utensils onto the ground. they hover a few inches above the surface, like all other things.

her upper lip pulls up and she growls at it.

weird, you think, and giggle.

“what do you do here? as a job.”

“i’m a journalist.”

“as you can see, i’m unemployed,” comes her response, and she grins at you.

your lips set into an easy half-smile, “wish this planet had more people, seems as if the war never ended. it’s been a century and we’re still suffering from a lack of people. this town used to be the hype-house of the lunar system, everyone wanted to live here, sphere-home prices were sky-rocketing, trade with the other galaxies was better than it ever was before, and now,” you gesture around to the nothingness, “it’s all gone.”

she stares. what is up with these marsians? no sense of social cues.

“hmm. this whole galaxy is in ruins. back home, we must be behind a decade in technology. power goes out frequently. food stores are running out. the government is eating up our money. we don’t know where it goes.”

you sigh, looking out at the stars. 

“sounds like we’re both the only sane ones in this insane world”

“yeah,” yeojin nods, dipping her brush into a can of snowflakey gray paint.

you don’t notice her starting to paint. as you wrap your arms around your legs and tuck your knees into your chest, a lunar frog hops by. you call it over. it flops over to you, its speckled coat shining and reflecting the light given off by the distant sun, and sniffs at your outstretched finger. 

“hi jerry,” you say, giving the amphibian a lazy smile.

“is that its name?” yeojin says, sounding surprised.

“no, i just like to name animals, you know? gives them more meaning- i feel like we don’t appreciate the little things in life enough, always rushing about, never stopping and smelling the flowers.”

“you live in a planet without oxygen. flowers don’t exist here” comes yeojin’s deadpan response.

“good point,” you say, giggling a bit. normally you’re not as smiley as this; your face is always stagnant, deep-set eyes staring blankly at the world. must be the social interaction that you’ve been craving for so long.

the frog licks your pinkie, making you shriek in happiness and fright at the same time. the frog is terrified by your loud exclamation, and bounds away as fast as possible.

“dang,” you say.

you look over at yeojin. she’s studying you intently. “i didn’t know lunar beings like you cursed.”

“dang is not a curse you eggshell,” you say lightheartedly, reaching out to smack her on the shoulder.

her tough skin doesn’t even move, and yeojin laughs at you. she puts her paintbrush down and tackles you. not used to physical contact this early, (you haven’t even learned 80% of her weaknesses yet! that’s a crime lunar society!) you try to flail around, but she has you pinned to the ground.

you have no idea how she defeated gravity like that, by pure force you guess, i mean the ground probably didn’t even bat an eye with how confidently she hovered over you.

you gain control of your limbs again after freezing for a hot second, and shove at her shoulders.

she doesn’t budge. these marsians live up to their prstince, atheltic reputation.

laughing, yeojin lets you up, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward. you’re surprised again, and stumble forward into her chest. 

gasping at the utter clicheness of this whole moment, you pull away and unfold into a standing position (which is like seven feet tall, neptunians are known to be massive.)

you realize that when upright, you stand a good two feet taller than yeojin, and now feel incredibly gangly. she glares up at you.

“sit down and stop being so tall,” she says grumpily, reaching down to pack up her stuff.

you do as she says and plop onto the surface-air.

seeing her putting all her supplies up, now seemingly in a hurry, you inquire, “where are you going?”

“i’m set to be back home around 17:33. right now it’s 17:30,” yeojin says, deflty throwing all her paints into a case. (you wonder how she’s not breaking them with how aggressive she is.)

“how are you going to get back so fast?” you ask her, curious and surprised beyond belief.

“you’ll see,” yeojin says, walking away at a fast pace.

“wait!” you yell after her, not wanting to lose her after such a short time together.

she keeps walking.

you get up, rushing after her. somehow, her stubby legs move faster than your massive ones, and she stays in front of you.

she turns around, staring at you, stormy eyed. fear graces her pupils, 

“catch you later. i’ll be back soon,” yeojin says through gritted teeth. she doesn’t seem offended by anything you said or did, and disappointment in, herself? is written all over her face. you have no clue why she’s leaving, and neptunians are supposed to be good at this intuition stuff!

“wa- don’t go yet!” you exclaim, panicking at this point.

a cloud of dust envelops her, and she disappears.

masterlist - next

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Balaeniceps rex

By Olaf Oliviero Riemer, CC BY-SA 3.0 

Etymology: Whale Head

First Described By: Gould, 1850

Classification: Dinosauromorpha, Dinosauriformes, Dracohors, Dinosauria, Saurischia, Eusaurischia, Theropoda, Neotheropoda, Averostra, Tetanurae, Orionides, Avetheropoda, Coelurosauria, Tyrannoraptora, Maniraptoromorpha, Maniraptoriformes, Maniraptora, Pennaraptora, Paraves, Eumaniraptora, Averaptora, Avialae, Euavialae, Avebrevicauda, Pygostaylia, Ornithothoraces, Euornithes, Ornithuromorpha, Ornithurae, Neornithes, Neognathae, Neoaves, Aequorlitornithes, Ardeae, Aequornithes, Pelecaniformes, Balaenicipitidae

Status: Extant, Vulnerable

Time and Place: Within the last 10,000 years, in the Holocene of the Quaternary 

The Shoebill is known from eastern central Africa 

Physical Description: There is no other dinosaur quite like the Shoebill. It is one of the most visually distinctive creatures, with traits monstrous and familiar that make it difficult to really understand exactly what you’re looking at. They stand up to 140 centimeters in height, which yes, is the height of a human being on the shorter side. They can even reach 152 centimeters tall - the same height as a 5 foot tall person. They have very long, skinny legs, with giant toes on their feet that are widely splayed out. Their bodies are huge, with short tails and bulky torsos. Their backs are grey, and their belly feathers are white. Their necks are a lighter grey, and there is some dark speckling all over their wings and right beneath their necks. Their heads continue that light grey coloration, and have small tufts of feathers as a crest on the back of the head. Shoebills also happen to feature yellow, unblinking, perfectly circular eyes, which is unsettling at best. They have heavy eyebrows of feathers over their eyes, giving them a look like they’re always glaring at you - which is even more disconcerting considering the giant, wide, scoop-shaped bill that the Shoebill is named for. The bill is orange, and ends in a small hook, just in case you weren’t terrified enough. 

By Peter Halasz, CC BY-SA 2.5 

Diet: Shoebills feed mainly on fish - especially lungfish, though most large fish are acceptable. Amphibians, young crocodilians, water snakes, rodents, and young waterfowl are also fed upon by these giant terrifying creatures. 

By Snowmanradio, CC BY-SA 2.0 

Behavior: Shoebills are calculating bastards - they’ll hover around lakesides and swamps with low oxygen in the water, which forces lungfish to come up to breathe - so that the Shoebill can then lean down and scoop them up. They are loners during the hunt, carefully taking each step as they make sure to not sink too far into the mud and weeds where they live. Their lunging after food is hard to miss - their mouths open wide, revealing how huge those bills really are, and giving it a sinister smile. These lunges are usually startling, as the Shoebill is usually still for a very long time before it goes after prey. It is as if a statue had suddenly come to life. This is especially disconcerting when the Shoebill opts for standing on floating vegetation - just casually going down with the current as though they were a giant Jacana. They tend to defend territories for food, at least somewhat, not coming closer than twenty meters to another Shoebill during feeding. They don’t sense their prey with feel, but entirely by sight - making them very unblinking and focused, adding to their strange aura. Shoebills are also usually silent, which just makes their entire aesthetic even more terrifying. When they do dare to make sounds, they make very raucous cries - usually while they fly. 

By Petr Simon 

Yes, yes they can fly. Shoebills are some of the largest flighted birds today, which does not help. They hold their wings flat, pulling in their necks to their bodies to aid in making their flight more efficient. They have some of the slowest flaps of any bird, at 150 flaps per minute. They fly only a few meters at a time, and usually prefer to glide as much as possible. The farthest any Shoebill as traveled at one time seems to be 20 meters. As such, Shoebills are not very mobile birds, and they usually only move from place to place based on food availability. 

By African Parks/Bengweulu Wetlands Photography 

Shoebills begin breeding depending on the water levels of their habitat at a given time. They lay their eggs when the rains begin to end and the waters start to recede; as such, the chicks hatch and fledge late in the dry season. They nest alone, though there are possible reports that they may form some breeding colonies in South Sudan. They make nests out of grass in a mound that is three meters wide, usually placed on a small island or on floating vegetation amongst dense papyrus. They lay two eggs that are incubated for a month. The chickare cute, fluffy, and grey, with tiny regular sized bills. They then fledge a little more than three months later and, what’s more, usually only one chick survives. The chicks and parents will make whining and mewing to each other to get attention and beg for food. Sometimes, the young will make hiccups as begging calls. The parents are constantly with the young for the first forty days of rearing, only briefly leaving to get food and water or nest material. As the chicks age, the parents spend more and more time away, but they still bring food regularly. The chicks, after fledging, remain dependent on the parents for food for a few more years. They reach reproductive age at around three to four years. Displays often including mooing and bill clattering, which can be accompanied by the shaking of the head from side to side, which is quite the undertaking for a bird with such a large head. Breeding pairs stay together for the season, and break up when the chicks leave the nest. Shoebills can live up to fifty years, which is aided by the fact that they tend to not have predators after reaching full size. 

By Hans Hillewaert, CC BY-SA 3.0 

Ecosystem: Shoebills stick to marshes, especially papyrus marshes and those with reeds and cattails. They will also gather around marshy lakesides, especially near Lake Victoria. They go wherever they can find floating vegetation to stand upon, including ricefields. They tend to go where animals such as hippopotamus go, since the hippo can dredge up food that the Shoebill can then feed upon. 

By Fritz Geller-Grimm, CC BY-SA 2.5 

Other: Shoebills are currently considered vulnerable to extinction, with 5000 to 8000 birds thought to be remaining in the wild (though that may be low and there may be as many as 10,000). The reasons for this decline in population is partially due to habitat loss - the Shoebill is dependent on papyrus swamps and other wetland habitats, which are targeted by drainage schemes and other development activities. Animals being brought across these swamps and trampling their young also majorly contributes to population decline. It is a very unique bird and a very popular one, so luckily there are some conservation efforts ongoing, especially in zoos. Some hunting is also contributing to population loss. Despite these conservation efforts, only once has the Shoebill been successfully bred in captivity.

~ By Meig Dickson

Sources under the Cut 

Elliott, A., Garcia, E.F.J. & Boesman, P. (2019). Shoebill (Balaeniceps rex). In: del Hoyo, J., Elliott, A., Sargatal, J., Christie, D.A. & de Juana, E. (eds.). Handbook of the Birds of the World Alive. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.

Guillet, A (1978). "Distribution and Conservation of the Shoebill (Balaeniceps Rex) in the Southern Sudan". Biological Conservation. 13 (1): 39–50.

Hackett, SJ; Kimball, RT; Reddy, S; Bowie, RC; Braun, EL; Braun, MJ; Chojnowski, JL; Cox, WA; Han, KL; et al. (2008). "A phylogenomic study of birds reveals their evolutionary history". Science. 320 (5884): 1763–8.  

Hagey, J. R.; Schteingart, C. D.; Ton-Nu, H.-T. & Hofmann, A. F. (2002). "A novel primary bile acid in the Shoebill stork and herons and its phylogenetic significance". Journal of Lipid Research. 43 (5): 685–90.

Hall, Whitmore (1861). The principal roots and derivatives of the Latin language, with a display of their incorporation into English. London: Longman, Green, Longman & Roberts. p. 153.

Hancock & Kushan, Storks, Ibises and Spoonbills of the World. Princeton University Press (1992),

Houlihan, Patrick F. (1986). The Birds of Ancient Egypt. Wiltshire: Aris & Phillips. p. 26.

Jasson, J.; Nahonyo, Cuthbert; Lee, Woo; Msuya, Charles (March 2013). "Observations on nesting of shoebill Balaeniceps rex and wattled crane Bugeranus carunculatus in Malagarasi wetlands, western Tanzania". African Journal of Ecology. 51 (1): 184–187.

Mayr, Gerald (2003). "The phylogenetic affinities of the Shoebill (Balaeniceps rex)". Journal für Ornithologie.  

Mikhailov, Konstantin E. (1995). "Eggshell structure in the shoebill and pelecaniform birds: comparison with hamerkop, herons, ibises and storks". Canadian Journal of Zoology. 73 (9): 1754–70.

Muir, Allan; King, C.E. (January 2013). "Management and husbandry guidelines for Shoebills Balaeniceps rex in captivity". International Zoo Yearbook. 47 (1): 181–189.  

Stevenson, Terry and Fanshawe, John (2001). Field Guide to the Birds of East Africa: Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi. Elsevier Science.

Tomita, Julie (2014). "Challenges and successes in the propagation of the Shoebill Balaeniceps rex: with detailed observations from Tampa's Lowry Park Zoo, Florida". International Zoo Yearbook. 132 (1): 69–82.  

Williams, J.G; Arlott, N (1980). A Gield Guide to the Birds of East Africa. Collins.

[coldkryptonitecupcake]

“Abomination”, Ch. 16

  As Sienna fired round after round at the Chieftain, she could see Narvuk and Poppy holding their own against the Wizards out of the corner of her eye. The Scorn took cover behind one of the statues, and Sienna cursed as her shot pinged off the obstacle. She held the sight line for a moment more before darting towards another outcropping with a better angle. Halfway there, however, the ground beneath her erupted and she was thrown off her feet, losing her grip on the rifle as she flew.

  She hit the ground and rolled for several feet, the breath forced from her lungs by the impact among the rocks and gravel. The Hunter scrambled to her feet and was greeted by two of the Abominations they had seen earlier advancing on her, Arc energies gathering in their outstretched palms. Sienna tensed, then leapt out towards her weapon as bolts of Arc lanced out to where she had crouched. She scooped up her rifle, whirled to aim, and fired two rounds into one of the Abominations' chests, staggering it back into its companion. It did not fall, however, and recovered quickly, blasting again and again at its prey. She dodged as many as she could, but one bolt found its mark in her shoulder. "Gah! Son of a bitch, that hurt! Let's see if you handle fire like you handle lead, asshole!," Sienna barked as she tossed an incendiary grenade between her assailants.

  For a moment, the grenade did nothing, and the Abominations moved ever closer towards the Hunter. Then it detonated, and the Abominations staggered again as they caught fire. They swayed and flailed for a few moments before falling to ashes. "Yeah, didn't think so," Sienna panted, the adrenaline wearing off. "Alright, back to work."

  Narvuk spun as a volley of Arc balls raced past, one of the monoliths providing cover. He struggled to catch his breath, the barrage continuing past his head. Poppy fell in beside him, also out of breath, and reloaded her Jade Rabbit. "Any... bright ideas... big guy?," the Warlock asked as her wounds slowly sealed. The Knight shook his head slightly, then ducked down as another Arc blast came dangerously close to taking a piece of his shoulder off. He looked back to his friend and saw an Abomination coming around behind her.

  "Down!," he shouted, and Poppy instinctively dropped to the ground as Narvuk let off a bolt of Arc lightning that vaporized his target instantly. She stood and nodded to Narvuk, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by one of the Wizards, who exchanged looks with its partner before turning and gliding away. The other raised its claws and uttered a shrieking cry, the pitch and intensity driving Poppy and Narvuk to their knees. As they clutched at their heads, Thrall began burrowing up around them.

  Narvuk was the first to recover and saw close to two dozen of them surrounding him and Poppy, but not attacking. "Poppy? Poppy, get up. Up, Warlock!," he ordered, shaking her with one hand, his eyes never leaving the Thrall around them. She groaned, propped herself up on her hands, then jerked back when she noticed the Thrall. "Easy, easy!" Narvuk grabbed her arm as it shot out for her weapon. "There must be a good rreason they haven't killed us already."

  "Yeah, well, I'm not planning on waiting to find out what that reason is," she whispered harshly, still grasping for the rifle. Her fingers brushed its grip and the Thrall tensed and hissed. "Okay then, change of plans," she grumbled. Before them, the Thrall stepped to each side, opening a walkway for the Chieftain, who stomped toward them, snarling at any Thrall that was too close. "You got a plan, big guy?," Poppy muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

  "Sienna is still out there, remember. The advantagge is still ours," the Knight whispered back before a Thrall shrieked at him, cutting him off. The Chieftain came to stand in front of the Guardians and roared in their faces, spittle flying and speckling their faces. "Any second now..." Narvuk's eyes flicked in all directions for any sign of their friend. But there was nothing to be seen.

  The remaining Wizard glided over and signaled Narvuk and Poppy to stand. The pair glanced at each other, then complied, leaving their weapons where they lay. Shepherded by the Thrall, they were marched back to the remaining cages, still full of Cabal. The Chieftain trudged back into the rune circle as the Wizard resumed its chant, the symbols beginning to glow brighter. Poppy groaned as the magic started taking effect, her Light seeming to shrink away from the runes.

  As the Wizard's chanting grew louder and more feverish, Narvuk and Poppy had to shield their eyes from the intense glow of the circle, was burning with soulfire. The Chieftain began roaring, its skin bubbling and shifting, and it dropped its Mine Launcher as it began writhing and clawing at itself. The pair of Guardians watched in horror as it began to grow taller.

  Its armor cracked and broke at the joints, falling away and thudding to the ground. The arms on either side of its body fused as its torso rearranged itself, bones breaking and fusing audibly. Its chest expanded and its helmet went the same way as the rest of the armor. At this point, Narvuk and Poppy were doubled over in pain from their proximity to the ritual. Narvuk glanced behind him at the cages to see that the Cabal inside were being drained of life, becoming withered husks before his eyes.

  The Wizard's chant reached its final crescendo, and the glow of the runes faded. The Guardians looked up, and what they beheld could only be described as obscene. The Chieftain had become almost Ogre-sized, its misshapen face made more grotesque by the fusion of two if its four eyes. The armor that had not fallen from its body had become lodged in its overdeveloped muscles. "Any time now, Hunter...," Narvuk muttered, claws flexing in preparation.

  The thing that used to be a Chieftain roared to the sky, the Thrall around it backing away in fear. The Wizard hovered before the not-Chieftain, inspecting its work, occasionally poking or simply running its claws over the hardened skin. As it continued its inspection, the monster's hand shot out and latched onto the Wizard's head. The Wizard struggled for a moment, but its resistance ended as its creation crushed its skull, the crunching noise making Poppy cringe. The Thrall shifted, uncertain of their next move. One edged closer and was knocked aside like a bowling pin. The rest of the swarm immediately leapt at their comrade's murderer. The first few were batted down like the first, but as more swarmed the not-Chieftain, it fell back under their weight.

  "Narvuk, let's move!" Poppy jumped to her feet and darted past the circle to take cover behind the farthest monolith, keeping an eye on the struggling Thrall. The Knight bolted up and followed her as quickly as he could manage. As the pair prepared to charge back in, a voice laughed at them from above.

  "Y'all Guardians look kinda empty-handed." When the pair looked up, they were happy to see Sienna kneeling on the cliff, head cocked with what Narvuk assumed to be a smug grin. "Here, you might need these," she called, reaching back and tossing down Narvuk's sword and Poppy's rifle.

  "Smartass," Poppy chuckled as she reloaded. Beside her, Narvuk caught his Cleaver with a small flourish. "Now, let's finish this." Sienna nodded and jumped down from her perch, landing without a sound. She slung her sniper over her shoulder and drew the hand cannon on her thigh, checking the sights as she joined her companions. The trio turned back to the circle and instantly ducked, a Thrall flying past them, disintegrating as it went. The not-Chieftain stood upright in front of the Guardians, its claws and chest covered in chitin and ash. It bellowed at the three, who stood shoulder to shoulder. "Sienna, you think you can hold its attention for a sec?"

  "Do I even wanna know?"

  "Just a small experiment, I swear. This time," Poppy added, a grin in her voice. Sienna shook her head, but nodded as she stepped forward and flipped a knife in her free hand. "Big guy, you up for a shock?" Narvuk glanced sideways at the Warlock, worry creeping into his eyes for a moment.

  As gunfire rang out not 20 meters from them, the Knight and the Warlock faced each other. Poppy stood almost perfectly still, her face turned to the sky and her hands open as if in prayer. After a moment, Narvuk felt a tingling along his skin and looked up. He could have sworn he saw something darting between the stars as the tingle became a throb, then a surge. Suddenly, a massive bolt of Arc lightning struck Poppy and she was lifted a foot off the ground as she entered the Stormtrance. "Ready?" Narvuk braced himself and nodded, his Cleaver raised in front of him. Arc began flowing from Poppy's hands into the blade and over Narvuk's stony skin, the Knight's eyes glowing brighter every second. The lightning crackled between the Guardians, and from them to the rocks around them. When Poppy's current finally subsided, Narvuk inhaled deeply to center himself.

  "Sso much power... from so little. Let's see what it can do." He turned back to where Sienna had gone to fight the monster and saw her crawling away from the thing, bleeding from cracks in her armor. It raised its claws to crush her as her friends watched. "NO!," Narvuk roared, flipping his sword and throwing it like a javelin. As it flew, the Arc energy around it burned white-hot, taking the shape of a spear. The monster had time to turn its head, but that was all. The Arc javelin punched through the beast, disintegrating it entirely.

  "Nnh... thanks for the save. Timing still needs... work thooooOW sonuvabitch!" Poppy raced to Sienna's side, helped her stand, and retrieved Sienna's cannon. "C'mon, let's get you back to the cave so Harrier can patch you up, yeah?"

  "You two go on ahhead. These statues... I want to see what I can learn from them. I will join you when I'm ffinished," Narvuk interjected, looking up at the crude face carved into one of the monoliths.

  "Alright, big guy. Don't take too long, y'hear?" With that, Poppy helped Sienna onto her Sparrow, grabbed the handlebars around her friend, and zoomed away, leaving the Knight alone with only his Ghost for company.

A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry for the wait, finishing this chapter was just really difficult for some reason. But! It's here now, and I hope y'all enjoyed it! :D

[freetobeafcknriot]

This is very, very random and rushed. It’s part of a bigger project I had for @haikyuurarepairweek2020​  (day 6). The prompts are “Storm” in this case and “Mythology!AU” ━  or, well, it’s an Akatsuki no Yona!AU, but since The Four Dragons are part of Kouka’s legends and are considered deities it should count as mythology. It was supposed to be entirely different, but... it’s a start?

Pairing:  Oikawa Tooru/Nishinoya Yuu ━ OiNoya. Setting: Akatsuki No Yona. Word count:  535.

━━━━　❛　RUNNING INTO STORMS　❜

Tooru hasn't heard many tales of the Four Dragons growing up. All he knew when he left the village in his early teens was picked up from his predecessor's spiteful monologues and vague pieces of information thrown here and there if given the opportunity or asked the right question. Granted, Tooru never denied the possible existence of some sort of link between him and the other Dragons of the current generation, call it benefit of the doubt. It's just that, he has always valued his right to choose and live freely in spite of it a little bit more.

There was this one story though ━ the only one picking at his most genuinely curious side as a child ━ about the Blue Dragon's eyes. Tooru has seen wonders flying up in the skies and venturing into Kouka, never looking back. Not even once. But when the feeling of two of the other Dragons starts to make his skin itch and his heart buzz, he can't help but wonder. Is this...?

And then the bolt of blue light comes running into him in the middle of Awa, clear like seawater but impossibly rich and rowdy like the thundering sky.

"Emerald," it's the first thing Blue blurts out. Tooru scoffs  ━ so much for an apology for running into him ━  but finds himself blinking in surprise at the small figure hovering over him. At how young and lively the Blue Dragon sounds.

He is wearing a coat over his clothes. It's soaked with rainwater and its big hood hides the upper half of his face. He picks at it with the tip of his fingers and lifts it, and right there and then, Tooru's heart skips a beat and his blood starts boiling in his veins. The tale about the Blue Dragon's eyes thrives from the back of his mind, raising up from memories of many years ago.

They're mesmerizing. Luminous, gorgeous irises speckled with shades of warm ochre and amber and gold. Golden dragon eyes beautiful beyond belief, they said. So full of wit and life they take Tooru's breath away, slanted and accentuated by long, dark blue eyelashes and two red marks under them, contrasting with the pale color of Seiryuu's skin.

Seiryuu is looking at him, curious and captivated. He smiles, all boyish features and perky nose. "You're Ryokuryuu, ain't you?"

It is raining around them, there are thunders roaring in the distance, but Seiryuu barely notices them, too preoccupied with the gorgeous green surrounding the stranger with long wavy hair he literally ran into. He can't help it.

At last, Ryokuryuu huffs a half-laugh. He shakes his head and gets up.

"There is no point in denying it now..." he murmurs, before looking at him with a small, velvety smile that brings out his dimples. Yuu feels an enormous sense of vertigo and something in him shifting.

They say the Four Dragons are somehow like brothers, it's in their blood. It's a gut feeling and Yuu knows that pull by now. And yet there must be something weird in how the Green Dragon reciprocates his gaze. It's like, despite his provoking manners, he doesn't ever want to look away.

"Hajimemashite, Seiryuu-kun."

[softspiderling]

you mocha me crazy | t.h.

Summary: an encounter at a coffee shop leaves you with more than a cup full of coffee

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Song I listened to while writing: Here With Me by Marshmello

Author’s Note: while doing research for this piece  fell in love with the LA film school *sigh* Germany is so fucking boring. Also be proud of me, I finished writing to pieces today! *yay*

Warnings: swearing, otherwise only fluff!

Word Count: 1,8k cute words

It has been fairly difficult adjusting to the Los Angeles lifestyle, to say the least. Everything was so loud and bright, and the time difference was horrendous.

Los Angeles was nine hours behind your usual time zone; you haven’t even been here for a week and your classes have already started in full force. Even though the courses were so interesting and your fellow students were really nice, you just were so tired and barely found the motivation to smile at other people and exchange phone numbers.

Which was the reason why you were staggering into the nearest coffee shop after your first class of film history, inhaling the smell of freshly ground coffee beans. You stood in line to order as your eyes scanned the display of baked goods, contemplating whether you should pick up a cookie with your coffee.

“Hi, welcome to Yo Jo Coffee, what can I get ya?”

The greeting pulled you from your thoughts and you smiled tiredly at the cheery barista.

“Hey, can I get a large mocha and uh…” you trailed off, biting your lip as you were trying to pick between the cookies. “A double chocolate cookie please,” you decided and fished your wallet out.

“A mocha and a double chocolate cookie coming right up. Name?” the barista asked as her sharpie hovered over the side of a coffee cup.

“Y/N.”

“That’ll be six dollars and 41 cents,” the barista told you and you waved your credit card around, sticking it into the EC cash terminal to pay. As you were handed the cookie in a small paper bag, you moved to the side of the counter to wait for your coffee.

Juggling your cookie in one and your phone in the other hand, you stuffed your wallet back into your backpack, you looked around in the busy coffee shop.

Warm sunlight streamed through the windows and you fingered at the hem of your shirt, glancing down at your chest where your camera was usually hanging off your neck. Emphasis on usually. You were in such a rush in the morning, you forgot to grab the camera.

You broke off a half from the cookie and took a bite, wondering if you should try to capture a few pictures with your phone, when your name was called. You whirled around and smiled at the barista who prepared your coffee, your hand curling around the warm coffee cup.

“Thanks!” you called over your shoulder as you turned to leave, but before you could even take a sip from your mocha, you collided with someone, sending your cup flying and spilling the hot beverage all over you and the person you bumped into.

“Son of a bitch!” you cursed as the scalding fluid soaked your t shirt and most of your bare legs. Now you were really glad that you forgot to take your camera with you, you didn’t even want to imagine having to try to replace your camera. “Shit!” you heard from the other person and you looked up to see a brown haired guy you bumped into. You couldn’t quiet see his face, because he was looking down at his white t shirt. The white t shirt that was stained with brown blotches from your mocha.

“I am so sorry!” you said quickly and grabbed some tissues, starting to pat the other person down. “That’s quiet alright love, I wasn’t looking where I was going either,” he chuckled with a thick English accent and you furrowed a brow.

“You’re English,” you noted pleasantly surprised at the change from the usual American accent and looked up, finally catching a glimpse of his face. Your hands stilled as you see a face in front of you that has been plastered all over the movie posters, his brown hair tucked under a black baseball cap

“You’re Tom Holland,” you blurted out and Tom grinned boyishly at you. “Why yes, I am. Do you mind?” he asked and gestured towards his torso, where your hands were resting.

“Oh, yeah, sorry!” your cheeks tinged pink and you pulled your hands off of him, handing him a few tissues.

“Thanks,” he smiled at you and started dabbing at the stains, before grimacing and giving up. A barista, lugging a bucket and a mop behind him, gave you a dirty look as he started mopping up the puddle on the floor.

“Sorry!” you squawked and picked your empty coffee cup up from the floor before tossing it in the trash can, looking at it longingly.

“Come on, go order another one. My treat,” Tom said to you, noticing your expression. You turn your eyes back to him and he nodded in the direction of the counter, which made you shake your head quickly. “No, you don’t have to! I was the one who bumped into you, I should be the one buying you coffee,” you protested, which only made him chuckle.

“I insist. I am picking up coffees for my friends anyway, what’s one more?” Tom said and you eyed him before giving in, nodding.  

“Fine. I guess you don’t get treated for a coffee from a famous actor every day,” you mumbled and he laughed, walking up to the counter.

“Hi, I’ll have two iced coffees, an americano and…” he trailed off, looking in your direction. “A mocha.” You added, tucking your hair behind your ear, while you watched Tom pay, before following him to the end of the counter.

“So, what do you usually do besides dumping coffee down other people’s shirts?” he asked you curiously.

“I am really sorry about that,” you said again, ducking your head. “I uh, just started at LA film school.”

Tom laughed a genuine laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I am just messing with you, love, it’s not a big deal. So, film school, huh? What are you there for?”

“Cinematography. I am really into making videos and uh, I guess photography,” you told him with a small smile.

“Oh that’s sick. You seem to have the same interests as my younger brother Harry. Can I see some of your stuff?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at his interest in you, before nodding, pleased. You liked sharing your work with other people, getting various opinions from different people. Art always affected people differently and you liked watching their reaction.

“Uh, yeah sure. I mainly shoot with my camera and I forgot to grab it when I left in the morning, so I just have a couple pictures on my phone that I can show you,” you reached for your phone and swiped to your gallery to show Tom some of your pictures.

“I took most of them back home, I haven’t been in LA that long, and I am swamped with classes so I didn’t really have the time to take a day off to take pictures,” you explained to him while he peered into your phone screen.

You had noticed that he was leaning over your shoulder to look at your pictures, and even though he wasn’t the tallest guy, you were still quiet shorter than him. His cheek brushed yours gently and you swallowed thickly, turning to look at him.

His face was only a few inches away from yours and you could see the faint freckles that were speckled across his cheeks.

“Your photos are really good,” he said softly and you stared at him, your lips slightly parted, before you cleared your throat and turned away with flushed cheeks. “Thanks,” you mumbled and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“I am not the best photographer, can you give me some pointers?” he asked and you look at him amusedly.

“I could try,” you chuckled and he lifted his phone with a grin. “Okay then, look away and act like I am not here, yeah?” Tom instructed you, making you laugh, before doing as you’re told. You can hear a few clicks of the phone as Tom snapped pictures of you, trying your hardest to strike a natural pose.

“I am pretty sure there are a few good ones,” he said proudly as he lowered his phone, swiping through the pictures with you leaning over his shoulder.

“Yeah, they’re not so bad,” you complimented him. Tom managed to capture you with a soft smile, the sun streaming on your face, giving you a golden glow. It was a rather good picture, you had to admit.

“We’ll make a photographer out of you yet.”

Tom smirked at you proudly, pocketing his phone. “I am just that talented.”

“Oh please,” you snorted and rolled your eyes good naturedly. “I got an order for Tom!” the barista called out and Tom lifted his hand, walking over to the counter. You watched his back as he fumbled around with the coffees for quite a while.

“You need any help?” you asked with a grin, your arms crossed.

“No no, I am all good love,” he called over his shoulder, handing the barista a pen before he turned around to you, four coffee cups in a carrier in his hand.

“Here,” Tom said, handing you your coffee.

“Thanks,” you smiled softly, taking a big gulp while the two of you walked out of the coffee shop.

“Well, I guess this is it,” you sighed as you stood outside the doors. Tom chuckled and nodded gesturing to two boys standing by the sidewalk.

“Yeah, my friends are waiting for me and their coffees,” he told you and you nodded. “I gotta get back to class, too,” you said slowly, waiting. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe him giving you his number.

But when he waved at you with a friendly smile, and a “See you around, Y/N.” you realized this was probably your first and last time meeting Tom Holland. With a wave of your hand, you turned on your heel and walked the other way, your cheeks burning.

It was a dream, thinking Tom Holland, out of all people, would give you his phone number after one friendly conversation. He probably met hundreds of people a day, you were merely a friendly face in the mass, you thought bitterly as you sipped on your coffee, heading to your lecture for Digital Editing I.

“Hey, thanks for saving me a seat,” you said to Jane, a friendly girl you’ve met in class.

“Yeah, no worries,” she told you with a smile as you sat down. She eyed your coffee cup before grinning.

“Already picking up guys at coffee shops, huh?” she teased and you looked at her in confusion before turning the coffee cup in your hands, a smile spreading on your face. On the white paper cup, Tom had scribbled his phone number with a black marker, the number adorned with a wide smiley.

“I guess I am,” you chuckled sheepishly, already grabbing your phone. As the lights dimmed and the professor started the lecture, you were typing away on your phone.

Y/N: writing your phone number on my cup was a pretty risky move. What would you have done if I hadn’t seen it?

Your smile widened as your message’s status quickly changed from delivered to read, the ellipses popping up, before disappearing and then reappearing.

Tom: I guess we’ll never find out 😉

Taglist: @sunflowercth

[clevernewdimension]

Polaris Part Thirteen

Parts: Preview, Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen (Coming soon!)

Genre: Action, drama, romance, sci-fi, etc.

Paring: Jongin x Character

Word count: 

A/N: Warnings for blood, violence, guns, death, etc like that. I had like 99% of this written out already before everything sort of fell apart, so here! An update! Also it’s mostly from Jongin’s perspective because why not.

Jongin’s eyes were wide, heart pumping fast as he presses down on the wound. Chaos all around as he kept one hand on Lyra’s chest, the other on the gun he took from the other guard. He was crawling away, screaming in pain from a shattered bone. Finally, there were doctors coming, taking one look.

“That amount of blood,” He yells, “Her heart has been cut-”

Jongin remembers back to a time he was sitting  in a room, bored while watching Kyungsoo talk on and on about medical shit. Every situation he had to cover, and he’d ask Jongin to throw him random ones. Study sessions were boring, but Jongin is his friend and he did owe him one or two… or a thousand favors.

Jongin pressed his finger into the wound, He could feel her beating heart as he found the cut. He pushed his finger further, trying to stop the leak. He sees her wince as he presses a kiss to her forehead, and just spills his heart out to her, saying a few sentences to try and comfort her. He knows she’s hearing some of it, or maybe is too panicked to hear much of anything, but he had to try. He tries to stay strong for her, to show her a brave face. And he does, a few tears only falling after he sees her eyes close.

“Good thinking,” The doctor says. “She’s passed out, she lost a lot of blood.” He pulls up a small device, “I’m going to need stabilizers and EVO blood on operating room one through three stat!”

Jongin looks over, seeing a man running towards the one he shot. He goes to reach to pick him up, drag him away. He raises his gun in his free hand, shooting him in the head before he could finish dragging for his friend. The body falls as the man who stabbed Lyra looks over, fear in his face for the first time.

The doctor places a hand on Jongin’s shoulder, “Captain, we have a team coming to transport her. We have a hover stretcher, you’ll need to get on with her.” He looks down at Lyra, “You’re quick thinking is probably the only reason she’s still alive.”

“But this still happened,” Jongin growls, looking at the man still try to crawl away. He looks at the doctor, “Make sure that asshole doesn’t die. We need to question him.” He holds the gun, not pointing it at anything, “You want this in case he tries something?”

The doctor shakes his head, “I have one.”

The chaos is dying down as the doctor walks over, quickly taking something out of a bag he had. Jongin sees as he uses a tourniquet on his leg, the man yelling in pain. Jongin gets a good look at him now. Eyes were black with silver irises, hair black too. He was tall, a little taller than he is as he looks, seeing his blood was black. He had a scar on his face, from the middle of his lower lip stretching out to the corner of his left eye.

Celieste walks over, falling beside him and Lyra, “I… I’m so sorry Captain Kim.”

He looks up, seeing her. The white shirt under her blazer speckled with both black and red blood. Jongin shakes his head, “You couldn’t have known the lengths they are willing to go…”

She shakes her head, “We have sent the Syndicate and the other planets a video of you all talking… about what Tribil has done. It’s playing on news across galaxies. I have a friend who is a news anchor and she made sure to get it on air as quick as possible.”

“They’ve been outed to everyone,” He says, “They’ll be looking for a fight. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’re trying to fight their way off the base as we speak.”

Before she could say anything else, a group of people come in. Every one guiding a hover stretcher. One stops by Jongin as the other doctor makes the stretcher lower until it was flat on the ground. Celeste helps, picking up Lyra’s legs and getting her onto the stretcher, Jongin straddling her with his finger still in her heart.

“We have a portal to the hospital,” The new doctor says in a heavy accent. “We’ll have the stabilizers on her soon.”

Jongin nods, looking down at the woman below him. Funny, less than twenty-four hours ago he was the happiest he’s ever been and now he’s scared and terrified. Time was going fast, his eyes glued to Lyra as he tries not to focus on the fact that it feels like her heart is beating slower and slower as the seconds go buy.

He watches as they push her coat open, cutting the shirt and bra. They push it out the way, and Jongin just looks at her face, feeling tears start to fall again. Once they’re activated, one of the doctors looks at Jongin, “You can move your hand now.”

Jongin does so, his hand absolutely soaked in her blood. He gets off as they all start to work, setting her up in order to peel the clothes off her.

“Jongin.”

Jongin jumps, looking over and seeing Celieste there. This time it wasn’t ‘captain Kim’, but his name. Jongin couldn’t help but think that perhaps she notices how scared he is deep down. How much he just wants to hold Lyra and make everything bad stop. How he wished it was him and not her. She must have followed him as they brought Lyra here. “I… I know you don’t want to leave but Major General Kim wants to speak with you. We have a direct video link at the U.N with him right now.”

He looks back at Lyra, before handing her the gun that was still in his other hand. Jongin wipes his eyes, before looking at at Celieste. She looked shaken. Nothing like this has ever happened to her. She’s not a fighter, though she is trained. Her hands shaking, her gun at her side. Jongin nods, “Ok. But after I’m coming straight back here.”

“She’ll probably be in a room and resting by then,” She says. “I made sure she’ll be placed in the secure section of the hospital. Underground with only one elevator leading there. Only those with clearance can go. I’ll make sure you’re clear.” She presses a rag into his hands. The white of it immediately stained red.

Jongin just wipes his hand the best he could, placing it in a biohazard laundry basket after. He nods, wiping the tears from his face before following her.

It seemed like Jongin was just walking numb because it felt like he was there in seconds. He looks at the screen, seeing Minseok as well as Junmyeon there.

“Are you ok,” Minseok asks, looking at his brother on the screen. The professionalism be damned in a moment like this.

“I…” Jongin says, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter right now. Tell me that fucker is still there.”

Minseok’s face goes from worry to anger. “No,” He says, growling, “Turns out some of the staff here can be bought. They left last night. Tribil has been hiding tech. Their mining operation is loud as hell, so they made some tech to silence the sounds. They add that to ships and can toggle it on and off.” Minseok shakes his head, then they pay off the people on watch and Air traffic control.”

The rage Jongin felt bubbled over, “Those FUCKS!”

“They’re going to get to Tribil before we can get them,” Minseok explains. “We’re going to have to go to war. Without the Syndicate, their only allies were Ysimir, who have instead rescinded that after hearing Master Sergeant Lang speak and are now on our side, Etherion, who’s people are now protesting against but their government still fully backs. Because of the major backlash, they’re unlikely to send more than just some weapons and aid. Then there’s...”

Jongin sees the hesitation in his face, a look of worry as he stares directly into his brothers eyes. “Just say it.”

“Myrthra.”

Myrthra. A planet dedicated to fighting. Known for fighting of all kinds. Most people visit to watch the Colosseum fighting to the death for sport. For glory. For riches. They’re also known for their vast military. Their space force is second only to the Syndicate, and if they land on your planet they go berserk. There are no better ground fighters, their skin naturally tough so that only high powered lasers and bullets can penetrate, normal blades don’t work. Only laser blades and even then they’d have to be the kind they use in the medical field.

Jongin wanted to hit something. He turned away, hand shaking in rage. Of course they would have back up plans. It was like they’ve known all along.

“We already have a lot of high powered laser rifles. All fighters already have them attached, and pistols are being upgraded.”

“We need to get back,” Jongin mutters, “But Lyr- Master Sergeant Lang is in no condition to fly back.”

“We’re setting up a connection portal with the Syndicate base as we speak,” Celieste says, motioning to another monitor. “We can take her though and get her back to the Syndicate once she’s stable and we’re sure going though won’t harm her.” She glances back at Jongin, “You’re going to need to go back and fly your fighter. We have a portal to many military bases here, one way only. All portals except the one to the hospital in the building are one way out of security.”

“There are a few Syndicate members who are coming to escort Master Sergeant Lang through and keep her safe,” Minseok says, looking at another monitor by him. “They’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“She should be good to transport in about an hour,” Celieste nods, making a note of it. “Send me their informa-”

“I want Yixing to be one of them,” Jongin demands, looking at his brother. “He’s the best we have. If I’m leaving her side right now, it’s only because he’s there.”

“Done,” Minseok says, looking at his younger brother. “We will speak about Earth’s involvement in this upcoming war after all of your leaders come together, Mrs. Winters. But right now, I want you, Jongin, to go to Lyra. I can tell you don’t want to be anywhere but right now, so go. Keep her save. She’s extremely important in this war.”

Jongin looks at his brother, confused. “How so?”

“Well, looks like the Tribil resistance members have officially gotten a symbol. Someone to look towards for inspiration. The upper Tribians are not happy with it. They want to snuff out the fire of their fight by killing her.”

Jongin’s rage was pushed aside, a stronger, more intense feeling. Fear. Fear for what they’re willing to do to kill Lyra. His hands shake more as he feels tears in his eyes again. He doesn’t care if it looks weak at all, he can’t lose her.

“Wouldn’t that just make her a martyr,” Celieste asks, confused.

Minseok shakes his head, “She’s not the first. It’s happened many times before and every time the Tribian crown has found them and executed them. Mandatory viewing on everything with a screen, no exceptions. They’ve seen their heroes fall time and time again. She won’t become a martyr if she dies, she’ll be a sign of the crown’s power.”

Jongin shakes, a mix of anger and fear flowing through him. “When the time comes to go and fight, I want to be there.”

Minseok looks sad, for a moment. “I know. I wish I could just lock you away until this is over so you wouldn’t have to, but you’re the best at what you do, Jongin. Besides, you’d never forgive me if I did.”

“You’re damn right,” Jongin says, “Stay safe. I’m going back to Lyra. I have my reader in my hotel room. I’ll ask someone to get it so you can keep me updated.”

Jongin turns and walks the way they came quickly. He could hear Celieste’s heels behind him as he locates the portal room he had just come from, guards stopping him.

“Let him through,” Celieste instructs.

They let him open the door, as he gets to the ones that is linked to the hospital. He goes in, looking around for a moment.

Celieste looks on a device that looks like a small reader. “She’s in her room. It didn’t take long to get her stable. I’ll have a few people collect your things from your room so we can speed up the process and get Lyra back under Syndicate supervision.”

“How long until her transfer takes place,” Jongin asks, following her as she motions for him to.

“An hour,” She says, pressing her thumb to a door that was heavily guarded. “She’ll likely still be sleeping by then. Medically induced. It’ll take hours for her to wake.”

“Thank you,” Jongin says, as the door to the elevator opens.

They both walk in, and it shuts before she turns to him. “I’m so sorry, Jongin,” tears in her eyes. “I… I don’t know how… and I lost some friends today in all of this. Some good people. All because we’re late on security tech and don’t know about the latest innovations. This is my fault-”

Jongin pulls her into a hug, “It’s not your fault. It’s theirs. Trust me. If you blame yourself for the deaths of the people around you, you’ll never recover from the guilt.”

She hugs him for a moment, tightly. When she pulls away, she wipes her tears and looks at him. “Sounds like personal experience.”

“I think that way. Constantly. Hundreds of people have died around me and even though I know I couldn’t have saved them there will always be a part of me that says I could,” Jongin says, patting her on the shoulder. “Don’t do that. Just… hug your husband and cry it out. Maybe a drink or two, but not too much. Then get pissed and seek justice.”

She nods as the doors open, a heavily armed guard looking at them.

“They need a scan of your face and to take DNA,” She explains, turning and a laser scans her face from top to bottom. Jongin lets the man scan his face, before giving them his hand and letting them prick a finger. The blood smeared against a small section of the tablet he held. It was soaked up completely before He sees his name, rank, picture and the name of the person he was visiting.

“You’re both cleared,” He says, voice accented heavily.

“Thank you,” Jongin says.

“Room 12,” Celieste says, going back into the elevator. “I’ll give you both yours and her luggage right before you go back to your Fighter.”

Jongin nods, before turning and practically sprinting towards the room. Another man there to confirm it was him before he opens the door.

Lyra was there, an oxygen tube to her nose as she slept. A hospital shirt over her, replacing the clothes they cut. She looked pale. Fragile. But peaceful in her sleep.

Jongin moves the chair to be as close to her as possible, threading his fingers with hers. He tried to hold back his fear, his worry, how scared he was. He did for the most part, as he lets it out a cries. Holding her hand, head on her shoulder as he sobs from the fear of never seeing alive and happy again. Unashamed as he weeps over almost losing her. His heart felt like it was going to burst, this throat feeling tight as he couldn’t see anything but the image of her bleeding to death in his arms.

When a hand is placed on his shoulder, he jumped. Instant reaction was to swing out in defense. Defense of Lyra. A hand catches his fist before letting it go softly. When he saw who it was, he calms. “You’re… but it’s suppose to be an hour-”

“Guard told me you’ve been here like this the whole time,” Yixing says, eyes glancing towards Lyra. He shakes his head, “I’m so sorry, Jongin.”

Jongin wipes his face, going back into work mode. The one thing his father trained him well in that he was truly thankful for. The ability to shove feelings aside if he needs to. Make it seem as if he’s calm. “Take care of her,” Jongin says, “If something happens to her, I will never forgive you.”

Yixing looks shocked, “I understan-”

“No, you really don’t,” He says, sadly. His heart beating faster than normal from fear and adrenaline still. “Yixing… I… she told me. Last night. I told her I love her. And she loves me and… last night was the happiest moment of my life and then this happens.” Jongin looks back to her. “We’re together and then this almost instantly rips us apart.”

Yixing shakes his head, “Damn. Jongin, I’m so sorry. But we will get these assholes.” He takes Jongin’s hand, “I swear that nothing will happen to her, Jongin.”

Jongin nods, “I’ll… I’ll see you soon, then.” He turns back to Lyra, leaning and pressing his lips to her forehead before turning and walking out the door.

Walking out the door was the hardest thing he’s ever done. He’s been captured and tortured for information, grew up under a father that was more like a dictator, watched countless people die before him… but this is a pain he never knew before. He was quickly at the base, escorted to the hanger where his Fighter was when he sees another parked beside it. The top open and he sees Sehun there.

Jongin get into his piloting suit, pulling on his helmet as he climbs into his Fighter. Turning it on and connecting the oxygen line, he speaks into the radio. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t think I was going to let you fly back alone, did you,” He hears Sehun ask.

“I can handle myse-”

“I know you don’t need protection, idiot,” Sehun says, “At least, not from people trying to kill you. But you need it from your own mind right now. Besides, I know you’re hurting and I… I can’t just turn my back on you right now. I need to be there for you to try and help, even if it does nothing.So, tell me, how was your time there? Tell me anything you want to.”

Sehun handled the take off comms while Jongin just gathered himself. Then, once they were off, Jongin just spoke. About the trip, about how stunning Lyra was that night, about how shocked he was when she confessed. Every emotion was pouring out of him as he flew. Soon, they were back at the base, landing as Jongin pulled his helmet off, wiping the tears from his eyes.

In the hanger, they see Kyungsoo.

“I know you, so I thought you’d like me to look over her once she got here,” Kyungsoo says, gesturing them to walk along with him. “She’s going to be fine. Just a day of rest to recover. Thankfully the hospital there is fully stocked with the latest and greatest to get soldiers back on their feet as soon as possible.” Kyungsoo sighs, “Well, body, anyways. Mentally, she’ll probably be shaken. Poured all her dark secrets out to everyone in the known galaxies and then was attacked during. I’ll make sure she sees a professional about that.”

Kyungsoo grabs Jongin’s arm, his grip tight. Authoritative. “You should also see therapy.”

“I’m fine,” Jongin says, looking back down the hallway. Mind going a million miles a minute and with no sign of slowing down.

Kyungsoo’s grip tightens, making Jongin look back at him in shock. “No, you’re not,” The smaller one says. “If anyone needs therapy, it’s you. You shoulder too much blame for things you can control. You worry so much you can make yourself sick. You have nightmares all the time about the horrible things you’ve been though. You’ve watched so many people die, that alone qualifies you for immediate therapy. Then your whole family that’s been completely fucked in the head by your father, tortured, beaten, and who knows what else for most of your life. Then this happens, something you have no control over harms the person who love most and even though your quick thinking saved her life, you still blame yourself.” Kyungsoo shakes his head, “Jongin… I don’t think you understand how much I’ve wanted to completely force your stubborn ass into intensive therapy with a psychiatrist for years now.” Kyungsoo let’s go, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket. It was blue. All medical officer’s orders that are about any sort of medicine are on blue paper when you give them to another member of the Syndicate. They’re serious. You either follow them and what they say exactly or your on permanent desk duty. Kyungsoo pushes the paper into his chest, “And now that I am head of medical in the entire Syndicate, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Therapy. Mandatory.”

Jongin’s eyes went wide, “You’re head of medical? The others?”

Sehun speaks now, “Emergency voting happened after the attacks. The other heads are on their way here now. Tryko Nvers is the head of Politics. Joanna Lynch was going to be Medical, but she stepped down from contention. She’s making a lot of advances in curing illnesses and doesn’t want to step away from that. Izzya M’Bai was far and away the one elected for Science.”

“And defense,” Jongin asks, “I’ve got to get to them and talk about the shit I’ve seen.”

“Minseok,” Kyungsoo says, “Not that that matters for you. You’re not going to be allowed to fly that Fighter again until you set up a schedule and attend at least two sessions with a psychiatrist.”

Jongin feels the anger bubble in him, “Kyungsoo we don’t have time for this shit, we’re at war!”

“And your ass will be guiding from the sidelines because you’re so shattered mentally that I think you could be a danger to your team,” Kyungsoo bites back. The anger in his eyes were burning, “My duty is to everyone. Not just you. You’re on the edge of completely blowing up in a volatile way. People around you could get hurt! People you care for! Do the damn sessions! We’re not going to launch an attack for another week anyways as we gather intel and weapons. Until then you’re grounded… literally.”

Kyungsoo shoves him, glaring. “You’re my friend. But this is my duty. And, speaking personally,” He shakes his head, “I’m so sick of watching you walk around masquerading that everything is alright with you when it’s not. I’m so sick of seeing you have to force yourself to be ok when there is a chance for you to ACTUALLY BE OK. Be BETTER than just ok.”

Before Jongin could say anything, he starts to walk, “Come on. We’re going to Lyra. If I have to, I’ll get her on my side too.”

Jongin nods, looking at the paper in his hand as he shoves it into his pocket. “That’s playing dirty,” He says, trying to ease the tension.

“Here I thought you liked dirty,” Kyungsoo replies back, before opening the door to the medical building. He points, “Down the hall to the elevator. You’re given access to the underground rooms. Second floor, room 1.”

As Kyungsoo was walking away, Jongin grabs his shoulder, “Um… Thanks. For forcing me be your study buddy. That’s the only reason why she’s alive.”

Kyungsoo smirks, “I’m just happy something was actually drilled into your head other than flying or fucking.”

“I was trying to be sincere, Soo,” Jongin pouts, shaking his head.

“And I don’t care until you go to two appointments,” He says, before turning and walking away.

Sehun, who was silent that entire time, just looks at Jongin and shrugs, “He has a point.”

“Who goes to therapy, Sehun,” Jongin asks, pressing the button.

“Literally everyone else in the Syndicate but you,” Sehun says, shaking his head, “Hell, Lyra told me she had to go for a long time weekly after the attack of the graduating class happened. It honestly helps.” Sehun crosses his arms, looking at his friend, “And… I’ve been going for a while. Because of the whole… you know… Daddy issues, I guess you could call them. They help. A lot. I was in some dark places when I first joined the Syndicate and I…”

Jongin walks into the elevator, seeing Sehun walk in beside him. Sehun looked hurt, arms still crossed as he leaned against the wall of the elevator.

“I probably would be alive right now if it wasn’t for those sessions,” Sehun says, looking Jongin in the eye with determination. “It was mandatory for me, and for a long time I contemplated killing myself because I just felt… gross and awful and like a murderer. Which I am.” Sehun nods, “But it just happened I had that first session the same day. It literally saved my life.” He glares at Jongin, “So, hearing you talk about it like that? Pisses me off.”

In a blink, Jongin found himself pressed against the wall of the elevator, Sehun’s nose almost touching his. The glare was unnerving as Jongin just looked at him, meeting his eyes.

“If you don’t do something to help yourself for once in your fucking life,” Sehun says, his voice low and quiet. Jongin has almost never head Sehun speak like this to him. It was kind of terrifying. “You can find a new Fighter partner.”

“What,” Jongin asks in disbelief, eyes wide.

“You heard me,” Sehun says, “I’m serious. When you’re this way you don’t use your best judgement. It’s been leaking into your flying too. How to command other pilots.” The hand that was pushing him against the wall tightens, “You’re reckless. You can fly out of situations like that because you’re a prodigy or something. I’m not. And I have something to live for. I don’t want to die out there and not be able to get back.”

Jongin sighs, “Fine. I do it. I’ll set up the meetings after I visit Lyra. But, I do want you to know something Sehun.”

Sehun looks curious at him. Jongin takes his hand, grabbing Sehun’s wrist and twisting it, causing Sehun to wince. He moves, taking Sehun’s head in a headlock after letting go of his wrist, “I let you push me against that wall. Next time just say what you want to say. No need for dramatics,” Jongin says with a smirk.

“You’re the worst,” Sehun mumbles as Jongin lets him go, the doors opening.

“I’ll go. Not because I want to. But because I don’t want to lose you as my partner,” Jongin says, before walking forward. He was stopped, a person looking over ids and doing a scan of their fingerprints.

“Go on, Captain Kim,” The officer says, nodding.

Jongin runs the ten feet to Lyra’s door, pausing as he could hear voices inside. Tears welled in his eyes before he wipes them away, pushing the door open with a smile.

The color has returned to her, he noticed first. She didn’t look scarily pale like before anymore. Second thing he notices is that she was pulling her hospital down back up her shoulder while leaning forward. Kyungsoo quickly tying the laces at the back. She winced, and Jongin felt his heart momentarily stop. She smiles at him, and his heart is back, racing with joy that she’s lived. Lyra has beaten the odds and lived.

The next thing he notices are her eyes as she looks towards the door. They meet his, her soothing green ones make his knees want to buckle from the sheer force of relief he feels. Her smile grows as he feels himself drawn to her, feet carrying himself quickly as he softly and gently wraps his arms around her.

“Stop scaring me,” He whispers, holding her face in his hands. Tears falling from his eyes once more today, but this time they’re of joy.

“Tell people to stop trying to kill me, then,” She says back, smiling.

Jongin chuckles as she reaches up, wiping the tears from his eyes. Lyra smiles, “Thank you for keeping me alive.”

Jongin just smiles, beaming brightly at her. “I don’t know what I would have done if you…”

Lyra tapes his arm, “Nope. Don’t think like that.”

“Alright,” He says, pressing his lips to hers quickly. He tried to convey all the fear and worry he’s felt these past few hours into this kiss. It was soft, as he was afraid to hurt her. He was shaking, and she pressed her hands on his arms as he pulled away.

She smiled, her face red with a bit of embarrassment. “It’s ok, Jongin. Now we recover.”

Jongin glances over at Kyungsoo, who was just smiling and watching the two of them. “Alright,” He says, nodding, “We recover.”

Kyungsoo got the hint. Jongin was subtly agreeing to go see a therapist. He mouths the words ‘Thank you’ back, before walking towards the door. Kyungsoo grabs Sehun’s arm, “Come on. It’s dinner time and today I’ve decided you’re the one who’s buying me dinner.”

Sehun nods, smiling as he watches the two in the room. “I suppose you’ve earned that,” He says to his friend, turning his back away from a man who he sees as a brother and a woman he greatly respects. Let Jongin and Lyra have time to sort themselves out before this looming shadow of war. Sehun turns, video of the attack on them burned into his memory. The anger and hate in his blood burning as he thinks about their mission.

“No one gets away with attacking one of our own,” Sehun says, letting a small amount of his anger out through his words.

“No,” Kyungsoo says, agreeing quickly, “No they don’t. They made this even more personally than it was before, and that is going to be their biggest mistake.”

[vivipixels-notepad]

Desperation for A Dream, part 1

SFW

CW’s

Strange Reality

Falling 70+ feet (No injury)

Embarrassed in front of a crowd

Light themes of horror

Abrupt ending

Aes seldom dreamt. When she did, it was usually elaborate blueprints, which were highly boring to explore. But tonight, tonight was different. Tonight, she was speechless. She stood on a path made of polished, white granite cobble. Emerald waters lapped at the edges of the path, gently rushing in. The path led to a large wall, constructed some red stone. A large moon hung in the star speckled sky. Aes realized she was holding a lantern, which was lit with a blue flame. She held it aloft, and saw the spectral images of thousands of other people, walking this path. She took a breath in, and started to walk.

“You’re finally hear, dear friend.”

Aes jumped. She began to look around wildly.

“Hehe, you’ll not see me like that. The lantern, I’m in the lantern.”

She looked into the lantern. The flame itself was speaking.

“Hello! Hi!”

The fire pulsed warmly as it spoke. It’s voice was cheerful, feminine, and softly doubled over itself.

“Greetings! I am a fragment of Verlatiir’s Guiding Light. I’m your fragment. You are standing outside the city of Verlatiir, The Realm of Those Who Slumber. I’m more or less your guide.”

“Where.. where am I? How’d I get here?”

“I just told you, you’re outside Verlatiir! The Land of Lights? The City of Colors? The Great and Wonderous Dream Shared by All People? Any of these ring a bell?”

Aes shook her head.

“I’ll explain it the long way then. Magic magic shared dream demiplane magic magic.”

Aes scowled.

“That’s the long way?”

“I omitted most of the details. You’re in a shared, living dream, that exists within a demiplane, ruled by the Council of Sevens in their Stone Spires.”

“Okay, well this is a lot to take in. I assume that’s why you’re here.”

“Yep!” The flame chirped happily.

“Uh... do you have a name?”

“I... don’t.”

“Would you like one?”

“Yes, but remember.. names are powerful.”

“Names are powerful?”

“Yeah! Like.. if someone knows your true name, they have power over you. So me letting you name me is me giving you power over me. Remember that, and treat me fairly.”

“Oh, okay. Uh... I’ll name you... Lumetta?”

“Lumetta the what? Or the who? My name isn’t complete. All the names here have some kind of... descriptor.”

“Um... Lumetta who Lights The Way?”

The flame was silent for a brief moment.

“I really like it, Aes, Builder of Paths.”

A shiver went down her spine.

“Now, lets get you into Verlatiir!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took her much longer to approach the great walls of the city than she was expecting. All the while, Lumetta was explaining the intricacies of Verlatiir. For example, it’s illegal to drink the water.

“Do not drink the waters of Verlatiir,” Lumetta warned, “It reveals that which the eye cannot see, the ear cannot hear, the skin cannot touch, the nose cannot smell, the tongue cannot taste, and the mind cannot comprehend.”

“So it’s some kind of hallucinogen?”

“No no, my dear Aes! The things you would see are not hallucinations. You would wish they were. You will not get thirsty here, but your thirst for knowledge would be your downfall. Some people bottle it, and bring it back with them, hoping to return here. It doesn’t work, Absynthe is poisonous.”

“Ohhkay then.”

“You also can’t feel physical pain here. If you do, at any point, actually get hurt, run. The things that can hurt you here are highly dangerous, and can kill you.”

“That’s... wonderful.”

“Don’t worry, those things aren’t *supposed* to be here, so you’ll be fine!”

The gates to the city were open. The white granite cobbles continued into the city, melding into the white paths. She hesitated to continue when she saw the stream of people, seemingly appearing from the threshold.

“Why are you stopping, we’re almost there!”

“I.. crowds make me nervous.”

“It’s okay, I’m here, I’m with you, you can’t loose me. Most people won’t even be able to see me, let alone take me from you.”

Aes took in a deep breath, and walked though the gate. Reality subtly shifted. The sounds and smells of the city assailed her all at once, colors brightened, the very air became charged. It was overwhelming, and Aes fell against a nearby wall.

“Are you alright?” Lumetta seemed to press against the glass of her square lantern.

“It’s... a bit much.” Slowly, Aes got used to it. Or the sensations died down. She was thankful for it, which ever way it happened. A few passers by had turned to look at her on their way into the city. Not a single one was human. She stood upright, and shakily kept walking. Aes marveled at the site of the city itself. The outer walls seemed to be about seven stories tall.

“Uh.. Lumetta, where do I go?”

People pushed past Aes, who simply stood, dumbfounded. The city looked vaguely medieval, large stone walls on either side of the street. From the gate, one could walk left or right, as another large wall stood not far from the entrance.

“Anywhere you want!”

“That.. doesn’t help. Can I get off this street please, it too crowded.”

“There’s an alley on your left. Duck in there, I’ll tell you a secret.”

Aes quickly made her way off the busy street, into a narrow alleyway.

“Alright, what is it?”

“The streets are too cluttered for you, right? Well, why not traverse somewhere less full of people?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Flying, silly! Physics are malleable here!”

“This place is a shared dream, right? So... we’re not playing by normal rules.”

“Exactly! Just... sorta will yourself to do it!”

Aes closed her eyes, and focused on the distant sensation of gliding through the air. She imagined herself slowly rising up, away from the crowds, past rooftops.

“It’s working!”

Aes opened her eyes, and was shocked to actually be floating off the ground. She was nearing the top of the outer wall, and the sight of that caught her so off guard, she lost her focus. Aes began to plummet back to the ground. She couldn’t tell if she was screaming, the air rushing past her head drowned out all noise. Lumetta had said that nothing could hurt her, so on some level, she knew this wasn’t instant death. But it was the fear of not knowing what it would feel like that terrified her to her core. Almost as quickly as she had taken off, she came crashing back down with a meaty thud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remarkably, Aes never lost consciousness, and managed to keep a grip on her lantern. She did, however, draw a crowd. Flying wasn’t illegal, and she had broken no laws. But the guards still showed up, because of the screaming. Aes hadn’t moved out of embarrassment, but some thought she was dead. Because of this, no one dared get close. If something killed her, it might still be over her body. It was a solid ten minutes before some stepped forth. A pale woman in a white dress, with a red sash. She was in a huff, upset with the goings ons of the day. This incident did not help, and frankly made her quite angry. Fools who cannot keep their cool should not try to do something they cannot handle. She briskly walked over to scene, grabbed the body by the scruff, and hoisted Aes to her feet.

“Would you *please* stop making a scene! You’re beginning to attract the attention of the Seven!”

Aes, trembling, with ears folded over her face, squeaked out a weak, “Sorry.”

The crowd dispersed quickly, the person who fell was alive, and the Seven were watching. No need to linger. The woman in the white kept a hold of Aes.

“Just what do you think you’re doing!? You’re in the city for not even five minutes, and you go and cause a ruckus! Why, I ought to bring you straight up to the Court my damn self! I should... wait.. are you.. crying?”

She turned Aes to face her, revealing streams of tears running down her cheeks.

“Hey, I-I didn’t mean to-you should really-uh-hey, can you please stop crying.”

Aes did her best to regain composure, apologizing between sobs. Eventually, the woman set her back down, and knelt beside her.

“Look, I didn’t mean to come off so strong on ya. Its been a rough day, and well, I’m sure you know how it feels to deal with one incident after another.”

Aes slowly nodded. One of the nearby guards let out a small laugh.

“Is the Captain of the Ruby Guard going soft?”

The woman in white rose to her feet, and grabbed the guard’s shoulder.

“You mistake compassion for weakness, perhaps I should have the Seven review the tenants of our order with you.”

The guard stiffened up.

“Apologies ma’am, that won’t be necessary.”

“Good.” She turned back to Aes, and held out a hand, “My name is Sylvia, what’s yours?”

“Aes.” She took Sylvia’s hand, and pulled herself to her feet.

“Well, Aes, as long as you don’t go causing any more scenes, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. Is there anything else you need? Directions, advice, newcomer’s welcome?”

“I.. I wouldn’t mind some general directions.”

“The city is separated into four districts, along the four main gates, with the Court of Sevens in the center. What is actually in each district varies wildly, but they’re separated for organizational purposes. Welcome to Verlatiir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The city was a blur beneath her, as she soared through the air. Aes clutched her lantern, and focused solely on the feeling of the wind.

“I told you you’d get the hang of it!” Lumetta chirped happily.

She was right, it wasn’t very difficult. Aes wanted to throw in the towel after the first attempt, but Lumetta encouraged her to try again. And again. And again. After two hours, she was finally flying. Aes slowed down, bringing herself to a hover.

“So.. what now, Lumetta?”

“Well, I figured we get you some currency, and find a nice souvenir for when you wake.”

“Oh.. right. I have to wake up at some point, don’t I?”

“You don’t want to, do you?”

“This place is so.. beautiful. And strange. And I want to explore more of it. But I don’t want to leave.”

“It’s okay, most people are like that the first time. Everything will be right here when you return, I promise.”

Aes hugged the lantern.

“Okay. Where do we go to get whatever passes as money here?”

“Well... you can do a couple of things. I assume you don’t have any memories you want to get rid of. In that case, you can more or less rent some out.”

“Rent out my memories?”

“Yeah, like, let other people experience them. I know of a place, let me lead you there. We’re actually pretty close.”

The lantern began to pull Aes forward, then down into an alleyway. Lumetta was right, they were practically just above it. The sign over the door depicted a small crystal, sitting in a glass of wine.

“Go on, get in there.”

Aes hesitated briefly, before grabbing the handle, and pushing her way inside.

The room wasn’t amazingly large. It looked a lot like a tavern, with wall sconces, a hearth, a bar, and a number of patrons in various states of consciousness. Soft string music flowed through the room.

“Welcome to the Merry Glass, are you giving or taking?” The young man behind the bar called to Aes as she walked in.

“Um. Giving?” She approached the bar, and hopped onto a stool.

“Great! I haven’t seen your face before, so I’ll explain our rates. You get one pouch when you first drop off your desired memory, of course, you also get however much it’s worth, but you also get another pouch per person that uses it. There are no limits on what you can and can’t leave with us, and you can have it back whenever you wish. Here is a small ‘contract’ with more detail on your protections as a renter to the Merry Glass, as well as a more detailed explanation on rates.”

Aes’s head felt like it was spinning.

“This is.. uh. A lot.”

She set her lantern down next to it. Lumetta cleated her throat.

“Here, I’ll explain it for you...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All told, the paperwork only took thirty minutes. The explanation was slightly longer, but Aes understood it all after Lumetta had broken it down for her. The last thing left to do was to choose a memory to leave behind. The empty, quartz-like crystal sat before her.

“I think I know which one I want to do.”

“Great!” Lumetta exclaimed, “You don’t have to say specifically what it is, all you have to do is picture it in your mind, and put your hand on that little crystal there.”

Aes put her hand on the crystal. It was no bigger than a quarter. She closed her eyes, and remembered. Remembered the first time she had worn the collar she made for Dizzy to test. The pleasure swirled up inside her again, as she relived those blissful moments. They faded as quickly as they appeared, until the memory was over. Aes opened her eyes, face cherry red.

“That’s... that’s going to be a popular one,” the barkeep said, picking up the crystal. He put it on a golden scale, and began adding small, brown leather pouches to the opposite side. It took ten pouches to balance it out. The barkeep coughed. “Wow, okay, damn.” He picked up the now pink crystal, and set it in a box, with Aes’s name on it. Then, he scooped up the pouches, and handed them to Aes. “You uh, you got some expensive memories. Don’t come back too soon, this little thing might just become a hot commodity.”

“Um.. okay.”

Aes picked up the pouches, and left. They were strangely heavy.

“What’s in these pouches, Lumetta?”

“Refined dream dust!”

“Oh.”

“Yep! Sometimes it just kinda... shows up here. It’s basically gold dust. Try not to think about that too much. Anyway, now it’s time to get you a little somethin’ somethin’! There’s a trinket shop further down the alley to your left.”

Aes cautiously followed Lumetta’s instructions. She was hesitant around alleyways, as she had a small history of getting pulled into them. Her ears were sitting straight up. She was in the verge of tripping her fight-or-flight response.

“..es..” a whisper found it’s way to her ears.

She stiffened.

“..aes..”

Her face went pale. Someone was near.

“..what’s a lamp-lighter like yourself doing here..”

Lumetta seemed to dim, almost hiding.

“Wh-who are you? How do you know my name?” She called out.

The voice responded with laughter, and in a sing-song voice, called out, “..little lone lamp-lighter, lost and languishing.. why don’t you give me that little light of yours?”

A spindly, inky black hand reached out from in front of her. She felt another hand on her shoulder.

Aes screamed.

[solivar]

WIP: Ghost Stories On Route 66

In which Zen and Hanzo have an unexpected experience.

“So, you remember when I told you the fabric of reality around here is usually a schmancy high thread count thingamabobber?” Jaime asked, as they clustered around him in the tiny oasis of normality beneath the streetlights. “Well. About two, three o’clock this afternoon, the monitors started pingin’ like mad and, uh, yeah, now the local area immediately inside your house is all dia -- diaphra -- diaphragmous? See-through like?”

“Diaphanous,” Hana replied tersely. “The word you’re looking for is diaphanous.”

“That’s the word! Thanks, chippie -- ow, ow, hey, ow, okay okay okay, I’m sorry!” He held up hands and tablet in self-defense. “Thank you, Hana. Anyway, we gathered up all the extra stabilizer stakes we had charged and called Rein and booked it up here as quick as we could. The stakes and the wards Rein rigged up are keepin’ it isolated for now but, uh, we dunno for how long. We’ve definitely got interference bleedin’ into local communications already.”

“Yeah, we noticed.” Jesse budged over to let Reinhardt join their huddle, taking the opportunity to slide his arm around Hanzo’s shoulders as he did so. “So I’m guessing it’s not going t’be safe for anyone to go in there?”

“We have been working on that,” Reinhardt rumbled. “Mako and I have tested a solution -- a ward that stabilizes the local area around its wearers, preferably two or three to create a large area of usable space.”

“And by ‘tested’ he means ‘they went inside wearin’ a pair and made me monitor the situation from outside so I could start screamin’ if they disappeared,’” Jaime clarified, still obviously aggrieved.

“He,” Roadie rumbled, gesturing a complicated gesture at Hanzo, “shouldn’t. Too close to the cause. Wards might not be strong enough.”

“His bedroom wall was where all this got started,” Genji added thoughtfully. “Hanzo, is there anything up there you absolutely couldn’t live without? Is there some way we could, like, seal it shut extra strongly?”

Hanzo leaned into the comfortingly solid warmth of Jesse’s side, and considered -- the computer and art pad he used for digital and holographic designs were expensive pieces of equipment but replaceable. So were the majority of the physical supplies, inks and watercolors and paper, that he kept on hand at home. Santa Fe contained enough thrift stores to replace his entire wardrobe if necessary. “My bow and quiver are downstairs in the sports equipment closet -- so is my gym bag. Just those. If we can ward my bedroom shut, we should.”

“And by we, we mean absolutely not you.” Genji replied sweetly. “Zen, can you do that thing you did back at the Student Union again?”

“That depends entirely upon the availability of duct tape and Sharpies but, yes, I can.” Zen offered him a faintly apologetic smile. “And I should go in first to perform the binding, just to be safe.”

“D’you honestly think we go anywhere without enough duct tape to fasten our truck’s entire frame and undercarriage back together?” Jaime asked, moderately affronted, and it was clearly a rhetorical question because a moment later a caseful was hitting the sidewalk with an emphatic thud.

Hana wordlessly dug at least six different colors and opacities of markers out of her bag and offered them up as a sacrifice. “What? I hit the bookstore when I was done with class. I had a bad feeling, okay?”

“No judgment.” Genji replied with an easy soothing grin as Zen made his selection, armed himself with three full rolls of tape, and marched toward the condo with Roadie in tow. “Wards? Wearable kind?”

“Yes! Come, we’ll get you fitted up.” Reinhardt, it seemed, approached literally everything with boundless good humor and radiant competence; Hanzo rather suspected if someone told him an asteroid capable of sterilizing the biosphere was about to hit the Earth, he’d respond with a cheerful grin and a plan that just might work.

He led them to one of the three trucks taking up approximately four hundred percent of their allotted curbside parking: a flatbed pickup truck obviously cobbled together from the frames of at least two pre-modern-technology vehicles, sun-faded and rust-speckled, mounted to a hover rig by means that probably wouldn’t stand up to close inspection and might not survive actual aerodynamic hover forces, flanked by not one but two trucks that looked for all the world like home repair/landscaping contractor vehicles, which he supposed was a reasonable enough approach for itinerant craftworkers in disguise. Reinhardt opened the side-panel of the truck he had clearly arrived in, internal lights flickering on as it folded out to reveal a collection of bog standard tools and tool boxes firmly mounted to internal magnetic brackets.

“I actually am a mechanical engineer,” Reinhardt grinned at them, flipped a few more switches, and the side panel continued unfolding in a way that emphatically denied the reality of physical space restrictions, containing rank upon rank of drawers and shelves labeled in neatly precise script, holding components and finished pieces alike, some enormous and obviously meant to be hung on mounts even larger yet, some exquisitely tiny and delicate, an entire worktable, its surface etched in complex diagrams, drafting tools and equipment clipped to the edges, storage caskets racked together beneath the drawers.

The wearable wards were on the smaller end, emerging from one of the caskets, Reinhardt handing each of them one as they clustered around him. “They are more durable than they look but I would not suggest hitting one with a hammer if you could avoid it. They produce a more individual focused variation of Jaime’s reality stabilization matrix and draw some of their strength from their wearers and more from proximity to others of their same kind. Stay close to one another when you go inside.”

Hanzo tapped one of the wards -- a small disk, its surface inscribed with a complex sequence of curves and lines and angles, exterior edge an unbroken line of letters? Runes? Something vaguely literary in a language he absolutely did not recognize. “Is this...fast curing craft clay?”

“It is, my friend! Good eye.” Reinhardt clapped him hard enough on the shoulder to shift the entire group sideways six inches. “Some particularly bloody-minded purists argue against using such materials but, between us, in situations where time is of the essence, the results are just as good as spending six days scribing on disks of bone or metal, especially if the wards need only last so long.”

“I can believe that,” Hanzo agreed, having witnessed first hand what Zen could accomplish on the fly, and clipped the band around his wrist. The throbbing spiky pain in his chest dulled, almost immediately, to a fretful ache, and he drew his first unobstructed breath in a solid ten minutes. “It -- my chest hurts less.”

Reinhardt and Roadie exchanged a glance and Roadie took him gently be the elbow, guided him out of the group and to the cab of Reinhardt’s truck. “Sit. Truck’s warded, too. Don’t look when we open the door.”

Hanzo took a shivery breath. “Okay.” He pulled out his tablet, reflexively checked email and messages, looked anywhere but at the house as his family quietly discussed among themselves who was going first and how long they’d be allowed to stay inside. They had, perhaps unsurprisingly, attracted more than a little attention and he murmured, sotto voce, “Neighbors are filming.”

“Of course they are, because our neighbors are relentless busybodies with nothing better to do with their lives!” Genji raised his voice enough for most audio pickups to catch it, and then dropped back down to normal. “You want me to get your hamper out of the laundry room? I’m pretty sure you’ve got some unwashed clothes in there yet.”

“Please.” He offered his best attempt at a reassuring smile. “Be careful. That sounds so...stupid? Inadequate? Both?”

“Heartfelt. The word you’re looking for is heartfelt.” Genji grinned and closed the cab door, mouthed stay here, and made his way up the sidewalk to the front steps, where the door was beginning to open.

Hanzo forced himself to look away, thumbed open his library and picked a book at random, spent the next interminable period of nerve-wracking eternity reading the same page approximately a hundred and forty thousand times. He didn’t have to look because, despite the wards, a thread of ice dripped down his spine every time someone opened the condo door and he sat, tense with dread, until he heard their voices again, the sounds of suitcases and storage trunks and gear carriers thumping into place in the back of the pickup, Hana arguing for or against something with clearly audible vigor, Lucio’s husky laughter, Genji’s very best lazily unconcerned drawl that in absolutely no way successfully concealed the depths of his unease, Zenyatta calm and even and serene as only he could be, no matter the circumstances.

“Hanzo!” Hana yanked the door cab door open and only twenty years of finely honed reflexes that he hadn’t entirely allowed to go to pot in the last few saved him from hitting the ground with a total absence of grace. “Jeez, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were leaning on it.”

“That’s okay,” Hanzo accepted the hand Jesse, materializing at his side, offered to boost himself back to his feet. “It’s dark. What’s the problem?”

“Tell them I don’t have to put Tokki in the back of that...that...thing.” Hana gesticulated one-handed and just short of frantically at the truck.

“Tokki? Who’s --” It took a moment for the reality of what he was seeing to filter all the way into his mind but, gradually, he realized that Hana’s entire other hand, in fact her whole arm, was wrapped around an enormous pink something, something a solid four inches taller than she was, something that probably out-weighed her, too, something that looked like the unholy offspring of a torrid affair between a fuzzy pink fairground toy and a Gundam dakimakura. “What. What is that. How do you wash it. How.”

“You really need to do that little rising-falling thing with your voice when you’re trying to ask a real question, Hanzo.” Hana replied tartly. “This is Tokki, he’s very old, I brought him from home, and he is absolutely not riding in the truck.”

“There won’t be enough seats for everybody in the van if he doesn’t ride in the truck.” Genji pointed out in tones of sweet reason as he hefted the last of his own luggage into place. “Back me up here, aniki.”

“I’ll ride back in the truck with Jaime and Mako if you like, Hana.” Hanzo replied gravely. “You’re right, something so venerable and well-loved should not be subject to such an indignity.”

“I don’t know if I should punch you for making fun of me or hug you for agreeing with me.” Hana admitted and then settled for doing both. “Best big brother.”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Hanzo agreed and waved her off. “Go on before I regret my munificence.”

“That was not the backup I expected.” Genji threw his hands in the air and walked away, muttering under his breath, to help Hana get her giant pink monstrosity aboard.

“I’d’ve offered to put him in the van’s storage but, uh, I don’t think he’d fit.” Jesse admitted and smiled down at him. “That was good of you -- she was actually pretty upset about it.”

“Given the expense and effort it must have taken to transport it from Korea, it must be very dear to her.” Hanzo replied quietly. “I trust everything went well?”

“Better than I thought they would, honestly.” For the first time, Hanzo realized he was wearing his weapons, gun-belt slung around his hips clipped with extra ammunition and less immediately identifiable objects of a potentially violent nature. “Wards worked like a charm and Doc Tekhartha’s got your bedroom door bound up like a frat house prank with extra magic just for giggles. And I have your things stashed in the van.”

“Thank you. It would be a genuine pain in the ass to have to replace my bow.” Hanzo smiled crookedly. “I may have some experience when it comes to the expense and effort of keeping beloved things close.”

“Archery, hmm? I admit, I’d wondered.” Jesse grinned, dark eyes glinting. “Strong hands and shoulders, lots of well-kept muscle, and you don’t strike me like the type to spend a lot of hours a week liftin’ weights.”

“And you’d be right because that’s the most boring form of exercise known to man.” Hanzo found a grin lurking at the corners of his own mouth and let it stay. “Great-Uncle Toshiro taught an entirely different regimen and Genji graciously assists me in maintaining it, though I do most of my target shooting at this little sporting goods place just at the city limits. The only place I’ve found with indoor and outdoor ranges for archery as well as firearms.”

“Navarro’s? Oh, yeah. Know ‘em well. They’re my supplier for some of the more normal stuff I keep on hand for survival caches -- not a craftworker among them, but they’re good people.” Oh so casually Jesse reached for his hand. “Maybe we could make a night of, uh, going there sometime.”

“If you two idiots could stop flirting for five whole seconds and help we might be able to get out of here sometime tonight.” Genji suggested, entirely loud enough for everyone up and down the street on both sides as far as the eye could see to overhear.

Hanzo, just barely, managed not to melt into a puddle of liquid humiliation as at least a few of the neighbors sent up a cheer in response to this intelligence. “We should probably help.”

“I’ll help you find a place to bury him where no one will ever find him later, if you want?” Jesse suggested but nonetheless immediately moved to help sort out the increasingly elaborate Jenga puzzle of everyone’s belongings, at least some of which were delicately electronic and quite probably highly experimental.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hanzo murmured in reply and took up station on the periphery of the increasingly contentious gathering, inserting suggestions as seemed appropriate, and as he stood became aware of a slow icy drip sliding down his spine and a sharp, cold pulse beneath his breastbone.

When had he taken the ward off? He couldn’t remember -- his wrist still felt its comforting embrace but when he looked down it simply wasn’t there, gone as if it had never been.

And when had he started walking towards the house? He had no conscious recollection of that, either, of when he’d begun obeying the relentless cold tension in his chest, like a line drawn taut, pulling at him like a fish well on the hook.

Behind him, he heard Jaime say, rather distinctly, “Uh, gang? You might wanna look at this.” And, beneath his voice, a frantic low-toned beeping.

He wanted to speak -- he wanted to say something, anything, but his tongue was pinned flat to the inside of his mouth and his teeth were welded together and his legs would not stop moving as he took the steps in two strides. Before him, the condo’s security access pad flicked from red to green, the locks slotted back into their mounts, and the door slowly, slowly cracked open, a thin slit of unrelieved darkness.

No. It took all his strength to articulate that thought, as his hand reached for the door handle, to open it further, to step inside.

Behind him, the steady monotone beepbeepbeepbeep of Jaime’s machinery sped up and grew louder BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP and through it heard a voice, more than one voice, raised in alarm, calling his name. But the metal of the door handle was cold -- burning cold, cold beyond anything nature could claim -- against the palm of his hand, throbbing against his breastbone, forcing the breath out of his lungs in heavy streams of frost.

And, again, he said, “no” only aloud this time, soft, thin, and it took what was left of his strength to yank the door shut, slamming it hard into its frame and his free palm against the lock plate. He felt the tension holding him, the relentless pull, snap like an over-stressed line and he staggered backwards, scrambled on the edge of the steps, caught himself on the railing as several pairs of arms tried to catch him from behind, and mostly succeeded.

“Hanzo --” Genji, that was Genji, arm wrapped tight across his chest, his chest which was no longer filled with an icy throbbing ache.

“Darlin’ --” And that was Jesse, catching hold of his arm, gently cradling the hook-fingered claw of his hand. “Easy, l’il brother, he’s hurt.”

“Get him away from the door.” And that was Zenyatta, and received immediate obedience from all three of them as through their combined efforts they got him turned away and back down to the sidewalk.

He was only mildly surprised to find he needed it -- his legs felt like rubber bands twisted and stretched nearly to breaking and his insides like freshly melted ice water and his head spun with exhaustion, as enervated as if he’d just run a marathon. Between them, Genji and Jesse settled him in the shotgun seat of Reinhardt’s truck, cab lights turned on as Zen examined his hand. “Where is your ward?”

“I’m...not certain?” Hanzo admitted, light-headedly. “I don’t remember taking it off. I --”

“Here,” Hana elbowed her way past his brother and his ranger, holding the band out for Zen’s perusal.

The ward was cracked cleanly across, only the wad of epoxy underneath it holding its pieces together, the magnetic clasp corroded to crumbling bits, the band itself dry and cracked. As Zen took it, it finished falling entirely to pieces, striking the sidewalk in rapidly decomposing bits.

“Too close,” Zen muttered. “We should have sent you back to the hacienda.” He snapped open the first aid case Rein set at his feet, pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, and began applying something wonderfully soothing to the reddened, blistered skin striping his palm.

“Maybe, Doc, but maybe not.” Jaime interjected. “‘Cause whatever he just did? It caused the anomaly to go pop. Shut down just as it was cyclin’ to its widest aperture.”

“Did you do something?” Genji asked, flicking a glance holding distinctly murderous intent over his shoulder at the house. “Did it do something to you?”

“I felt...called. Pulled.” Hanzo reached up with his free hand and scrubbed his aching, weary eyes. “Not a voice just...an impulse I couldn’t resist, like when I --” He stopped, breathed peace, continued. “Exactly like when I tore Zen’s wards off in the Student Union. I couldn’t stop myself, until I came to the door -- it wanted me to open it, to go inside but I...made myself not do that.”

“I’ll send you the data the sensors picked up.” Jaime flicked open a few screens, started a download. “‘Cause I’d like all your thoughts. But it looks to me like the anomaly was drawin’ power from him and when he cut it off, it couldn’t sustain itself any longer.”

“Too close,” Zen reiterated, as he finished taping bandages in place. “Reinhardt, if you would be so good as to take him back to the hacienda, right now, we will be directly behind you.”

“Of course, Doctor. Seatbelt, my young friend, and sit back. We will be home before you know it.”

***

Hanzo drowsed most of the way back to Cerrillos and woke much the better for it, enough so that he insisted on helping where he could, schlepping lighter items that wouldn’t tear the bandages off his hand before Terrifying Smoke Gabe insisted they stop for dinner. “It’s not going anywhere, the truck can sit overnight in the service garage, you’ve all done enough for one day. Come inside.”

Significantly more than just dinner that greeted them: it was the hacienda’s actual dining room, opened up for the first time since their arrival, a table to sit twenty laid out with exquisitely painted plates and gleaming silver and glasses of something pale yellow and fizzy, two enormous pans of enchiladas montadas, platters of tamales and flautas and chile rellenos, a crock of tortilla soup gently steaming next to a stack of earthenware bowls, a chafing dish of fruit salad sitting on ice, bowls of guacamole and salsa and extra cheese. At the far end, Hot Vampire Jack and Badass Granny Ana leaned against one another, half-dozing, bestirring themselves only when the noise of everyone trooping inside became too much to ignore.

Hot Vampire Jack cracked open one eye and muttered, “Frankly, I blame the lot of you for reactivating all his maternal instincts. On the other hand, I almost have to thank you because his empty nesting was about to result in a murder.”

“I made the prickly pear lemonade spritzer,” Ana added, not even bothering to open her eye. “You’re welcome.”

“We really have been adopted by supernatural entities living in a ghost town in the desert,” Hana observed, struck by what appeared to be fairly legitimate awe.

“Yes,” Hanzo agreed, pulling out a chair for her.

“Are you okay, Mrs. Amari? You look beat.” Lucio touched her shoulder gently. “Can I get you a plate?”

“That unholy fiend worked us like dogs,” Mrs. Amari replied, quavery and exhausted, reaching up to pat Lucio’s hand. “Such a good boy you are. I only wish I had a grandson like you before I go to meet my ancestors.”

“Are you trying to guilt trip my kid with that?” Terrifying Smoke Gabe misted in through the kitchen door carrying an armful of crocks and a condiment caddy. “Also: don’t listen to her, she was in charge of juicing lemons.”

“Juicing lemons is a very strenuous task for a woman of my advanced years,” Mrs. Amari replied loftily and accepted the bowl that Lucio handed to her. “Thank you, young man.”

Multiple sets of searing crimson eyes opened for the sole and express purpose of rolling at her. “Make yourselves comfortable, there’s plenty for everybody and -- what happened to your hand?”

An inky misty tentacle wrapped around Hanzo’s wrist, quite a bit warmer than he’d imagined it would be the first time he saw them, and reeled him over for examination, the bandages a bit roughened from hauling things but bearing no signs of seepage or blood. “Uhm. I’m not entirely sure myself,” Hanzo replied in what he hoped was a soothing tone of mildly alarmed squeak.

“An energy discharge of some sort at the condo -- his palm was burnt.” Zen mercifully interceded on his behalf.

“And by ‘energy discharge’ he means our boy here might have closed the spatial anomaly at the house just by tellin’ it to go away and layin’ hands on it.” Jamie added helpfully. “I’ll dump the readings I took after supper.”

“It wasn’t that exciting,” Hanzo demurred and earned himself a multi-eyed roll of his very own as Terrifying Smoke Gabe waved him off to his seat, where a plate filled by both Jesse and Genji awaited him.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Jack replied, dryly. “What happened?”

Hanzo heroically stuffed a flauta in his mouth to avoid having to go first but, as it happened, Jaime was more than happy to tell the tale and his body, now reminded by his taste buds that food was good and that he hadn’t actually had any since breakfast, insisted that he address that deficiency immediately and in mass quantities. He was midway through his third fully stuffed plate when he began hearing the words “....and then we all saw Hanzo walkin’ up to the house and the door startin’ to open…” and realized that he was going to have to stop inhaling calories long enough to speak and that quite literally everyone at the table was watching said inhalation with varying levels of knowledgeable amusement and borderline alarm.

“Uhm.” Hanzo said, setting his silverware down and dabbing the corners of his mouth with what had to be someone’s grandmother’s linen napkin, “I...wasn’t entirely operating under my own recognizance at that point -- moving without wanting to move, reaching for the door without wanting to reach for it. Something wanted me to touch it, to open it and I --” He took a breath, closed his eyes, as the memory washed over him, Jesse’s arms sliding comfortingly across his shoulders. “I refused. I said that I would not and closed it and --” He held up his injured hand, “This happened but the compulsion ceased at once.”

“And the anomaly collapsed pretty much immediately, too.” Jaime finished.

“And now he’s eating like he’s got two empty legs,” Jack observed meditatively.

“Interesting development,” Ana agreed, sipping her drink with a twinkle in her eyes.

“What these two tricksters are pucking around about is the use of some gifts can really take it out of the craftworker, physiologically speaking, and after particularly grueling spellwork you can feel like eating a horse. And, depending on your capabilities and needs, you might try.” Gabe shook his head at them. “You spent some power tonight, kid, and your body is demanding that you put it back in.”

“Spoilsport.” Ana literally, actually stuck her tongue out at him. “That’s why we usually have a hearty brunch before we try anything too enthusiastic these days. Reinhardt and I are not getting any younger -- our ability to draw on our physical resources for extra strength is not what it once was. Jack and Gabriel have their own hungers to feed when  they are forced to exceed even their much greater limits. I strongly suspect that you are experiencing that need.”

“If the anomaly was caused by the Serpent-Wolf,” Zen murmured in the tone of one speculating aloud, “it may be using its connection to the magatama we found to circumvent the defenses we built around the condo -- we did bring Hanzo dangerously too close if that is the case.”

Hanzo swallowed the mouthful of soup he’d taken. “That wasn’t your fault. None of you could have known.”

Zen acknowledged the point with a graceful inclination of his head. “And you being strong enough to break its attempt to dominate you was not something it could have known. Now it does, and that increases the risk to you.” A fractional pause. “In Dr. Saddind-Maas’ absence, do you have reason to go back to campus right now? If not, you should probably stay here, where the defenses are more consistent and robust.”

Genji choked, swallowed, croaked, “Wait, wait, what?”

“Dr. Saddind-Maas appears to be missing,” Hanzo admitted reluctantly, around the remains of a fifth tamale. “I was, uh, questioned about the last time I saw her this afternoon --”

“Questioned?” Genji asked, and flicked a look at Zen. “You were, too, weren’t you?”

“I believe I said as much,” Zen replied, displaying such deft rhetorical evasion skills that Hanzo was briefly envious.

“You said that campus security had asked you about the Student Union --” Genji stopped, exchanged glances with Lucio and Hana. “The MiBs? Are they involved here somehow? Trying to make connections? Because we all know the campus rent-a-cops don’t have enough between their ears to fire up a light bulb much less the imagination necessary to put what’s actually going on here together.”

“One of the people who spoke to Hanzo was the head of security for TALON -- gave her name as Amelie Lacroix.” Jesse replied, hesitated fractionally. “The other one was Chase Whitehawk, acting in his capacity as an agent of the TSS.”

Across the table, Jack, Ana, and Reinhardt all went totally still in three completely separate and disturbing ways. Very deliberately, Jack took a sip of his soup, set it down, and said, “I’m still working on digging out more details about TALON -- my usual resources are markedly reluctant to share intel on them, which in and of itself says something. The Lacroix thing, though? That’s...not good.”

“The Lacroix are a family of vessenjaegers,” Reinhardt added, his tone freighted with a concern all the more disturbing coming as it was from him. “Monster hunters, witch hunters, greatly feared for centuries and with good reason. They are killers without peer.”

“The Whitehawks are much the same -- they’re a clan whose purpose has always been to protect the people from the naayéé, and they take that duty seriously.” The corner of Jesse’s mouth quirked back, the expression there and gone again, and Hanzo took his hand beneath the table, squeezed it gently. “Those forces making common cause, at the direction of unknown parties...well. I’m not sure that bodes well for anybody.”

“Not likely, no.” Jack replied flatly. “I’ll lean a bit harder where I can, open some other lines of inquiry. Otherwise, I tend to agree with the good doctor on the issue of Hanzo staying here in town for the time being.”

“I do have other classes, you know,” Hanzo said, aggrieved.

“Yes, but you can’t pass any of them if you die or have your soul eaten or your body stolen,” Terrifying Smoke Gabe pointed out sweetly. “And there are things you can do here to minimize the possibility of that outcome in the meantime.”

“...Point.” Hanzo was forced by native honesty to admit. “I can do most of my Instructor Aesthetics in Art Education work from here, too.”

The initial expression on Genji’s face, as he opened his mouth, suggested he was going to say one thing only to have his train of thought unexpectedly derailed, explosively, and sent plunging over the edge of a potentially bottomless ravine. “...I didn’t know you were taking education track courses.”

“It seemed a reasonable alternative to starving artistry,” Hanzo replied wryly. “Though I’m finishing that approach first -- Dr. Saddind-Maas thought it would be detrimental to studio program to fully commit to a second degree while one was already in progress.”

“You are a fucking masochist.” Genji informed him. “But, for the record, I think you’d make a good teacher -- I mean, you were a thousand orders of magnitude more patient with everybody back home and I’d have been. They’d still be looking for all the body parts if I had to teach Goro’s kids how to do anything.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo replied, absurdly touched.

“You’re welcome.” Genji smiled sweetly. “How long has your flaky thesis advisor been missing?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” And at Genji’s flat look, “I don’t know for certain -- the two that interrogated me didn’t allow that information to slip. She has not, however, responded to the text I sent her this morning and the last communications I have from her were all sent on Saturday. She was...considering going to the condo.”

“So she might be actually, legitimately missing.” Genji said into the thoughtful silence around the table. “Or she could be shacked up somewhere with that Bob Ross clone who’s always telling the CS students they need to go outside and make a pot or something with her phone turned off.”

“Yes, exactly.” Hanzo looked down to discover his plate empty again and his stomach not immediately agitating for more and settled for sipping his lemonade.

“So we’re not going to panic yet.” Genji leaned back in his chair and glanced at Lucio and Hana. “I’ve got my usability testing practical tomorrow afternoon and lectures in the morning. You two?”

“Composition and rhetoric paper presentation in the morning, digital research seminar in the afternoon -- I’m not going to be out of class until close to seven.” Hana pulled out her tablet. “I might be able to ditch the seminar, the paper’s already been submitted, and my presentation on that one isn’t until Thursday at the earliest.”

“Lectures all day for me and for the next several -- my next presentation isn’t until Friday. That’d be the advanced sound design for digital media project I was working on with Cora before she actually disappeared.” Lucio glanced around the table. “D’you...think it might be risky for us to go to school with these MiBs lurking around?”

“Maybe?” Hot Vampire Jack answered. “It’d definitely look suspicious if you all dropped off the face of the Earth simultaneously.”

“True.” Genji sighed. “Look, the best we can do is hang close together, stay in contact with the hacienda, and call for help if we need it. If any of us get cornered alone, we answer their questions to the best of our ability, but we legit don’t know anything.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lucio agreed and Hana nodded, frowning at her tablet.

Hanzo was excused that evening from after dinner chores by virtue of his wounded hand (“It’s not that badly wounded!”) and instead set to the task of sorting his own admittedly somewhat neglected laundry hamper and putting on a load to wash. It would, he admitted without shame, be nice to wear clothes that weren’t some variation of sweats and a tee-shirt again, even if the variation was only cargo pants, and to have his own pyjamas and underwear for bed. He set the machine, a high efficiency water recycling model, then wandered into the sitting room with the idle thought of restarting his book again, only to be ambushed by Zenyatta, carrying a much larger and more comprehensively supplied first aid kit.

“Sit,” Zen said in a tone close enough to a command that Hanzo, trained from the cradle to obey reasonable authority figures, immediately planted himself on the couch. “Let me see your hand -- the field dressing I used probably won’t stay put through the night.”

“Really, it’s not that bad,” Hanzo insisted, as Terrifying Smoke Gabe materialized to observe the proceedings.

“It was visibly blistering,” Zen countered, exasperated, as he carefully peeled off the last layer of bandaging and reached for a packet of delicately fragrant, likely exceedingly magical wet wipes. “It has to be -- oh. Oh my.”

The messy blistered blotch that had marred his right palm was significantly less of both -- the skin still reddened, as though he’d set his hand against something hot, and raised slightly, but not as if it were blistered. Instead it was a visible pattern: a near-perfect circle on the pad below the right index finger, a curving series of ridges across the palm below that resembled nothing so much as roiling stormclouds, jagged lightning crawling among their swirls.

Hanzo spoke for all of them when he said, “What fresh Hell is this?”

“Doesn’t look that Hellish to me, kid,” Terrifying Smoke Gabe observed from his perch on the back of the couch. “And, trust me, I speak with a certain quantity of direct personal experience on that score. Does it hurt?”

“Not...really?” He flexed his fingers and while the skin on his palm pulled a bit with the motion there wasn’t even much of a sting left. “We’re all seeing this as a pattern, right?”

“Yes,” Zen confirmed as he took gentle possession of Hanzo’s wrist and carefully applied a cool, damp wipe to it, then looked again.

The patterning didn’t wipe away but the red visibly faded and the swelling went down almost at once, clarifying the details so nicely that, when Genji strolled in squabbling good naturedly with Lucio and Hana, she could stop, lean over the arm of the couch, and say, “Hey! I’ve seen that somewhere before.”

His hand immediately became the central point of focus of the entire cluster as his brother and Lucio joined them, Genji giving him a narrow-eyed look containing a massive sibling concern storm and Lucio adding, “I’ve seen it too but I can’t remember where.”

“The genealogy chart.” Genji added, concern doing a little dance with realization on his face. “It was on the genealogy chart -- I remember it, too.”

“Really? I don’t --” And then he did, or thought he did, and dug around in his bag with his free hand, pulling out his tablet and pulling up the relevant files, poking through them until he came up with the mon of unknown origin/function list. “I’ll be damned.”

“Please don’t say that,” Genji replied not at all serenely. “Fifteen instances across both halves of the clan, over a thousand years -- including our missing warrior-woman.” He pulled up the list of holders. “And of course there’s no detailed information about how they came to be awarded it or possess it or why.” He paused, traced his fingers over the list. “Kazutaka had it, too.”

“That’s more often than not the truth of many of the older aspects of the clan’s history -- before we settled permanently in Hanamura, we carried our history on our backs.” Hanzo smiled wryly. “Bits and pieces got lost along the way.”

“Inconvenient that this was one of them.” Genji traced his fingertips over the mark. “There’s, like, a zero percent chance that this isn’t significant in some way, right?”

“It is extremely unlikely.” Zen replied, closing up the case, and taking Hanzo’s hand in both his own. “I thought it looked like ward-burn back at the condo -- that can happen when warding energies ground themselves through a physical conduit. But it may be more than that.”

“The spatial anomaly collapsed when he closed the door -- apparently to the second, from what you were saying, and Jaime’s data pretty much supports the conclusion.” Gabe replied thoughtfully. “You sense any residuals, Dr. Tekhartha?”

Three of Zenyatta’s orbs curled themselves into existence around them, glowing gently and chiming as they were wont to do, as he closed his eyes, a little concentration mark forming between his brows. Hanzo forced himself to relax, to breathe normally, to let his hand rest lightly in Zen’s and he was not entirely sure where the lightning-stroke-bright flash came from, his palm or Zen’s orbs, or the flare of purple, deeper and more vivid than any natural light, but the shockwave definitely forced their hands apart, and then the rest of them, and the next time Hanzo was aware enough to realize what was going on around him he was laying sprawled on his back between Genji and Terrifying Smoke Gabe on the sitting room’s exquisite hardwood floor, staring up at the definitely supernatural plasterwork of the ceiling, itself crackling with lightning-silver-eye wateringly-painful-violet threads of energy, rapidly dispersing. His skull was ringing like a selection of Lucio’s tuning forks, each set to a slightly different pitch, he was pretty sure a portion of his brain was trying to ooze out of his ears, and his hand ached from the tips of his fingers all the way to the elbow.

Next to him, Terrifying Smoke Gabe pushed himself up on his elbows, surveyed the wreckage of the living room and asked, “What the fuck just happened?”

“I...don’t know. Genji?” Hanzo reached over and gave his brother, dazed and blinking rapidly as he came back to his senses, a careful shake. “Are you okay?”

“What -- that was -- I’ve only seen that --” Genji bit down on what he’d been about to say, started scrambling to his feet, couldn’t quite manage it and sat down hard again. “Where’s Zen?”

The heavy couch they’d all been sitting on was laying on its back, throw pillows thrown, cushions askew. The end tables were likewise located far afield from their previous positions, at least one lamp smashed, the other tipped over but still alight, casting bizarre and vaguely threatening shadows across the wall and ceiling, along with the weirdly flickering violet light still emanating from beyond the tipped-over furniture.

“Zen?” Hanzo heaved himself to his feet one-armed, his skull slowly ceasing its suture-threatening vibrations, offering his good hand to Gabe as, in the near distance, dogs began barking and footsteps thumped across the floor and voices raised in alarm became clearly audible.

“Here,” For the first time in ever, or at least as long as Hanzo could remember, Zenyatta did not sound some species of serenely in control of himself, “I am here.”

He was, in fact, planted against the far wall next to the fireplace, folded around himself, his head in his hands. Scintillating filaments of purple flickered under his skin, girdling his fingers and wrists in patterns that pressed themselves into the backs of Hanzo’s eyes, stomach-churning with their intensity, as he made his way around the couch toward him. “Are you okay? What --”

“Wait.” He flug out a hand, palm up, and Hanzo froze where he stood. “Just...just a moment.”

The filaments marking his palm with a pattern not unlike an open, slit-pupiled eye flared and faded from the outside in, peeled away from his fingers and flowed up his arm and away and by the time Hot Vampire Jack burst in with Lucio and Hana and the pack in tow, he was mostly himself again, weary and slightly dazed and unnaturally out of sorts, a little ashy from the fireplace tools he’d slammed into, his eyes a washed-out dull gray. Jesse paused in the doorway and immediately crossed to his side, offering him a steadying hand as Genji helped Zen up, unsteadily, to his feet.

“I take this to mean,” Terrifying Smoke Gabe asked dryly, as he and Lucio and Hana righted the couch and got Zen settled on it, “that there were some remnant energies?”

“Yes,” Zenyatta replied, slightly brittle around the edges, and accepted the cup of tea Jack handed to him. “I am...not entirely certain why they reacted as strongly as they did but…” Zen looked up and caught his eyes, smiled with such ridiculously warm reassurance that Hanzo felt himself responding completely, comfort mingled with relief and gratitude. “Hanzo, I believe that you did close the door attempting to open there, in every possible and literal sense.”

Hanzo clutched Jesse’s hand, forced himself to reply calmly and evenly, “My gifts...do you think they are…?”

“I think,” Zenyatta replied carefully, “that you still possess an abundance of will, and of knowledge, and that you may finally be healing from the injury done you all those years ago. How this is tied to the Serpent-Wolf, or the magatama within you, or your bond with Ranger McCree, are questions we will have to answer sooner rather than later. But, for now, I think we should all rest and approach them with fresh eyes and minds, tomorrow. I, for one, have a wretched headache.”

[toxitalks]

ROBSTAR WEEK 2019 - DAY TWO

day two! this prompt was really hard so shoutout to my friends for getting the creative juices pumping!

|| day one: wayne manor || day two: stardust || day three: lost ||

|| day four: fever || day five: tba || day six: tba || day seven: tba ||

“This is bizarre! A discovery such as this one we have uncovered today is indeed something to remark about! Oh, who among us can say that they are responsible for identifying and conducting studies on a new species?!”

Starfire buzzed and bumbled around excitedly, something akin to a bee as she babbled on to Cyborg, then Beast Boy before moving on to Raven and finally stopping beside Robin, feet hovering above the ground.

“Remind me what we have decreed them as?” Starfire queried, hands clasped together. Her emerald eyes remained affixed on the glass that separated the group of Titans from the stardust-composed creatures.

“Specklings,” provided Robin as he continued to observe the creatures. They danced and wove together in the vacuum of space, their white beady eyes embedded with glowing dust from the cosmos surrounding them. “We don’t know if they’re docile or not, but… I guess they are a tad bit cute.” He cracked a grin.

“Cute, but potentially deadly,” chimed in Cyborg as he approached the duo with a holographic screen projecting from his arm. He typed away at the keyboard embedded in his cybernetic parts, occasionally shifting his gaze to the Specklings gathered outside of the spacecraft. “I took a sample of one to see what these things are made of and they’re almost 100 percent stardust. I just don’t know where they came from. If I did, I’d bet we’d know a lot more about ‘em, too.”

Starfire’s eyes lit up with excitement as she flew over to Cyborg with a wide smile. “We must conduct a search!” beamed the Tamaranean girl, giggling to herself. “I will venture to all the nearby planetoids, nebulas, and asteroid belts to find them!”

As the alien princess began to float down the hall to the ejection bay, Robin snatched her by the hand to stop her from flying out into the emptiness of space on her own.

“Hold up, Star,” Robin frowned as he dragged Starfire back to his side. He gestured with one latex-covered glove to the Specklings behind the glass. “It’s like Cyborg said; we don’t know if they’re a hostile species or not. The experiments concluded they don’t have anything similar to a brain, but they obviously exhibit intelligence. They’re kind of like-”

“Like a jellyfish!” chimed Beast Boy as he popped up between Robin and Starfire with an award-winning grin. “Those things are way cool, dude. No brains, no heart, nothing! They’re like, almost totally made of water or something.”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common,” Raven remarked with the ghost of a sly grin on her lip. Beast Boy shot her a venomous glare that Raven returned wordlessly, leaving the sorceress and the changeling to begin bickering.

Starfire sighed to herself and planted her feet back on the ground, resting her chin on Robin’s shoulder despondently, snickering quietly as she felt him tense up. His face flushed at the sudden contact, but the Boy Wonder only cleared his throat before tugging at the ends of his latex gloves.

“B-but what if they’re out there? Alone?” Starfire’s eyes were as big as moons now as she looked at Robin both endearingly and pleadingly. She jut out her bottom lip in a pout as her emerald eyes glistened. “We cannot leave the Specklings to isolation! Who knows what will befall their colony should we neglect them?!”

“Star, they’re made up of dust particles,” pointed out the dark-haired teen with a smile, his brows furrowed beneath the mask at his accomplice’s evident concern. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. Cyborg and I suspect that there’s some sort of gravitational core holding them together, but we have no clue how they’re sentient. Either way, I’m not too worried for them.”

“Though if we proceeded with the investigation, perhaps we would know more about their kind and their components,” argued Starfire with a mischievous look written upon her features. When Robin shot her a hesitant stare, the Tamaranean recoiled with a sigh, her shoulders shrugging in defeat.

“Maybe another time,” said Robin, entwining their fingers together. He guided her down the hall of the spacecraft they stood in; their temporary home as they conducted a series of tests on the newly-discovered species. “I’d like to keep you on the ground for a bit—keep your head of the stars.”

“I suppose so,” Starfire sighed, though the corners of her lips were upturned in a smile. “Eventually, we will voyage to uncover more about this species, yes?”

“I’m sure we will, Starfire. You have my word.”

Starfire squealed in delight, suddenly beaming with unbridled joy. “Oh, glorious! I shall wait with the most eager of anticipation until that day arises! What will be done with the Specklings in the meantime?”

Robin frowned, shrugging in response. He guided Starfire down the hall of the spacecraft with one hand, pressing a button on the wall that would slide open the door to his room. “Cyborg, Raven, and I will probably keep studying them to get the information we need. We’ll make sure nothing happens to them. Promise.”

“Then, for now…” Starfire squeezed Robin’s hand tight and brought it close to her heart. Her lips were twisted in a gleeful smile; eyes earnest and reminiscent of reflective pools the brightest green the Boy Wonder had ever seen.

Robin was sure he felt his heart skip a beat.

“May we observe the creatures of stardust together?”

Robin smiled with a nod, guiding Starfire to a window that took up an entire wall. From there, the Specklings were visible as they danced amongst one another; their cosmic bodies glistened with a foreign glow that filled the Tamaranean with the energy to fire off a million starbolts. It made her feel light as a feather, watching the Specklings as they entwined in groups with nothing but darkness surrounding them. Their own glow, however, brought a beautiful light to the emptiness of space they lived in.

Their own cosmic dust mirrored the stardust-like glow of amazement in Starfire’s eyes as she observed them. She was mesmerized by their alien movement, her mouth ajar as emerald eyes locked onto them.

When Robin tugged her towards him gently, shocking her back into reality, the Tamaranean gasped as the Boy Wonder unraveled their hands for a moment, setting one of her own on his shoulder. He placed his free hand gingerly on her hip, entwining Starfire’s into his once more as he held it in the open air, his secure grasp supporting her.

As Robin began to sway, guiding Starfire alongside him through each step of the room, he smiled at Starfire’s awestruck gaze. Her breath was hitched and Robin snickered to himself in satisfaction. Each step in the room mirrored that of the Specklings as they waltzed in the vacuum of space.

Starfire’s lip drew back into a smile as they danced among the stardust.

[patricianandclerk]

so, today was super great!

we walked around four kilometres along the river, plus then walking to the garden centre and around there, so i probably did 5k overall, which is super great!

we were blackberry-picking, although i didn’t actually bring any of mine home because i ate them all, and then i was also taking photos as we went, which was great fun!

(except for one like, background view of a harvestman, this is the spider-free post, and i’ll post in a second with the spiders from today in a separate post)

this is a Speckled Wood - they’re a pretty common butterfly around here, and they’re so gorgeous! lovely colour

this is a ropeswing we found as we were going along - i fuckin threw myself at the thing and it was actually such good fun but i couldn’t get quite high enough onto the thing, but my friend managed to grab hold of the rope and lock her legs onto the swing as a seat, and she did way better

some views of Menlo Castle on the other side of the river!

this is a wishing tree - it’s an Irish tradition where you hammer a nail or a coin or something similar into the tree to make a wish, and there were a few coins hammered into this one

i believe this is a gorse shield bug!

and this is a green shield bug!

and this little hover fly at these little flowers!

a snail nestled in amidst the brambles! 

this little spittlebug (horrible name, i know) just politely passed by the harvestman on the bramble, and then the harvestman made its way off

then we went to this incredible, gigantic garden centre that we didn’t know was there at all - it’s like, right at the back of the galway business park and none of us are usually out that way? but it’s utterly gorgeous, and they rescued these 12 battery hens, so they’ve got their own chickens, the new battery hens, some rescue doves, and then some guinea pigs and rabbits

like this little fellow!

just a cup of tea, and then we came home!