#guys we did not get freaky i changed the direction so fast

[candiiee]

Huh. Chat I went so red 😭

I immediately switched the chat so fast-

Where did that come from?? It was a birthday party 😭😭

But I’m normal about him I swear :)

Edit:

Well when you put it like that-

[letsgetsquiggly]

Let’s go kill us a vampire.

Hello all! This story was inspired by the prompt for FFF89. Unfortunately it went over the 1000 word limit, and I don't really have parts I want to cut from it. I still wanted to share and post it however. This story was written from the perspect of one of my DnD Characters, Lemma Grignard, a human blood hunter from the Dwindalian Empire. She's currently galavanting across Ravenloft in a COS campaign so this excerpt is a slice of her life before she got involved in all that Strahd buisness. Word count:1600 Warnings:Excessive cursing and depictions of blood. Talk of violent intent. @flashfictionfridayofficial

"We could dip our blades in silver?" Yup, there it is. We are crouched in an alleyway, half a bock from our very dangerous life-destroying quarry, and Eldritch can’t even remember the basic fucking properties of well-known demons. "It’s a fucking Vampire, Eldritch, not a gods' dammed werewolf." "Lemma, you don't have to be such a bitch ALL the time." Lazuli offers up some unsolicited advice as per usual. "Ya, just some of the time would be fine." On queue, Julus slides in with one of his witty, snide comments. I usually love them, when they aren't directed at me. I glance over to Herold for some emotional support. My silent giant always has my back. He returns my gaze with a stoic head nod. My queue to get on with my plan. A real plan, not an Eldritch plan. I compose myself. "Alright, but my Bitch status doesn't change the fact that silver is a stupid fucking idea, Lazuli. Where in the hells would we even get liquified silver?" "Don’t you got some in your bag?" "No Lazuli, I don't. Contrary to popular belief alchemists don't just carry liquid phases of all the elements on their person at any given time" "That's a real shame. It'd sure be helpful."Julus teases. I want to be pissed at him, I really do. Teasing me and poking fun at me right before the big hunt. But that smile he's giving me just makes it impossible for me to be mad at him, and that pisses me off even more. "Charging in blades-a-swinging isn't gonna get us anywhere but dead fast, even if we did coat them in something useful. Which silver definitely is not." Eldritch pipes up at this point, because why wouldn't he. "Whatever Lemma, you always overthink things. Have I steered us wrong in a fight? My prowess with a blade has never let us down!" He does a couple of over-the-top flourishes that Lazuli giggles at. Of course she would think this situation is funny. This very, serious, deadly situation. I shake my head in dismay. I'm just looking out for them. If I really were a bitch I'd let stupid Eldritch run-in with his muscle and silver dipped blade and get his dumbass killed. "Look, guys. What we are working with is a Vampire spawn, thankfully not a full-fledged Vampire. They suffer from sunlight sensitivity, and have a weird mutation that allows them to climb along any porous surface. They are freaky fast and super strong. Normal weapon attacks are essentially pointless. One thing we do have to our advantage," My eyes dart around the group, of which only Herold and Julus seem to be listening intently. Eldritch is still brandishing his sword for a giggling Lazuli. I take a bolt from my quiver slide its tip along the top of my forearm. I feel a familiar twinge of pain, followed by warm blood, then the tingle of a multitude of tiny electrical pulses zapping along the crimson trail. I dig my fingers into the open wound and flick some blood in Eldritch's direction. An arc of lightning pulses from the droplets suspended in the air and zaps Eldritch in the shoulder "Is our hemocraft." It's my turn to garner a giggle from Lazuli as Eldritch rubs his shoulder with a pout. "You didn't have to do that. I was paying attention." I feel my eyes roll without direct permission from my brain. "Sure you were, anyway…" I make sure to smear some of the blood while the lightning still pulses from my body onto my trusty hand crossbow before continuing. Can't waste a fresh wound. Making the lightning happen fucking hurts. "We can probably take it down with all four of us if we take the time to imbue our weapons beforehand. I have a couple of curses that I can do as well that will limit its movement. I figure we can have Lazuli throw hexes from afar. I will tick it for damage over time with my crossbow. Eldritch can keep it busy by getting up in its face and controlling where it goes. If it tries to run, I curse it. Herold can hang back and hold the middle ground in case it breaks away from Eldritch and comes after one of us in the back. Julus, you have the mutagens we worked on together that harden the skin right?" "Right here chief" He dangles the gnarly black vial at me with a cocky grin. I find myself smiling at him, I can't help. He's such an arrogant brat. "Use that. Spawn attack with razor-sharp claws and, well obviously, super sharp teeth. You're going to act as a backup to Eldritch. Pop in and take some hits for him while he hits the thing back HARD. Now, the only thing I didn't have time to prepare for was the regeneration ability. It needs to be hit with radiant light to halt that effect. Lazuli's rite imbues her daggers with radiant energy, but sending her to the front isn't necessarily the wisest decision, no offense." "None taken." "So that's going to increase the difficulty substantially. I tried to gather some water blessed by the Dawnfather for this but Father Matias has decided that he no longer wishes to speak to me. For some reason." Oh, look. Lazuli has an explanation. Great. "Lemma, you can't tell a religious man his god has no concern for his well-being and expect him to be polite about it." Obligatory eye roll again. I really need to work on that. "The Dawnfather doesn't care though! Not on the level he preaches. The Dawnfather doesn't keep his cathedral safe. WE DO. I don’t appreciate his disdain for blood hunters when BLOOD HUNTERS are literally the only reason he's still alive." Julus snickers. "What, you got something to say Julus?" "Lemma, he doesn't necessarily hate all blood hunters. He just prays for our perceived lost souls in the eyes of his irreverent god. Now don't scowl." He coos at me as I feel my face start to twist into that distasteful grimace I can't control. "Some of us, have people skills." From his bag bouncing off his hip, he produces four vials of a sparkling, crystalline liquid. "Oh gods, he actually gave them to you. The holy water! How did you…when did… how did I not notice you get them?! We all share the same room?!" He snickers at me again. I feel a begrudging smile begin to fight for real-estate on my face against the scowl. "You sly son of a bitch." "Now listen here, fellas." Julus proclaims as he stands and hands out the vials of holy water." This is our first big kid mission for our merry little band. No backup, no support. We're on. Our. Own. We gotta show the Unchained what were are made of. Show them we have what it takes to be part of the team the delivers the final blow to the pompous, bloated jackass King Dwindle and his tyrannical lunatics in the Cerberus Assembly. We gotta show them we have the strength, courage, and intelligence to take down demons on our own. Then, and only then, will they trust us to fight with them and take down the demons that call themselves the leaders of the empire." I find myself stuck in a moment of awe. I'm always impressed by his ability to rally and inspire us. Impressed, and slightly jealous. He has all the powers of communication and empathy that I desperately lack. Maybe that's why I admire him so. Or maybe it's that cut jawline and that sly smile… Lazuli's lazy slow claps from her seated position pull me from my drifting thoughts. "Bravo Julus. Brav. O." Julus does an exaggerated bow. He regains his composure and looks to everyone. "Everyone ready?" "Let's fucking do it!" "Maybe don't blow my fucking eardrums before a fight Eldritch." Lazuli says cooly as she gets up and pulls out her daggers. Herold in all his heavy stoic silence manages to peel his hulking figure from the wall he's been leaning against and readies his war hammer. They all begin to walk away leaving just me and Julus in the alleyway we were occupying. "Umm.." I feel myself begin to say something witty, but the words get lost as I look at him. Fuck, why am I always so awkward when it's just the two of us. I feel myself fidgeting in place. "Hey calm down," Misreading my fidgeting for being anxious about the fight, he puts a hand on my shoulder to comfort me. That's probably the worse thing he could have done right now. I feel my cheeks flush as his hand makes contact with my body. My world is ending. Kill me now. I quickly throw my hood up over my head and glance at the ground before he can see my face. "You have a great plan Lemma. You always do. You're such a great tactician, and everyone in the group is grateful that you're always looking out for them. Even if they don't act like it. Now, let's go kill us a vampire spawn." He gives me one more pat on the shoulder before he goes to move out. My body feels hot. My head is buzzing. My stomach is doing flips. Gods, it gets worse every time we are left alone. I hate this. My emotions running amok. Taking control over my logical brain. I need to get it to-fucking-gether. "Let's go kill us a vampire," I mumble Julus's words back to myself as I follow my friends out.

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Febuwhump 3: Imprisonment

I’ve been bugging my friends about how excited I am to post this one for so long awlkjfasdlkjf

Summary: Louie makes friends with the richest kid in Duckburg: Doofus Drake. But he quickly realizes his new friend isn’t entirely sane. Especially when he kidnaps him. The problem? His family doesn’t know where he is. He hates Only Child Day.

Trigger Warnings: kidnapping, forced feeding, beating, torture, light dehumanization, I’ve been told Doofus deserves his own warning, mentions of trauma, possessive whumper, imprisonment, strangling

3423 words

Louie had been a captive of Doofus Drake for no more than half an hour, and he was still failing to come up with a plan.

He had to get out of here.

He just... he had to think. Sure, he wasn’t smart, like Huey, or daring to a borderline crazy degree, like Dewey, but he was... uh... he was definitely... shit.

He was nothing without his brothers. 

He’d known this stupid only child thing was a bad idea, but Dewey had insisted. He, for all his siblings drove him crazy, actually liked being a triplet. Dewey, on the other hand… didn’t.

That kind of hurt.

But he didn’t have time for that, because what hurt worse than that was being stuck in some psycho’s house.

Some psycho who might hurt him if he didn’t get out fast. 

Louie should have ran the second Doofus had pulled a box out of his pants.

That had been so incredibly weird, enough to have him somewhat frantically spamming the down button on the elevator, but then he’d held out the box to him with nothing more than an easygoing “friend present!” and, well… the gold had enticed him instantly. He hated that it had been so easy to catch his attention.

Louie would admit it: he could be shallow sometimes. He liked money. But honestly, after growing up practically dirt-poor, he sort of thought he deserved to.

He knew how miserable a lack of money could be.

“Oh… for me?” Louie had asked.

“I like to play with my friends,” was all he’d gotten in return.

He’d slipped the bracelet easily over his wrist, admiring it. He’d almost forgotten that there had been a time when it wasn’t so tight. So disgusting.

“Alright, friend. Let’s play!”

Things had gone smoothly, for the most part, after that.

He’d been weirded out when Doofus aggressively sniffed his hair… multiple times… but he’d gotten over it so fast when he distracted him with pretty things.

Well, in this case, it was more the breaking of pretty things, but the point remained.

Surprisingly, tearing apart priceless items was actually a really good stress reliever, and Louie had quickly forgotten all his troubles.

Until he went to slash at a portrait of an old woman and was promptly tackled to the floor. 

And then, if he thought it couldn’t have gotten any more concerning, Doofus was throwing a full on fit, screaming and tearing shit up to an even greater degree than before.

Louie, so incredibly uncomfortable, had attempted to make small talk with Doofus’s “servants”, as he’d called them. 

“My butler’s a ghost,” Louie had said, “yup, he’s dead.”

“We’re dead inside. We’re Doofus’s parents,” the maid had revealed.

That… that was not good.

“The money and power changed him. Go. Before it’s too late!” His mother had urged.

Louie had backed towards the door, deciding that having rich friends really wasn’t worth… whatever this was. 

“What’s next friendy-friend?”

He’d stumbled slightly, but continued making his way to the door. It was just too much. It had been getting beyond weird and into straight-up freaky.

“Oh, well, you know, I just noticed it’s getting a little late. Uh, so I’m just gonna head home, and fondly remember all the good times we had. Cool? Cool, alright bye!”

He’d made to step out the door, heart pounding. He’d been so sure than in just a moment, this nightmare would be over.

But before he could even move, the bracelet had tightened until it dug into his wrist painfully, and then, if that hadn’t been bad enough, all at once it had gained this odd weight to it. He was on the floor in less than a second.

He’d gasped, tugging frantically, but the bracelet — cuff? — wouldn’t budge.

Drake had just smiled down at him innocently, but it had only made Louie feel sick to his stomach. “You are home, friend-present!”

He’d slammed the door before Louie could even begin to hope he could escape.

Only then was when he’d been starting to realize that this kid was fucking deranged. Like, absolutely out of his mind.

Why had Louie even wanted to be friends with him in the first place? He could have found other rich kids, ones who were just stuck-up and bitchy, instead of the absolute maniac who was standing above him! 

“Let me out!” Louie had demanded. “This isn’t funny!”

“Of course not,” he’d agreed, “it’s quite serious.”

“You do realize who my family is, right? In fact, you should probably just let me go right now, so you don’t have to deal with them.”

Doofus had laughed. “You are funny, friend-present.”

Louie had scowled at the nickname, if you could even call it that. “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s rare that I meet a friend as lovely as you,” he hummed. “I couldn’t just let you slip through my fingers, now could I?”

That had been… creepy. He probably should have expected, at that point, that it would only get worse. But the only thing he’d known right then was that he needed to get out of here. This kid was seriously disturbed.

“My family will come looking for me! And they won’t be happy!” He’d insisted. But that was also when he’d realized that there was one massive roadblock to the plan of waiting it out for his family to come. It was that stupid Only Child Day. Which meant that his brothers were still off doing their own thing, and likely wouldn’t even realize Louie had disappeared until late that night. Worse, he hadn’t opted to actually tell anyone where he was going.

They had no idea he was here. They didn’t even know who Doofus Drake was.

And now, he was stuck on some creepy platform thing. There were three of them. One for Doofus’s mom, one for his dad, and one for him.

Louie tried to ignore the fact that the third one was a clear indication that Doofus had been waiting for something like this. Louie had walked right into his open arms.

“The sooner you give up, the better,” Doofus’s dad was saying, “hope only makes it worse.” The poor guy looked… kind of traumatized. What had that man been through?

Louie was terrified to find out.

“No! If the three of us work together, we might just be able to get out of here!” he insisted, hope blossoming as a vague plan began to form in his mind. “Are you with me?”

The other two shared a look, before nodding their agreement.

And not a moment too soon, because just then, the door opened, and in came Doofus Drake. As he approached Louie, he could only look at him, attempting a poker face. It probably wasn’t working very well.

“The new one’s a traitor!” Doofus’s dad shouted within an instant. “But I stopped him out of loyalty. Because I love you, Doofus.” 

“You’re pathetic,” Doofus’s mom grumbled, glaring at him.

“No, he’s lying! I would never do that!” Louie cried, panic spiking through him. “I’m your friend!” he said with a forced smile. “...Present,” he tacked on, suppressing a disgusted shudder to the best of his ability. “Oh, gross…”

“I don’t think I like you anymore, new friend,” Doofus said, glaring at him. Before Louie could get his hopes up that maybe that meant that he was going to be let go, Doofus reached into a plastic bag he’d dragged in with him when he’d entered the room. “Maybe you need a lesson in friendship.”

“Wait,” Louie said as Doofus pulled out an umbrella, “What’s that for?”

Doofus didn’t answer him, reaching into the bag again and pulling out a smaller bag of walnuts. Louie had never thought such an action could be threatening, but oh boy… it sure was now.

“What is he gonna do with the umbrella and walnuts?” he asked desperately, frantically pushing himself as far back on his platform as the bracelet would allow.

Doofus approached him slowly and deliberately, eyes narrowed.

Louie couldn’t get any further away than he already was. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to prepare himself for whatever was about to come.

But then nothing came.

The silence was so loud. He could hear four sets of breathing, and that was it. Breathe in, two, three, him. Breathe out, two, three, him. Hesitantly, he peaked his eyes open.

Doofus stood directly in front of him, and, to Louie’s surprise, he’d set the umbrella to the side. It had seemed important just a moment ago, why had it been discarded already? Something wasn’t right about that.

“Here,” he said, holding out his hand. Louie glanced at it, confused. He was holding a handful of the walnuts.

He glanced at Doofus’s parents. “What exactly is going on right now?”

“Eyes on me!” Doofus yelled, his tone reminding Louie of earlier, when he’d been screaming about his dead grandma. Louie complied in an instant, terrified. Doofus took a breath, a calm smile slipping back onto his face. “That’s better.”

Louie just laughed nervously.

“Now,” he said, offering a handful of the walnuts in Louie’s direction again. “Eat them.”

“I — what?” Louie asked, another uncomfortable laugh spilling out. “You realize we can’t eat nuts, right?”

“Eat. Them.”

“I literally can’t, those things mess you up—”

“You’re going to eat them, Llewellyn,” Doofus said, threateningly. “I suggest you do it now.” 

As far as being taught a lesson went, this seemed too… tame. Louie didn’t understand it. Doofus was totally unhinged, and while Louie absolutely did not want to eat something that his body couldn’t handle, it just felt like a punishment that was far too sane.

Louie had always prided himself on being able to read people pretty well, but right now, he was just confused.

Still, despite the lacking severity of the threat, he was still afraid. He’d be concerned for anyone who wasn’t afraid of some kid who’d kidnapped them, to be perfectly honest.

When Louie didn’t respond, Doofus glared at him. “Alright,” he said, dropping the nuts back into the bag and grabbing for the umbrella again. “If that’s how you want to be.”

“I don’t — I mean — we can talk this out, can’t we?” Louie said, panic gripping his heart even harder as he realized that he had no idea how to manipulate him. He couldn’t talk his way out of this one, could he?

The metal (and sharp) tip of the umbrella came up harshly against his chin, jerking his entire head up along with it and effectively cutting off whatever else Louie could have possibly tried to say. The point dug slightly into his neck in a painful manner, but that was the least of his problems, right now.

“You’re a real bratty child,” Doofus said, considering him for another moment. Too fast for Louie to keep up, the umbrella had been yanked away from him, and then slammed against his stomach.

He doubled over with a pained shout, wheezing as breath left his body.

The other end of the umbrella — the curved handle bit, this time — was practically shoved into his mouth, prying his beak open.

One of the walnuts was pushed into his mouth, and Louie immediately gagged. He couldn’t do anything to get away, so he could only do his best to swallow it, trying not to choke.

Doofus smiled that stupid little bastard smile.

That look was probably going to be burned into Louie’s nightmares when he got out of here.

Another of the stupid nuts was shoved into his mouth. He gagged again, he swallowed again. His mouth was already getting uncomfortably dry.

If ever he’d had the urge to eat a nut (he hadn’t, because he didn’t have a death wish), this experience alone would have been enough to get him to swear them off forever. He didn’t even like the flavor, not that he had much time to give thought to that.

Doofus didn’t stop until the bag was empty, and by that point, Louie was beginning to feel cramps churning in his stomach. He knew it would only get worse from here.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Doofus asked as he finally took back the umbrella. Louie just worked his jaw, trying to lessen the stiffness in it. He didn’t have it in him to reply.

His lack of response only seemed to make Doofus angry again, and before he knew it, the umbrella was bashed against him.

Louie yelped at the pain it brought, using his one free arm in an attempt to block the next blow. It didn’t do much. 

“You will answer me when spoken to!” Doofus shrieked, practically stabbing him with the force of the next hit.

“I’m sorry!” Louie cried. “Please stop!”

Doofus did not, in fact, stop. He just kept hitting him mercilessly. 

Louie had been given his fair share of injuries in the months he’d spent adventuring, but regardless, this hurt something awful. He supposed being assaulted with an umbrella would do that to a guy.

But no matter what he was saying, Doofus wouldn’t cease. He just kept attacking him.

At some point, Louie remembered that Doofus’s parents were there. “Help,” he begged, his voice cracking slightly.

“Doofus, stop,” his mom demanded. “This has gone far enough!”

“Are you questioning me?” Doofus shouted, finally stopping with the umbrella so he could storm over to his mother. “How dare you!”

He screamed, throwing down the umbrella so hard it could have broken. Louie flinched away from him, though the bracelet wouldn’t let him get far.

“That’s it. That’s it!” Doofus said, growling. He stomped towards the door, leaving without another word.

“Why would you do that?” Mr. Drake asked nervously, glancing towards the door.

“I’m not just going to sit by and watch him torture an innocent young boy!” Mrs. Drake snapped. “Are you alright, dear?”

“I’m… fine,” Louie said, smiling semi-convincingly. They weren’t the worst injuries he’d ever received. He’d be fine. Probably. Though it certainly hadn’t helped the nausea he was already feeling from the walnuts. He was worried he’d end up vomiting them up pretty soon…

Something in his pocket buzzed.

Something in his… he had his phone. He could call for help! He could get out of here!

Frantically, he pulled his phone from the pocket of his suit, fumbling with it slightly.

“What are you doing?” Mr. Drake cried.

“I’m calling for help!” Louie said, cursing to himself as the screen remained unresponsive for a moment. It had a few cracks on it from his beating. “Come on, you stupid piece of junk! Work with me!” he begged.

He didn’t have long until Doofus returned, that much was clear. He had to be fast.

The phone nearly fell from his grasp multiple times with how bad he was shaking, but he managed to hold onto it, pulling up his contacts app. Before he could dial anyone, he could hear approaching footsteps.

Louie stuffed the phone back in his pocket, doing his best to look unsuspicious. 

“I’m back!” Doofus declared, already in a significantly better mood. He met Louie’s eyes, then frowned. He took a few steps closer, refusing to break eye contact.

Louie held his breath, doing his best to win the staring contest. He didn’t like the look he was being given.

In the corner of his eye, Louie could see Mr. Drake fidgeting anxiously. Oh god, if he ratted him out again, he didn’t know what Doofus would do.

“Servant!” Doofus snapped. “Is there anything I should know?”

Louie met the man’s eyes, pleading with him silently. Surely he wouldn’t do it. Surely he would see reason.

“The new one has a phone!” he cried. “He tried to contact someone.”

Doofus glared at Louie, storming forward and pulling the phone directly from his pocket. Louie cried out in panic, reaching for it against his better judgement.

“I was willing to forgive you for your earlier behavior,” Doofus said, “but this? This is unacceptable.” he pocketed Louie’s phone, then pulled out another golden bracelet.

“What’s that for?” Louie asked, eyeing it nervously. “I — uh — I already have one of those!”

Doofus laughed, standing face to face with his captive. “Not quite, my friend present.” Before Louie could do anything to stop him, he’d clasped the thing around his neck.

For a moment, he didn’t even process it. He just stared at his captor in confusion, then slowly felt the bracelet around his neck with his free hand.

“What?” he squeaked.

Doofus clicked something on the remote, and suddenly Louie — could move his arm? What the hell?

Before he could get any ideas about running away, however, Doofus grabbed him roughly and dragged him away from the front door and further back into the house. They took several twists and turns, Louie struggling the whole way, before eventually, he was pulled into a room just as fancy as the other rooms here. The main difference was that, in the very middle of the room, as if it was just another piece of furniture, was a large crystal cage.

“Wait, wait wait, you can’t just—”

His last ditch effort wasn’t worth anything, and he was thrown into the cage anyway.

Immediately, he was prying at the bars, but they wouldn’t give. There was enough spacing that he could get his arm through, but he was nowhere near being able to squeeze between them. On the “bright” side, the cage itself wasn’t really cramped, per se. He could sit up fully, though he wouldn’t be able to stand. The floor of it was big enough that he could sprawl out, at least.

“You’ll be staying in here until you learn to respect me,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some servants to tend to.”

He turned on his heel, leaving Louie all alone in the cage.

He put all of his strength into fighting against the bars, but for the life of him, they wouldn’t fucking budge. Shit.

When that didn’t work, he began to claw at his neck desperately in a poor attempt to get the newer band off. It was bad enough when it was just a bracelet, but now, with another piece of jewelry (this one seemingly functioning a little too much like a dog collar), it was only getting worse. And if the bracelet could prevent him from getting anywhere, who knew what this did?

He wasn’t making any progress.

“I hate only child day,” he declared to himself, trying to distract himself from his impending doom. “I’m never letting them do this again.” Assuming he had the chance to be angry with his brothers, that is.

No, no, he had to think positively. He was related to Scrooge McDuck! Not to mention his Uncle Donald. They wouldn’t let him rot here.

He hoped.

Some time later, Doofus returned.

Louie decided to try his luck one last time. “Please,” he said, “let me go. I just want to go home!”

“Oh, Llewellyn,” Doofus laughed, grabbing him by the tie and jerking him forward, his body slamming against the bars of the cage. He grinned darkly, taking another handful of the fabric in his fist until Louie couldn’t breathe.

He barely managed to get out a few choked sounds, unable to say anything coherent. 

“You need to learn your place,” he said, in the type of condescending way you’d speak to a pet that tried to bite you.

Louie decided he didn’t like that analogy. “Please,” he choked, his voice so raspy it could barely be understood.

“I do like when you beg me, friend-present.”

If there had been any oxygen actually going to his brain, Louie would have been disgusted. But he couldn’t breathe, and his vision was going fuzzy, and he didn’t have the energy to think about how psychotic this kid was.

He needed to breathe.

With the hand that didn’t have a hellish bracelet stuck around it, he weakly reached up, trying to push Doofus away. It only served to choke him further.

“I don’t quite think you understand,” Doofus said, jerking him forward again, the little bit of slack he’d managed to acquire now only working against him. “I own you. I wanted you the moment I saw you, and as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now — I always get what I want.”

And with those words, Louie had a horrible feeling that his fate was sealed.

[tigerkirby215]

5e Zac, the Secret Weapon build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Christian Fell. Made for Riot Games.)

No one:

Literally no one:

@tigerkirby215​: “HEY FUCKERS WHO WANTS A ZAC BUILD?!”

Full disclosure: I watched Dorans and Dragon’s video for Zac and while it’s really well done (like really well done. I honestly suggest you watch it) I felt like it took a bit of an interesting direction. Ds&D and I have always had different ideas for our builds and I think with the release of Tasha’s there’s actually a lot of interesting new directions to take Zac in.

Also spoiler alert but this build is the most jank-ass fucking shit I have ever made but it strangely works really well? Like I literally sat on this build for two months debating if I should even post it. Also Zac’s a grappler, because of course he is.

GOALS

There's plenty of me to go around - Zac stretches and bounces and changes his shape more-or-less at will.

Why thanks; I do work out - Zac is one of those “hold you down for 10 seconds total in a teamfight” types of junglers.

I'm not as squishy as I look - Of course to be a big bundle of green goo we’ll need to be big. Like, really big.

RACE

END ME I’M MAKING A BUGBEAR! :D

Okay to be fair Bugbear hate is kinda overblown, especially by yours truly. You get +2 to Strength and a +1 to Dexterity as well as Darkvision and several other useful traits: you have a Powerful Build to carry more stuff, for one. You are also Sneaky and get proficiency with Stealth, which is nice because if you launch a Surprise Attack you can do an extra 2d6 damage.

But of course the main trait of a Bugbear is their Long-Limbed bodies. All your melee attacks have a 5 foot longer range, which is obviously important to make Stretching Strikes!

Custom Lineage: If you’re insistent on making a custom “goo creature” race with Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything rules here are my suggestions: make yourself Medium (yeah duh) and give yourself proficiency with the Athletics skill. Increase your Strength by 2 and take the Skilled Expert feat for Expertise in Athletics along with a +1 in Wisdom. You will have an uneven DEX score but I dunno just go for Athlete or something later in this build.

ABILITY SCORES

15; WISDOM - Braum isn’t the only champion who believes the heart is the strongest muscle, as if you’d read Zac’s lore he is actually quite a compassionate soul. Also we need Wisdom for our main ability.

14; CONSTITUTION - Zac is a tanky boy, so up the tankiness!

13; DEXTERITY - When you can stretch and squeeze like silly putty dexterity comes naturally. We need that dexterity to jump over walls, among other things.

12; STRENGTH - A lot of it is elastic strength, but if you’re going to throw Cho’gath into Shyvana you do also need upper body strength.

10; CHARISMA - He’s a nice guy when you get to know him, but Zac’s also a bunch of Zaun sewer goo.

8; INTELLIGENCE - Living in the sewers and then later being raised as a weapon means you don’t know any math, science, or history.

BACKGROUND

Zac did grow up in the streets, but the skills from the Urchin background don’t fit him well so we’ll be modifying it heavily. Take proficiency in Acrobatics to squash and stretch as well as Perception to keep those wards up. You can pick your choice of languages or tools because Zac kinda... doesn’t do much other than fight? I mean he’s literally called “the Secret Weapon” what do you want from me?

But your background feature of City Secrets is very useful for traveling the streets of Zaun, letting you find your way around alleys and jungle gank paths to travel through the city twice as fast as the average person! "Put some spring in your step."

(Artist unknown. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - MONK 1

Been awhile since we’ve visited the good ol’ Monk class eh? Well you can grab Athletics finally, as well as Insight to know if someone’s worth clobbering. You also get proficiency with an artisan’s tool or musical instrument, and I mean... Zac still doesn’t have much lore.

But how about some class features? Monks get Unarmored Defense equal to their Wisdom plus their Dexterity, for 14 AC total. Would medium armor be better? Yes, but you can’t wear armor if you want to use Martial Arts! Martial Arts gives you a variety of benefits: you can punch with DEX or STR, your punches are now a d4 (and will scale as you get levels), and if you punch with your Action you can punch with a Bonus Action after the fact!

LEVEL 2 - MONK 2

Second level Monks get Ki points to use for a variety of features: Flurry of Blows lets you attack twice with your Bonus Action instead of once, Patient Defense lets you dodge as a Bonus Action, and Step of the Wind lets you Dash or Disengage as a Bonus Action. An important thing to mention about Step of the Wind is that it doubles your jump distance, for those big Elastic Slingshot jumps!

You can also put on some boots and get some Unarmored Movement. 10 more feet to be exact!

I guess I’m also obliged to mention Dedicated Weapon from Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything which lets you turn any weapon you’re proficient in into a Monk weapon as long as it’s not Heavy or Special. This will be important later but it’s not exactly in-character for Zac.

LEVEL 3 - MONK 3

Third level Monks get to choose their Monastic Tradition and Way of the Astral Self will give you some long stretchy limbs! As a bonus action you can spend 1 Ki to summon Arms of the Astral Self. When you do so, each creature of your choice that you can see within 10 feet of you must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or take force damage equal to two rolls of your Martial Arts die due to your Unstable Matter.

Your arms will stay up for 10 minutes and give the following benefits:

You can use your Wisdom modifier in place of your Strength modifier when making Strength checks and Strength saving throws.

You can use the spectral arms to make unarmed strikes, which has the following benefits:

The reach of the arms is 5 feet greater than normal, which stacks with your Bugbear arms. 15 foot reach with extra stretchy arms!

The unarmed strikes you make with the arms can use your Wisdom modifier in place of your Strength or Dexterity modifier for the attack and damage rolls, and their damage type is force.

You can also absorb some blows with Deflect Missiles. When you are hit by a ranged weapon attack you can use your reaction to reduce the damage by 1d10 + your DEX mod + your monk level. If you reduce the damage to 0, you can catch the missile. You can then spend 1 ki point to throw it back as part of the same reaction. You make this attack with proficiency, regardless of your weapon proficiencies, and the missile counts as a monk weapon for the attack, which has a normal range of 20 feet and a long range of 60 feet.

Tasha’s Cauldron of Everyone also gave Monks the Ki-Fueled Attack ability which pretty much doesn’t impact you in the slightest.

LEVEL 4 - MONK 4

4th level Monks get an Ability Score Improvement but we’re instead going to grab the Skilled Expert feat. You can increase your Wisdom by 1 and grab proficiency in Survival for optimal jungle clear. But what we’re mainly here for is to make our hands extra sticky with expertise in Athletics! Is the build starting to make sense now?

You can also land safely after an Elastic Slingshot jump thanks to Slow Fall, reducing fall damage by 5 times your Monk level. If you want to keep yourself in the fight then Quickened Healing (also from TCoE, because that book really likes giving new Monk features) will let you take advantage of Cell Division for 2 Ki points, healing you for a number rolled on your Martial Arts die plus your Proficiency bonus. It’s not much but in a pinch it might save you!

LEVEL 5 - MONK 5

5th level Monks get an Extra Attack, so you can punch twice with your action, and then punch some more with your Bonus Action! You can also bring some heavy CC into the party with Stunning Strike; if you hit an enemy in melee you can force a Constitution save or stun them! Yes actual honest-to-god League of Legends stun!

Oh and because Tasha’s Cauldron really wanted to buff the Monk you get Focused Aim, letting you use up to 3 Ki points to increase your roll to hit, at a 2:1 ratio. (1 Ki point = +2 to hit)

(Artwork by SemLimit on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 6 - BARBARIAN 1

Jumping over to Barbarian, land of the true tanks. Barbarians get Unarmored Defense based on Constitution that we won’t be using but I’m obliged to mention anyways. Of course what we’re here for is Rage which will augment you in a number of ways: you’ll resist Bludgeoning, Piercing, and Slashing damage and will do more damage with Strength-based attacks (which you probably won’t be making.) But the most important feature is this line right here:

You have advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws.

You know what’s a Strength check? Athletics! So even if you use Wisdom for it you’ll still have Advantage on top of Expertise! And Athletics is used for grappling! At least that’s how I’d rule it, but talk to your DM just to make sure they’ll let this dopey shit into their game.

LEVEL 7 - BARBARIAN 2

Second level Barbarians can let themselves go with Reckless Attack. Your Unstable Matter will give you advantage on your attack at the cost of giving enemies advantage to hit you.

You also get Danger Sense for advantage on Dexterity saves against effects you can see coming. Is a Jinx rocket heading your way? Slingshot out of there!

LEVEL 8 - BARBARIAN 3

Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything gave Barbarians Primal Knowledge for a free skill proficiency from the Barbarian list, so take Intimidation I guess because you are a huge freaky slime guy.

Third level Barbarians get to choose their Primal Path and guess what? It’s Totem Warrior time! As a Spirit Seeker you can cast Speak With Animals and Beast Sense as a Ritual but we all know that’s not what we’re here for. What we’re really here for is the Totem Spirit of the Bear. You can now resist all damage while Raging, with the exception of Psychic damage. Hey there has to be %health damage to deal with tanks after all. (Now if only they’d nerf Grievous Wounds.)

LEVEL 9 - MONK 6

This will be our last Monk level; sad I know. But it’s worth it for the Visage of the Astral Self. You can use a Bonus Action and a Ki point to summon the visage. (And can do it while summoning your arms.) While the spectral visage is present, you gain several benefits:

Astral Sight lets you see through magical (and nonmagical) darkness up to 120 feet.

Wisdom of the Spirit gives you advantage on Wisdom (Insight) and Charisma (Intimidation) checks.

And Word of the Spirit lets you either whisper in team chat to a creature of your choice that you can see within 60 feet of you, or shout in all chat so that everyone within 600 feet can hear you.

Your regular fists are also considered magical thanks to Ki-Empowered Strikes, and you get 5 more feet of Unarmored Movement! "Woohoo!"

(Artwork by Dragonflamebg on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 10 - FIGHTER 1

Teamfight time? Team Fighter time! First level Fighters get a Fighting Style and since you’re punching people your only real option is Superior Technique, giving you a d6 Combat Superiority die to use on a Battle Master Manuever. That Manuever shall be Grappling Strike, letting you grapple as a Bonus Action after punching someone for some Stretching Strikes!

You can also heal with Cell Division assuming the enemy team doesn’t stack Grievous Wounds thanks to Second Wind; it’s a d10 plus your Fighter level. "Keep it together."

LEVEL 11 - FIGHTER 2

Second level Fighters get Action Surge for even more punching! This will be more important in like, two levels.

LEVEL 12 - FIGHTER 3

Third level Fighters get to choose their Martial Archetype and for some crowd control in a teamfight Battle Master is a great choice. You are a Student of War which means more tool proficiencies which make no sense because Zac has no lore woo! But of course what we’re mainly here for is Combat Superiority: you have four d8 Superiority Die (plus a d6 one from your Fighting Style) which you can use on a variety of Maneuvers:

Trip Attack is good if you want to bounce, forcing the target you hit to make a Strength save or fall over!

Distracting Strike is like stunning the target in the sense that it gives your allies an opening, but unlike Trip Attack you don’t have to force a saving throw. (Instead Distracting Strike just works after you hit them!)

And if you think your arms aren’t stretchy enough already? Boom; Lunging Attack for 20 foot reach!

LEVEL 13 - FIGHTER 4

4th level Fighters get an Ability Score Improvement: hey it’s everyone’s favorite feat Grappler! You have advantage on attacks against enemies you grappled, and if you’re grappling someone you can then pin them to hold them in place!

Now pinning someone you’ve grappled does take an action but here’s where Action Surge comes in: turn 1? Grab them. Turn 2? Pin them! Easy!

LEVEL 14 - FIGHTER 5

5th level Fighters get an Extra Attack... which you already have. "I hate it when this happens."

LEVEL 15 - FIGHTER 6

Hey more Ability Score Improvements! Want all the fun of a high Constitution score without the Constitution? Look no further than the Tough feat: it gives you +2 HP per level for some big gains!

(Artwork by GisAlmeida on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 16 - FIGHTER 7

7th level Fighters get to Know Your Enemy: by spending a minute studying someone (IE looking at the scoreboard) you can learn if an enemy is superior, inferior, or equal to you in a number of areas described by the ability.

You also get one more Combat Superiority die and learn two more Maneuvers: Goading Attack will make it harder for enemies to hit your friends (and it works against Tier 4 enemies who likely resist fears), and Disarming Attack will let you stick your hand to your opponent’s weapon to make them drop it!

LEVEL 17 - FIGHTER 8

8th level means more ASIs and I’m starting to think ignoring all your stats was a bad idea. More Wisdom means better punches, better grabs, and better AC.

LEVEL 18 - FIGHTER 9

9th level Fighters get Indomitable, letting them reroll a failed saving throw once per Long Rest. Regardless of what you roll on the new die however you have to use the new result. This can be used on Death saves to try to keep alive a little longer thanks to Cell Division.

LEVEL 19 - FIGHTER 10

10th level Battle Masters get Improved Combat Superiority. Your superiority die are d10s now; even the one from your Fighting Style! You do also learn more Maneuvers but honestly? We got just about everything that we need already. If you’ve hit level 19 playing Zac League of Legends then you deserve to make some choices of your own.

LEVEL 20 - FIGHTER 11

Our final level is the 11th level of Fighter for an Extra Attack that does stack! That means you have 3 attacks total and one extra from Martial Arts!

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Beat up, or beat down? I'm flexible - No matter how you look at it 4 attacks per round is great, especially since you can give yourself Advantage and boost your damage output with Battle Master Maneuvers.

Pick on someone your own size - If everything goes well you should have a solid 200 health by level 20! Definitely nothing to sneeze at, especially with Rage giving you resistance to almost everything and Second Wind letting you heal yourself!

This is gonna get messy - You’ve got a +16 to Athletics checks for Grappling when using your Astral Arms, and can give yourself Advantage or add Superiority die to your Grapple checks. Do I need to explain that that’s really good?

CONS

Don't push your luck, champ - None of your stats are maxed out, and that’s bad. Your hit modifier isn’t great, your Battle Master saving throw is low, but most importantly your AC is really bad. Big health is nice but not being hit is also very helpful. Just saying if you have the chance to go for Point Buy I’d take it.

I never skip breakfast - A small pool of Ki combined with limited Maneuver die means that you’re running on some very potent fumes. Frequent short rests will be needed to make the most out of this build.

These jerks don't know when to quit! - Grappling builds have the ever-constant problem of falling off in the late game when most foes simply can’t be grabbed. This build honestly peaks around level 13 and just falls off from there. This is definitely one of my builds that I think works better in a low level campaign.

But if you want something unique that works well early here’s your build! Big reach to hold everyone in place so your party can beat them up. Playing the CC tank might not be that glorious but it’s a job someone’s gotta do. And remember: "It's not how much you can lift. It's how good you look!"

(Artist unknown. Made for Riot Games.)

[aureolusfirewrites]

So I finally got around to writing a possessed Ben Zs'Skayr story surprised to find I'm actually motivated for once so here it is

Warnings: Brooken, PTSD

This takes place in October even though I'm writing it in February

Veined in Black

Chapter 1

Present Oct. 29/

Ben sat on his bed at plumber headquarters. Groaning and wincing in pain as his crush fussily wrapped bandages around his wounds. 

Once Rook finished patching him up Ben flopped over face first on his bed and moaned. 

"I hate October." The statement was enough to get Rook to look up at him.

"Do humans not generally enjoy this time of year?"

"Well yeah kinda but it's just so freaky to me. People walk around purposely looking like they're hurt and bleeding plus there's a Halloween eclipse which makes it twice as creepy... Not to mention everyone thinks it's an excuse to cause even more crime then normal." Ben ranted.

Rook grunted "I agree with you on that it seems as though the number of emergencies we get called out for have spiked to almost twice the normal amount..." Rook smirked. "However I would've thought you would be more than overjoyed at the aspect of receiving free candy."

Ben smiled at that "yeah free candy is pretty rad..." 

"Ben... Is something the matter?" Rook asked apparently picking up on Ben's distant additude. 

"Did... did anything about that fight earlier seem odd to you?" He thought back to it.

------------------------------

Earlier

He was walking through the mall with Rook and a kid dressed up as a killer clown had gotten a little to close to him and Rook. The anxiety attack was minor so Rook was able to talk him down relatively easy. He could still feel his heart racing a little to fast and Ben started feeling tired. 

Rook shook him lightly to snap him out of his post-anxiety attack daze. Ben look up at him and rubbed his head. "Ben it is alright everyone is still here safe and alive." Rook said gently. "Y-yeah yeah I know I'm good now Rook just... Just tired all of a sudden. 

Rook nodded and they continued their patrol. Well it wasn't so much patrol, as it was walking around the mall looking at Halloween ideas and hoping a bad guy would run into them so they'd have an excuse for doing nothing all day. Wish granted apprently. 

There was a loud commotion below them. Ben immediately jumped off the balcony fully prepared to transform before he hit the ground but Rook had other plans apparently. He felt warm hands wrap around his waist as Rook grabbed hold of him lowering him down on his proto tool's grappling function. Ben blushed glad his partner hadn't been looking at him.

Rook had seen him but that wasn't something Ben was ever going to know. 

He looked around for the danger. There were three humans wearing masks and another three aliens. They seemed relatively younger probably near teenagers by human standards. One was a Thep Khufan another was a loboan and then there was... He froze slightly. Enough for Rook to notice his tension. "It is not him Ben." Rook whispered the small reminder in his ear as he looked at a small ectonurite girl. 

He knew he shouldn't be afraid, he knew that just because one was bad didn't mean they all had similar plans but still. Whenever he was around ectonurites he couldn't help but see him. Pictures flashed through his head, gwen at the edge of a roof, a fight in space on a satellite, running through a city of monsters, Rook attacking him, a chill going through him and then a horrible pain as his body was taken over. 

Rook shook him again and he focused. "Right. Rook you take the humans I'll get the others." His partner nodded and ran for the three humans who immediately bolted in the other direction. Ben stood his ground hand over the omnitrix ready to activate at any moment. They all stood like that for a bit before they made a move. 

There was a long drawn out screech that threw him backwards. He flew back and his head hit something hard. He rubbed the back of his neck "y'know I might've had a concussion from that but at this point I've been hit on the head so much I think I might be immune." He joked to no one in particular. They was some pressure on him middle and he looked down at the bandages that had wrapped around his middle. He smiled up at the mummy sheepishly "oh boy," there was a tug and he got thrown out of the... Fountain? That's what he slammed into? ...That'd work.

He was being whirled through the air uselessly waiting for the right moment and then quickly grabbed onto a pillar as he flew by. 

The whiplash and inurscia from his sudden stop threw the mummy forward. It released it's grip as it was launched into the fountain. Water seeped into the alien's bandages and it began to unravel, water weighing it down. Ben was ready to go help it out of there, he didn't want him getting melted like some paper mache sculpture in the rain but the ectonurite beat him to it. 

The loboan was still an issue though. It lunged at him with sharp claws ready stab him. There was a lucky swipe and Ben staggered away clutching his bleeding arm. 

The loboan smirked and the ectonurite was still helping dry off her friend. Ben slammed his hand down on the omnitrix. 

He felt the familiar pain and tension he always felt when he transformed. Like he told Young One that one time it was like a stretch, except it was your muscles stretching out and changing into something new entirely just fast enough for your body to not go into instant shock. If it was any slower he would've guessed that he would immediately have some kind of seziure or something. 

Something was odd about it this time though like there was something else shifting with him. He shrugged it off.

He felt heavier and stronger but in a more solid way. "Alright! Diamondhead is gonna kick your butts!" He said excitedly. 

The loboan howled and he was less excited as he felt a crack run down his face. "That's enough of that." He said fed up. He sent a few sharp crystals at the sides of the alien and a few blunt ones to his stomach. The sharp ones scraped it's arms and trimmed off the fur where they connected. The blunt projectiles collided with his midsection and sent the loboan to the ground gasping for air. 

Ben winced he knew the blunts were the equivalent to getting a punch to the chest at high speed but it was better than using a shard. 

He brought crystal walls up around the wolf alien to keep him in place until Rook got back but he doubted the loboan was getting up anytime soon. Then there were the other two...

The Thep Khufan was down for now so he wouldn't bother with him so that left... The ectonurite. 

The ectonurite girl was smaller, around his size actually. She had metal bands all around her sort of like clothes so she looked like a kindergartner covered in a ton of slap bracelets. 

The omnitrix suddenly started flashing and toning the timeout sequence. "No no no c'mon!" There was a flash and he was back to being a human. 

The ectonurite turned towards him. He felt wobbly 'run' kept going through his head but his body wasn't responding. Then at lighting speed she launched towards him. A logical part of his mind knew that even if she did get inside him she wouldn't be able to take him over, but that wasn't the part controlling him at the moment. 

Ben let out a surprised yelp and covered himself with his arms as a last ditch block effort. But what he was waiting for never came. 

The ghost alien stopped in front of Ben and silently looked him over. She let out a hum of frustration and flew back over to the Thep Khufan. 

Ben stayed staring at her. "BEN!" He heard Rook call and he ran to Ben's side. Ben raised his arm up to motion that he was okay to Rook but a pain shot across and he looked down at his still bleeding still injured arm. "Oh... Right... That-" and then Ben had passed out and Rook carried him back to the proto-truk.

Ben had woken up about 10 minutes later in the passenger seat slightly dizzy and tired but he hadn't lost enough blood for it to be serious so Rook was taking him back to his dorm room to patch him up.

Ben couldn't help but feel like something was off though...

---------------------------------------------------

/Present, Oct. 29/

Then it struck Ben what was so odd about that fight. "Rook what were they doing there?" Rook looked away in thought. "We are unsure. The ectonurite refuses to talk and the other two act as if they have no memory of the event." 

Ben mumbled a little.

"So three anur system aliens attack with no motive and didn't speak once while fighting..." He said quietly. 

"What are you thinking Ben-dude?" Rook smiled trying to cheer Ben up. 

Slight pink flushed across Ben's smiling face but the expression faded fast into his 'Im connecting the dots' face. "I dunno Rook just a hunch." His partner nodded. 

Ben felt like his eyelids were made of lead suddenly and he yawned wide. "Why do you not get some rest for right now Ben" Rook smiled at the tired hero. "Mmm'kay" Ben slurred before letting black wash over his mind.

[noblest-roman-of-all]

abandon

i figured id try my hand at one of those inktober style writing prompt challenges, so here we go! first up: abandon

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he was a kid, Remus had a family. He had a brother, a twin brother at that! They were pretty different, but Remus really didn’t care that much. They would spend hours coming up with crazy stories about dragons and zombies and knights and magic, playing in their room where they could make anything happen. They called it the Imagination, and it was their kingdom. They ruled it together, the prince and the duke, making their own world everyday, then taking it apart and putting new ones together. 

He always thought Roman was happy with the way they did things. Sure, sometimes they’d argue about things, but they always ended up making something awesome out of it. They had all they needed with the two of them and their Imagination. Roman clearly didn’t think that though. He kept spending more and more time with the other sides, Patton and Logan. He knew Patton didn’t like him. He never stopped smiling, unless he saw Remus. It never bothered him though, because he had his brother. Until one day. 

Roman came back from playing with Patton and Logan, but something was wrong. Remus tried to tell him about his new idea for the Imagination, but Roman told him to shut up. He started yelling about how Remus was bad, he was broken. He said lots of things, but Remus only remembered the last part. 

“You’re not my brother. You’re everything I can’t be, everything I can’t let happen to Thomas. You need to leave.”

Remus tried to go back to the Imagination, but the door wouldn’t open for him anymore. He stood outside the door for hours, trying everything he could to get the door open, but nothing worked. He had ideas in there! Stories, monsters, worlds he needed to finish building! Roman was in there! It seemed like forever passed before he heard someone behind him. 

“It’s no use. You’re not welcome there anymore,” the voice said. He didn’t need to turn around to know that voice. It was one of the ones they didn’t let Thomas hear, didn’t let him know about. One of the bad guys.  

“You’re lying,” Remus sneered. “That’s your whole thing. Roman wouldn’t…” 

“Abandon you? He already has.” The sharp voice suddenly turned soft, almost sad. “I… I can give you a place. A family, without him.” A hand landed on Remus’ shoulder. Well, they did think he was a bad guy now. Might as well play the role. He was good at that. 

“... where to?”

For a long time after that, Remus had a family. Janus and Virgil were just as strange as he was, just as intense and just as hated by the rest of the sides. It made sense for them all to stick together, to wreak a little havoc. Freaky nightmares, little lies that snowball into a trainwreck, the voice in Thomas’s mind reminding him just how quickly everything can go wrong. It was fun, like getting to play again. His Imagination was no longer contained and quelled by Roman, he was free. He got to suggest all manner of strange, creepy and downright dirty ideas, and sometimes, Thomas actually considered them. And to top it all off, he had friends, family who understood him. 

Well, he thought they both did. 

Virgil had been acting weird, even weirder than he normally did. He had agreed to jump into videos to really antagonize the “light sides”, finally given a platform other than the mindscape they normally existed in. It had gone well for a while. Even if he didn’t always manage to keep Thomas anxious, he managed to unsettle him for a while, and he messed with the others a shit ton, which Remus personally counted as a win. It had been working, he thought. Until he noticed that Virgil would leave their dark little corner outside of videos, hanging around the others just for shits and giggles. 

Janus didn’t seem to mind that much, but Remus knew they were bad news. Knew how fast they would turn around and decide, you know what, you’re not worth it, not worth our time. He knew they would decide eventually that whatever pet project they were attempting with Virgil, they would get bored of it, and they would toss him out and break his heart. Remus didn’t want that to happen. So, he pulled a few strings. 

He started fucking with Roman more and more, pushing all of his buttons. He made sure to show his face around Patton, reminding him who Virgil’s real family was. He would pop up in Logan’s room to ask all sorts of nonsense questions, trying to tire him out and piss him off. And because Remus was an evil mastermind at heart, it started to work. The other sides would lose their temper with Virgil more and more often, pushing him aside and talking over him. He was so sure it would make Virgil resent them, make him turn back to the people who cared about him. 

He didn’t expect Virgil to duck out entirely. 

He really didn’t expect the other sides and Thomas to find him so quickly. 

He absolutely didn’t expect they would win him over. 

“I love my dark strange son.” What a load of horseshit, from the cardigan clad clown himself. 

Fine! If Virge wanted to get involved, leave him and Janus behind just so he could get his heart broken when the others inevitably changed their minds, remembered who he really was, and decided to abandon him in turn, that was all him. 

Remus just never thought he was the masochistic sort. 

For another three years, Remus had a family. Him and Janus got along swimmingly, better than he ever had with any other side. With Virgil out in the open, they decided they could make themselves known. If he’d thought getting to stretch his twisted creative muscles in the mindscape was fun, it was nothing compared to getting to pull out his biggest guns on Thomas in person. He also enjoyed that Janus seemed to come back from most of his encounters with them smug and content, which was usually the best state Janus could be in. Things were going well. 

Remus should’ve known that means someone’s about to leave him. 

It starts with the wedding. The stupid, stupid fucking wedding. He’s never wanted to bash his b- Roman over the head more than the moment he decided they were going to go to the wedding. Even if it gave him more material to work with, he knew it was going to result in a level of misery he didn’t want to deal with in the long run. He did end up getting to beat Ro up a little bit, but it didn’t satisfy him the way he wanted it to. 

What was worse than that, Janus started getting more and more irritable. Remus would find him pacing around his room, muttering as he steps over crumpled sheets of paper and open notebooks. He would snap at Remus in ways he never did before, pissed off over silly pranks that never phased him much before. 

You’d think by now, Remus would be an expert in recognizing when he was about to leave him behind. Some people just don’t learn, apparently. 

He did pay attention when he wasn’t around, though people never expect that. He heard everything that happened the night of the wedding. He heard how hurt Roman was, how confused Patton seemed, how angry Thomas was trying to not be. He heard Janus appear and diffuse the situation. 

He heard Janus tell them his name. 

“Roman, thank god you don't have a mustache. Otherwise, between you and Remus, I wouldn't know who the evil twin is.” He heard that too. 

When Janus came back, he didn’t look very different. Remus… well, Remus felt a lot of things, most of which he channeled into an overwhelming desire to hit him directly in his stupid, snake-y face with the morningstar. 

Remus generally didn’t feel bad when his weapons actually hurt people, but he didn’t usually feel this level of release, this feeling of letting everything drain out of him in one harsh swing. 

“What the hell has gotten into you? I’m not Roman, you know,” Janus sighed, wiping at the blood flowing down his face. 

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, you two faced fucker. That was for being such an absolute fucking dick to my brother,” Remus shouted, hauling the morningstar over his shoulder, ready to swing again. Janus took a quick step back and raised an entirely unimpressed eyebrow. 

“Oh yes, and you have such a history of kindness and support with him.” Normally Janus’ smug drawl was comforting, but directed at him it grated on every. Single. Fucking. Nerve. 

“At least he knows what to expect from me! I hit him with a pointy ball on a stick, I don’t try to emotionally manipulate and damage him every chance I get!” Remus shouted. “And what was the name sharing shit? It took years for you to tell me your name, they get it in a few months?”

Janus let out a long sigh at that. “You don’t understand. It was the only way Patton-”

That was the final straw. “Oh, Patton this Patton that! Why don’t you go suck up to daddy like every other fucking side has, clearly that’s the only thing you give a shit about!” 

“I needed them to trust me, Remus, it’s not personal.” Janus had sat down by now, his head in his hands, but Remus could not give less of a shit about how tired he looked. 

“You made it personal when you used me to talk shit about my brother! Maybe I am evil, but I know my role, I know what I am, I don’t try to convince anyone otherwise! You, you lie and talk in circles and do whatever it takes to make sure they like you, make sure Patton likes you, even when it means you shit all over me!” Remus had been pacing through his speech, but he circled back to Janus, who was finally looking at him again. They locked eyes for a moment, before Janus looked away, unable to deny any of it.  

“You told me you’d give me a family. If this is what your idea of family is, I don’t fucking want it,” Remus spat. “Go play house with Patton and pretend you're ever going to keep a promise and not abandon everything you’ve ever said and done at the drop of a hat when some shiny new possibility appears.”

A long, long moment of silence followed. And then Janus stood up, brushed lightly at his pants, and turned away from Remus. 

“Have fun alone, Remus,” he said. It wasn’t a sneer, wasn’t a snarl or a shout. It was just said, flat and cold and so empty. And then he walked away, closing the door behind him quietly. For all his drama and all his shouting, Remus wasn’t prepared for such a quiet end. 

“Well,” he said to the empty room, “at least I can’t have any more family drama.”

He didn’t cry that night. He didn’t spend that night wishing that maybe someone would have bothered to stay with him, stay for him. 

He didn’t. Because he was the evil twin, and evil twins don’t cry over being abandoned. 

They plot revenge. 

[official-archivist-keith]

Keith sat down with the paper and the statement before turning on the tape recorder. He took a breath, he was starving... hopefully this would help.

"Statement of Sunil Maraj regarding their work as a security guard and the disappearance of their co-worker, Samson Stiller. Original statement given 3rd April, 2011. Audio recording by Keith Kogane, the Archivist.

Statement begins."

"So I lost my job last week. I mean, I quit, they didn’t fire me or nothing. But you know how like sometimes you quit because you want to, and sometimes you quit because you’ve got to? Well, this was the second, although I’m not gonna pretend I’m not glad to see the back of the place.

It’s ‘cause I kept asking about Samson, you know? And what I saw. And they really, really don’t want me to make a stink about that. Because if he just disappeared one day, didn’t come into work, that’s fine - I mean, not fine for his family, obviously, or the police who have to find him, but fine for the company. If he disappeared at work, though - if what I think happened is even close to what actually happened - then that’s real bad news for them, and opens them up to all sorts of lawsuits and liability.

I mean, it’s fine, I can get other jobs, and it’s not like I really want to be working there after what happened, but I just wish someone would take it seriously. It’s messed up, and I’m having a real hard time getting out of my head.

So, I work security right? Used to be, a company or shop would have its own little security force they put together, did all the in-store and CCTV vigilance stuff. These days, it’s all centralized, though. You tend to have a building or a shopping central contract all the security work out to a single company, who’ll then cover all the businesses or shops. It’s easier, from a centralizing point of view, and cheaper, if that’s what the owners like.

But it does mean that there tends to be a lot less stability and how it’s all structured, personnel-wise, at least. If you’re lucky, you’ll be assigned to a post and stay there for years, getting to know the place, the systems, your co-workers. If you’re unlucky, or there’s contract difficulties, you could easily end up moving through two or three different places in as many months.

That was kind of the case for me and Samson. We were the odd men out in a lot of ways. We’d originally been brought in for a big corporate office block near Liverpool Street, but there’d been some problem and the whole place had to be closed up for months. Samson said they found asbestos, I heard it was a lease issue, but it doesn’t really matter. Point is, they hired us for a job that no longer existed.

I expected they’d just get rid of us, but I mean to their credit, they did try to do right. They did their best to fit us in with other security teams: I mean, over the last two years we did a couple of data centers, a digital marketing hub - whatever that is - three different office buildings near Kings Cross… trouble was, every time, almost as soon as we got there, there’d be some personnel changes, or expiring contracts, or some other trouble, and generally, as the last in the door, we were the first to get reassigned. Started to feel a bit like we were cursed, you know?

Samson took it harder than I did. I mean, I’m young, my mum’s got a flat in Hackney, and to be honest, most of my evenings are out with friends or in with black ops, so the moving around was pretty much fine with me. Sam had a three-year-old, though, and lived way down in Morden, so being thrown from one post to another all the time was really kind of getting to him. He tried to talk to me about it a few times, but honestly, we weren’t that close. Or rather, we were close because we’d always worked together, but we didn’t have a huge amount in common. I mean, I tried to talk to him about football for a while, but I think he could tell I was talking out of my ass. Anyway, point is, when we were reassigned to a shopping centre in Stratford, he wasn’t in a great place.

Now, I’m not sure I can legally name the shopping center I was working in to you guys, but let’s just say it wasn’t the Westfield. It was old, clearly been around decades, and the security systems really showed it. I mean, one of the shops still had the original alarms from the late 70s, and plenty of them still had cameras that recorded to VHS, for God’s sake.

The security office was a mess. The company I worked for - again, dunno if I can legally say them, but you can look it up, you know - they have a package where they replace all your equipment and systems with the stuff we use. It’s not cheap, but it’s worth it, if only because we all know exactly how to use that stuff.

Whoever was running this shopping center had very much not opted for that particular contract. I mean, the teams before us had made a valiant effort to centralize and integrate all the feeds and setups into just the one control room, but… damn, that place was a mess. Flat screens, next to banks of old CRT monitors that some of the cameras had to feed into, next to racks of channel banks, and a few actual, honest-to-god computers, that tried their best to wrestle everything into something that was almost usable.

I found it properly overwhelming, didn’t like the place at all. But Sam actually seemed to get on with it pretty well almost from the get-go. He’d apparently been an engineer back in the day, and something about all those old surveillance systems, all tied together, all wrapping into and around each other like some weird nest of cameras… it seemed to really appeal to him. The first week he was there he spent almost the entire time playing with the system and the wiring… left me to do most of the other work on my own. Well, I mean… there were the other guys working there, of course, but even the ones who’d been there awhile started to get the picture and gave Samson a bit of a wide berth after a few days.

He really did seem to get the place in a bit better order. I mean, some of it, only he really understood, but soon enough it actually made sense - what we were watching and when - and he managed to get rid of some of the delay, so that we even managed to catch a couple of shoplifters.

There was only one piece of equipment that seemed to give him any trouble. It was this old Tecton multicamera recorder from the late 80s, managed the feeds for one of the various budget shoe shops that lined the promenade.

It didn’t seem all that complicated when you just looked at it, but trying to use it was an absolute nightmare. None the buttons seemed to do exactly what you wanted them to do, and there were all sorts of sequences where pressing a button, holding a button, pressing it three times, all that - they’d all do really different things.

Sam spent almost a whole month wrestling with it, before he finally cracked and he asked Dave - the bearded old guy who we all sort of assumed had been there the longest? - whether they still had any of the old operating manuals.

I remember the smell of dust when Dave went and cracked open the filing cabinet in the back room, before waving his arms in the direction of the drawer and shrugging. I mean, I’d have just left it, obviously, but I think Samson was taking the whole knowing how the system works thing as like - a point of pride? Something he could salvage from the whole situation. Just a way of getting some control over his life, you know?

So he found the manual. More of a pamphlet, really. Can’t have been more than ten pages of A5 in the whole thing, yellowed and water-damaged. Well-used, though. Someone had even put their name in the front, like they were afraid people were gonna steal a manky instruction book.

Still, Sam just couldn’t put it down. I mean, it was like 10 in the morning when we finally found it, and when I went in at 2:00 to see if he’d taken his lunch break yet, he was still sat there, just staring at it. I mean, I’m not a fast reader, or anything but that’s a lot, right?

And like - okay, so this is the part that you’re definitely gonna think I’m having a joke with you, but I’m honestly not, I’m dead serious. Because I saw some of the pages over his shoulder, and on one of them there was, there was a picture of me.

Like, a black-and-white photo of my face. I didn’t get a good look, but it certainly wasn’t one that I remember having taken. Not that would make it any less weird for it to be printed in an old CCTV manual from back when I was doing nappies. And I’m not making it up, I swear.

Then Samson turned, and he looked at me, and I don’t know, I got real spooked. His eyes were all - messed up. Like, weird. And glassy. It was really, really freaky, and I just turned and I got out of there. That wasn’t the end of it, though. If it had been then sure, maybe I write it off as a weird dream, where I was tired or whatever, but no. Because from that point, on Samson just gets creepier.

For a start, he’s always at work. I mean, we’re not always on the same shift, so it takes me a while to notice, but when I ask him about it, he just says that our schedules must have synced up weird. But whenever I arrived, there he was, staring at the monitors, watching all the people come and go, his eyes wide like he was drinking it all in. And whenever I was there late, and it was my turn to close up, he’d always say that he was happy to do it, say I could head off a few minutes early.

So, I never actually saw him leave. I tried to stay once, said I needed to do it myself, but he just got real quiet, like… real quiet, and stared at me.

The bank of monitors was behind him, and I’m just trying to come up with something to say, get him to talk to me… and one by one, they began to just wink off, turning dark.

And I got this feeling, deep in my gut, that if that last monitor turned off, then something really bad was gonna happen to me. It was one of the old CRT sets, big, and bulky, and the picture on it was never that clear, but for a moment it looked like it was me on there. Staring right back at myself as the screens slowly went black, getting closer and closer. The face on the monitor looked absolutely terrified, and I was starting to feel it myself.

So I just tried to smile, told him not to worry about it, and I headed out as quick as I could. My legs were shaking so hard I almost fell on the way out.

Then there were the actual cameras. I mean, you work in a shopping center, obviously you do a bunch of shopping there. I used to get my lunch, for one, and usually pick up any of the essentials I needed. Sometimes, if I was feeling hard done by and it was payday, I might buy myself a new shirt, or a game, or something.

And obviously, because I work security, I know where all the cameras are. where they cover, even how they move. A lot of them are completely static, just pointing at one place. But gradually, I start to notice something when I’m shopping. It’s like a tickling, creeping sensation all over the back of my neck. Like I’m being watched.

So I start to keep an eye on the cameras when I’m in the shops, and you know what, I’m right. They’re following me. Whenever I look at them - doesn’t matter where it was they were meant to be aimed - they’re always focused right on me.

I keep staring at them, moving around, and they just shift to keep the lens pointed at me. But they’re not articulated, they don’t have any motor or swivel mount they just… move. Pointed right at me.

One time, when no one in the store was looking, I threw a can of deodorant at one of them. Hit it square on. Samson wore sunglasses for the next two days, and when I caught a glimpse of him without them, there was a crack right down the center of his eye.

I tried to talk to the others. I’m pretty sure that they were getting similar weirdness from them. they were all jumpy and nervous those last few months. But I was known as Sam’s friend. We’d come in together and everyone just assumed we were close. When I started to ask about it, about what was going on, they just clammed up like I was trying to get them in trouble. My nerves were all shot to hell.

I wasn’t in work the week he disappeared. I’d called in with a bullshit stomach thing. I just needed a break, some time to get my head right. It was almost working, you know? A little distance, a little space to relax. I was starting to feel good.

Then I got the call from Dave. He was frantic.

I couldn’t make out half of what he was saying over the bad line, but he kept saying Samson’s name. Asking me if I “knew,” if he’d “told me.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but he kept screaming at me. He kept saying, I must know, he must have told me what was going on. He kept saying, “what do we do with his eyes?”

I mean, I didn’t know what the hell to say, I just went quiet listening to Dave as he started sobbing down the phone

“He won’t stop,” he said. “We can’t get rid of his face.”

I hung up. And Dave was gone when I went back in. A bunch of them were, all quit suddenly. I wanted to check in with them, find out what happened, but we’d never really been friends, and I didn’t know any of their details.

I never saw Samson again, either. Though, I did find his old work shirt in the back. It was torn to shreds, wrapped around that old instruction manual. I put it back in the filing cabinet, and I threw the shirt away.

I tried to stick around, to do my job, but I was asking too many questions for the folks upstairs, I think. I wanted to know why Samson hadn’t signed out of the building before he disappeared. Why, no matter who tried to reset the system, it always logged back in as him.

Why, whenever I was watching the monitors alone, I’d see him on that old CRT screen. Staring right back at me. Quietly calling for me to join him."

"Statement ends." Keith let out an exhale, "Much better..."

@zombieapocalypsekeith

[westannatasharomanoff]

THG AU Chapter 27

Chapter 1        Chapter 2      Chapter 3     Chapter 4    Chapter 5    Chapter 6 Chapter 7   Chapter 8   Chapter 9  Chapter 10   Chapter 11 Chapter 12  Chapter 13 Chapter 14  Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17  Chapter 18 Chapter 19   Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22  Chapter 23   Chapter 24  Chapter 25 Chapter 26

*Natasha Romanoff was in The Capitol for an interview. She was now three months pregnant and everyone was buzzing about the baby. This interview was to announce the winners of the baby naming competition. The only thing keeping Natasha from being furious about not getting to name her own child was the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. was going to stick it to The Capitol.*

Ceaser: I think we all know what we’re here for. Natasha, if you would open the envelope.

Natasha: Okay, Ceaser. Here goes nothing.

Ceaser: Can we get a drumroll please? *drumroll* Thank you.

Natasha: The winning name for a baby girl is Victoria, and if it’s a boy, the winner is... Triffle. *her face falls*

* Meanwhile in District 12, everyone is watching the interview together at Natasha and Bruce’s.*

Pietro: Triffle? *bursts out laughing* 

Fury: That poor child.

Maria: That’s unfortunate. 

Bruce: Triffle?! They want us to name our child Triffle?! That’s not even a name! 

Wanda: Evidently, it is in The Capitol. 

Melina: That’s okay. Triffle is a bit... odd, but we would love him anyway. Besides, Victoria is a very nice name. 

Alexei: Our poor grandson is going to be teased so much. 

Fury: Have you met this child’s parents? He’ll be fine. 

Bruce: For everyone’s sake I hope we have a girl. 

*A week later, Natasha and Bruce went to their first S.H.I.E.L.D. meeting. It was held in a hovercraft above the wilds.*

Peggy: I know we haven’t met in a while, but I assure you S.H.I.E.L.D. is as active as ever. We have three new agents today, so please give a warm welcome to Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, and Natasha Romanoff.

Grant: Wait, didn’t she just get married? Why does she still have her same last name?

Natasha: The Capitol already knows me well, so changing my name didn’t make much sense. 

Peggy: Why don’t we all just introduce ourselves? I’ll start. My name is Peggy Carter and I live in District 4. 

Phil: I’m Phil Coulson, I live in District 9.

Melinda: Melinda May,  District 2.

Lincoln: Lincoln Campbell, District 5. I know, shocking. 

Lance: Lance Hunter, District 2.

Thor: You guys know me. You also know Steve! *Steve waves*

Daisy: Daisy Johnson, I’m from 3. 

Bruce: Yeah, I’ve met you. You’re the new girl from coding. 

Daisy: That’s me. 

Tripp:  Antoine Triplett, but you can call me Tripp. I also live in District 3.

Grant: Grant Ward, from District 2. 

Jemma: Jemma Simmons. I live in District 3, but I invent medical devices so I’m always in The Capitol. 

Bobbi: Bobbi Morse, I’m also from District 2. Imagine that. 

Lance: She’s my wife. 

Leo: Leo Fitz. I’m from District 3, but we’ve met. 

Bruce: Yes, yes we have. 

Mack: Alphonso Mackenzie, District 6. You can call me Mack.

Daniel: I’m Daniel Sousa. I live in District 10 and I think that’s everyone, right?

Gamora: You forgot us. 

Daniel: Right, our friends from The Capitol.

Gamora: I’m Gamora Zen-Titan, as you may remember.

Mantis: Mantis Brandt-Snow. I’m so happy to be here!

Nebula: Nebula Lupho-Titan. *pointing at Gamora* I’m her sister. 

Peter: Peter Quill-Snow. *pointing at Mantis* I’m her sister. 

*Everyone goes silent and gives Peter an odd look. A few people stifle laughter. A moment later, Peter realizes his mistake.*

Peter: Wait, no! She’s my- *sigh* never mind. 

Bruce: Wait. Snow, Titan, I know those names! You let the children of the president and his closest advisor join a society to take them down? 

Peter: Our father is Snow’s brother, actually. 

Gamora: Not to mention none of us want anything to do with the corrupt and unfair system that is our government! The things going on in Panem just aren’t right, and anyone could see that no matter who their “family” is! Panem needs to enter a new era, and soon. 

Bruce: Fair enough, carry on. 

Loki: I’m Loki Odinson and *pointing to Thor* I’ve never met that man in my life. 

Natasha: Oh, are you two siblings?

Loki: No. I’ve seriously never met him. It’s a total coincidence that we have the same last name.

Thor: It’s actually kind of freaky, especially considering we look very similar.

Loki: For the last time, we do not look alike! At all! 

Peggy: Can we get back to business? 

Thor: Right, sorry. 

Peggy: Anyway, we need to take a few more people before we’re ready to start the next phase of our plan. *to Bruce and Natasha* That’s where you come in. We need to recruit Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, and Pietro Maximoff. Banner, you need to get Tony on board. Natasha, you will handle the Maximoffs. 

*Natasha and Bruce accepted their assignment and the rest of the meeting went pretty well. After the meeting, Bruce was snuck to District 3 so he could talk to Tony. He encased them in the secret bubble.*

Tony: Bruce? What are you doing here?

Bruce: I’ll tell you in a minute, but first I want to know how you’re holding up. Did they ever find Pepper?

Tony: *starting to cry* No. It’s been four months and we’ve found nothing. Well, nothing but this. *Tony pulls out a ring* They found her wedding ring in the ruins of her sister’s house. 

Bruce: *pulls Tony into a hug* I’m so sorry. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call. How’s Morgan?

Tony: She’s still my pride and joy. She misses her mommy, but she’s a wonderful daughter. Just turned three. I’m keeping this one close, I can’t lose her like I did Peter and Pepper. Speaking of children, congratulations. I heard about the baby. You’re not seriously going to name a boy Triffle, are you?

Bruce: We have no choice. Anyway, back to the reason I’m here. The government of Panem needs to be stopped. A secret organization called S.H.I.E.L.D. is working to overthrow Snow, and I’ve been sent to recruit you.

Tony: No. No way. I can’t join a revolution. 

Bruce: We need you! The Hunger Games, the bombings, the whippings, the avoxes and muttations, none of this is acceptable! We owe it to Peter and Pepper and Vision and Sammy and everyone else The Capitol saw as disposable. This isn’t right and it isn’t fair!

Tony: I know, but this sounds dangerous and my top priority will always be keeping my daughter safe. 

Bruce: What if your daughter could live in a world where she didn’t have to worry about the reaping every year? A world where she could see other districts. A world where the citizens aren’t oppressed. 

Tony: That sounds amazing, but I can’t. What if they find out and kill Morgan?

Bruce: We won’t let that happen. Just please consider it. These people really want to make a change, and I want to be a part of it. But none of this is possible without you.

Tony: And you’re sure these people can be trusted?

Bruce: Yes. 

Tony: Then count me in. For Pepper. And Peter. And for Morgan. Most importantly, for the future of Panem. I’m joining your revolution. 

*Meanwhile back in 12*

Natasha: You may be wondering why I shut you both in a soundproof invisibility bubble with me. There is a secret organization called S.H.I.E.L.D. that has been created to overthrow Snow and I was sent to recruit you because-

Both twins at once: We’re in. 

*About two months later, everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. was preparing to deliver the first blow. *

Peggy: Okay, we want to start small with something barely noticeable. In order to do that, we need someone to sneak in and grab a secret file. With that gone, The Capitol will no longer have arena ideas for the next few years.The 91st Hunger Games is probably already all planned, given it’s in a month, but this will be a major setback and a distraction for some of the most prominent figures in The Capitol.

Natasha: If we’re doing something against the games, I want to be involved.

Peggy: Absolutely not. You are in no condition to sneak into that building. 

Natasha: What’s that supposed to mean?!

Peggy: Ordinarily, I’d send you in in a heartbeat, but...

Natasha: What? Am I not good enough? Did you see me in the games? I’m not proud of it, but I’m told I was impressive!

Bruce: Nat, you’re five months pregnant. 

Natasha: Oh, right. 

Peggy: Anyway, we’re sending in Wanda, Daisy, and Gamora. Tony Stark has made rigs for Daisy and Wanda similar to what Peter Parker made in the games. Wanda, yours will allow you to move objects with your mind.

Tony: These ones are a lot stronger than what you had in the arena. You’ll be able to move bigger objects and even people. They also work long distance. 

Peggy: Daisy, yours will allow you to pulse vibrations through the floor, creating miniature earthquakes.

Tony: You can direct them towards specific people and everything. 

Peter: What about Gamora? Are you just going to send her in with nothing?

Gamora: Don’t be ridiculous. *pulling out ID badge* I have my dad’s ID badge. It’ll give us access to everything. Also, I have a retractable sword. 

Peter: Oh, okay. 

Daniel: So you’ll be safe then? Because you have the ID badge?

Daisy: We’ll be fine, I promise. *kisses his cheek* Besides, it’s a really fast, in and out, kind of mission. We’ll be back before you know I’m gone. 

Daniel: I miss you already. Be safe.

Daisy: Don’t worry, we will. 

*After they leave*

Tony: So, you and Daisy, huh? How’d you two meet?

Daniel: We’re both involved with S.H.I.E.L.D. She and I met through this. 

Tony: Meeting through work, nice. That’s how I met my wife. *sniff* Well, I guess now she’s my ex wife. *begins sobbing* 

Bruce: *puts hand on Tony’s shoulder* You’ll be okay. here. *hugs Tony*

Daniel: Messy divorce?

Bruce: She was killed in an attack by The Capitol. 

*An hour later, Daisy, Gamora, and Wanda return. S.H.I.E.L.D. is officially up and running, and they aren’t going to back down.*

[candiiee]

HUHHHHH?!!

CHAT BRO IS TRIPPING

WHATTT

[chemicalmagecraft]

Foresight is 20/20 Chapter 11

I smiled even before we reached the gates. "It looks like we have a welcome party," I noted, then licked my lips.

"How can you tell?" Gai asked.

"Chakra sensing."

As soon as we were inside the gates of the village, I was tackled by a very energetic blonde. "Kouki!" Naruto yelled as he did his level best to crush me like a tin can.

I awkwardly patted him on the back. "Heyyy, bud. Could I please breathe?" I choked out. I gasped for my breath after he released me from his adamantium grasp. "Stupid freakish Uzumaki strength," I grumbled in between breaths.

"What was that?" Tenten angrily asked me.

I rolled my eyes. "Not directed at you."

"Hey Kouki," Naruto said, "why are you all brown?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay first off I think technically it's more 'bronze' than 'brown,'" I said, "and b, it's called a tan."

"How did you get so tan in only a few days?" Dad asked me. "Didn't you have a parasol?"

I sheepishly put my hand behind my head. "Well..."

~~~~ku

I sighed as I lounged on the thankfully clean floor in front of the window.

"Are you sunbathing!?" Temari asked me.

"Soooo waaaarm~" I replied.

"I swear you're a cat or something."

I grinned a catlike grin. "Meow~" She sighed and stormed off.

~~~~ku

"...I guess I get tan really easily?" Okay to be fair I do. And it stays for a while, even if I stay inside most of the time. When my brother, whose complexion is almost exactly the same as mine, got a similarly dark tan from being a lifeguard, my mom noted that it was probably due to our "gypsy blood." I wouldn't put it that way myself, mostly due to the fact that the word "gypsy" is actually kinda offensive what the heck mom, but I guess it's a plausible reason... I was thankful, though, that the sun didn't give me any more freckles. No offense to people with a lot of freckles, but I'm fine with only having like ten freckles on my face that mostly just look like a bunch of beauty marks, thank you very much.

"Welcome back, niisan," Hinata said with a smile. I couldn't help but notice that Kurama didn't at all look like he was annoyed with Hinata carrying him.

"Sup, Hina-chan. Did Kurama-chan tell you guys I'd be here?"

He huffed and turned his head away from me, the tsundere.

"Love you too, bud!"

"So what are you going to do now that you're back?" Neji asked me.

I shrugged. "First I'm going to take a bath, then I'll probably take a nap or something. I'm pooped."

"Surprising to hear that from you," Ai commented.

"Even I have my limits, Ai. Working on the seal was fun, but I'm glad it's over and done with." I yawned. "Now if you guys don't mind, I'd like to go take a nice, long bath now." I waved goodbye. "Thanks for coming to greet me!"

kukukuku~

I yawned, sat up in my bed, licked my lips, and stretched my arms. Then I fell back to sleep.

kukukuku~

"Okay, time to work now," I said after I rolled out of bed. Before doing anything, though, I checked out my window. It was nighttime. I shrugged. "Not that much of a problem to someone with twenty four-plus hour days." I licked my lips. "Right, let's get crackin'." I assumed a meditative position on the floor and reached inward, to my chakra. Mostly the red stuff, but also some of the blue. Just as a human touched by the red (I.E. me or the jinchuriki) has to have over a certain amount of red chakra in them to not die, it seemed that beings made from the red needed at least some blue in them to function. To be honest, I should've figured that out sooner, what with how the Biju Dama uses blue chakra. 'Course, I did figure it out when I sensed not only another biju, but Karura, who was a non-biju red chakra spirit. And with that revelation came some important progress on an idea that I'd had. And over the ride home, I'd honed and perfected that jutsu, one that I was now ready to use. Sure, I'd been wary of potential danger, but I felt a lot better after a message from my future self, or at least a future self... Future vision can get pretty freaky.

And so, I grabbed hold of almost all of my red chakra, just leaving a comfortable yet small amount over the minimum amount I needed to live, as well as enough blue chakra to sustain a demon of that power level. I used yin-yang release and some of the mechanics behind clone jutsus in general to mold that chakra into the proper shape. When I was done, the chakra moved on its own.

I opened my eyes to see my shadow turn pitch-black, then split off into two, one normal and one still a me-shaped abyss. The ebon shadow moved and stretched so that it was across the room from me. The shadow... rose, changing in shape and color to form what felt like an alternate-universe mirror. First off, shadow me looked even more girly than I did. Sure, that wasn't saying much what with how I was still way prepubescent and had girly hair, but she had longer hair and a skirt with leggings, so there's that. Plus she looked a little shorter than me. Second off, she had what appeared to be fox ears and a tail, likely an artifact from Kurama even though they didn't look exactly like his. Third, she was both a pallette swap and mirror image of me. While her complexion was roughly the same as mine, her eye markings were white with black dots instead of black with white dots, her clothes were dark red instead of blue, her hair was a shade of blue so dark it was almost black, and her eyes were red with slit pupils. As for the mirror part, her bangs were parted to the right instead of the left and each of her freckles were situated to be on the opposite side of her face from mine. Though she had fox ears instead of human ears, I could see she still had a rendition of the nubby nub nub thing on her right ear as opposed to my left.

"I am thou, thou art I," she said in almost my voice. Man, that was weird. "Sup, me."

"Sup," I responded, then relaxed my posture. She did the same, though she was mindful of her skirt. I was already kind of sure of the answer, but... "Hey, just to be clear here, you're supposed to be a girl, ja?"

She nodded. "Ja." She blushed. "I have more control over my form than just using the transformation jutsu and I figured I should differentiate myself as much as I can from you, so..." I feel like something could be said about me that "I" felt the need to justify that even to myself...

"I take it you picked out your own name too, right?"

"Yup." She grinned. "To counter your light-light hope-and-fortune name, I picked Chikage."

"Thousand Views?" I asked jokingly.

She facepalmed and groaned. "Okay yes, I guess that that's the traditional reading, but I meant more along the lines of Thousand Shadows. Or even Blood Shadow. Heck, Shadow of the Earth is kinda cool too."

"So does that mean I have your permission to keep 'Kouki?'" I asked.

She gave me a deadpan stare. "Dude, I literally said that I picked a name to balance out yours."

"Yeah, but if you think about it, 'Kouki' is us, not me. The guy that is us combined is Kouki."

She shrugged. "Would be pretty weird if you randomly started to go by another name. You're Kouki Prime and I'm totally at peace with that. Let's stop talking about semantics and see what this jutsu of ours does, exactly."

I nodded and clenched my fist. "I think I got weaker..." I unclenched my fist and did a few small stretches.

"Makes sense," Chikage said. "Even if you aren't using it, your red chakra still enhances you. Still, that also means you should have more control now."

"Right," I said. I held my hand out and tried to make some wind chakra. It felt a little off without my red chakra, but I got the hang of it surprisingly fast. Much faster than I'd managed the last time I'd tried it, wire-thin threads of wind chakra burst from my fingers, curling around my new double/clone/sister maybe? "Sorry, but you understand what I'm doing, right?

She snorted. Curiously, a small puff of smoke came from her nose when she did. "Dude, I'm you. Of course I know. Just make sure to ask future you first to make sure it doesn't screw us both over."

"Right, was going to do that anyway." I activated my eyes for just long enough to get a message coded to a version of myself in the exact situation I was in.

"Yup. Go ahead."

I didn't want to completely spoil every single highly-dangerous-yet-incredibly-interesting experiment I did, but I knew it'd be stupid to actually do them without using the Shoraigan to make sure I didn't end up turning Konoha into a crater. And so in my time of need, I discovered another power of the Shoraigan that was just as good as the ability to tell the future. At least, I'm assuming that's what happened in about a thousand other timelines that I never went down. Or I guess I did go down them, but just not the me that is me? Man, anything involving time travel gives people headaches, doesn't it. I could only time-warp information and yet I still got headaches.

Where was I?

Oh right. Main Shoraigan power number three. Or maybe just another version of the first main power? In addition to being able to download future information directly into my brain, I found out I could send my past self and/or selves information when I randomly got thousands of very similar chronopathic messages saying something roughly along the lines of "Holy crud we can send messages to our past selves!" and some telling me to stop sending messages back to past me, which was very hypocritical of future me, but I complied. I wonder if there's a version of me who found out about the Shoraigan by having that future message sent back by an alternate version of-

"You're getting off track," Chikage said, her eyes now a slit variant of the Shoraigan. Guess that meant she could use it too despite not having my eyes(?). "Stop telling the fans about our cool new power and kill me already."

"Right, sorry." I closed my hand into a fist, causing the Wind Release: Razor Wire to chop her into pieces. Instead of blood going everywhere, though, the cuts became red chakra which reformed back into her body with some loss.

"That hurt," she muttered. "But it seems we won't find out what happens when I die if we use that. Maybe try fire?" She was made from an aggregation of the powers of Kurama (fire/wind) and Shukaku (earth/wind), so while there was some fire in her it wasn't out of the question that fire would hurt her a lot more than wind...

I nodded and we both stood up. I guess maybe it was customary to use fire chakra from the lungs, and yes that was apparently how you got the most power, but I liked the idea of channeling it through my hands better, plus that way I could try to add lightning to it despite not knowing how to do it too well. I knew fire from the hands was possible from the flashback to the time of Ninshu, so theoretically... "Do not try this at home, kids." I made a few hand seals, then held my hand like how Kakashi does with the Chidori. An unfortunately uncoordinated ball of fire and lightning chakra emerged from my palm, as well as the slightest whiff of burning flesh.

Ow.

Chikage waved her arm in front of her torso, creating either a bullseye target or the illusion of a bullseye target. I thrust the ball of plasma right into the center of the target. Her body destabilized almost as soon as the probably-poorly-thought-out concoction of chakra touched her. While some was... ruined, I guess, by the attack, the majority of the chakra Chikage was made from was sucked back into my body. With the chakra came her memories, which was... interesting. I feel like I should note, though, that getting pyrolectrocuted hurts like the dickens.

"Is everything okay?" Uncle asked as he barged in. "I heard crackling sounds."

I casually stuck my hands in my pockets. "Yeah. I tried to use lightning release. Do you think you could ask Dad if I could get official training? That kinda hurt."

He looked concerned. "Are you hurt?"

I gave him a thumbs-up with my unburned hand. "Yeah, just a little stinging. Nothing a little healing factor won't cure. You should see the other guy."

"O...kay..." He thankfully left without much question, allowing me to take the other hand out and assess the damage. The friction from just taking it out of my pocket stung.

"Eeee..." I winced. I mean, it didn't look like it was too bad of a second degree burn, but... it was blackened. I really hoped that was just soot. I applied some red chakra to it and it thankfully just flaked off and didn't scar or anything. "Not doing that again, at least without adult supervision. Hope my pocket isn't ruined..." I tilted my head a bit. "Now before I can forget, I should probably do this." I activated my Shoraigan and sent a message coded to two certain iterations of my past self. Sure, it'd have happened anyway because of diverging timelines, but insert dead Daves joke here. "Right," I said. "Now that that's over. Chikage, out." She didn't do anything. I blinked. I could definitely feel her somewhere in me, but...

Oh.

I was Chikage. Well that was interesting. I concentrated on what I'd done before and felt a small snap in the back of my head.

"I'm back," she said in my head. Red chakra flowed from my body, forming Chikage, arms crossed and leaning back onto thin air. "Is that what it feels like to fuse?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I guess maybe with Pink Steven it was, just with less nearly dying and womanchildish giants."

She chuckled and picked me up. "C'mon, we gotta do it now."

I smiled and hugged her, laughing. She hugged me back. We started laughing and spinning each other until we just melted back together. "Ah, good times," I said. "Now we should probably get a training ground so I can see what I... you... we... can do..." I sighed. "Man, this is going to be weird..."

[hlupdate]

Harry Styles isn’t exactly dressed down for lunch. He’s got a white floppy hat that Diana Ross might have won from Elton in a poker game at Cher’s mansion circa 1974, plus Gucci shades, a cashmere sweater, and blue denim bell-bottoms. His nail polish is pink and mint green. He’s also carrying his purse — no other word for it — a yellow patent-canvas bag with the logo “Chateau Marmont.” The tough old ladies who work at this Beverly Hills deli know him well. Gloria and Raisa dote on him, calling him “my love” and bringing him his usual tuna salad and iced coffee. He turns heads, to put it mildly, but nobody comes near because the waitresses hover around the booth protectively.

He was just a small-town English lad of 16 when he became his generation’s pop idol with One Direction. When the group went on hiatus, he struck out on his own with his brash 2017 solo debut, whose lead single was the magnificently over-the-top six-minute piano ballad “Sign of the Times.” Even people who missed out on One Direction were shocked to learn the truth: This pinup boy was a rock star at heart.

A quick highlight reel of Harry’s 2019 so far: He hosted the Met Gala with Lady Gaga, Serena Williams, Alessandro Michele, and Anna Wintour serving an eyebrow-raising black lace red-carpet look. He is the official face of a designer genderless fragrance, Gucci’s Mémoire d’une Odeur. When James Corden had an all-star dodgeball match on The Late Late Show, Harry got spiked by a hard serve from Michelle Obama, making him perhaps the first Englishman ever hit in the nads on TV by a First Lady.

Closer to his heart, he brought down the house at this year’s Rock & Roll Hall of Fame ceremony with his tribute to his friend and idol Stevie Nicks. “She’s always there for you,” Harry said in his speech. “She knows what you need: advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl.” He added, “She’s responsible for more running mascara — including my own — than all the bad dates in history.” (Backstage, Nicks accidentally referred to Harry’s former band as “’NSync.” Hey, a goddess can get away with that sort of thing.)

Harry has been the world’s It boy for nearly a decade now. The weirdest thing about him? He loves being this guy. In a style of fast-lane celebrity that takes a ruthless toll on the artist’s personality, creativity, sanity, Harry is almost freakishly at ease. He has managed to grow up in public with all his boyish enthusiasm intact, not to mention his manners. He’s dated a string of high-profile women — but he never gets caught uttering any of their names in public, much less shading any of them. Instead of going the usual superstar-pop route — en vogue producers, celebrity duets, glitzy club beats — he’s gone his own way, and gotten more popular than ever. He’s putting the finishing touches on his new album, full of the toughest, most soulful songs he’s written yet. As he explains, “It’s all about having sex and feeling sad.”

The Harry Charm is a force of nature, and it can be almost frightening to witness in action. The most startling example might be a backstage photo from February taken with one of his heroes, Van Morrison. You have never seen a Van picture like this one. He’s been posing for photos for 50 years, and he’s been refusing to crack a smile in nearly all of them. Until he met Harry — for some reason, Van beams like a giddy schoolgirl. What did Harry do to him? “I was tickling him behind his back,” Harry confides. “Somebody sent me that photo — I think his tour manager took it. When I saw it, I felt like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction opening the case with the gold light shining. I was like, ‘Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t show this to anyone.’”

In interviews, Harry has always tended to coast on that charm, simply because he can. In his teens, he was in public every minute and became adept at guarding every scrap of his privacy. But these days, he’s finding out he has things he wants to say. He’s more confident about thinking out loud and seeing what happens. “Looser” is how he puts it. “More open. I’m discovering how much better it makes me feel to be open with friends. Feeling that vulnerability, rather than holding everything in.”

Like a lot of people his age, he’s asking questions about culture, gender, identity, new ideas about masculinity and sexuality. “I feel pretty lucky to have a group of friends who are guys who would talk about their emotions and be really open,” he says. “My friend’s dad said to me, ‘You guys are so much better at it than we are. I never had friends I could really talk to. It’s good that you guys have each other because you talk about real shit. We just didn’t.’”

It’s changed how he approaches his songs. “For me, it doesn’t mean I’ll sit down and be like, ‘This is what I have for dinner, and this is where I eat every day, and this is what I do before I go to bed,’” he says. “But I will tell you that I can be really pathetic when I’m jealous. Feeling happier than I’ve ever been, sadder than I’ve ever been, feeling sorry for myself, being mad at myself, being petty and pitiful — it feels really different to share that.”

At times, Harry sounds like an ordinary 25-year-old figuring his shit out, which, of course, he is. (Harry and I got to know each other last year, when he got in touch after reading one of my books, though I’d already been writing about his music for years.) It’s strange to hear him talk about shedding his anxieties and doubts, since he’s always come across as one of the planet’s most confident people. “While I was in the band,” he says, “I was constantly scared I might sing a wrong note. I felt so much weight in terms of not getting things wrong. I remember when I signed my record deal and I asked my manager, ‘What happens if I get arrested? Does it mean the contract is null and void?’ Now, I feel like the fans have given me an environment to be myself and grow up and create this safe space to learn and make mistakes.”

We slip out the back and spend a Saturday afternoon cruising L.A. in his 1972 silver Jaguar E-type. The radio doesn’t work, so we just sing “Old Town Road.” He marvels, “‘Bull riding and boobies’ — that is potentially the greatest lyric in any song ever.” Harry used to be pop’s mystery boy, so diplomatic and tight-lipped. But as he opens up over time, telling his story, he reaches the point where he’s pitching possible headlines for this profile. His best: “Soup, Sex, and Sun Salutations.”

How did he get to this new place? As it turns out, the journey involves some heartbreak. Some guidance from David Bowie. Some Transcendental Meditation. And more than a handful of magic mushrooms. But mostly, it comes down to a curious kid who can’t decide whether to be the world’s most ardently adored pop star, or a freaky artiste. So he decides to be both.

Two things about English rock stars never change: They love Southern California, and they love cars. A few days after Harry proclaimed the genius of “Old Town Road,” we’re in a different ride — a Tesla — cruising the Pacific Coast Highway while Harry sings along to the radio. “Californiaaaaaa!” he yells from behind the wheel as we whip past Zuma Beach. “It sucks!” There’s a surprising number of couples along the beach who seem to be arguing. We speculate on which ones are breaking up and which are merely having the talk. “Ah, yes, the talk,” Harry says dreamily. “Ye olde chat.”

Harry is feeling the smooth Seventies yacht-rock grooves today, blasting Gerry Rafferty, Pablo Cruise, Hall and Oates. When I mention that Nina Simone once did a version of “Rich Girl,” he needs to hear it right away. He counters by blowing my mind with Donny Hathaway’s version of John Lennon’s “Jealous Guy.”

Harry raves about a quintessential SoCal trip he just tried: a “cold sauna,” a process that involves getting locked in an ice chamber. His eyelashes froze. We stop for a smoothie (“It’s basically ice cream”) and his favorite pepper-intensive wheatgrass shot. It goes down like a dose of battery acid. “That’ll add years to your life,” he assures me.

We’re on our way to Shangri-La studios in Malibu, founded by the Band back in the 1970s, now owned by Rick Rubin. It’s where Harry made some of the upcoming album, and as we walk in, he grins at the memory. “Ah, yes,” he says. “Did a lot of mushrooms in here.”

Psychedelics have started to play a key role in his creative process. “We’d do mushrooms, lie down on the grass, and listen to Paul McCartney’s Ram in the sunshine,” he says. “We’d just turn the speakers into the yard.” The chocolate edibles were kept in the studio fridge, right next to the blender. “You’d hear the blender going, and think, ‘So we’re all having frozen margaritas at 10 a.m. this morning.’” He points to a corner: “This is where I was standing when we were doing mushrooms and I bit off the tip of my tongue. So I was trying to sing with all this blood gushing out of my mouth. So many fond memories, this place.”

It’s not mere rock-star debauchery — it’s emblematic of his new state of mind. You get the feeling this is why he enjoys studios so much. After so many years making One Direction albums while touring, always on the run, he finally gets to take his time and embrace the insanity of it all. “We were here for six weeks in Malibu, without going into the city,” he says. “People would bring their dogs and kids. We’d take a break to play cornhole tournaments. Family values!” But it’s also the place where he has proudly bled for his art. “Mushrooms and Blood. Now there’s an album title.”

Some of the engineers come over to catch up on gossip. Harry gestures out the window to the Pacific waves, where the occasional nude revelry might have happened, and where the occasional pair of pants got lost. “There was one night where we’d been partying a bit and ended up going down to the beach and I lost all my stuff, basically,” he says. “I lost all my clothes. I lost my wallet. Maybe a month later, somebody found my wallet and mailed it back, anonymously. I guess it just popped out of the sand. But what’s sad is, I lost my favorite mustard corduroy flares.” A moment of silence is held for the corduroy flares.

Recording in the studio today is Brockhampton, the self-proclaimed “world’s greatest boy band.” Harry says hi to all the Brockhampton guys, which takes a while since there seem to be a few dozen of them. “We’re together all the time,” one tells Harry out in the yard. “We see each other all day, every day.” He pauses. “You know how it is.”

Harry breaks into a dry grin. “Yes, I know how it is.”

One Direction made three of this century’s biggest and best pop albums in a rush — Midnight Memories, Four and Made in the A.M. Yet they cut those records on tour, ducking into the nearest studio when they had a day off. 1D were a unique mix of five different musical personalities: Harry, Niall Horan, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, and Liam Payne. But the pace took its toll. Malik quit in the middle of a tour, immediately after a show in Hong Kong. The band announced its hiatus in August 2015.

It’s traditional for boy-band singers, as they go solo and grow up, to renounce their pop past. Everybody remembers George Michael setting his leather jacket on fire, or Sting quitting the Police to make jazz records. This isn’t really Harry Styles’ mentality. “I know it’s the thing that always happens. When somebody gets out of a band, they go, ‘That wasn’t me. I was held back.’ But it was me. And I don’t feel like I was held back at all. It was so much fun. If I didn’t enjoy it, I wouldn’t have done it. It’s not like I was tied to a radiator.”

Whenever Harry mentions One Direction — never by name, always “the band” or “the band I was in” — he uses the past tense. It is my unpleasant duty to ask: Does he see 1D as over? “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think I’d ever say I’d never do it again, because I don’t feel that way. If there’s a time when we all really want to do it, that’s the only time for us to do it, because I don’t think it should be about anything else other than the fact that we’re all like, ‘Hey, this was really fun. We should do this again.’ But until that time, I feel like I’m really enjoying making music and experimenting. I enjoy making music this way too much to see myself doing a full switch, to go back and do that again. Because I also think if we went back to doing things the same way, it wouldn’t be the same, anyway.”

When the band stopped, did he take those friendships with him? “Yeah, I think so,” he says. “Definitely. Because above all else, we’re the people who went through that. We’re always going to have that, even if we’re not the closest. And the fact is, just because you’re in a band with someone doesn’t mean you have to be best friends. That’s not always how it works. Just because Fleetwood Mac fight, that doesn’t mean they’re not amazing. I think even in the disagreements, there’s always a mutual respect for each other — we did this really cool thing together, and we’ll always have that. It’s too important to me to ever be like, ‘Oh, that’s done.’ But if it happens, it will happen for the right reasons.”

If the intensity of the Harry fandom ever seems mysterious to you, there’s a live clip you might want to investigate, from the summer of 2018. Just search the phrase “Tina, she’s gay.” In San Jose, on one of the final nights of his tour, Harry spots a fan with a homemade sign: “I’m Gonna Come Out to My Parents Because of You!” He asks the fan her name (she says it’s Grace) and her mother’s name (Tina). He asks the audience for silence because he has an important announcement to make: “Tina! She’s gaaaaay!” Then he has the entire crowd say it together. Thousands of strangers start yelling “Tina, she’s gay,” and every one of them clearly means it — it’s a heavy moment, definitely not a sound you forget after you hear it. Then Harry sings “What Makes You Beautiful.” (Of course, the way things work now, the clip went viral within minutes. So did Grace’s photo of Tina giving a loving thumbs-up to her now-out teenage daughter. Grace and Tina attended Harry’s next show together.)

Harry likes to cultivate an aura of sexual ambiguity, as overt as the pink polish on his nails. He’s dated women throughout his life as a public figure, yet he has consistently refused to put any kind of label on his sexuality. On his first solo tour, he frequently waved the pride, bi, and trans flags, along with the Black Lives Matter flag. In Philly, he waved a rainbow flag he borrowed from a fan up front: “Make America Gay Again.” One of the live fan favorites: “Medicine,” a guitar jam that sounds a bit like the Grateful Dead circa Europe ’72, but with a flamboyantly pansexual hook: “The boys and girls are in/I mess around with them/And I’m OK with it.”

He’s always had a flair for flourishes like this, since the 1D days. An iconic clip from November 2014: Harry and Liam are on a U.K. chat show. The host asks the oldest boy-band fan-bait question in the book: What do they look for in a date? “Female,” Liam quips. “That’s a good trait.” Harry shrugs. “Not that important.” Liam is taken aback. The host is in shock. On tour in the U.S. that year, he wore a Michael Sam football jersey, in support of the first openly gay player drafted by an NFL team. He’s blown up previously unknown queer artists like King Princess and Muna.

What do those flags onstage mean to him? “I want to make people feel comfortable being whatever they want to be,” he says. “Maybe at a show you can have a moment of knowing that you’re not alone. I’m aware that as a white male, I don’t go through the same things as a lot of the people that come to the shows. I can’t claim that I know what it’s like, because I don’t. So I’m not trying to say, ‘I understand what it’s like.’ I’m just trying to make people feel included and seen.”

On tour, he had an End Gun Violence sticker on his guitar; he added a Black Lives Matter sticker, as well as the flag. “It’s not about me trying to champion the cause, because I’m not the person to do that,” he says. “It’s just about not ignoring it, I guess. I was a little nervous to do that because the last thing I wanted was for it to feel like I was saying, ‘Look at me! I’m the good guy!’ I didn’t want anyone who was really involved in the movement to think, ‘What the fuck do you know?’ But then when I did it, I realized people got it. Everyone in that room is on the same page and everyone knows what I stand for. I’m not saying I understand how it feels. I’m just trying to say, ‘I see you.’”

At one of his earliest solo shows, in Stockholm, he announced, “If you are black, if you are white, if you are gay, if you are straight, if you are transgender — whoever you are, whoever you want to be, I support you. I love every single one of you.” “It’s a room full of accepting people.… If you’re someone who feels like an outsider, you’re not always in a big crowd like that,” he says. “It’s not about, ‘Oh, I get what it’s like,’ because I don’t. For example, I go walking at night before bed most of the time. I was talking about that with a female friend and she said, ‘Do you feel safe doing that?’ And I do. But when I walk, I’m more aware that I feel OK to walk at night, and some of my friends wouldn’t. I’m not saying I know what it feels like to go through that. It’s just being aware.”

‘Man cannot live by coffee alone,” Harry says. “But he will give it a damn good try.” He sips his iced Americano — not his first today, or his last. He’s back behind the wheel, on a mission to yet another studio — but this time for actual work. Today it’s string overdubs. Harry is dressed in Gucci from head to toe, except for one item of clothing: a ratty Seventies rock T-shirt he proudly scavenged from a vintage shop. It says “Commander Quaalude.”

On the drive over, he puts on the jazz pianist Bill Evans — “Peace Piece,” from 1959, which is the wake-up tone on his phone. He just got into jazz during a long sojourn in Japan. He likes to find places to hide out and be anonymous: For his first album, he decamped to Jamaica. Over the past year, he spent months roaming Japan.

In February, he spent his 25th birthday sitting by himself in a Tokyo cafe, reading Haruki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. “I love Murakami,” he says. “He’s one of my favorites. Reading didn’t really used to be my thing. I had such a short attention span. But I was dating someone who gave me some books; I felt like I had to read them because she’d think I was a dummy if I didn’t read them.”

A friend gave him Murakami’s Norwegian Wood. “It was the first book, maybe ever, where all I wanted to do all day was read this,” he says. “I had a very Murakami birthday because I ended up staying in Tokyo on my own. I had grilled fish and miso soup for breakfast, then I went to this cafe. I sat and drank tea and read for five hours.”

In the studio, he’s overseeing the string quartet. He has the engineers play T. Rex’s “Cosmic Dancer” for them, to illustrate the vibe he’s going for. You can see he enjoys being on this side of the glass, sitting at the Neve board, giving his instructions to the musicians. After a few run-throughs, he presses the intercom button to say, “Yeah, it’s pretty T. Rex. Best damn strings I ever heard.” He buzzes again to add, “And you’re all wonderful people.”

He’s curated his own weird enclave of kindred spirits to collaborate with, like producers Jeff Bhasker and Tyler Johnson. His guitarist Mitch Rowland was working at an L.A. pizza shop when Harry met him. They started writing songs for the debut; Rowland didn’t quit his job until two weeks into the sessions. One of his closest collaborators is also one of his best friends: Tom Hull, a.k.a. Kid Harpoon, a longtime cohort of Florence and the Machine. Hull is an effusive Brit with a heart-on-sleeve personality. Harry calls him “my emotional rock.” Hull calls him “Gary.”

Hull was the one who talked him into taking a course on Transcendental Meditation at David Lynch’s institute — beginning each day with 20 minutes of silence, which doesn’t always come naturally to either of them. “He’s got this wise-beyond-his-years timelessness about him,” Hull says. “That’s why he went on a whole emotional exploration with these songs.” He’s 12 years older, with a wife and kids in Scotland, and talks about Harry like an irreverent but doting big brother.

Last year, Harry was in the gossip columns dating the French model Camille Rowe; they split up last summer after a year together. “He went through this breakup that had a big impact on him,” Hull says. “I turned up on Day One in the studio, and I had these really nice slippers on. His ex-girlfriend that he was really cut up about, she gave them to me as a present — she bought slippers for my whole family. We’re still close friends with her. I thought, ‘I like these slippers. Can I wear them — is that weird?’

“So I turn up at Shangri-La the first day and literally within the first half-hour, he looks at me and says, ‘Where’d you get those slippers? They’re nice.’ I had to say, ‘Oh, um, your ex-girlfriend got them for me.’ He said, ‘Whaaaat? How could you wear those?’ He had a whole emotional journey about her, this whole relationship. But I kept saying, ‘The best way of dealing with it is to put it in these songs you’re writing.’”

True to his code of gallant discretion, Harry doesn’t say her name at any point. But he admits the songs are coming from personal heartbreak. “It’s not like I’ve ever sat and done an interview and said, ‘So I was in a relationship, and this is what happened,’” he says. “Because, for me, music is where I let that cross over. It’s the only place, strangely, where it feels right to let that cross over.”

The new songs are certainly charged with pain. “The stars didn’t align for them to be a forever thing,” Hull says. “But I told him that famous Iggy Pop quote where he says, ‘I only ever date women who are going to fuck me up, because that’s where the songs are.’ I said, ‘You’re 24, 25 years old, you’re in the eligible-bachelor category. Just date amazing women, or men, or whatever, who are going to fuck you up, and explore and have an adventure and let it affect you and write songs about it.’”

His band is full of indie rockers who’ve gotten swept up in Hurricane Harry. Before becoming his iconic drum goddess, Sarah Jones played in New Young Pony Club, a London band fondly remembered by a few dozen of us. Rowland and Jones barely knew anything about One Direction before they met Harry — the first time they heard “Story of My Life” was when he asked them to play it. Their conversation is full of references to Big Star or Guided by Voices or the Nils Lofgren guitar solo in Neil Young’s “Speakin’ Out.” This is a band full of shameless rock geeks, untainted by industry professionalism.

In the studio, while making the album, Harry kept watching a vintage Bowie clip on his phone — a late-Nineties TV interview I’d never seen. As he plays it for me, he recites along — he’s got the rap memorized. “Never play to the gallery,” Bowie advises. “Never work for other people in what you do.” For Harry, this was an inspiring pep talk — a reminder not to play it safe. As Bowie says, “If you feel safe in the area that you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you are capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.”

He got so obsessive about Joni Mitchell and her 1971 classic Blue, he went on a quest. “I was in a big Joni hole,” he says. “I kept hearing the dulcimer all over Blue. So I tracked down the lady who built Joni’s dulcimers in the Sixties.” He found her living in Culver City. “She said, ‘Come and see me,’” Hull says. “We turn up at her house and he said, ‘How do you even play a dulcimer?’ She gave us a lesson. Then she got a bongo and we were all jamming with these big Cheshire Cat grins.” She built the dulcimer Harry plays on the new album. “Joni Mitchell and Van Morrison, those are my two favorites,” he says. “Blue and Astral Weeks are just the ultimate in terms of songwriting. Melody-wise, they’re in their own lane.”

He’s always been the type to go overboard with his fanboy enthusiasms, ever since he was a kid and got his mind blown by Pulp Fiction. “I watched it when I was probably too young,” he admits. “But when I was 13, I saved up money from my paper route to buy a ‘Bad Motherfucker’ wallet. Just a stupid white kid in the English countryside with that wallet.” While in Japan, he got obsessively into Paul McCartney and Wings, especially London Town and Back to the Egg. “In Tokyo I used to go to a vinyl bar, but the bartender didn’t have Wings records. So I brought him Back to the Egg. ‘Arrow Through Me,’ that was the song I had to hear every day when I was in Japan.”

He credits meditation for helping to loosen him up. “I was such a skeptic going in,” he says. “But I think meditation has helped with worrying about the future less, and the past less. I feel like I take a lot more in—things that used to pass by me because I was always rushing around. It’s part of being more open and talking with friends. It’s not always the easiest to go in a room and say, ‘I made a mistake and it made me feel like this, and then I cried a bunch.’ But that moment where you really let yourself be in that zone of being vulnerable, you reach this feeling of openness. That’s when you feel like, ‘Oh, I’m fucking living, man.’”

After quite a few hours of recording the string quartet, a bottle of Casamigos tequila is opened. Commander Quaalude pours the drinks, then decides what the song needs now is a gaggle of nonsingers bellowing the chorus. “Muppet vocals” is how he describes it. He drags everyone in sight to crowd around the mics. Between takes, he wanders over to the piano to play Harry Nilsson’s “Gotta Get Up.” One of the choir members, creative director Molly Hawkins, is the friend who gave him the Murakami novel. “I think every man should read Norwegian Wood,” she says. “Harry’s the only man I’ve given it to who actually read it.”

It’s been a hard day’s night in the studio, but after hours, everyone heads to a dive bar on the other side of town to see Rowland play a gig. He’s sitting in with a local bar band, playing bass. Harry drives around looking for the place, taking in the sights of downtown L.A. (“Only a city as narcissistic as L.A. would have a street called Los Angeles Street,” he says.) He strolls in and leans against the bar in the back of the room. It’s an older crowd, and nobody here has any clue who he is. He’s entirely comfortable lurking incognito in a dim gin joint. After the gig, as the band toasts with PBRs, an old guy in a ball cap strolls over and gives Rowland a proud bear hug. It’s his boss from the pizza shop.

In the wee hours, Harry drives down a deserted Sunset Boulevard, his favorite time of night to explore the city streets, arguing over which is the best Steely Dan album. He insists that Can’t Buy a Thrill is better than Countdown to Ecstasy (wrongly), and seals his case by turning it up and belting “Midnight Cruiser” with truly appalling gusto. Tonight Hollywood is full of bright lights, glitzy clubs, red carpets, but the prettiest pop star in town is behind the wheel, singing along with every note of the sax solo from “Dirty Work.”

A few days later, on the other side of the world: Harry’s pad in London is lavish, yet very much a young single dude’s lair. Over here: a wall-size framed Sex Pistols album cover. Over there: a vinyl copy of Stevie Nicks’ The Other Side of the Mirror, casually resting on the floor. He’s having a cup of tea with his mum, Anne, the spitting image of her son, all grace and poise. “We’re off to the pub,” he tells her. “We’re going to talk some shop.” She smiles sweetly. “Talk some shit, probably,” says Anne.

We head off to his local, sloshing through the rain. He’s wearing a Spice World hoodie and savoring the soggy London-osity of the day. “Ah, Londres!” he says grandly. “I missed this place.” He wants to sit at a table outside, even though it’s pouring, and we chat away the afternoon over a pot of mint tea and a massive plate of fish and chips. When I ask for toast, the waitress brings out a loaf of bread roughly the size of a wheelbarrow. “Welcome to England,” Harry says.

He’s always had a fervent female fandom, and, admirably, he’s never felt a need to pretend he doesn’t love it that way. “They’re the most honest — especially if you’re talking about teenage girls, but older as well,” he says. “They have that bullshit detector. You want honest people as your audience. We’re so past that dumb outdated narrative of ‘Oh, these people are girls, so they don’t know what they’re talking about.’ They’re the ones who know what they’re talking about. They’re the people who listen obsessively. They fucking own this shit. They’re running it.”

He doesn’t have the uptightness some people have about sexual politics, or about identifying as a feminist. “I think ultimately feminism is thinking that men and women should be equal, right? People think that if you say ‘I’m a feminist,’ it means you think men should burn in hell and women should trample on their necks. No, you think women should be equal. That doesn’t feel like a crazy thing to me. I grew up with my mum and my sister — when you grow up around women, your female influence is just bigger. Of course men and women should be equal. I don’t want a lot of credit for being a feminist. It’s pretty simple. I think the ideals of feminism are pretty straightforward.”

His audience has a reputation for ferocity, and the reputation is totally justified. At last summer’s show at Madison Square Garden, the floor was wobbling during “Kiwi” — I’ve been seeing shows there since the 1980s, but I’d never seen that happen before. (The only other time? His second night.) His bandmates admit they feared for their lives, but Harry relished it. “To me, the greatest thing about the tour was that the room became the show,” he says. “It’s not just me.” He sips his tea. “I’m just a boy, standing in front of a room, asking them to bear with him.”

That evening, Fleetwood Mac take the stage in London — a sold-out homecoming gig at Wembley Stadium, the last U.K. show of their tour. Needless to say, their most devoted fan is in the house. Harry has brought a date: his mother, her first Fleetwood Mac show. He’s also with his big sister Gemma, bandmates Rowland and Jones, a couple of friends.

He’s in hyperactive-host mode, buzzing around his cozy VIP box, making sure everyone’s champagne glass is topped off at all times. As soon as the show begins, Harry’s up on his feet, singing along (“Tell me, tell me liiiiies!”) and cracking jokes. You can tell he feels free — as if his radar is telling him there aren’t snoopers or paparazzi watching. (He’s correct. This is a rare public appearance where nobody spots him and no photos leak online.) It’s family night. His friend Mick Fleetwood wilds out on the drum solo. “Imagine being that cool,” Gemma says.

Midway through the show, Harry’s demeanor suddenly changes. He gets uncharacteristically solemn and quiet, sitting down by himself and focusing intently on the stage. It’s the first time all night he’s taken a seat. He’s in a different zone than he was in a few minutes ago. But he’s seen many Fleetwood Mac shows, and he knows where they are in the set. It’s time for “Landslide.” He sits with his chin in hand, his eyes zeroing in on Stevie Nicks. As usual, she introduces her most famous song with the story of how she wrote it when she was just a lass of 27.

But Stevie has something else she wants to share. She tells the stadium crowd, “I’d like to dedicate this to my little muse, Harry Styles, who brought his mother tonight. Her name is Anne. And I think you did a really good job raising Harry, Anne. Because he’s really a gentleman, sweet and talented, and, boy, that appeals to me. So all of you, this is for you.”

As Stevie starts to sing “Landslide” — “I’ve been afraid of changing, because I built my life around youuuu” — Anne walks over to where Harry sits. She crouches down behind him, reaches her arms around him tightly. Neither of them says a word. They listen together and hold each other close to the very end of the song. Everybody in Wembley is singing along with Stevie, but these two are in a world of their own.

[therainroguefanfiction]

⁂ Moving Metal #2: Wheel of Power

📑 Table of Contents | ◂ Previous 

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Believe it or not, it took us a full day to reach Highway 35, and by the time we did, the sun was beginning to set. The sky was alive was dark red and orange, swirling together like an angry blaze. Sandstone covered the ground we drove on, kicking up dust something horrible. I had to roll up the window pretty quickly, all while ignoring the ‘I told you so’ look from Taro who had warned me about the window just an hour prior.

I turned up the AC because of how hot it was outside. The middle of summer in the desert at sundown. Can you imagine my struggle?

“Hey, Taro! Wylde’s here!” Monkey’s voice came over the radio, followed by loud coughs as said Maniac sped past us. Unfortunately, Monkey didn’t have the Taro warning system like I did and his window was down. “Hey! This isn’t a race!”

“It’s always a race.” Came Mark’s reply, making me resist the urge to slam my head against the dashboard. He really was impossible. He increased his speed, slamming his car into the female from Teku before hitting his brother’s car from behind. He quickly claimed the lead even though, as Monkey stated, it was not a race.

About ten minutes later, a building came into view. It was square, probably about three stories tall, and looked like it could fall apart with just a gust of wind. The walls barely covered the metal piping that held the building together.

A dark-skinned man with dreads stepped out of the shadows like some super villain, but when he spoke, his voice was something you’d expect from a hero. The man and Vert exchanged pleasantries.

“Vert. It’s been a long time.” The man had some type of accent, but I couldn’t place it for the life of me.

“Good to see you again.”

Monkey stepped forward. “Is that Tezla?”

I rested my forehead against Taro’s shoulder in place of a facepalm. I had been told the exact same stories that Monkey had and I knew that this man, whoever he may be, was definitely NOT Tezla.

“My name is Kadeem.” The man said with an air of pride. A few more notches North and it’ll border arrogance. “Who are you?”

“He’s just a freaky little Metal Maniac, Kadeem.” Kurt’s comment made both Taro and myself tense up and push away from the car.

I growled in annoyance. “Better a Maniac than a pansy Teku!”

“Yeah!” Mark agreed, slinging his tattooed arm over my shoulder. “Metal Maniacs are the best! Like me, Taro and Jae, huh?”

“Real drivers are Teku!” Kurt argued back.

“Let’s test that then, aye?” I cracked my knuckles as I stepped forward, daring him to move. The Metal Maniacs are multi-skilled, you see. Not only are we badass at driving, we’re damn skilled at beating the snot out of people.

Kadeem’s laugh broke through the tension. “Yes, I see how it is.”

He and Vert started to speak to one another, but I was too angry to care as Kurt an I stared each other down. He may be older than me, but I know I can beat him in a fight, and man did I want to beat his ass. I inched forward, but Taro grabbed the back of my shirt, pulling me back to our side and giving me a look that clearly stated ‘knock it off’. I scoffed in annoyance, shooting the Teku one last glare before looking away. The day will come when I can beat that prick’s ass, but today is clearly not that day.

“So, if this is so important, it must pay a lot. Right?” Monkey’s question caught my attention, seeing as how I want to know the answer as much as he does.

Kadeem only laughed in response.

“Is that a yes?”

His laughter grew louder.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. The horrid combination of heat, anger and now this guys laughter had finally weighed down on me, gracing me with a splitting headache I knew would be near impossible to get rid of. I barely registered Taro gently pushing me toward the passenger seat.

Though it doesn’t happen very often, sometimes I get overwhelmed and when I do, I get these crippling headaches that render me… well, pretty much useless. Taro has been there for most of them, so he knows what to expect by now.

When the pain finally subsided enough for me to open my eyes, I found that we were in the middle of this strange rock maze. I faintly made out the sound of Kadeem ordering us to stay behind him.

Taro glanced at me.“Still with me?”

I grunted in response, trying to force myself to get a grip. I avoided looking out the window since the swirling of colors didn’t help my headache and only served to make my eyes hurt. Instead, I chose to stare at the back end of the Spinebuster, who happened to be in front of us. Before I realized what was happening, we had flown off the edge of a cliff and through a camouflaged opening in the side of a large rock formation.

We drove down a narrow hall before it opened up to this huge dome with a track twisting and turning towards the ceiling. I had never seen anything like it in my life. And just like that, the amazement overwhelmed the pain inside my brain. Taro opened my door but ordered me to stay put just to be on the safe side. I did as I was told.

“Woah, check it out.” Vert seemed just as amazed as I am, which seemed a bit strange considering what he must have witnessed during the World Race.

A bright yellow light shot out from the center of the dome, forming a man’s face. I knew instantly that the face belonged to Tezla. “Welcome… to the Acceledrome!”

His voice was loud and bounced from wall to wall, rattling my head.

“Gelorum and her drones have the wheel of power. Before the wheel was taken, I discovered that it’s more than just a source of power. It’s the key to something much bigger than Highway 35. Countless new tracks and unique new worlds that I call, the Racing Realms.”

Jeez, this guy sounds like a friggin’ commercial or advertisement. Can he get any more melodramatic?

“Reaching the end of Highway 35 was only the first step mapped out for us by the Accelerons.”

Monkey’s vehicle squealed to a stop behind us and I clenched my jaw at the sound, glaring at him as he popped the top half of his body out of his sunroof. “Did I miss anything?”

The group collectively turned to stare at him before looking back to the hologram.

“The journey of discovery… begins here.” The face swirled into a blur before a large ring appeared in its place. Two smaller rings were inside the first, like those Russian nesting dolls. It spun around in a slow circle.

We followed Kadeem to a room with a large table and plenty of chairs. Naturally, the Teku sat on one side, while the Maniacs took the other. Kadeem took the head of the table.

In the center was a miniature ring, an exact replica of the large one.

“Which one is the wheel of power?” The female Teku questioned.

“They are both holograms,” Kadeem answered as a female in overalls entered the room, picking up where he left off. That robot was right behind her.

“Exact three-dimensional recreations.”

“Lani!” Vert smiled. “It’s great to see another Waveripper.”

The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. She certainly didn’t look familiar to me.

“I’m not driving, Vert. I’ve been working with Tezla in the Acceledrome. He didn’t tell me who was coming.” She narrowed her eyes at Taro and it clicked.

Lani… the reason the name sounded so familiar was from Mark and Taro’s World Race stories. She was one of the drivers and apparently she and Taro dated for some time before breaking up. Judging from that look and the tone of her voice, it didn’t end on a happy note.

“Awkward,” I muttered to myself, earning a glare from the man next to me. I coughed and shifted in my seat as the robot started to circle us.

“While studying the wheel, Dr. Tezla recorded a unique pattern of its wavelengths and vibrations.” It explained.

“Yeah, yeah. Scrap the lecture, Gig. We’re here to race.” Mark placed his huge feet on the table, leaning back in the chair with his hands on the back of his head. Typical Mark.

Wait… what did he say? Gig? So I guess that robot does have a name. Maybe I shouldn’t go around saying ‘it’ anymore.

It, I mean, Gig, continued. “The holographic image resonates with the same imminations of the actual wheel of power.”

Monkey looked confused, as usual. “Is he speaking English? He’s speaking English, right?”

“In a very real sense, the image is the wheel.”

“And that means…?” The female Teku asked what we were all thinking. I should probably learn her name, too, huh.

Lani answered, “Dr. Tezla believes the wheel of power has been opening the Racing Realms.”

“My headache is coming back.” I groaned softly.

Taro stood and walked toward the glass wall over-looking the large wheel.

“And that Gelorum’s racing drones have been entering them,” Gig added.

“We must reach the end of the next realm before the racing drones.” Kadeem had become very serious. The change from cheerful weighed heavy on me. It all felt like a dream, but it also felt like everything was about to become very real very fast.

“Why should we? Last time it was to get the wheel for Tezla. What does the doctor want now?” Kurt accused.

Where the hell did he even come from? He was not sitting there a minute ago.

“The drones have already accessed several racing realms.” Gig explained. “Dr. Tezla believes that with each new realm, they become more powerful.”

“Whatever’s at the end of the racing realms must be even more powerful,” Kadeem added.

Monkey laughed and I knew what he was going to say before it even left his mouth. “Well if it’s that powerful, it must be worth a lot of money! Right?”

Kadeem started to laugh again, and I was growing annoyed by it. It’s not that difficult to just say yes or no.

“Why is he laughing?” Monkey asked, sitting back down in defeat.

“Now more than ever, the best drivers are needed.” Gig said just as a loud alarm began to echo through the building.

“It’s moving,” Taro announced. Sure enough, both the large and miniature wheels were now turning, each ring moving in a different direction.

Lani approached the window. “A new realm is about to open.”

“Alright, come on!” Mark sounded like a kid on Christmas, and I found myself smiling. “Let’s go!”

“We need Nitrox,” Vert announced.

The alarm grew louder as we got back to the cars. Those who already have the tanks installed refilled theirs, while the rest installed the tanks themselves.

The smallest ring stopped moving, the symbol on its side illuminating. It looked like a baby snake or a worm… or maybe just a squiggly line.

Monkey picked up the tank of Nitrox, looking between it and Taro. “What exactly does this juice do?”

“You’ll see,”

I raised my brow at Taro’s response.

The second ring stopped.

The third stopped and then a large ball of blue light appeared in the middle of the smallest one.

“The racing realm is open,” Gig announced, barely audible over the screeching of the alarm.

I hopped into the passenger seat and Taro took off before I could even close the door. One by one, the drivers formed a line and entered the sky-high track. A machine sped up the vehicle, the force pushing us back against our seats as the speedometer soared to life, easily reaching almost two hundred miles per hour.

“You must be going three hundred miles per hour when you’ve reached the wheel,” Kadeem announced over the radio.

His words made my stomach tingle as the adrenaline inside my body stirred to life. My lips twitched up as our speed gradually increased. One more machine at the end of the track propelled us past the three hundred mark as we soared into the swirling blue abyss.

I heard the realm before I could see it.

Thunder, loud and angry, rattled the car as the flash of bright light faded. Mark’s cries of there being no track snapped me out of my daze and I frantically looked around. We were falling through the air, surrounded by thick clouds of purple and black. Thunder roared overhead and lightning struck down in the distance. It felt like we fell forever, my heart sinking at the thought that there might not be a track at all. Monkey started screaming and my heart pounded faster against my rib cage.

It felt like an eternity of falling and I briefly wondered if this was hell, when the track finally came into view. My heart rate didn’t slow until the wheels touched the track and we zoomed after Kadeem and Mark, who had landed first.

“Yo, this is wicked.” I stared at the swirling clouds lit up by strikes of lightning, cutting through them like a knife through warm butter. Don’t ask me why, but I’ve always had a thing for storms. They always made me feel peaceful and happy, though a part of me was wishing that it was raining, as well.

“Does anybody know what’s holding this track up?”

I couldn’t tell if Kadeem was being serious or joking.

“Ask the Accelerons,” Taro commented. I found myself grinning at his response.

The track started to turn, creating a tornado down into the clouds. The lightning was no longer in the distance – it was dangerously close now.

The track changed direction again, shooting up into the sky and forming a loop like a roller coaster then plunging straight down in the most wicked verticle line I’ve ever seen.

“Can anybody hear me? What’s the situation?” Lani reached out over the radio.

Monkey was the one to respond and I almost started laughing. “Whatever this dude’s paying us, it’s not enough!”

“Who said anything about being paid?” Gig asked. If he hadn’t been a robot, I would swear that he said that sarcastically.

I howled with laughter when Monkey screamed after hearing the response. I had never felt as alive as I do at this moment. My adrenaline is pumping, working through every inch of my body. I want to drive so badly! Why did I have to leave my car behind and ride with Taro to the race?

After the track straightened out, lightning rods appeared on both sides of the track. Lightning struck down from the sky like a vengeful god, sending power to the rods as they connected with one another through the currents of electricity.

Taro dodged the shocks as they flew from the rods to the track itself, making the drivers swerve back and forth to avoid them. I could see a flash of light hit Kurt’s car, the window shattering as it lost all power. I vaguely wondered if we should help, but the thought was quickly left behind as we passed him. He has his own teammates to help him.

We didn’t just have the lightning to worry about anymore. The farther we got, the harder it became to see thanks to a thick cloud of fog. I could barely see the tail lights of whoever was in front of us.

We were both struggling to see, but I guess Taro’s sight is slightly better than my own. He noticed the car heading straight for us way before I did, and he managed to swerve to avoid it. Unfortunately, the sharp turn of the wheel sent my side of the car straight into one of the lightning rods. The sudden stop sent a jolt through my body as the straps of the seat knocked the wind out of me. Man, having boobs is really inconvenient!

“You okay, Taro?”

He was rubbing his head, growling in anger. He said he was fine, but I could tell that he was feeling the impact as much as I was. Well, you know, except the whole boob-in-pain thing.

“The racing drones are here,” Kadeem announced, and it clicked into place in my mind. That’s what that thing was? Because he sure as hell was not racing!

“Where? I don’t see any racing – ” Monkey’s voice suddenly got very low. “- drones…”

I scowled. “Let’s kick some ass, Taro!”

He nodded in agreement and we took off, passing a broke down Mark on our way. I radioed to make sure he was good, to which he promptly made fun of me for quote ‘worrying about him’. Pft, that’s the last time I ask him if he needs help!

The fog was starting to clear and I could finally see up ahead of us. “Taro, we caught up to the drones!”

Without a word, he pressed down on the gas and rammed the closest one from behind. The force of the impact sent the drone spinning out and we zoomed past. In front of us was Kadeem, with a drone in front of him.

“Good, Taro! We can take on these drones together!”

“I’m gonna pass you.”

I whipped my head around to see that the drone had recovered himself and was now behind Kadeem with another one close behind. Just how many of these things are there?

The drone at the back of the line did something strange – he hit the drone in front of him, sending him off the track. It was then my eyes caught sight of the wire attached to the back of Kadeem’s car, dragging him over the edge.

I glanced at Taro, but he was too focused on the track in front of him. Biting my lip, I decided not to say anything. Kadeem had been racing these realms long before we came along. He’ll be fine.

Right…?

I turned around and shook my head. I had to stay focused on the task at hand. Even if I’m not the one driving, I can still assist Taro.

Three drones were driving in front of us, forming a wall to prevent others from passing. Taro increased his speed and rammed the one in the middle. The force sent the drone struggling for control and in that struggle, he managed to miss a ball of lightning that hit the track.

I screamed Taro’s name, but he didn’t have enough time to dodge it. It hit us head on, encasing the car in electricity and sending us rolling across the track. I could feel the pain surging through my entire body. It was nothing like earlier when he hit the rod. No, this pain was intense and horrible, like I had just shoved a wet fork into a light socket. My body started to grow numb, and I struggled to keep my eyes open.

“Ta… ro…” I managed out, but he was out cold.

I tried to hold on. Maybe if I could stay conscious until the pain subsided, I could recover from it. All I could think about was the unconscious man next to me. I started to remember my life before I met him and the other maniacs, how drastically everything changed after I met them after they took me in. After they became my family.

I tried to reach for the radio, but I couldn’t feel my arm. My body felt heavy like I had a garbage truck sitting on top of every limb. It was becoming harder to keep my eyes open, and I fought as hard as I could. I don’t know how long I lasted, but my body finally failed me and my eyes closed. All of the sounds around me started to fade until there was nothing left.

Nothing but darkness and silence.

Is this where I die?

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

▸Next

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[drink-n-watch]

I say this every week and every week I fail, still I’m going to try to keep this post to a reasonable size. At least on my part. I have been rambling on way too much! That doesn’t mean we’re going to skip over the important stuff, like for instance: Matt how are you?

I’m fine (aside from some random back pain)! How are you doing Irina?

I have a huge cold, I guess I’m doing Canadian?

I’m not sure if this is a freaky coincidence or if I’m a low-key psychic but this week’s Psycho Pass was an illustration of what I was talking about in my post last Thursday. Essentially, the production values took a visible step down. To be fair, Psycho Pass is a stunning looking show and it’s unsurprising that it couldn’t keep that level up for an entire season.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who noticed art consistency go way down and CG integration get a lot less smooth in this episode. Fortunately, with Psycho Pass being so detailed to begin with, even pared down versions of the art still look pretty good. Nevertheless it has definitely looked better:

Of course I pay way more attention to technical details than most people. In all likelihood most viewers didn’t really notice! Did you?

I was very distracted by how off-model practically every character looked in any medium or long shots–I think having to produce a 45 minute episode in such a time schedule is proving too much for the production staff. But you are correct, even at its most inconsistent it’s still a strikingly good-looking show.

As division 1 continues to slowly hunt down the Foxes, we finally get a bit of background regarding the mysterious organization. It seems that there’s a whole group of Makishima’s out there and they are organizing against the system. An underground criminal outfit full of people with magical every clear hues.

It strikes me that this may have been an inevitable outcome. In a Sybil controlled society, evolution was bound to quickly create a bunch of mutants capable of controlling or at least maintaining their hues. The brain is really fantastically adaptable. I mean just the advent of smartphones has already physically changed the neural net mapping in younger generations. With something like Sybil, that has a high impact on every aspect of a person’s life, the change is going to get accelerated for sure.

It’s actually a brilliant bit of world building in my opinion but it could very well be entirely in my head. What’s your take on it Matt? Also I realize that my interest may be a bit niche, so don’t hesitate to jump in and talk about whatever you like.

What was that about trying to keep this post to a reasonable size and not ramble too much…? If we’re talking about things I like, I really enjoyed the absurdity of Karina delivering a political speech about religion and then without missing a beat transitioning into her idol outfit and performing a song.

We already have story threads regarding white collar fiscal manipulation with nationwide impact, neuroscience in the unique universe of Psycho Pass, shadowy mastermind puppeteers, a criminal organisation of uniquely advantaged people, Kei and Arata’s very peculiar background and personal arcs, racial tension and high level political intrigue.

And now, we get a religious angle. Do you think that the narrative is going in too many directions and is risking to lose focus or do you figure the more the merrier and it should add a few?

This show wants to do and say a lot and while I think everything it’s wanting to do and say is important it’s very much at the point where if it tries to do much more it’s going to collapse under the weight of itself.

It seems the rise in terrorist activity happening in the city right now is linked to a church of some sort. Or at the very least, a lot of its members are involved. The latest bomber having joined in hopes it would help him get in a better place spiritually and clear his hue. Of course, the are also leaving calling cards all over the place so they must have something to do with it as well.

Although were a lot of things happening in Psycho Pass already, I’m actually rather interested by the religious aspect. There’s something fascinating and terrifying about a “Sibyl sanctioned religion”. And religion does odd things to people and their psyche in the best of times, I can’t wait to see what it can do under these circumstances.

After all, we are what we believe!

It seemed a bit weird to me that the show never really mentioned religion before and now suddenly it’s all anyone’s talking about. I realise it’s because it’s currently integral to the plot but I think it would have been better world-building had someone mentioned ‘Heaven’s Leap’ in any of the previous episodes–even in passing–especially since it’s apparently a big deal.

We got to meet 3 very different spiritual leaders from 3 very different religions. I am not a religious person in real life. I grew up in a place and time where it was more or less outlawed and it has just never really been a big part of my life. But I’m not someone who dislikes religion either. In fact I find it very interesting. I just don’t have much experience with it.

This is why, to me, despite the outward differences, all 3 of these guys sort of seemed the same.

That sounds like a bit of social commentary on religion in general, Irina! If we’re looking for a parallels with real world religion I suppose ‘Heaven’s Leap’ is supposed to be some sort of Jehovah’s Witness / Scientology hybrid and the CRP is some vague version of Catholicism. And then there’s just straight up Buddhism.

*It wasn’t..I literally meant they seemed to be built around the same character archetype not that their religions are the same. Don’t know if all religious figures in real life are that similar.

Because of all the different themes season 3 of Psycho Pass has been exploring, I wasn’t sure what the main focus would be. 5 hours in, I think it’s going to explore the effects of culture clash in an authoritarian society with thought crime. That’s a pretty ambitious goal. Even if it doesn’t manage to quite pull it off, I’ll be impressed by the effort! I know you think that speculating on where a story is going is not good but I would love to have your thoughts on it, Matt.

It’s not that I think it’s not good, my writer brain can’t help but speculate, it’s just I’m happy for a story to play out however the writer of the piece wants it to play out–I’m a bit of a bad critic in that respect. Whether this show is wanting to have a grand specific theme like you mention or just paint a broader canvas of the complexities of living in such a regimented world I’m not sure but it’s still interesting nonetheless.

This is probably nothing…But Arata’s house really looked like the division 1 mandated psychiatrist’s house in the first season. I’m almost 100% certain it’s not the same because it’s in the middle of the city, while the other one was in the countryside, but the architecture is similar. I wonder if it’s significant in any way.

Probably not.

I thought the design looked familiar, I don’t know if this is the kind of show that’d just forget its own world-building like that and this not be important but then again who knows!

So Matt, what were your thoughts on episode 5?

Honestly probably my least favourite episode so far. Sure the allure of something new with the religion aspect is interesting but the overall episode itself felt like a bit of a downgrade and not just with the off-model character art. Some scenes felt too fast paced while others felt drawn-out and Arata not being able to use his ‘mental trace’ felt like artificially handicapping the story for the sake of not using its own “cheats” to find the culprit. It’s by no means bad, nor even mediocre, it’s pretty great and had a lot of excellent character moments and interesting expansions to the overall world. I’m just worried the writer of this series may have bitten more off than he can chew. What about you Irina, I’m guessing you enjoyed it more than last week?

I liked it way more especially in the second half. And I’m ok with Arata not using his trace since it was set up properly how dangerous it is for him and how weak he is right now, fresh out of the hospital and all. Not to mention that using extreme empathy on someone who could very well be mind controlled sounds like a quick way to get himself mind controlled. These guys are detectives, they should know better.

I enjoyed it. I like when the story slips into speculative fiction and I found the pacing much better than in the last arc so to me it was a plus rather than a drawback. I have a feeling we are enjoying very different aspects of the season.

Psycho Pass s3 ep5 – Leap of Faith I say this every week and every week I fail, still I’m going to try to keep this post to a reasonable size.

[goodmythicalshipping]

As Much of Me as I Am of You (2/3)

Hello again, folks! I hope y’all enjoyed the first installation of my first-ever fanfic yesterday morning! As promised, here is part two. :) The final chapter goes up tomorrow!

Summary: Hours before they’re supposed to embark on the first date of their live tour, Link finds himself coming to terms with his newfound adoration toward his lifelong best friend. The next morning, the two simultaneously discover the real meaning of having an “out of body” experience.

<< Chapter One / Chapter Three >>

After cramming all of their belongings into Link’s car, the pair drove off in the direction of their tour bus parked on the other side of town. The drive was replete with debate about how they would carry on with the tour, as well as their personal lives, after experiencing the newfound obstacle of swapping bodies. There were suggestions of postponing or cancelling the whole tour, or even going to a psychic or a hospital for help, none of which sounded particularly satisfactory. As Rhett continued to try and cool Link down, Link couldn’t help but worry about what would happen to them.

How would this affect their performance tonight, and every other night of the tour? They didn’t have much time to try and figure something else out after rehearsing for so many days. How long would they be stuck like this? Would they even be able to change back at all? Link tried his best to recall the timeline of events that occurred in Freaky Friday, which he had watched with his daughter Lily at home about a week prior. He had little faith that the Disney flick would provide him with any real-life insight, but he had to do something. He suddenly remembered something about “selfless love,” which made him nauseous. They hadn’t argued about anything recently, so that must mean…

Great. Not only did they have to find a way to switch back into their own bodies, but that way might involve Link confessing his feelings to his best friend of three and a half decades. He tried to see any other way around the problem, but that was the only thing that made any logical sense to him in these completely illogical circumstances. Rhett must’ve noticed the puzzled look on Link’s face, because he swiftly spoke up.

“Y’alright, bo?” Rhett asked, sporting a concerned look on his face. Link had to admit: although it was technically his own face he was looking at, Rhett still looked adorable with his eyebrows knitted like that.

“Yeah, as alright as I can be in this mess, I guess,” Link replied honestly.

“We’ll find a way out of this,” Rhett reassured him. “We always do. We’ve made our way out of some pretty tough situations in the past there, buddy roll.”

“As tough as trading bodies?” Link snickered.

“Okay, maybe not that tough, but y’know what I mean. We’ll get through this,” Rhett smiled at him. Link felt his belly do a somersault at that, feeling his face getting warmer. Crap, he really had it bad, didn’t he? They had to figure out something fast, not just for the fans but for Link’s own sake as well. The two of them kept up their cordial conversation as they exited off the highway.

--

“Just act natural,” Rhett warned Link, making a point to punch every word he spoke as they approached the bus with their belongings in hand.

The two greeted their crew members, who were waiting for them in the parking lot. Regretfully, they decided to lie to the group, explaining that Link had a sore throat and Rhett had somehow injured his hand while packing the night before, thus rendering them both unable to perform. Therefore, they collectively decided that they would perform their songs with backing tracks, at least just for the night. It wasn’t what they wanted to do, but what other choice did they have? Link couldn’t play guitar or piano, despite being in Rhett’s body, and the same applied for Rhett on recorder. At the very least, it would bide the pair some more time while they figured out a plan of action.

“So what’re we gonna do about th-,“ Link said to Rhett, before Rhett clasped a hand over his mouth, silencing him.

“Shhh! D’ya want the whole neighborhood to hear ya?” Rhett exclaimed as they boarded the bus, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening. Luckily, no one was close by enough to overhear. Link spoke muffled words into his hand, batting it away once they sat down.

“Geez, man. Sorry I care,” Link provoked. “S’gonna be about a five-hour drive to Vegas. Y’wanna do anything to pass the time?”

Rhett looked around the bus, searching for things to keep them busy. If he was being honest with himself, the idea of being stuck in an enclosed space with Link for the next few hours was a bit daunting to him. Sure, they had spent their entire lives together up until this point, but something struck a chord in him recently that he couldn’t avoid, even if he tried. He suddenly found himself inexplicably thinking about his bespectacled friend more often, usually when he was left alone with his thoughts. Rhett guessed it made sense that this might happen, having known each other for their entire lives. He felt this burning sensation within him to be with Link all the time, being near Link, holding Link… kissing Li-

Rhett found himself being abruptly shaken out of his reverie by the man sat next to him.

“Hello? Earth to Rhett!” Link stated, quickly going wide-eyed and covering his mouth once he realized what he just said. He hoped no one in the main cabin of the bus was able to hear them behind the closed doors of the back lounge.

“Careful, man!” Rhett warned. “If we’re gonna get through this smoothly, we can’t have any slip-ups! This is between you and me and nobody else. Y’have to be as much of me as I am of you to bypass any conflict, got it?”

“Pretty sure that didn’t make grammatical sense, but I got it,” Link joked, earning a playful shove from Rhett. “As long as I don’t call ya by your name again, we’ll be in the clear. I know ya like the back of my hand.”

“Isn’t ‘Call You by Your Name’ that French movie or something?” Rhett asked.

“I think so,” Link laughed. “Never seen it. Speaking of movies that we’ve never seen… wanna watch Freaky Friday?”

Rhett then smacked Link in the face with the nearest pillow, reaping even more laughs that made Rhett’s body tingle all over with devotion for his friend. Nonetheless, he agreed and the two found themselves leaning into each other’s sides as they scrolled through Netflix and tuned into the movie on the back lounge TV.

--

He didn’t know exactly when they had fallen asleep, but Rhett awoke to a combination of the film’s ending credits song and Link snoring on his shoulder next to him. As he turned his head to look down at his friend, being ever so careful not to wake him, he couldn’t help but notice the cute expression Link had displayed on his face. It was also a bit odd, considering he was really staring at his own face, but Link had a very distinctive “asleep” face that he was somehow able to convey even while he was stuck in another person’s body. He watched the younger man sleep, observing how his chest expanded and sank with each breath.

Rhett continued to stare at his agape mouth for a few minutes more, feeling a blush creep onto his cheeks. If he wasn’t currently in possession of Link’s body, he would lean down and kiss him right in that moment. Rhett would be lying if he said he didn’t notice himself trying everything to get closer to the other man at every instance he could in recent months. It had just become a natural event at this point. He had always thought Link was pretty since childhood, but never thought of him as more than a friend until they began filming this past season of GMM. It frightened him to no end, not only because it made him question his sexuality but because this was his best friend – he couldn’t risk everything they had created together over the last 30+ years just to appease his own self-indulgent desires.

Suddenly, Link sprung awake, startling both himself and Rhett. Rhett looked at him bewitchingly as Link yawned, stretching his arms over his head.

“What time is it?” Link asked sleepily, making Rhett’s face redden.

“S’about noon,” Rhett replied.

“Am I still you?”

“Afraid so,” Rhett lamented, to which Link grumbled. “We should probably join the others in the main area before they think we’re dead.”

Before Link could answer him, the lounge door slid open to reveal Stevie standing on the other side.

“Mornin’, sleepyheads,” she teased. “…am I interrupting something?”

Both men flushed at this statement, not-so-subtly scooting apart from each other, which made the blonde girl chuckle.

“Fancy some lunch? I think one of the guys packed us some sandwiches,” she continued.

“Sounds good,” Rhett finally replied. “We’ll be there in a second.”

Stevie nodded, sliding the door shut behind her. Once she was gone, the two men stared at each other for a brief moment, neither sure of what to do next. As the faint shades of scarlet became more apparent on each of their faces, Rhett shot up out of his seat, much to Link’s disappointment.

“In the wise words of Stevie, d’ya fancy a sandwich… Rhett?” Rhett quipped, drawing out his own name for emphasis and extending a hand out to Link, hoping to distract him from the rather awkward moment they just shared.

“Let’s give ‘em a show,” Link japed, taking his hand and making their way toward the kitchen.

(To be continued)

[heyheyitsstillgay]

I lost my @phandomphightclub bet so here take a very late @d-o-t-s / @lexovorus Brotp fic.

Another crash sounded through the Dennys. A group of lexx's have taken to spinning every available fidget spinner table, causing the food resting on it to go flying onto the walls. The lexx's cheered as they moved onto the next one.

The original Lexx and local au enthusiast Bug were supposed to be keeping an eye on the Dennys, and they were... in a sense.

Lexx was stood at the counter whining at the cooks to please get her a waffle. Halfaqueen accidentally turned said waffle into an omelette and when artistically-gay tried to cover the mistake with mayonnaise he got a tray to the face for his efforts.

Bug was staggering behind the chaos occurring, half yelling "okay, but like, how about an au where you calm down? Relaxation, chill out, stop screaming??"

Wes may not have known all the ghosts very well, but from what he'd seen they tended to have strong reactions to chaos, be it in favour or against. He glanced to the ghost next to him who could only sigh into her milkshake, not even paying attention to the madness around.

"Uh, Dots?" He ventured, "are you... okay?"

Dots hummed and lazily raised her eyes to him "Yeah? Sure I am. Why wouldn't i be?"

"It's just..." he tapped his fingers against their thankfully unspinning table. "You seem a little quiet I guess. I mean, we just found out who Vorus is? Don't you think this is the time to celebrate?"

"But.. Vorus isn't here right now. She's off, who knows where, with Tali, taking care of her." Dots mumbled "They've, they've always been together, heck, this is Talis lair and-and Vorus was the first person she ever opened it up to. They built this place together, created their own little phandom renaissance with memes and their bare hands." Dots eyes remained downcast. "What've I done? Chased after Vorus and their army of clones. Ripped off mask after mask." She raised her hand to gesture towards the lexx's in the dennys right now. "qlinq-qhost, cluelessintheusa, five-rivers, those three are all asandysgraves... I recognise all their energies so well I don't even need to solve their riddles anymore. I just... reveal them... then they deactivate. I had a bit of help but otherwise I was alone. Me verses Them. It was always Vorus I was chasing and, now she's revealed... she can go back to working on the Dennys. She doesn't need a detective anymore. Where does that leave me? My obsession? I dont know where to direct it now."

"You could always help me on my quest to prove that Fenton is Phantom?" Wes quirked an eyebrow. Dots narrowed her eyes and blew a bubble at him. When it popped on his nose a rainbow appeared with block yellow rotating text reading 'fuck you'. "Alright it was just a suggestion, jeez."

Just before the lexx army could reach their table, they stopped. Stiffening, the ghosts glanced amongst each other. One of them nodded and then they collectively booked it to the door. Within moments the Dennys was eerily quiet. Bug glanced around nervously at the mess on the floor and walls.

"I don't think a powerpoint presentation will get us out of this." Bug spoke into their hands.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Lexx began "I don't know about you? But I'm going to hold this Danno On A Stick in front of my face in hopes that nobody recognises me. Good luck Bug."

Wes was about to ask what was going on when the back door swung open.

"I Lived Ghitches! (Ghost Bitches)" Tali announced with open arms. After a beat of silence she opened her eyes, to be presented with the trashed state of the Dennys ("au where I survive this" Bug muttered on repeat). "Whats wrong? Did I miss something?" Tali tilted her head as Vic trailed behind her.

"Thanks for looking after the Dennys you guys." Vic licked some dumpling filling off the wall. "Just the way we left it, mmm. Oh by the way, dots-" Her head snapped up at that, gazing at Vic in wonder "Vorus is out in the stadium looking for you."

"Fo-for me?" The bubbles orbiting their form stilled and began to sparkle slightly.

"Yeah." Vic nodded and motioned towards the door.

Dots placed her hands onto the table and slowly rose from her seat. She kept her head ducked low, glancing at wes, before moving towards the door. The bubbles around her began to rumble and vibrate slightly as she picked up speed until she ran out into the parking lot, slamming the door behind her.

"So," Wes spoke up, "is anyone actually going to take me home?"

~*~

Vorus rolled the dumpling in her hand. "Well it's spherical but," she dropped it back onto the floor, standing up straight from where she was leaning over the fold up seats in the stands, "Still not Dots." Sighing, she went back to her search.

She was checking the inside of an empty food tray when her ears picked. It came from far away, but her ghostly hearing could never mistake that sound.

"Vorus."

There it was again. She spun around.

"Vorus!"

Squinting into the stands on the opposite end of the stadium, there she was. Running through the ectoplasmic air. Ghostly bubbles billowing around her.

"Dots." Vorus whispered.

She took off. Jumping down the chairs in the stands using her hands and feet.

"Dots!" She called louder.

"Vorus!" Was the response, as Dots vaulted over the stand and onto the phight stadium floor. Feet slipping as she regained her balance. "Vorus!"

Vorus kicked off from their end of the stands and flew into the arena. "Dots!" They squinted their eyes at the air resistance from their speed.

Even so, it was as is Clockwork himself slowed down time to a fraction of what it should have been, it was as though the distance between them wasn't even changing, no matter how fast they were moving.

"Vorus!" Dots yelled, though even that seemed slow.

. . "D̴̡̗̠̲̫̤̟͆̀̈́͗̐͂́̊̏͗̈̇̈́̇̍̈̀̀̎̈͘͝͝͠͠ ̷̨̡̳̞̱̱̬͚̥͉̣̝̫͇̼͈̬͍̣̭͉̟̝̖̜̬̰̳̟͙̝̬̩̉̍̐̃͂ǫ̷̪͓̱̫̤͙͚̝͖̜̼̣̭̜̩̺̮͚̙̾̈́̂̈́́̀̀̀́͛̏͘͘͜͝ ̷̨̢̢̧̳͈͓͕̭͎̦̪̪̭̖͓͔͖̤͍͔̃̀̀̌̋͂́͊͜͜͠t̶̨̡̛̛̤͉̯̞̰͈͛̎̈͋̀̀̄̍̐͋͑́́̓͊̍͐͘͘͝͝ͅ ̸̨̛͎̬̯̯͙̮͊̑̇͊̓̑̔̍̋̐̅͒̒̈́̌́̓̓̽͑̇̊̂̓̓̔͊́͘̚͝͝͠͝ṡ̴̻͍̤̟̞̫͙̣͔̖̋͊͜͜͝ ̷̛̦͈̼̬́̌̎̃̋̌͆̉̐̑̿̓̿̀̏̀̀̎́́̇̊̌͐͌̔̅͛͑͐̌̈́̒̎͌͘̕͝!̶̡̨̨̧̨̼͚̗̻͉̗̼̹̗̉̏̂́̽͐͂͂̏͐̈́̓̌̓̐͜ͅ" Vorus poured all of her power into closing the gap between them.

They met.

Finger guns were directed towards each other accompanied by a low chorus of "eyyyyyyy". Dots fought to stay standing. Vorus clenched her fangs and breathed haggardly, despite it being an entirely unnecerssary response. She was overwhelmed.

"You're back." Dots whispered, lowering her hands.

"Couldn't stay away." Vorus chuckled deeply. "What are you still doing here? I thought you'd leave after the reveal?"

"Leave? Why? I just- I wanted to be sure you'd come back safe." She tapped vorus on the shoulder. "Here you are."

Vorus reaches to hold the hand still on her shoulder. "Here I am... h-hey, I'm really sorry for like, running you in circles and-and plotting behind your back and-"

"Hey, hey," Dots interrupted, tightening her grip, "I liked it, I enjoyed it, it really was a lot of fun. N-now that it's over, I kind of don't know what to do with myself."

"You don't know what to do with yourself? Ha! My only purpose was being unknown. Being looked for, by you. Now everyone's looking at Vic instead, I don't- have a purpose anymore."

"No, no that can't be right. You're wonderful Vorus! You're funny and freaky and approachable. There must be something you can do. You can make people happy. I mean, you make me happy!"

"Really? Even.. Even now you know who I am?"

"Yeah."

Vorus disconnected their fingers and took a step back.

"Wow." She breathed. "Okay, then, new purpose." She puts her hand between them and clenches it into a fist. "Friends?"

Dots smirked and met Vorus' fist bump "Best Friends."

[granddaughterogg]

Azrael is a kinkster, yo. Part 2. Excessively lemony (grapefruity even?)

Chapter 2

The fucking begins in earnest

You were on fire.

Skin flushed, muscles taut, pulse quickened. Your body longed for some more. And all it took was Azrael kissing you.

Quite intensively, but still.

You could not wait for what he prepared next.

That he did prepare for this – meticulously - was beyond doubt. The angel was a master of strategic planning after all. At least that was the official side of him. The one that you got to know so far.

Right now his slender hand rested on your back, politely, but firmly directing you towards a long corridor. You could hardly feel the marble floor under your feet. A sudden thought flashed through the fog that filled your brain: do you actually know this man at all?

The mystery shrouding his personal life fascinated you. But it also made you feel small and inadequate. There he was, a wise, powerful, ageless being put in charge of some of the most crucial tasks in the Universe. And there were you, a human girl who got entangled in all this by a fateful accident. Yet somehow you stood your ground. That alone was a lot to be proud of, but of one thing you felt sure: someone as glorious as Azrael and someone like you could never be equals.

And now this belief started to shake. Maybe this desire could bring you and him to a common level. After all, passion renders all its subjects alike.

Did you actually dig the guy? Yes, very much. You didn’t even realize it before coming here today. But your body somehow knew. And it was eager for him.

You smiled to yourself. Apparently, you had it for men who were much taller than you and commanded authority.

Like Death.

You decided that you’re not going to think about him right now. It wouldn’t be fair towards Azrael. Later, much later you will tell your favourite Horseman all about this. He’ll undoubtedly be amused; maybe he’ll even throw his head back and let out this raspy little chuckle that you’ve learned to know and love. It turned out that the Nephilim had no concept of a sexually exclusive relationship. Heck, you even had to explain to him how being faithful or unfaithful works in most human cultures. Death didn’t care much about those customs, which to him felt foreign and pointless. The deal was that both of you can sleep with pretty much whoever you want, as long as you communicate properly. He knew that you love him first and foremost, and you were sure that he feels the same way about you. End of story.

Death would never stoop to jealousy. Not because he was such a noble creature. (He wasn’t.) But it just never have been taught to him. Ingrained into him.

How you adored this carefree pagan attitude to all things sexual. You wished that more humans would adopt it.

Speaking of high and low. You glanced towards the angel. He was actually walking. Like a regular human being! Up to this point you’ve mostly seen him soar on those majestic wings.

Your head could hardly reach his armpit. He was so tall and graceful, his body otherwise an enigma under the lavish robes. You’re going to crack this mystery really soon; the realisation hit you so hard that you trembled.

That was one long-ass corridor.

It ended in a wide, sunlit room with white walls and the biggest, most luxurious bed you’ve ever seen. It too was white. Had a canopy and all.

„Living the good life, eh, Azrael?” you murmured, smiling.

„Oh, usually I don’t sleep here” he answered. „It’s a guest bedroom.”

„Where do you sleep then?”

„Most of the time,” he said, arching one silver brow pensively, „I just don’t.”

You looked at him like you never did before. Striking bone structure, yes. Wide forehead marked with those bright lines, that undoubtedly carried some arcane meaning. Sensitive mouth, which could work you up in no time. Pale eyes, full of eternal patience and wisdom. But also deep, bluish circles under. Lines on both sides of his Greek nose. Hollowed cheeks.

He was tired. No, he was exhausted. For who knows how long.

Your heart fluttered with sympathy.

„But you’re gonna sleep with me tonight, aren’t you?” you asked, reaching out to touch his face. You had to stand on your toes to make that happen. „I hate being left alone after sex!”

He covered your hand with his and gave you a reassuring smile. „Of course.”

You strutted across the bedroom, pretending that you’re not thrilled - and scared - as much as you were. „I’m looking forward to being your guest!”

„So am I.” Suddenly he was very close to you; long, cool strands of his silky hair brushed your back. His hands reached from behind and swiftly unbuttoned your dress.

When it hit the floor, you shivered.

„It’s really happening now, isn’t it?” you whispered, leaning into him.

„Are you afraid?” His voice was calm as a pond.

„Yes.”

„Do you want me to stop?”

„God, no!”

He gave out a little musical laugh.

„What did I tell you about using that word. Also: that’s the spirit.”

You didn’t expect an archangel of Heaven to know his way around a human bra. Yet he made short work of those fancy straps. The bra was down.

Azrael brushed your collarbones with his long, cool fingers. He cupped your exposed breasts, squeezed and then massaged them a little. Your nipples hardened and dug into his palms. You let out a small groan.

He spun you on your heels; suddenly you were facing an angel caressing you with a glinting stare.

„Look at you” he hummed. „You’re a work of art.”

Your face was on fire; your whole body was. Your insides wet and tender, eager to be touched.

Of course, he knew.

„Away with that,” he said with a smile, sliding your panties down your legs. He had to kneel down before you to do that; obviously, he didn’t mind. For a moment you had a unique view at the top of the angel’s silver head. How many kings have?

And then you were naked before Azrael.

He reached his hand again and touched your lips. No, the other lips. He tipped their soft, supple, tender warmth. Then he slid his fingers inside you -  maybe for an inch. You sighed urgently.

He took them away.

„Hell no!” you cried. „Don’t do this to me! Don’t keep me waiting...”

Azrael shot you a glare and pushed two fingers in at their whole length. It was such a sharp, forceful movement that you cried out again. This time mostly from pain.

He rose to his full height and looked down on you – in every possible way.

„Do you want it to be short and painful?” he asked with a clipped voice. „Because I can make it short and painful. Which is not at all what I had in mind, but if you keep rushing me, that is what I’m going to do.”

You felt faint  – and confused by this sudden coldness.

„No...” you said. „I didn’t mean that...I didn’t mean to...I’m just so, so ready! Please, Azrael...Please?”

There it was: you were pleading. That holy bastard got you good.

It was incredible how fast his features changed. The disdain disappeared as if wiped away by magic and the kind-eyed archangel was back in town. You wondered how many facets this guy’s personality really had. It was beginning to get freaky.

Except that you like freaky, you thought to yourself. You thrive on it. You spent a month or two once enjoying a lover whose face you didn’t know, cause it was always covered by a bone mask. Always - even when he would fuck you so hard that you screamed.

Freaky is the name of the game.

You looked the angel in the eye and smiled.

„Sorry for being such a spoilsport,” you said. „I’ll be more compliant from now on.”

„Good girl.”

Azrael wrapped his arms around you and brushed his lips on your exposed shoulder. Then on the neck. Then on the soft skin behind your ear. He covered you with slow, leisurely kisses until you softened in his embrace. Until the stress from a moment ago was all gone, your body relaxed and pliant once more. Then he took you by the chin, leaned over and kissed you on the lips again. It was a long, tender kiss. Softer, more considerate this time.

He was so attentive to your reactions; apparently he could read your body like a book. You felt lightheaded; out of breath, out of control. It was akin to threading on a cloud.

You felt safe.

„So, where were we now?” he whispered into your neck. „Ah, yes. Disrobing you, then tying you up.”

You let out a breathy giggle and hid your face in his arm.

Azrael tightened his grip around your waist - and suddenly you became weightless. Airborne.

Those large wings rustled and spread around you in all their glory. You squeed upon realising what is going on.  

He soared - and took you with him.

„I’m flying!”

„Oh, you will be” he promised.

Azrael landed in the middle of the bed and carefully put you on your back. The sheets were pleasantly cool and soft as whipped cream. He lied next to you, supported himself on an elbow and touched your exposed skin; from the collarbone, between the breasts, down your stomach and finally to your sex. He caressed your pubic crease for a while, playing with the kinky fuzz that covered it. Then he brushed his fingers over your slightly swollen clit but made no further attempts this time.

This time you didn’t whine. You just moaned a little and begged him with your eyes.

„Honestly, I am torn,” said Azrael in a light tone that contradicted his words. „You are so beautiful and yearning right now, I’m considering just...going for it.” The archangel tilted his head and sent you a mischievous smile. His fingers started moving in a circular manner. You let out a sigh.

„But...” Azrael’s other hand crept up and pinched your nipple rather forcefully. „...I have promised you something, and promises should be kept.”

He sat up. Something colourful appeared in his hands out of thin air. Your eyes went wide open; it was a coil of fine rope, as blue as the sky behind the large arched windows.

„Now that looks like a binding proposition!” you quipped (although rather breathily.)

Azrael uncoiled most of the rope, letting it fall across the bed. It brushed your abdomen. It was velvety to the touch.

„It’s so soft...” you murmured.

„Have you ever been bound like this before?” he asked, tightening a small section of the cord in his hands and grazing your breasts with it. Your nipples were already hard, but now they went painfully tender.

„Azrael,” you said softly. „You do realise that I am not a virgin?..”

„I very much hope so” he chuckled heartily. „I would not dare to do such twisted, sinful things to someone inexperienced.”

„Well, then why are you asking me this?”

He turned serious.

„Being tied up is a very distinctive sensation. Not everyone enjoys it. I’d rather ensure that you do. It’s not fun at all if you’re only in pain.”

„Only?...”

„But a little pain can go a long way” he finished with an easy smile. Something fluttered inside of you. Figuratively. You started to adore that strange, strange man. Angel. Person.

Azrael.

„So,” he said in a conversational tone, tying the rope to the nearest bedpost. „Did Death ever tie you up?”

„You know that if I tell you, he will have my head. And then yours for good measure.”

„That’s true” he chuckled, walking around the bed to reach another bedpost.

„I’ve been tied up before Death. Before this whole Apocalypse business kicked off. By human men. Most of them would use hemp rope, which is rather stiff and abrasive, but I liked it anyway. Even the prickling...” You sorted through memories long gone. „And the rope marks after. Yes, I liked it. A lot.”

He went silent for a long while.

„You know that I can never beg for your forgiveness enough,” he said. „For what has been done to the Kingdom of Men and to you. For what I’ve done.”

„We talked about it, Az” you smiled. „And tonight I’m supposed to be the one who does the begging. Now come over here and kiss me.”

He got on the bed and leaned over, covering you with those magnificent wings, with long strands of hair. Your world suddenly became very small and full of rosy scent. Full of Azrael. You gripped at his collar and parted his lips with your tongue, urgently, hungrily, with conviction. You wanted him and only him right now. Not memory. Not remorse.

The kiss was long and almost bruising. Finally, the angel broke contact and looked you in the eyes with such desperate tenderness that you gasped.

„Give me your hand,” he said.

He coiled the rope around your left wrist, then the right one, made a few swift adjustments here and there – and suddenly you were firmly bound to the bedposts, your arms stretched and raised upon your head. It wasn’t that uncomfortable...but it was restricting. You tried to move them. There wasn’t much that you could do.

„Do you like it?” The purest smile coiled his lips. „I thought that we’ll start with something basic and see from there.”

You got so wet. You were dripping. Your inner thighs probably glistened from all this wetness.

„Oh, I see...” he said in a low voice. „You do like this, don’t you.”

All that left your mouth was a small „Ah-hah.” You couldn’t find the words. Being in rope always took you apart, every time. There was something about the sensation of being bound, the thought of being at your lover’s mercy – that struck a match next to the pool of gasoline that was your soul.

Azrael was beaming.

„I could take you right now” he mused. „ And it wouldn’t be painful. Oh, maybe eventually. I can get carried away sometimes.” The angelic chuckle was like a string of silver flown between your ears.

You arched your back, parted your legs wide open, presented to him like an animal in heat. You just didn’t care.

„Or maybe...” he brushed your calf with those long fingers, „... I will take my time. Want me to tie you up some more?”

„Yes,” you breathed.

„Yes what?”

„Yes, please do, Azrael.”

He planted a quick kiss on your ankle before binding it too. And then the other one. Soon you were completely immobilised, splayed across the bed like a naughty rendition of Leonardo’s Vitruvian Man.

You got in a daze. The taut rope dug into your skin, its velvety grip reassuring, pleasant and cruel at once. You had no control over what happens to you now. It was like getting high – almost the best kind of high that you’ve ever known.

Apart from the actual fucking.

„Azrael” you whispered, careful not to slur the words, „When does the fucking begin in earnest?”

„Soon,” he said, observing you from above. He was soaring again. You could tell that he, too, got into a zone of his own; those milky eyes have never been larger. His lips parted. He was probably admiring his ropework.

No...he was admiring you.

You could feel his blistering gaze, taking in your parted legs, your weeping, wanting slit, your soft stomach,  breasts with hardened nipples and finally, your burning face.

„How ravishing you are like this,” he said hoarsely. „Oh, you have no idea. What in the Nine Hells. I’ll whip you later.”

He fell down on you like a diving hawk. Suddenly there was only fluttering of long white feathers. There was rosy smell on your lips, on your tongue, at the back of your throat. The taste of his mouth in yours. His fingers caressed every inch of your skin, his lips went everywhere. You gasped when he slid his tongue inside you and got to work.

„Just...don't stop”, you cried tremulously. „I..can’t...hold...your head...like this...but don’t you stop!”

But he did. He sucked on your throbbing clit – you started to give out prolonged moans - and then he ceased to. Abruptly. You let out a whine of frustration and lust.

„What did I tell you about rushing me?” he said, looking you dead in the eye. There were mischievous sparks dancing in his. „Now you’ve gone and done it.”

Your heart pounded against your ribcage. You were on fire. Your juices poured all over the posh bedsheets. You’ve been in no state to judge whether he’s serious or joking.

Then some cheeky spark flashed in your muddled brain and you said with a small voice:

„Aren’t you gonna be awfully uncomfortable in those robes? This silk is going to get everywhere.”

Azrael’s face turned blank for a second. Then he snorted, genuinely amazed at your sass.

„Do you want to see something fun?” he asked.

„Yes!”

The archangel snapped his fingers and his clothes were gone.

Just like that. Gone. You had a completely naked, silver-haired angel lying on top of you. Holding you by the bounded wrists. Pressing his rather...very erect dick against your soft, wet, pliable lady parts.

„Oh God,” you said. „Oh, God. Oh, God.”

„Shush, my sweet” he pressed a finger to your lips. „That is blasphemy. Now the fucking begins in earnest.”

„But I want to touch you! I want to touch you everywhe-”

„Next time.”

He just went into you like a knife in butter.

You were so worked up at this moment that it didn’t hurt much, even though he was considerably big. Bigger than you somehow thought he’d be. And harder.

But even so, the sheer force of that thrust amazed you. You gave out a low guttural moan.

You wanted to embrace him so badly. To dig your palms into his slender back. To cup his face and kiss him; and then maybe lick him. Lick all over those white tattoos that rendered his otherwise subtle features slightly feral.

Hell, to brush away some of that hair. It was getting in your eyes and mouth. It covered your face with a silky, fluttering curtain. You couldn’t see much.

But you could feel him moving inside you with sharp, rhythmic thrusts. His hipbones pounding against your softness. He was all over you and all inside you. He filled you up, body and soul.

You moaned practically nonstop. It was a very undignified sound. You didn’t have any power over your vocal chords anymore.

„I love it when you sing” he gasped, stopping for a little while and giving you a frantic stare. The pupils of his eyes were crazy dilated. You got lost in them while he fucked you.

Then the pleasure rose in you – this velvety wave, which started somewhere in the base of your spine and hastily crept upward. It was like drowning in dark honey.

„I’m close now” you whispered with a rueful smile. You sincerely wish you’d lasted longer.

„I know” he breathed. Somehow Azrael got even paler, if for the exception of vivid crimson colouring his cheeks. „Go ahead. I’m not going to stop though.”

And then you opened your mouth and cried some more. Dark, sticky sweetness sunk your brain, covered your eyesight. Your throbbing insides constricted around Azrael’s cock. He went on anyway, so relentlessly that he was hurting you now. Azrael was hurting you now, just like he said he will. Somehow that made it all the sweeter.