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kurodachimagic · 3 years ago

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Chocolate and Cherries - Chapter 1

Summary: When Adachi falls into the arms of a kind stranger his life changes for the better.

Rating: Pg 13

Tags/warnings: Fluff, getting together, au, Writer Adachi, Chef Kurosawa.

Word count: 6.2k

A/n: This story was written for the cherry magic mini bang! Thank you @hiwatari-art for inviting me to join! Had a lovely time working with you as always. Thank you to my other artist over on twitter guacagabs. The entire story is being posted right now. Thank you to @schnaf for being a great friend and beta!

Read on ao3

Adachi dragged his feet on the pavement as he made his way home from work. He was already too exhausted to start his writing day with the best mindset but it would have to do. He’d already skipped four days this week and if he didn’t actually sit down to work on his book, it would never be published. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head slightly.

The situation was not ideal by any means, he was not great at cooking and it was already too late to start dinner, but he definitely needed to eat something or his mind would absolutely quit on him, he knew that much.

Adachi knew he should probably get something healthier but he refused to waste even more time walking to the store, so he decided to stop by the food cart near his flat for his usual emergency menu: two tuna onigiris with mayo - along with a can of soda in the hopes that the caffeine would boost his creativity. He was not too happy about it, but he didn’t have much time to contemplate his choice because as soon as he had paid, the first few droplets of water hit his shoulders. Looking up, he felt the next few drops hit his nose and his forehead. He cursed inwardly and simply took off awkwardly running the last few blocks home, trying his best not to slip and fall, his dress shoes nothing but a hazard in this particular situation.

The building door was so close, he could see it through the pouring rain; just a few meters and he would be home. Adachi rushed, his hand extended already to grab at the door handle when his body collided with something - someone - and fell backwards. It was as if time had slowed down; he could see the face of the person he ran into frozen in shock, his eyes widening as he saw Adachi falling, while Adachi could only think about the pain this would cause him, physical, yes, but mostly emotional. He always managed to get himself in embarrassing situations and now -

His neighbour extended his hand just in time to catch Adachi’s and pulled him upright effortlessly, his expression switching from shock to a relieved smile. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry, I hadn’t seen you.”

“Thank you! I’m so sorry,” Adachi said, feeling the heat rise to his face, partly because of his clumsiness and partly because his neighbour had not let go of him yet. In fact, Adachi could have sworn that the guy was rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand. He didn’t know what to do, so he tried again. “Uh, sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s ok, I’m glad that you didn’t get hurt.” The man seemed to suddenly remember they were standing in the pouring rain and pulled Adachi to the door. “Come, you’ll catch a cold in this weather.”

No matter how hard he thought, Adachi couldn't remember ever catching his name but he had seen this man before in the elevator and in some of the common areas. He seemed to be a bit of a recluse, much like himself.

The man opened the door and finally let go of his hand before ushering him in. “After you, Adachi.”

Adachi’s eyes widened; he didn't know how the man knew his name, but he didn’t mention it. He walked inside and called the elevator, followed closely by his saviour. Once the doors opened, he stepped in and turned around, pressing the button for the fifth floor and finally facing the man. "Thank you, again…" he trailed off.

"Kurosawa. My name is Kurosawa." He pressed the fourth-floor button.

Adachi smiled and bowed to him. "It was nice seeing you, Kurosawa. Have a good night."

The elevator dinged and Kurosawa bowed with a smile before exiting. “Good night, Adachi,” he waved.

Adachi hesitantly waved back as the elevator doors closed. Before he knew it he was one floor up, opening the door to his flat, throwing his work bag on the sofa and taking his wet clothes off with a groan before going to the bathroom.

What a day. Not only had he stayed late to finish on that project Urabe had handed to him but he also made himself look like a fool in front of his very cool neighbour, and to add insult to injury now he needed a hot shower to hopefully avoid catching a cold. He shook his head and hopped under the stream, washing himself thoroughly and letting the hot stream relax his muscles.

Feeling in a bit of a better mood, Adachi got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel and went about getting into a comfy set of pyjamas. He finally sat at his desk and opened the white doc of doom, checking the time and cursing as he realized it was 9 pm already. He slouched in his chair, throwing his head back with a groan. This book was going to take a million years at this rate, he really needed to prioritize his schedule, put on some good hours into it each day, especially during the weekend, he needed to -

Adachi’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him that his emergency dinner laid abandoned in its bag. He got up and stomped over to the sofa, unwrapping the onigiris and eating them without so much as a thought before returning to his spot. He promptly sat down to continue with the daily task of staring at the document while he begged his brain to type something - anything - out. But his mind had other plans though, Kurosawa’s face and gentle smile kept popping in his mind. Maybe it was because of the way he moved, how he had kept him from falling with his sharp reflexes, or maybe it was how elegant he looked even when he was soaking wet, how well his suit fitted him. Kurosawa was like some sort of superhero, or… no, he was more like a Prince Charming from an epic battle world. That was a start - it was not the murder mystery he had thought about, but it was definitely a start.

The sound of Adachi’s footsteps worked like a metronome, helping his mind settle into a rhythm. He was starting to see things in more detail: The brave prince paced in his castle, his sword close by his side, the problems his kingdom was facing were almost too much to bear and with his father on the brink of death, it was all on him. A shadow appeared above the citadel - the… the… ‘kingdom x’ was being attacked by a three-headed dragon. How would he fix this and save his people? Had someone sent the dragon or did it act with free will? Did the soon-to-be king have secret magic powers? Maybe they were a secret even to himself!

With renewed energy and excitement, Adachi sat down to work. This new world just wanted to be written, to become a reality, and he was not going to stop it. Aided by the occasional sip of soda and a few “stretching breaks” that were more like actual pacing, he managed to draft four thousand words by 5 am, effectively breaking his 3 thousand word record from just a few months ago. If he could keep up the pace he could finish the book within the next month and send it to Tsuge for editing and review. He sent a quick text to his friend to tell him the good news and got into bed; he would probably regret staying up so late tomorrow, but now he didn’t have it in him to care. Writing was definitely his call - even if he was very close to missing his goal of being a published author by 30.

---

The commute to work was nothing short of hell. The morning started with Adachi missing his usual train and having to take the next one during rush hour - not that he ever managed to avoid rush hour, but he usually took the first train during it so it wasn’t as crazy as later in the morning. This resulted in him having a very unpleasant ride, squeezed half to death between the sea of people, feeling like a canned sardine with a bad case of insomnia. That was the other issue, the previous writing night ended up being a success but even though he’d been exhausted by the time he was done, it had been impossible to fall asleep. Now he was on his way to a long workday with a pounding headache and a sour mood. If given the opportunity, Adachi would’ve chosen to take the day off to sleep and feel refreshed enough by sundown to continue writing.

His job was definitely a necessary evil, but sometimes he couldn’t help but resent it. On the verge of thirty, Adachi spent most of his day at the office, writing his reports, Urabe’s reports, and occasionally picking up the slack of some of his colleagues. There was barely any time for hobbies or relaxing and least of all to be an aspiring writer. To be completely honest, Adachi had started viewing his day job as his second career in the past year. His heart and soul were focused on his new goal, what he really wanted. In the end, if writing didn’t become his main income, it wouldn’t matter, he was passionate enough about it to continue no matter what. After all, living in the fantasy worlds he created was more than enough for him.

Adachi made it to his desk just on time, but running those last few blocks only served to make his mood even sourer. He pulled at the collar of his shirt with a small huff, still thinking about his writing and leaned back in his chair until it touched Urabe’s shoulder, startling him.

He turned around swiftly, blush already rising to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Senpai.”

Urabe nodded and waved him off. Then, he cocked his head and looked at Adachi in more detail. “What is going on with you, Adachi? You look tired.”

“I just had trouble sleeping last night, that’s all,” Adachi said with a heavy sigh. He could picture so many things he would rather do than give explanations about his personal life, but he would feel too guilty if he was rude to Urabe when he was only worried about him.

“Hmm, are you sure that’s all?”

“Yes. I’m ok.” He attempted his best smile. “Thank you for asking.”

“Adachi,” Urabe pouted, his brows burrowed into a childish frown, just like every time he would ask Adachi to take on more work, any semblance of concern already gone out the window. “Can you finish this report for tomorrow? The boss is really piling stuff on my shoulders and I already had other plans for today.”

Sometimes Adachi wished he was a bad person, or a bad colleague even, but he couldn’t help taking on the extra work when it was needed, after all, he didn’t have much of a life. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Oh, wait. Is your birthday today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And you’re turning 30, right?”

Adachi nodded once again, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible; he didn’t want to be reminded of the passage of time or how much he hadn’t achieved by now.

Urabe rolled his chair closer and elbowed him. “Aaah, you sly weasel. Do you have a date?”

“Of course not. I’m just looking forward to getting home and sleeping.” That was literally his birthday plan.

Urabe frowned and gave him a quizzical look. “But you have... ‘dated’ before, right?” He winked.

Adachi shook his head slightly and saw the same look many people gave him, a mix of pity and judgement.

“You should ask one of the girls out. I’ve heard Yui is single and she’s very pretty!”

Adachi slowly turned his chair towards the copy machine and saw Yui across the room. She was, in fact, very pretty, but… she didn’t spark anything in him. She looked like a work of art, pleasant to look at, but not for him. “No, I don’t think that would work.”

“Adachi, if you don’t date someone by the time you turn 30, you will turn into a wizard!” He whispered.

“What? That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s true, you’ll see!”

Adachi rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk, finally starting on the reports needed. The sooner he was done with that, the sooner he could return to his writing.

The elevator opened its doors for Adachi and the ding that followed made his muscles relax instantly. Only a few more minutes and he would be up in his flat, taking his shoes off and cooking something quick before sitting down to write. He felt inspired by the beginning of this new story and he wasn’t about to let a bad day at work ruin that for him.

Just as the doors started to close, someone put a bag between them to keep them open. The first thing Adachi saw was a girl with a cute and gentle look, a black wispy fringe framing her face and a sweet smile. She nodded at Adachi and he smiled and nodded back. He wondered if he would ever date a girl like her, if sharing his life with a partner and doing things together would be so different than what he did now. The answer was probably not, since he assumed nobody would be supportive of him working all day and writing all night; if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really have time for a relationship, even if he sometimes yearned for a bit of company - theoretically. Adachi blinked repeatedly, suddenly crashing back into reality when he saw the looming presence of Kurosawa behind her, giving him a weird look he couldn’t quite place as he ushered the girl into the elevator.

Out of sheer awkwardness, Adachi nodded and mumbled a quiet hello at him, looking away as a blush crept onto his cheeks. Was that Kurosawa’s girlfriend? He groaned and let his head fall back against the elevator wall. He’d been caught staring at his neighbour’s girlfriend like a creep. He ventured a sideways glance and realized Kurosawa was still looking at him with a weird expression.

Thankfully, the ride was short and only a minute later, Adachi was home, barely paying any attention to his basic needs as per usual. He made some instant ramen and added a bit of egg to it before eating it mindlessly, daydreaming of his new story and the magic system involved.

Perhaps it was quickly becoming a much more ambitious project than he had anticipated but as long as the writing flowed, everything would be ok. What was supposed to be a long writing session soon turned into an early night after Adachi’s brain decided to shut down mid-sentence, putting him to sleep sitting at his desk, his head hanging down and his spine hunched over.

#cherry magic #cherry magic fic #mine

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spartanguard · 4 years ago

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even death won’t part us now (4/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

A/N: Happy Labor Day, friends! (If you’re in a place that celebrates it) (if not, then Happy Monday!) It took me a bit to figure out where this chapter would end and the next one would start but I finally got it, so here we are! This chapter is a bit more lore/world-building than CS, but it features Zelena and Belle, who are a lot of fun to write. Hope you enjoy it! Eternal thanks, as always, to @optomisticgirl for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair for her amazing art (THIS ONE IS SO COOL OMG); and to @kmomof4 and @cssns for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

have some OBC—and check out that sweet late ‘50s choreography!

part four: you got some high times ahead

Perhaps if Killian was less of a romantic, less dramatically inclined, he would have remembered the best way to get to Granny’s without being noticed by David would have been to stay on the rooftops. As it was, he had to sprint several blocks in the other direction after bidding Emma adieu to ensure her father didn’t catch him in the neighborhood when he hardly had a reason to be there.

Who knew that, at 270, he’d be sneaking out of his girlfriend’s place to avoid her parents? He hadn’t even done that at 27. (Also, who thought that, at 270, he’d actually be using the term ‘girlfriend’? Was it too soon for that? Was it immature? Did he care? No.)

But, thanks to his superior age and therefore speed, it was no challenge to detour all the way to Hudson Yard and take in a bit of sea air before heading back into the city, eventually hopping across apartment buildings to better avoid being seen, and landing gracefully in Granny’s back alley. He was late, but he didn’t have it in him to care much.

He didn’t want to let his friends down, though, so he didn’t hesitate to slip in through the rear door of the diner. Frankly, that entrance got just as much use as the one on the street did; not only was Granny’s a neutral site as far as vampire gang warfare went, it was something of a liminal space in the middle of the rush of the city: how many 24-hour diners catered to the tastes of all manner of nonhumans? Fae conducted business here on the regular, Bigfoot was known to make the occasional appearance when he was down from the Adirondacks, and the owner herself was a werewolf.

The woman in question gave him an appropriately feral grin as he entered the dining room; normally, he’d take the time to flirt, but the meeting had clearly started without him. Robin and David were seated on opposite sides of a small table, with their teammates around them—Henry and Will, another younger vampire (well, comparatively) were with Robin, and David was backed by that Graham guy, Jefferson the weird milliner, and Zelena, who he knew was close with Cora (and had been plain annoying as far back as he could remember).

“Switchblades?” Robin said; they’d clearly made some decisions without him. That might make it a bit harder for Killian to quash this.

“No; swords?” David countered.

“Daggers?”

“Stakes?”

“Icicles of holy water,” Killian interjected into their back and forth, somehow making them jump. “Sharpened stems of garlic. How many cliches can we hit on here?”

Robin looked appropriately chastised, but David just glared.

“What did I miss?” he asked Robin, but David answered for him.

“Rumble, tomorrow, same time as now. Under the highway. Winner gets control of territory between 42nd and 43rd. We were just deciding weapons.”

“Are you all mad?” he blurted out. “That’s a fine way to draw the attention of half the NYPD and blow the entire supernatural world’s cover. You may as well take out a billboard in Times Square.”

The ensuing silence told him they knew he was right. But he could tell tensions were too high for him to convince them to call it off entirely; he could at the very least minimize the potential damage.

“Back in my day,” he started, immediately ignoring the huff of frustration from Will, who had been subjected to any number of such stories in the past 30 years, “we settled these disputes one-on-one. A duel, if you would. I see no reason why such a tradition has to die.”

Again, he was met with silence; he took the lack of protest as agreement.

“One on one,” he continued. “The most evenly matched from both sides fight it out until blood is drawn. No weapons, no teeth.”

Jefferson looked incensed at the idea, and he could tell Will was angrily shifting behind him. If they wanted to duke it out, they could do that on their own; Killian’s days of fighting were well behind him and the sooner this was over, the better.

“I can agree to that,” David eventually said.

“Aye,” Robin replied, and they shook on it.

Graham stepped from behind David and pointed at Killian. “I’m going to enjoy drawing your blood, mate,” he threatened.

Emma hadn’t mentioned it, but he’d gotten the impression that Graham was the preferred suitor. But frankly, he found him irritating. “Oh? Are you 250 years old?”

“No; 160,” he answered, slightly deflated (which gave Killian a tiny, immature thrill).

“Then I believe you’re perfectly matched with Robin here; he’s 168.” He slapped Robin on the shoulder for emphasis.

Robin stood and inserted his hand between Killian and Graham. “Looking forward to it,” he bit out.

Slightly bewildered, Graham accepted Robin’s hand, but was still glaring at Killian.

They verified the details, gave it one last shake, and then Coroza was quick to leave. Which was just as well; Killian didn’t need any daggers, real or metaphorical, shooting in his back while he was drinking.

The four of them congregated at the counter and were promptly greeted by Granny. “That smelled like trouble,” the old wolf stated plainly, but leveled a too-sharp eye on all of them. “Should I be worried?”

“Your establishment is perfectly safe, milady,” Robin assured her. “You know we’d never dare risk the loss of your hospitality.” Though the mortals were somehow unaware of the fact, she’d been running some sort of eating establishment in the same spot as far back as Killian could remember, though back then it was a public house and she was merely the Young Mrs. Lucas (the title of ‘Granny’ didn’t come for another century). Not only was it neutral ground, but it was too beloved for any one group to let it fall into any crosshairs.

“Damn straight,” she grumbled back, then got their drink orders ready.

Henry and Will quickly fell into conversation, so Killian turned to Robin. “Why wasn’t Regina here?” He’d fully expected it, given that she’d been part of this for...well, ever.

“She decided to sit this one out. Figured it didn’t make for good negotiation if Nolan was involved.”

“Good call.” But then a pang went through his unbeating heart at the recollection of what Emma had been telling him—about why she grew up an orphan, and who was to blame. He’d known Regina quite well by that point in time, and had no idea why she’d attack a couple like that—especially all the way in Maine. It didn’t add up.

But then, how much of this petty rivalry did?

Robin went on, not noticing Killian’s discomfort. “Aye, especially with Zelena there. You know how they are.” The rivalry seemed especially bitter between those two for reasons that Killian had yet to glean.

Granny gracefully distributed their drinks in a feat of dexterity that was obviously superhuman, and they clinked a toast—though if Killian’s was less than enthusiastic, the others didn’t notice.

They continued to chat about whatever—the Yankees, the Mets, Liverpool FC (three of the four of them were Brits, after all, even if two of them predated the club), construction at Hudson Yard—until Killian noticed that Henry had given up trying to down the god-awful blood-spiked beer Will had foisted on him (the man had been a punk in the ‘80s when he was turned and never quite grew out of some tastes), and was instead staring longingly at another patron’s burger. Killian hadn’t had a chance to assess just how recently Henry had been turned, but that confirmed it was a very new thing; it took surprisingly little time to forget a taste for mortal delicacy.

He leaned over and whispered to Henry, “If you ask nice, Granny will make one extra rare for you.” Henry jumped again, clearly still getting used to his new senses, but perked up at the idea.

“So fresh, you can still hear it moo,” the old wolf commented from behind the counter. The hungry grin that accompanied it would probably be unsettling to most, but Killian had known her far too long to see anything but good humor (and more than a smidge of flirtation) in it.

“Ah, a quiet meal,” he quipped back. “Most of mine tend to be rather...talkative.” The group shared a chuckle; perhaps that joke was a bit dark, but when you could only go out at night, that tended to happen.

Unfortunately for Henry, he didn’t get a chance to try the meal before Will was dragging him out (something about videogames, apparently; that was one trend Killian had never much caught onto). Robin followed shortly, heading for for Regina’s, leaving Killian alone at the counter with Granny.

“You know that battle’s not gonna be the end of it, right?” she said as she placed another shot of bloodrum in front of him and poured one of her own.

“Aye, but it can’t hurt to try.”

“No, I suppose it can’t.” She held her glass up to him; he clinked his against it and they downed the shots together. But she continued after they swallowed. “You do know about the prophecy, though, right?”

He looked up in surprise. “The what?”

“I don’t know the details, but I’ve heard it’s the only way to settle things once and for all. If you really want to end this rivalry, you’re gonna have to go to the top.”

He wanted to ask more, but she wouldn’t go into further detail, instead going to serve a pixie at the other end of the bar. He racked his brain; he couldn’t recall ever hearing anything about a prophecy, and few had been around as long as he had. Hmm; perhaps he had a visit to make later.

But first: Granny had left the bottle of rum on the counter, and he needed a few more shots before he could truly unwind from what had been a tumultuous night.

Before he did that, however, he did dig out his phone to call Gold and appraise him of the situation. Honestly, it probably wouldn’t mean much to the man—given that neither he nor Cora were involved, it might not even be official—but still, he should know.

To Killian’s surprise, he took the news in stride. “Fair’s fair; if that’s what everyone agrees on, I’m fine with that, and I’m sure Cora will hold up her end of it, too.” Killian was less convinced of that but if Gold was, he wouldn’t argue. “Extend my best wishes to Mr. Locksley, will you?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Actually…” It was probably stupid, but Killian needed to know. “Sir, are you aware of a prophecy?”

The other end of the line was so silent, he feared they’d been disconnected, until Gold’s voice returned with a hard edge in it. “Where did you hear that?”

“Just a rumor,” Killian lied; it was easy to over phone. “I’ve only heard of its existence, but not what it’s about. Do you—”

Gold cut him off. “Whether or not a prophecy exists is of no concern of yours. Just make sure Locksley wins that fight.” And then the line truly went dead.

Killian stared at his phone in confusion for a moment; just what had that been? Gold didn’t just sound angry; he almost sounded scared.

Which meant that whatever was in that prophecy, it was important—and if Killian wanted to put an end to all this, and ensure he and Emma had a chance at a life together, he needed to find out what.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Emma had just gotten out of a (rather long) shower when her dad and the crew arrived back at their place. Not that their townhouse was any sort of official Coroza hangout; the Nolans were just the most hospitable—something to do with David growing up on a Midwestern farm—and always keen to invite people over.

Either the meeting hadn’t been that long, or she’d been bathing for a while—both were likely, because she’d taken her time in making sure Killian’s scent was washed off of her. It’d be noticeable, especially if they’d just been in his presence.

Right after she’d gotten out, before she’d even gotten dressed, she had gone to text him to ask how things went—until she realized she still didn’t have his phone number. Dammit. But the voices she could easily hear in the lower level of the house would tell her everything.

She was a little surprised to see that Jefferson had joined them; he was something of a loner, even though he’d been around for a couple hundred years and was reasonably close to Cora.

Closer still to Cora, though, was Zelena, who was sipping a glass of bloodwine off to the side of where the guys were gathered on the sofa in the living room. She always seemed to pop up out of nowhere; honestly, it would creep Emma out if she didn’t know that she was one of the oldest vampires in town.

“Emma! There you are.” Emma jumped at the frantic way Snow blurted the greeting, and had to rely on her superhuman reflexes to grab the wine glass that was shoved at her (honestly, if she’d been able to react at even a fraction of this speed when she was alive, maybe she’d have lived up to her last name). “It’s drinking time.”

“Did the meeting go that bad?” she asked, watching as her mom took a long drag from her own glass.

“Actually, it was rather refreshing,” Zelena said drily. “Historically, at least one person ends up dead in these sorts of things. And I really didn’t feel like washing blood from this blouse tonight.”

Snow just took another long, panicked drink. Zelena was never known for her tact (although Emma did have to agree that her green v-neck was gorgeous).

“So what did happen?” Emma had never been that great an actor, so hopefully her feigned indifference was convincing.

Zelena caught her up on the plan—a one-on-one fight rather than an all-out brawl. It was still more than Emma would have liked but certainly not as bad as it could have been.

“It was headed that way,” Zelena responded to her comment, “except for Jones apparently being the only one with any brain cells still alive in Aurum.”

“Jones?” she blurted, unable to hold back at mention of Killian. Shit.

But thankfully, they read it as confusion; being one of the youngest vampires in the coven had its perks. “He’s the one you were dancing with,” Snow murmured.

“Oh,” she said, pretending to be ignorant (and that she didn’t know what his kiss tasted like).

“It was his idea for single combat. Makes me wish we had a soldier on our side—or just, you know, anyone with any sort of battle strategy. Humbert here was ready to tear his head off at the suggestion, even though it was a good one.”

“Are they the ones fighting?” Emma had to ask; it was the one time she’d let her mom think she was showing concern for Graham.

“Humbert is, but he’s facing...oh, what’s his name—Robert? Robbie? Something like that.”

It took effort not to look too relieved, so she hid her reaction in her drink.

“I’m just glad it’s not David,” Snow said, having emptied her glass.

“Then why are you drinking so much?” Zelena sneered.

“Because this was my night to get drunk! Aurum can’t take that from me.” And without another word, Snow disappeared back to the kitchen; Emma was pretty sure she heard the liquor cabinet open, where she was pretty sure a bottle of sanguiria was hiding.

Which left a slightly awkward silence over Emma and Zelena while the boys continued to lecture Graham on fighting (what good would that even do at this point? How had he not made it a century and half without knowing these things?) She rolled her eyes at them. “At least this’ll be the end of it, right?”

“We’ll see,” Zelena answered and took another sip. “I don’t see how something dating back 400 years will be settled by two assholes in a parking lot, but they can certainly try.”

“This rivalry seriously goes back that far?” She’d been told vague stories of the bad blood between the covens, but they all started with cliches like “many moons ago” and “once upon a time.”

“Ugh, I swear—we need to make this part of new vampire orientation or something,” Zelena complained. “Cora and Gold used to be lovers; he’s the one who turned her.”

“Holy shit.” Emma had not seen that coming. She’d have believed it if one of them had killed the other’s family or something—and Killian’s story wasn’t far from her mind—but actually lovers? “They must have had the worst breakup ever, then.”

“Something like that,” Zelena confirmed. “Gold—or Rumplestiltskin, as he was known back then—” (which was a revelation all on its own—) “meddled with Cora’s family in a way that was unforgivable. He took one of her daughters.”

“Cora had daughters?” God, how many bomb revelations were going to be dropped on her tonight? (And was separating kids from their parents just an Aurum thing or what?)

“Two. And you’re talking to one of them.”

Emma’s dropped jaw had to suffice as a reply to that. Hopefully, her mom had saved her some sanguiria. “Wait—so he...did he...you…?”

“Did he turn me? No; I practically begged Mum to once I got of age. But Gold stole my sister and that caused the rift, among other things. So I really don’t see this little kerfuffle solving anything.”

There wasn’t much to say to that other than hum in agreement; no wonder things got so heated. Emma still thought it was silly, but having a frame of reference helped. She didn’t know if that made her predicament easier to deal with or harder, though.

“And it’s too bad, really,” Zelena continued. “I’d love to see my sister again, and then you could be with Killian.”

For the first time in 15 years, Emma choked on blood. “Um, what?”

“Darling, I’m 383 years old; you’re probably safe from anyone else here noticing, but I can still smell him all over you; he positively reeked earlier. And I hardly blame you. Frankly, you two might be our only hope.” Emma really wanted to ask what that meant, but was too busy mentally panicking and praying no one else heard this exchange. “Don’t worry; your secret’s safe with me,” Zelena promised, handing Emma her now-empty glass. “Just don’t be an idiot about it, alright?”

“All—alright,” Emma stammered.

“Good. Well, I’m off,” she said casually—and much louder; Emma hadn’t even realized they’d been whispering. “Good luck tomorrow, everyone,” she called as she headed for the door, but her eyes were locked with Emma’s before she made her exit.

Quickly, Emma finished her wine—just in time for Snow to refill it (with some claret; honestly, she didn’t care what it was as long as it had blood and alcohol. She would have settled for finding a drunk frat boy outside a party if that was what it took). That was...a lot to unpack in one night, and she had never been very good at that—side effect of being a foster kid.

She wondered how much of it Killian knew; he had to know at least some of it, right? And what had Zelena been talking about—how were they the “only hope”? (What was this, Star Wars?) She didn’t want to be any sort of savior; she just wanted to jump her vampire boyfriend’s bones without causing a gang war. And, you know, the happily ever after stuff her mom was always talking about.

The two of them wordlessly continued to share the bottle of booze and stare out the window as the sun’s early rays started to brighten the buildings across the street. At some point, Jefferson and Graham had left, which helped Emma relax but didn’t remove the tension.

Outside, the moon was starting its morning fade; she’d be counting the hours until it made its evening appearance—‘til she could see Killian again.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian only just made it into the library before the full sun was shining on the entrance. He’d have to steal an umbrella or something when he left, but with any luck, it would rain like it was supposed to this afternoon and he’d be fine.

He loved the library—the scent of ink on paper, the quiet hush of knowledge being shared, the occasional squeal of joy—but all was quiet and still at this early hour, especially since they weren’t technically open. (But he knew which door was usually unlocked, and if he didn’t show up on any security camera, then what was the harm?)

He would have loved to linger in the stacks, and might yet later, but he was on a mission, and instead made a beeline for the rare book collection and archives—the one place without windows, where a vampire could actually work in peace.

He made little noise as he pressed the heavy door open and stepped inside the musty room. It was pristine—not even a dust mote swirling in the lights.

“Unless you’ve somehow managed to make an everything bagel with blood, we’re not open,” the petite librarian called out from somewhere in the recesses of the space. Of course she heard him.

“I was never much of a baker, love,” he replied. “But how about some bloody earl grey?”

He’d only just moved his arm to the side, ensuring the safety of said tea, when a small but solid form was wrapped around him tightly. A few seconds later, it was slapping his chest.

“Killian Jones, you fils de pute! You didn’t tell me you were coming back!” Belle chastised, even though she was grinning.

“What, and ruin the surprise?”

She rolled her eyes, but chuckled. “Merde, but it’s good to see you,” she said, pressing up the few inches her heels didn’t cover to press a kiss to his cheek. “And you, too,” she added, but this time directed towards the tea. There was exactly one Starbucks in the city that catered specifically to vampires, just a couple blocks from here; hopefully, corporate never investigated the contents of the extra “red syrup” the undead staff kept stocked, though considering neither the location nor staff had changed in at least 15 years, they were likely in the clear.

“Why do I get the impression this is more than just a social call?”

She knew him too well; he supposed that was to be expected after 150 years. “Perhaps I just came here to help one of my best friends; had you considered that, eh? What are you up to today?”

“Digitizing, as always, and I think there’s an appointment later to see some old Broadway posters. And whatever it is that’s brought you here, obviously.”

“You wound me.”

She glared at him as she took a sip from her cup—surprisingly menacing for one so seemingly docile, but it was also hard to believe that the dainty woman before him was a 200-some-year-old creature of the night. (Though it certainly took that amount of practice to run around a library in platform heels the way she did.) “Just what are you up to, Captain?”

He took his own drag of tea as he studied the aging leather spines in a glass-locked cabinet on the closest shelf, noting that the two of them were both likely older than the tomes, and yet showed no such signs of wear and tear. “It’s not anything hugely important, just a bit of gossip I heard, but figured you would be the one to confirm or deny it.”

“And what’s that?”

“With this whole ageless coven war, have you ever heard of any sort of...prophecy?”

He turned his head to look at her; were it not for the way she licked the tea off her lips, he’d think she was a statue. “Where did you hear that?” she finally murmured.

“Granny.” He couldn’t lie, and Belle wouldn’t judge.

“Yeah, she’d pick up something like that,” Belle had to admit. “Sharp old wolf.”

“So it’s real?”

Belle nodded. “It is, but no one’s said anything about it in...gosh, at least a hundred years. It goes back ages, though; I believe to the start of all this.”

“Does it say anything about how to end it?”

She sighed. “Yeah, it does. But let me finish my tea first.”

He truly had come to see her—not just for information; they’d first crossed paths sometime during the 1860s in Australia and been fast friends ever since. Killian couldn’t even remember what Gold had sent him there for, but Belle had come back to New York with him on one of his trips and stayed in the city ever since. She was originally from France, but after being turned (and losing her family) during the Reign of Terror, she fled the continent for England and hopped on the first ship out of Europe—to a penal colony on the other side of the world. Thus her odd combination of French curses and Australian accent. (Though after long enough, most vampires developed hard-to-place accents on account of their nomadicity; his likely only identified him as British due to his recent time spent there. And it hardly mattered in New York.)

She caught him up on anything he’d missed in the last decade that Robin hadn’t already, but didn’t betray the one thing he’d been hoping she’d mention: whether or not she was currently with Gold. He kind of hated how well they’d hit it off when he introduced them, but in the intervening decades, he’d lost count of how many times they’d broken up, made up, married, divorced, or just been “on a break” (it wasn’t a stretch to say they were a real-life Ross and Rachel; her apartment even had a purple door). They were freshly divorced when he’d left, but that didn’t mean much.

While she was taking a last, long dreg of tea, he had to ask. “And how are things with Gold?”

Suddenly, the cup was flattened and thrown with some precision to the trash bin near the door.

“Excellent, I take it?”

“More like completely done. Forever.”

He’d heard that before, but wasn’t about to contradict her. “What now?”

“Believe it or not, that’s one thing you haven’t missed—we haven’t gotten back together since you left.”

That had to be a record. However, he sensed that wasn’t all. “But?”

“But he’s tried on numerous occasions,” she sighed. “I’ve had enough, though; the shady dealings, his weird hangup over Cora, acting like king of his own empire. I’m not just another one of his playthings for him to control—oh, sorry.”

It wasn’t unusual for Belle to forget who she was talking to while ranting; however, “I’m not going to refute any of that, you know.”

“I know, just—I know you don’t have a choice.”

“Few have one.”

“Well, someone might—which brings us to the prophecy.”

She started off for the back of the room, where the oldest books were kept; he had to jump to keep up with her (not like it was hard, though).

“Have you ever heard the legend of the Dark One?” she asked as she grabbed an ancient-looking set of keys and knelt in front of an even older-looking case.

“It sounds familiar,” he replied, though he couldn’t pinpoint anything solid about it—just a name, almost a fairy tale, that had popped up over the years.

She pulled from the case what looked like a journal in a very fragile state and quickly moved it to an exam table (or whatever it was called—he didn’t spend that much time back here). “According to all the tales I’ve heard, the Dark One is the most powerful dark sorcerer in the world. Not only are they immortal, they lay claim to their power by murdering their predecessor. The story goes back centuries, and continues today.” As she told this, she carefully flipped through the pages of the book, which was written in an old language Killian only vaguely recognized.

“So you mean to tell me the Dark One is alive and kicking, even now?”

“Well, alive is a loose term. Also, he’s here in the city—and he’s your boss.” She stopped on a page near the center, and despite the aged parchment, the drawing on it bore more than a passing resemblance to Gold. “Not only has he held the title the longest, he was also the first vampire to lay claim to it. His existence is...I hate to say unprecedented, given how long he’s been around, but it’s definitely unique.”

How had he been unaware of this? True, there had always been something sinister about Gold that Killian hadn’t been able to put a finger on, but he just assumed it was because the man was an utter conniving bastard and had centuries to perfect being so. Not that he was also in possession of the darkest magic known to man. Few had any extra sort of magic—Cora was the only other one he knew of, and she wasn’t shy about it. Gold, apparently, was, though.

“How on earth did you find that out?”

“Well, he told me.”

Yeah, something like that would probably come up in pillow talk over the course of 150 years. “And he, what, gave you his notebook of devious schemes?” Killian asked, nodding at the book.

Belle snorted. “Not quite. I tracked this down myself about a hundred years ago.”

“So he doesn’t know about it?”

“Nope,” she confirmed, rather satisfied. “At least, he doesn’t know I have it. It was after our first divorce. See, he’s also spent plenty of time trying to hold onto that power and I, in my ire, decided to see if there was a way for him to lose it. Turns out, there is.”

She carefully flipped another few pages to one with just a few lines of text, in an older English, but easy enough for Killian to read:

Only one without creator live Can destroy the dark and survive. At truest love’s closing hour Will they eliminate the power

“And what exactly does that mean?” he wondered; he’d never encountered prophecies in the real world, but Harry Potter certainly seemed to have nailed their ambiguity.

“In simple terms, that only an orphan—someone without living parents—can kill him and end the line of Dark Ones. He did some awful things to orphanages years ago.” Belle shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cool temperature. “But ‘creator’ is a bit nebulous, especially with our kind,” she went on. “For us, it could also mean someone without a living sire. He’s also been known to target those.”

“Aye,” and it was Killian’s turn to shudder; he certainly had that kind of blood on his hands, although he’d usually been given a reason when taking out a hit on Gold’s orders. It was generally hard for anyone to get away from their sire—you couldn’t exactly kill someone when they had the ability to simply tell you to stop. The Nolans were an exception (one he still wanted to talk to Regina about); in fact, the only one he really knew of was… “Emma,” he breathed.

“Emma? Is that the girl whose scent is all over you?” Belle teased.

“Yeah, it is,” he told her, a bit sheepishly, but he had no time to stammer. “She doesn’t have a sire; she killed hers right after he turned her.”

“Impressive. I already approve of her.” Not that he needed Belle’s approval, but other than Robin, she was the closest thing he had to family—and that felt good.

“Even if she’s with Corona?”

“You know I don’t bloody care. Hell, I might like her more, then.”

That made him chuckle, but he needed to know more about the subject at hand. “What’s the rest of it mean, then?”

“Honestly, anything. ‘Closing hour’ is up for even more interpretation—could mean marriage, could mean death.”

“But we’re already dead.”

“I know. So I’ve no real clue. But I can spend some time on it, if you think she’s part of this.”

“It’s worth a shot; whatever it takes to end this feud.” Which gave him another, almost terrifying thought: “Does Cora know this?”

“That I don’t know. But I got the distinct impression it was part of why he turned her.”

“So she couldn’t kill him?”

“I think so. She was after power, whatever she could get; I think that’s why they got together in the first place. She was still mortal, then, and something of a witch, which...you’re already aware of. Turning her was always part of the plan, I gathered, but I think he moved up the timeline on it when he found out about the prophecy.”

“If she did find out, I can see why that might cause a legendary rift.” It would explain a lot of things, really.

“Precisely. And given my own dealings with the man, it’s easy to see why that went south.”

“At least you were already immortal,” he said knowingly.

“True,” she agreed, patting his hand.

“What about you? Where’s your sire nowadays?”

“No clue. I saw her my last time in Paris but that was 50 years ago. And trust me—if I could kill him, I would have by now.”

They shared a laugh, but Killian was more laughing at the idea that she’d be willing to off him; despite her rage, he knew she still loved him, deep down, even if she didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore.

She put the book away as methodically as she’d taken it out, locked the case, and glanced at the clock. “Well, I’d love to hear more about this Emma, but I suppose it’ll have to wait for another day; my appointment is in 20 minutes and I haven’t pulled anything yet. But maybe we can get some tea again in a couple days?”

“Sounds perfect, my dear—and thank you for your assistance.”

“My pleasure; hope it helps.”

“Anything does at this point.” He gave her a parting peck on the cheek and began to walk away, hoping it was still early enough he could stick to the shadows of the skyscrapers just fine, but then she called out again.

“Oh, and tell Will to call me, would you?”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her; surely she was joking. “Will? That wanker? Why?”

She shrugged. “I guess that’s one of the things I didn’t tell you from the last 15 years.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading, friends! let me know if you want/don’t want a tag! @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda

#cs ff #cssns20 #cssns 2020 #cs vampire au #even death won't part us now #my ff

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ask-de-writer · 4 years ago

Text

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN . . . : MLP Fan Fiction

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Return to Tales to Read AFTER the Lights are OUT!

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN . . .

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

1612 words

Writing begun 10/06/16

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

It should have been a dark and stormy night! Just to be perverse, it was calm, clear and well lit by a nearly full, waning gibbous moon.

Rory was laying in wait! Nightmare Night was his favorite! He was lurking in the brush, not far from the cemetery wall. His costume totally hid his head and cutie mark, making it all the more fun to jump out at the passing foals.

When he waived that old scythe at them they ran like rabbits! Dropped their loot bags, as often as not! Fun all around! For him.

Pity that he swung wrong, that one time. Grazed one of the escort ponies. Nothing serious, but you know, if he got caught the authorities would be like it was the crime of the century!

It added spice to the game!

The slightly wounded mare ran straight for Twilight Sparkle's Golden Oak Library! Breathless, she panted, “Twilight! We have to do something! Look at my neck! There is a big earth pony jumping out of the brush to scare foals into dropping their loot bags! He waves this big scythe! He hit me!”

Twilight paused in handing out small books and candies to her Nightmare Night visitors. Turning, she saw Spike at the ready, quill and parchment in hand.

“Take a note, Spike! Dear Princesses Celestia and Luna: We have a problem here in Ponyville.” In a few words, she described the unpleasant situation. Spike breathed fire on the note and the smoke streaked away!

Celestia and Luna were presiding over a masquerade dance party of nobles. It was about as boring as a Nightmare Night celebration could be. Luna had just observed, “Trust the nobility to make something so fun into a soporific!”

Celestia was giggling agreement when the wisp of smoke sailed in and became a note. She scanned it and promptly magicked it over to Luna.

“I think that this one is for you, Luna! Have the fun I am not going to have!”

Reading, Luna began to grin. Fangs showed. Ghastly pustules appeared in her magic, in lieu of stars. Her forehooves became claws. From her normal dark blue, she became utterly black. She answered Celestia, “I will! I have not spoken to Swift Feather in a long time.”

Dryly Celestia observed, “Being dead for 3000 years does tend to cut off the conversation!”

Luna said in a soft voice, “There is a loophole in that. I rule the Dream. The Dream can cross time.” She stalked out of the hall. Her condition upon leaving was noted by the Herald.

“Your Highness, what has so upset Princess Luna on this festive night in her honor?”

“It was not this festivity, however boring it may be. We had word of an evil thing in Ponyville. She is going to take care of it. She will return soon, I am reasonably sure.”

~~ ~~

Swift Feather lay in her sleeping stall in Fortress Canterlot. She hated garrison duty. She wanted to FLY. To carry out the good orders of her Princesses, so recently crowned.

Sleep came at last. With it came a dream. She saw her Princess Luna. She looked the same as the Princess that she knew except that somehow she seemed older, more experienced.

In her Dream, her Princess gave her the most welcome of orders. “Kit up, Swift Feather. Full battle gear. We have a wrong to put to rights.”

With the speed of dream, Swift Feather was ready. “Where are we going? What is it that we need to do, my Princess?”

The Dark Princess replied, “Follow me. It is not far by dream, though the distance is greater than mere leagues.

“Your wise leadership has secured us a great and mostly peaceful kingdom. We are going to stop one who would spoil the simple fun of many foals.”

Their wings spread, they flew through the mighty stone walls of the Fortress of Canterlot. Swift Feather saw in wonder, the very land beneath their wings change. The flying years beneath them saw forests grow and die. Fields planted and harvested in the blink of an eye, the stroke of a wing.

A town grew suddenly beneath them and Luna spiraled down, Swift Feather following. Luna pointed silently to a small herd of foals in outlandish costumes. They gathered at the door of a home and sang, “Nightmare Night! What a fright! Give us something sweet to bite!”

The smiling householder, also in costume, hoofed around a bowl of treats. The young ones eagerly took some, placing them into bags.

Luna directed, “Go and join them. Take with you this bag for your sweets. I promise that your skills will be needed soon.”

Puzzled, Swift Feather did as asked by her Princess. Settling her weapons properly for parade, she stepped out of the darkness and joined the foals.

They looked at her light aerial battle armor, with its bracers protecting her legs and wing joints. Her chanfron battle helmet, chain armor for her guts and steel for her flight muscles, spine and back.

One of them, in a sort of goblin costume, asked in wonder, “Wow! You look like a warrior from Fortress Canterlot! Who are you dressed as?”

Catching the mood, Swift Feather replied, “Good guess! I am Swift Feather, Flight Leader and Wing Commander to the Princesses Celestia and Luna of Fortress Canterlot!”

A little witch costumed filly commented, “Your outfit looks like real armor and weapons! Could I look at your shield and spear?”

Swift Feather nodded indulgently and held out her small targe and carefully unslung her air combat spear with its fins to guide its fall if it was used against a ground target.

Emboldened, the foals crowded about to examine her war gear. One bold colt tapped her breastplate. Awed, he said, “That is real steel. My dad is a smith. This is a totally awesome costume! It would be right at home in a museum!”

As Swift Feather replaced her spear and and small targe-sheild she understood what Princess Luna meant by a distance of more than mere leagues. Remembering the rest of her instruction, she thoughtfully settled her weapons for instant use.

She joined the happy chant of the foals and was given her fair share of the treats as well as many compliments on her costume.

Soon the group started up a street with brush and a stone wall on one side.

Remembering that she was to right a wrong and that there was one who would try to spoil the foal's fun, she cautioned, “Let me lead you. This place does not look safe to me. It could be an ambush.”

The foals, thinking it a game, did fall in behind her.

Rory lunged out, swinging his scythe! The foals screamed and fell back.

Swift Feather's targe caught Rory's deadly blade and deflected it up past her head! She dove in close, using her spear shaft to block Rory from pulling his scythe back!

Enraged at the failure of his trick, Rory tried to spin about so that he could continue what was now a real attack! When the vicious swing was just starting, Swift Feather stabbed! The combination of his spin and her thrust drove the spear deep into his shoulder!

The scythe clattered safely away across the cobbles! Shocked, Rory screamed his agony! He was down and kicking frantically!

The astounded foals watched the combat in utter amazement! Not one dropped a loot bag! Swift Feather pulled back, her targe at the ready, a short, pointed stabbing sword at the guard in her skilled hoof.

Assured that the enemy was down and safe, she directed in her best military manner, “One of you get a constable! The rest search those bushes! He has stolen other foal's treats! We must see if they can be returned to their proper foals!”

The youngsters, responding to her air of total authority, sprang to follow her orders! The smith's colt sprinted up the street for help! The others found the loot bags in Rory's hidden ambush place.

The situation now under control, Swift Feather heard the voice of Dream, of Princess Luna, speaking in mind, “You have done very well, this night, Swift Feather! Fly back with me across the ages to your well earned rest.”

She took off in a thunder of wings. A watching filly said admiringly, “Look how well she can fly with all of that armor!”

Together, Swift Feather and Luna flew across ages back to Fortress Canterlot and through its stout stone walls. Swift Feather saw her sleeping self and faded into her body. Lips curled into a smile for her good dream of righting a wrong.

When she awoke, she found a bag with treats in it under her pillow.

~~ ~~

In Ponyville, the Constable Crager was trying to make sense of the scene. The foals were the only witnesses and they would not budge from their story. “It was Flight Leader Swift Feather from Fortress Canterlot! She said so herself!”

Looking at the antique design of the aerial battle spear in Rory's shoulder and then at the big scythe laying in the street, Constable Crager could almost believe it. The Ambulance Ponies were getting Rory stabilized for removal to Ponyville General Horspital.

One commented, “We are going to have to get that spear out of his shoulder to get him into the ambulance!”

The blacksmith's colt pointed to the spear and said, “No you don't. Look, Swift Feather is taking it back to Fortress Canterlot!”

The solid seeming spear lodged in Rory's shoulder quietly faded away like a dream upon awakening. The wound that it left behind, however, failed to fade at all.

~THE END~

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Return to Tales to Read AFTER the Lights are OUT!

#IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN . . .#MLP Fan Fiction #Tales to read AFTER the Lights are OUT #Written by De Writer

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engineeredfiction · 5 years ago

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Solace Among the Stars Ch.1 “The Stranger”

Finally here.

Rating: PG-13

What: Crossover fanfiction comprising of themes and elements from: The Expanse, Blade Runner, Prospect(2018)

Characters: All original characters except for Ezra and Murtry. OC are based on actors I like such as Tobias Menzies (Greer) and Adele Haenel (Allard).

Plot: A group of banned Earthers attempt to improve their life beyond their home system, but come up against a powerful enemy.

Mood board is here. You can also check out the ‘sol mood’ tag

Aaaaaand if you would like to listen to music to put you in the mood then check out the playlist. I’ll be adding to it as time goes on.

Special thanks: @tom-riddleston-me and @yourpalmoony for being beta readers! I appreciate the time and effort!

Keane was conscious long enough to feel her saliva boil off her tongue and the formerly inert nitrogen gas bubbled in her blood caused intense pain. Her instinctive nature forced her body to scramble back to the lander a few meters away. Yet, everything went black after seconds of the forlorn effort.

The stench of stale metallic air woke Keane up from what felt like a deep slumber. This was not a sickbay or her ship. A dark and empty bar surrounded her; the only source of light was coming from the two windows on either side of the door. The deteriorated wooden floor creaked under her stillness. Behind there was a pack, it must be hers. A tumbler of substance was in front of her; she cautiously brought it to her nose. Whiskey. She threw it back, picked up the pack, and pulled open the door. Tall grey mountains surrounded the desolate building , so tall in fact they nearly blocked out the light. Not far in front a path was laid out that led to a thick pine forest. She felt an internal pull towards the path.

The forest was silent except for the sound of her feet hitting the ground. Her passing seemed to echo between the trees. There was no fear in her which she thought was strange. Ahead the scenery changed, there was a small warm glow at the end of the path and it grew in size with every step. Just before she reached the natural exit she was perplexed by the sight of tall sand dunes in front of her.

She walked into a clearing where the grass gradually turned into sand. To her left and right stood a clear line of trees that went on forever in both directions. The mountains loomed behind them. Keane continued to follow the internal pull in her gut and walked up a dune. Once she reached the summit she paused to look around her. The desert only extended ten kilometers in front of her. Snow peaked mountains surrounded it and the smell of pine was strong. The wind was soft and the small grains of sand drifted over each other. For the first time she heard a sound that she didn’t make. She stood still and felt the wind blow through her long loose strands of hair.

Her breath quickened when she realised she had no idea where she was or why she was there. Her wonder was interrupted by movement a few dunes over. A figure was making its way over to her.. The figure was getting closer, but she couldn’t make out who it was.

A man?

New smells reached her nose, a scent of alcohol and blood. Immediately, her joints started to ache and her left hand felt like it was fire. She looked down to the terrifying sight of her hand profusely bleeding, torn to shreds, and with bones sticking out.

Her mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. The figure was approaching, but took no notice to the gory injury. Her head lolled back as nausea and vertigo became overwhelming. The fall into the warm darkness was slow.

*************************************************************************************

Keane’s eyes fluttered open. Seated in a hyperbaric chamber with a window on the door she slowly bent over in the reclined chair to see medical staff tending to patients. Her head throbbed and she squeezed her eyes shut. Pain radiated through every limb and settled in the joints. Her hand. She looked down and saw her left hand in a clear rectangle contraption. Below the wrist was a clean sawed line and a new skeletal hand was attached. Lasers travelled back and forth scanning and dispensing bio fluids to start the construction of the nerves. She swallowed and closed her eyes again. Her mouth was dry and her body relaxed.

Morphine, she guessed to herself, that’s good.

She tried to remember what happened. Someone was attacking the lander. Greer was ahead of her and he was aiming at someone in the rocky mountains. Or was it the field? The field beside the mountains? It was nighttime. Keane didn’t see who shot her. She clenched her teeth to swallow the nausea. Whoever the perpetrator was, nearly killed her by decompressing her suit to the vacuum of space.

She leaned forward again and peered out the window. The medical staff were no longer tending to the patient closest to her and she got a wide view of the sickbay. None of her crew were in the other chairs. This could be good or very bad. The patient in the chair closest to her chamber was getting a limb regrowth procedure for his right arm. The skeleton and nerves of his arm were complete and the lasers started to build up the muscle system. He was reclined back and sleeping. His hair was wet with grime and sweat. The tuffs of brown hair matted to his face. He had a blond patch above his brow. Her study of the man was interrupted by the appearance of Greer.

He strode in with confidence and charm that Keane was well acquainted with over the past two years. Greer spotted her face in the window after a quick glance of the hyperbaric pods. He smiled with relief and gave her an okay hand symbol with a questioning look.

Behind Keane’s returned smile was pain and weakness, but she gave a thumbs up. Greer peered in with curiosity and saw her soon to be new hand.

“Cool,” he remarked. His baritone British voice sounded muffled and faint through the door. “Another two days and you’re out. Allard and Murtry are fine, they’re worried about you,” he added.

Keane nodded and gave another thumbs up. His smile reassured her about the rest of the crew and he left the sick bay for her to heal in peace.

Two days came and went. The doctor finished Keane’s final health evaluation. Her health had returned and her limb regrowth had been completed. She admired her new hand, which now had a new set of fingerprints. She thought it funny, if she had ever been booked for a crime it would set off confusion if anyone tried to accuse her based on her former fingerprints.

“Surprisingly the CT scan found no brain damage,” the doctor stated without looking up from her tablet, “your heart stopped for a little over seven minutes. Your crewmate….Greer did CPR for five minutes and you spontaneously resuscitated about two minutes after.” She didn’t hear a reaction from Keane and so peered over her the device, “with no brain damage that is impressive.”

Keane felt the lump wedged in her throat. She fixated on a stain on the floor ahead of her.

“You’ll have a weird tingling sensation for the next week or two,” the doctor calmly stated. “If you follow the rehabilitation guidelines I sent to your PCA that new hand will feel like your original. Or better.”

“Thank you,” Keane acknowledged and promptly gathered her personal belongings into her weekend bag that Greer brought to her. She opened it and the odor of stale sweat and blood wafted up. Her nose scrunched up and she knew her next destination.

*************************************************************************************

Arcadia Station-Alpha is the last bastion of civilization this far out from the Primus System. The Primus System is home to Earth. When humans advanced enough to travel the further reaches of space through The Ring, what was then known as The Solar System needed a new name. Arcadia bore the title Alpha due to its size and grandeur. One of the many luxuries it housed was a public bath. For a few credits a traveller could get cleaned and soak in a pool of heated grey water. The aesthetic of the public bath recalls the glory of Roman architecture. In the midst of modern appearances and technology a revival of ancient art and decor made its way throughout the human inhabited Universe.

Keane departed Arcadia’s sickbay and strolled to the bathhouse; where the gentle floral aromas drifted throughout its dimly lit rooms. In the locker room, she fully undressed, saved for sandals and a towel that were given at reception. She stepped into the busy shower room and turned an unoccupied faucet to hot. The steam rose up as she vigorously scrubbed off the scent of sweat and iodoform. She stood still under the showerhead letting the hot water roll over her body.

A desert in the middle of the mountains. A cool sandy desert. Earth? Somewhere else? Made up, most likely.

Keane exited the bathhouse and the clean clothes felt refreshing against her skin. She smiled in comfort at the immediate sight of her crew. They waited at the foot of the stairs to the bathhouse. Greer, Allard, the pilot, and Murtry, who assigned himself the role of security area manager, chatted amongst themselves. Murtry was the first one to see Keane exiting the bathhouse.

“Good to see you’re alive and well!” Murtry exclaimed. He gave her a casual hug, “How’s the hand?”

Keane offered her hand lady-like, “As good as new. Feels a bit funny at the moment, but it should go away in a week or two and back to full strength in a month,” she changed topics, “fuck those guys. What the hell were they doing?”

“Apparently it was an accident.” Greer added.

“How?”

“He…simply said…he thought we were raiders.”

“We were picking up civilians.”

Greer shrugged, “That’s what he said. His name is Axtin and he’s part of Terra Corp. They’re going to get slapped with another violation for this. Probably put them out for awhile.”

“Good riddance!” Murtry hummed.

“Someone has to topple the giant, it might as well be you,” Allard jested in her thick French accent.

“With my life,” Keane sighed, “I’m starving.”

*************************************************************************************

Another part of Arcadia’s grandeur was the fifth level dining halls. They boasted meals for those on the go to the multiple course sit down affair. The level bustled with a variety of travellers and station workers. Some were well-dressed and others covered in grime. The rough ones were usually floaters who worked independently and performed random odd jobs. The money to be made was in harvesting resources from the assorted planets and moons within the half parsex area.

The sushi restaurant bustled with customers, some crammed up to the bar and the rest squeezed into tables in the cramped space. The crew sat shoulder to shoulder at the bar with little words exchanged as they quickly ate their food. Keane waved her hand quickly any time the prickly sensation became too much and somehow the movement calmed the new nerves.

Between mouthfuls of ramen Allard asked, “You know what they call that feeling? Of a new limb.”

“Oh ‘the stranger’.” interjected Greer.

“Yeah because when you masturbate it feels like someone else.” Keane quipped.

“Really?” asked Murtry.

“I don’t know…yet.”

Keane and Murtry chuckled. She was the only crew member Murtry felt, if only a tad bit, close to on a personal level. He admired her dry sense of humour.

A shadowy figure appeared behind them revealed himself under the neon glow of the bar’s sign. The four paused their eating to look up at this newcomer. His face was heavy with scars, but his clothing was finely made. After a few beats the man cleared his throat.

“Which one of you is Captain Greer?” his voice was low and rough.

Greer stood up from his seat to get on the same eye level, “I am.”

“Mr. Wallis of Terra Corp would like you to join him for a drink in his office.”

“When?”

“Now.”

Greer looked back at his crew and was met with silence. Keane gave him a nod.

“Can’t hurt can it?” she whispered.

Greer hesitated, “Sure.”

Chapter 2

Taglist (for those that asked and who I think might be interested, if you want to be removed send me a message):

@pascalisthepunkest @dindjarindiaries @pedropascalisadilf @1-800-fandomtrashqueen @a-carnie-and-a-cop @rzrcrst

#solace among the stars #fanfic #fanfiction #crossover fanfiction #science fiction #sci fi #scifi #the expanse #blade runner #prospect (2018)#burn gorman #tobias menzies #adele haenel #pedro pascal #murtry #ezra #ezra prospect #writing #space travel

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t-underneaththeradardancing · 5 years ago

Text

u mitta scene the vid - and wunder wtf - t - i thot u sick

yah - i do have good moments tho - i take advantage - time spent setting up - tuning - practice - cosplay - recording -15 min - i wuz exhausted out of breath and sweating by the end - felt better than i have in daze - promptly lay down for a bit

went out for a few minutes - mailed a couple bills - 1 block away - warm sunny - no contact w anyone within 15 feet - fed a few of my murder - slow af fuck walk up 3 flights of stairs - lungs - esp damaged ones being attacked - need some exercise or pneumonia and fluid settles in - i make it up without needing emergency inhaler - yah i completely stop at every landing - catch breath let heart rate slow - lay down for a while

did some dishes - not many - took maybe 10 minutes and im slow window gaze - a bit baked cant remember if i already washed or rinsed - but standing in place and using arms aggravates sciatica and the activity makes me slightly out of breath - easily back in control tho - not quite exhausted but - i lay down for a bit

sometimes just lie down for a bit after lying down for a bit - watch some financial news during day - have made trades most planned at various steps down in the market - expecting it to go down more but tbh im not paying enuff attention to take any of my advice - this could - i dont think it will - but get a lot worse - i have cash and skillz to ride it out - anyway after watching financial news for a while - i turn on something mindless - the new shaft w samuel jackson - omg how fing violent do we hafta get and how stylized - anyway mindless - im not really watching anywaze - drift til sleep - play w kitty - watch a few minutes financial - sip coffee- back to mindless maybe sleep a bit

thats my daze - not much diff than lately w isolation except i would b making more vid snippets and spam product lol - its not product - we dont really gaf if we even break even - we want ppl to listen read look absorb transcend dance sing go out and make their own art and get on board the love train which im workin onna arrangement donchu know but that wip been a while

so doing a little toward dinner - mashed potatoes boiling - thats not exactly grueling lol - well i gotta chop some garlic and onions - i prolly - u got it - lay down for a bit when finished

i did a bit more today than lately cuz i felt better - there are prolly gonna b days i dont feel as well - the recovery for most ppl seems to b slow and treacherous - imma recover

and if i dont

NO FUCKING REGRETS

imma being sent more love -thots - wishes - prayers and imma lucky motherfucker with the best friends in the world - here reel d hybrid - ppl who only have known me as t - a performance art conceptual comedian ( fool t fool - u dont even wanna b a comic ) who plays guitar and whines - i mean mean sings sometimes and ppl who know most everything - most somewhere in between - tho u no t - tmi always

im ok - i think - i mean - i have a fukken flu - odds say corona esp since flu season over - seems to b a milder version - have a plan w my doc to get thru

alive and functioning well enuff to be glad im alive

love you all

#poetry i guess

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nobodyfamousposts · 5 years ago

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Felix July - Magic AU

A new AU unrelated to my others with Grumpy Wizard Felix.

@felixmonth

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom of wealth and great prosperity. But of course it was, for one of the leaders of this land was a noble of the Agreste household, Gabriel.

He was a stern lord, but not cruel. And while not necessarily loved, he was certainly well respected and admired by the people. So it was with great joy when he was married to Emilie in a tale the likes of which Cinderella would later be based on. Their home was a happy one, especially after she gave birth and Gabriel had an heir.

But all was not right with the boy. Whatever flaws Gabriel had were magnified in the child. Cold. Aloof. Withdrawn. Gloomy. He gave off a most unsettling aura that would often drive most sensible folk away.

Even worse, it soon became evident that the boy was…unnatural and capable of the worst sorts of sorcery. Things would break in his presence without being touched. Many would suddenly trip or be subjected to sudden injuries. Great works of art and manufacture would age and decay quickly. On one such occasion when his father required him to learn swordplay, the boy took offense and the metal rusted and turned to dust in his hands.

Everyone was fearful of him. All except the boy’s mother, who loved him dearly and was intent to see the best of him. Many begged the lord to send the possessed child away or otherwise end him to restore peace, but for the sake of his wife, he relented and showed the boy mercy.

A mercy he came to regret, as the time came that even the beloved mother was struck down by the boy’s power. For all of Gabriel’s efforts, she continued to waste away. He scoured the land, seeking witches and wizards, archaic tomes, ancient rituals, and any manner of healing power to attempt to revive her.

All to no effect.

But he was desperate. And no matter how many failures and how many doctors and healers told him there was nothing to be done, he refused to give up on her. So caught up in his attempts to restore his wife, the man had foolishly neglected to manage his own son.

At least, until the day the heir summoned a demon.

It was a ravenous creature. Insatiable and deranged. Under the boy’s command, it attacked his father and ruined a good half of the manor in which they lived. Servants fled in terror. The creature stalked the halls, delighting in the fear it caused to anyone unfortunate enough to cross it. None dared to approach the house. People sought for an answer, but nothing could be done. After all, Felix was the heir. What could they do?

Luckily, there was a second son who was less disastrously inclined and with a much sweeter and more manageable temperament. And who did not have a pet demon to sic on people he didn’t like.

So the Lord Agreste promptly named young Adrien his heir and cast Felix out of the family.

Ousted from his noble position and banished from his home, the older son swore revenge and fled to another land with his demon, where he only grew in power and evil. Despite attempts to search for him and arrest him for his crimes and sorcery, he was nowhere to be found. Many knights were sent after him only to return in failure—if they returned at all. Much misfortune befell those whom encountered him.

Some say he opened a gateway to the Underworld where he is amassing an army of the undead. Some say he set up a lair within a volcano, guarded by dragons. Others will claim that he took over an innocent village and transformed them all into monstrosities. Then there was one person who said he started up a school somewhere.

Nobody could quite agree on just what happened to him, actually.

But everyone knew, yes, everyone knew! There was only destruction where he tread. Only danger in his home. Each day that passed, he only grew in skill and evil. All feared him. None with any sense dared to confront him and those that did would not get a chance to regret doing so.

Everyone knew that one day he would return and bring calamity upon them all.

Everyone knew that he would seek revenge against those who had cast him out.

And everyone knew that to this end, he had kidnapped the fair Marinette, a lady of great purity and healing magic.

Everyone that is, except for Felix himself.

“How did you get in my house?”

When Felix had woken up that morning, he knew immediately that something wasn’t right.

Mostly because he actually woke up of his own volition instead of due to being scratched by an annoyed and hungry demon or the sound of something being knocked off a shelf by said demon to get his attention. Plagg was rather petulant that way. It came with being a creature of destruction and ill fortune. As well as a demon. And one Felix had yet to figure out how to banish—though heaven knows he was trying.

Since the unfortunate circumstances of their initial meeting, the menace had been a thorn in his side, seeking any means to vex him. One of said means was waking him in the early hours of the morn to whine for food. And become rather destructive and impossible to ignore if food was not granted immediately thereafter.

The only time he didn’t bother Felix was if something else had his attention. Which was never a good thing.

So he sighed, put on his robes, and prepared himself for whatever headache was waiting for him.

Which happened to be a young lady in his kitchen. Clearly making something that smelled lovely and belonging in a bakery rather than his tower. Plagg, the little traitor, was cozying up to her quite easily.

The lady smiled, polite but clearly nervous.

“Hello! My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I came to request your teaching into the use of magic and sorcery—”

“One, I’m not a teacher. And two, that doesn’t explain how you got into my kitchen.”

“Oh, I let her in.” Plagg spoke up, appearing all too pleased from his spot next to her.

Felix’s eye twitched. “Why?”

“She smelled nice and had free food.”

Ah. There’s that headache.

“She’s a keeper, kid. Don’t send her away.”

“Quiet, demon.”

Because of course the demon would betray him and open him up to a potential threat for food. Plagg would deny it with silly claims that ‘she’s not really a threat’, but how would he even know when he’s stuffing his face and leaving Felix to deal with the aftermath.

It was Paris all over again.

“I’m sorry,” the lady—Marinette spoke up, noticing his mood. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You shouldn’t have been able to intrude at all.” He told her—not just a bit put out by the whole thing.

She blinked, surprised. “Really?”

“I made this place impossible to reach with that goal in mind, yes.”

That only seemed to confuse her more. “But…it wasn’t that hard to get here.”

Felix would be insulted, except that up until this point no one else had managed to reach the land around his Tower, much less enter. From her expression, the girl wasn’t bragging or trying to show off. She was truly surprised by his answer. So that meant she must have some skill and at least and no ego for him to have to deal with.

There was that at least.

Regardless, he still needed to know how a stranger made it into his home. Mostly so he could further improve his protections to prevent it from happening again.

“How did you get here?”

“Oh, well I asked for directions.”

That had to be a lie.

“Except that nobody has directions to get through the Lost Forest.”

“Really?”

“That’s why it’s called the ‘Lost Forest’. Who would you even get directions from?”

“Well, I asked the nice fairies—”

Felix blanched at that. “From forest fae?”

“They were quite kind.”

“They eat people.”

She coughed. “I’m sure that’s just a rumor.”

“The trees are literally made out of people they’ve led astray and fed to them.” He politely—in his personal opinion—avoided questioning how she DIDN’T notice the twisted horror of the trees in question. “Why would they help you?”

She shrugged. “I offered them gingerbread men and asked for directions to get here.”

He stared, surprised at that.

…Huh. So they had a weakness for sugar. Or perhaps treats in the shape of people. He would need to keep that in mind.

“And what about the Gorge?” He asked.

“I crossed the bridge.”

He blinked.

“The Gorge doesn’t have a bridge.”

She beamed at that, appearing quite proud. “It does now.”

He raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What do yo—��

“And then I saw the Tower and headed here! There were a number of holes and vines blocking the way. You really need to clean up your lawn, it was difficult to get past the pitfalls and thorns. Someone could get caught and injured that way!”

He stared.

“That would be because they are traps. That is what they are meant to do.”

She blushed at that realization. “Oh.”

He closed his eyes and rubbed his head. “And how did you get past the door?”

“I knocked?” She answered, questioningly as if it should have been obvious.

“And I answered!” Plagg cheerfully added.

…This was it then. All his work, completely undone by an overly nice and cheerful lady who would no doubt be the death of him. And no thanks to his sole ally—if the thing could even be called that.

Felix glowered down at the creature. “And you didn’t think to perhaps warn me? Or at least not let in a potential threat?”

Of course, the glower had no effect. The little demon was more than used to it by now, and had no doubt encountered worse before he had ever been summoned. And Felix knew this after all this time, but he tried—oh yes, he would still try.

Plagg just grinned cheekily up at him. “What would be the fun of that?”

“Fun isn’t supposed to be the priority here.”

“It should be. Hell knows you were a stick in the mud before you summoned me.”

Marinette gasped at the little creature in surprise.

“You’re the demon? But you’re so tiny!”

“That’s because he hasn’t fed me!” Plagg exclaimed, looking up at her pitifully so as to garner sympathy.

“You eat three times your weight in cheese on a daily basis.”

Plagg didn’t deny it. And of course, the damned thing was completely unashamed. “Yeah, but I could eat four.”

Felix simply rolled his eyes.

Another day then.

#ml au #magic au #felix agreste #ml felix #marinette dupain cheng #plagg #grumpy wizard felix #felix month #felix july

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sariahsue · 5 years ago

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The Open Line - Chapter Nine, Claws and Bugs

Ladybug knows that if it weren’t for Adrien, she would have fallen for Cat Noir, hard and fast. And when Oblivio takes her memory, she does just that. Able to keep her memory after the Oblivio incident but still unaware of Cat Noir’s real identity, Ladybug must deal with her growing feelings for her partner, who is desperately trying to win her over. (Rated PG.)

Read Chapter One Here Reach Chapter Eight Here

***

Adrien was normally quick to hop out of bed in the morning, eager for school and to see his friends, but today he laid in bed for nearly twenty minutes, staring at the picture Ladybug had sent him. (He'd printed it and kept it under his pillow all night. Plagg had made fun of him.) Adrien was determined to have it memorized by the time he left for school.

Ladybug had made sure to hide personal details and belongings from view. There were no hints to her identity, but she hadn't been able to hide the pink wall she'd taped the picture to. Pink. Her room was painted pink. Was that her favorite color? Should he get her pink flowers? She also hadn't hidden her pink bedspread. Her bed! Not only had she hung up his picture, but she'd put it next to her BED. Was it the first thing she saw that morning? Had she been staring at it as she'd fallen asleep last night?

A loud knock on the door gave him a half-second warning to hide the picture under his blanket before Nathalie came marching in. She didn't even look at him before she began listing off his schedule for the day, which was packed. "Your father expects you downstairs promptly. You both will be very busy today, and he doesn't want any delays."

"Yes, Nathalie. I'll be right down." As soon as she left the room, he lunged for the photo. Breakfast could wait, so he sank into his pillows and forgot about Nathalie and her schedules, holding the photo high above his head this time, to get a new angle.

There was light shining directly onto Ladybug's bedroom wall, though he couldn't see its source. That probably meant she had a lamp close by. Did she read before falling asleep? What was her favorite book?

The best part of her message last night was definitely the caption she'd added. "Got to have a picture of my favorite partner on display!" It was silly. It shouldn't make him so happy. He was her only partner, but he had never been called anyone's favorite anything before. He repeated her words to himself as he finally got ready for the day.

He skipped down the stairs, ten minutes late for breakfast, only to be greeted by a scowl.

"Did Nathalie tell you I expected your punctuality?" his father asked. Even from Gabriel's spot at the far end of the table, Adrien could feel the open disappointment, almost anger. But Ladybug's words kept him insulated and safe.

"Yes," Adrien said. "But I didn't know-"

"And you chose to disrespect her direction and my time because?"

"Uh..." Because Ladybug said he was her favorite! She didn't push him away when he kissed her! "I guess I was... tired?"

"I see," Gabriel said, picking up his plate has he rose from the table. "I had hoped to spend some time with my son, but as he places such a low value on me, I will be finishing my meal in my office." Gabriel swept past him and was gone.

"If he'd told me he was going to be here..."

"His loss," Plagg said from his pocket. "Hey, we could always go back to bed. I think there's a certain wheel of cheese calling my name and a certain picture calling yours."

"Nice try." Adrien grabbed his plate and walked toward the front door. It was odd, how bad he didn't feel about his father's behavior. It was unfortunate, but it couldn't damage his good mood. He was Ladybug's favorite! She'd let him kiss her hand like six times last night!

Remembering that got him through a grueling day. Nathalie hadn't been exaggerating when she said he'd be busy. School was full of tests and Chloe's drama, all made harder by his sleep deprivation. Double fencing left him exhausted. Then there was a photoshoot. And finally, piano lessons, where he was berated for his "obvious lack of practice and respect for the piano as an instrument and an art form."

"I'd like to see him work in practicing around all the akumas I have to fight."

"Or all the daydreaming about Ladybug," Plagg added. It was amazing how much of Adrien's pillow he was taking up. Plagg was spread out, basking in a square of sunshine. One eye was cracked open, so he could see what kind of effect his teasing had.

"I'm not that bad."

"You sure?"

"Scoot over." Adrien flopped face-first onto his bed, already reaching for the photo. It was a relief to have his room to himself again. He was nearing his physical limits, and he had past his people limit a long time ago. Well, people that weren't Ladybug. He wished there was a patrol scheduled tonight. Having pictures of her was nice, but nothing could compare to the comfort of her presence.

The door swung open, and Plagg dove out of sight while Adrien scrambled to his feet to face his visitor. Seeing Gabriel twice on the same day was a rare occurrence, and normally Adrien would have been glad for the attention, but his father's face was even more sour than it had been that morning.

"The photographer sent me the raw images of today's shoot, Adrien. Your work was subpar."

Adrien's mouth twitched. He did not have the energy for this. "It's just the raws," Adrien said. "They're going to Photoshop it anyway."

"You can't airbrush failure. Your performance was unacceptable."

"Maybe it shouldn't have been scheduled after two hours of fencing, then. I was tired." His words hung in the air between them, but Adrien wouldn't have taken them back even if he could have. He was too tired. Too tired of being pushed around today, too tired of being everyone's disappointment.

"You will not be practicing with your band on Saturday."

"But they're counting on me to be there! I've missed the last four-"

Gabriel steamrolled over him. "You will be spending your newly freed time to practice your piano. I met your teacher on his way out, and he tells me your skill is quickly deteriorating."

Adrien folded his arms and looked away.

"I can see this is getting too much for you," Gabriel said softly.

Adrien dared to hope that his father was finally understanding him, that he would be removing some of his burdensome lessons or shoots, but he should have known better. It made Gabriel's next words cut deeper.

"If your performance – and your attitude – do not improve, we will be returning to homeschooling."

Even as he left the room, it felt like Gabriel's claws closed in around Adrien. No band on Saturday. That was expected. It seemed like his father would use any excuse to keep him from going. But no school? The last time he'd threatened that had been ages ago. And if he were being monitored by a tutor at home all day, it would be so much harder to slip away if an akuma attacked. No band, no school, no Cat Noir.

Adrien threw himself on the piano bench in frustration and started playing. Let his father hear him practice. Let him think that his son was cooperative and submissive.

"Ah, don't worry," Plagg said, floating over. He'd retrieved Ladybug's picture from underneath the pillow, and it dangled between his paws. "He'll forget about everything in a few days. Just watch." He set the photo on top of Adrien's music.

"Just let me play," Adrien said, shifting the picture aside to see the music. "I want him to think he's won." Plagg was trying to be helpful, and he appreciated the gesture, but he needed to see the real thing. A photo wasn't enough anymore.

"Why?"

"So he won't check on me again." Don't think. Just play. Then see Ladybug.

Don't feel.

This plan only lasted fifteen minutes until Adrien couldn't stand to be in his own house any longer. It would have to be enough. He was jumping through the window before he'd even finished transforming, into the first truly cold night of October. The city was misty and dreary, which didn't match his mood. He wanted a thunderstorm.

Sixteen blocks away from his house, he finally stopped to contact Ladybug. It rang, and rang and rang, until it went to her inbox. Even though he knew there was no point, that she wasn't transformed, he tried again. And again. The weather turned menacing.

When he finally gave up - without leaving a message - he wasn't sure what to do next. There was nowhere he could really go. There was no one who really wanted him around. So he wandered, buffeted by the wind and getting soaked to the bone, trying not to remind himself that because he was Ladybug's only partner, he was also her least favorite.

"She never said that," he told himself firmly. "That wasn't what she meant." Alone and abandoned in the rain, it was hard to believe he'd had a reason to be happy that morning.

Water and wind eventually drove him to find shelter. The Notre Dame was big enough to hide him, tall enough that he wouldn't be able to hear the people and cars below him. The enormous roof was made out of wood and had many eaves and ledges he where he could sit and be alone, but when he sat down, he found that the spot was already taken.

"Figures," he said. A swarm of ladybugs huddled there for warmth. "You're not the one I want right now." He settled down anyway and stayed there, unmoving, for he didn't know how long. Long enough that tourists returned to their hotels and street lights flickered on. Long enough for the bugs to realize he was a much better heat source than the wooden rafters and start to crawl over him instead. His only friends.

"It's a sign," he said, looking down at himself. "Soon she'll want me just as much as you all do."

"Who are you talking to?"

"Ladybug!" She'd come! And just like that, his heart hurt a little less. "Would you like to meet my friends?" He motioned to the little insects crawling over his knees.

Droplets of water hit his legs as she wrung out her hair. "They can't get enough of you," she noted, sitting down next to him. The ledge was wide and sheltered from the wind, just big enough for the both of them.

"So you were jealous and came to get a piece of the action?"

"Ha. Funny. I checked the Ladyblog a few minutes ago and saw reports that you've been up here for hours, sulking."

"Oh, uh..." Should he tell her? Should he try to cover it up? Play it off? He didn't want her to think he couldn't handle something as stupid as a bad day. She would be disappointed in him too, just like everyone else, and he would do anything to avoid that.

But Ladybug saw through his hesitation. "Your dad again?"

Cat Noir sighed and then nodded. "Today's been kind of awful." It was a relief to tell the truth. And an even bigger relief that he didn't have to say it himself.

"I'm sorry," she said, leaning against him, lending him her support with her presence.

They didn't talk much. Ladybug brushed bugs off his shoulders and hands, and stroked his hair whenever she thought he needed a distraction from the gloom that waited for him beyond their island of tranquility.

"I wish I'd gotten here sooner," she said over an hour later. "We're partners. I hate the idea of you facing tough stuff by yourself, even if it's not an akuma."

"You could always give me your number, Bugaboo," he joked. "I tried calling your yoyo earlier, but you weren't transformed."

He expected an eye roll and a lecture on keeping civilian and super lives separate, so he wasn't quite sure what to make of it when she looped her arm through his and hummed thoughtfully. Was she actually considering it? He'd said it as a joke!

But she lapsed back into silence without really answering, and the hope her reaction had ignited was quickly extinguished in the gloom that engulfed the rest of the city. Of course she wasn't going to give him her number. She was more willing to spend time with him, more generous with her touches because she knew he was upset, but that was it. There was no indication that it would ever be more than that, and he shouldn't get his hopes up.

They spent another half hour in silence, until Ladybug got up with a grimace. "We can't stay out late two nights in a row."

"Yeah, I should get back. Before someone misses me." Miss him? Ha. Like that would happen.

"I have an idea," she said, holding a hand out to help him up. "And I think you'll really like it."

"What's that?" Once on his feet, Cat Noir didn't let her hand go. Neither, he noticed, did she.

"I'll tell you tomorrow, if I can figure out the details."

"We don't have patrol tomorrow, though."

"Oh, well, we could- that is..."

She paused and looked shyly away, and Cat Noir felt his feeble hope burn back to life. This was something new. Scheduling to meet up outside of patrols? It was unprecedented. It couldn't be...

"Would you meet me anyway?"

"Of course, LB. I would love to."

"Ten at the Tower?"

"Sure."

It was happening. It was honestly, truly happening. They were planning to meet, not because the city needed them, or because he was having a bad day, or on accident. Just because she wanted to spend time with him.

Ladybug beamed, then pushed herself up on her toes and kissed his cheek before saying in a rush, "Hope you feel better. See you tomorrow. Bye!"

As soon as she was out of sight, Cat Noir did a little dance on the ledge. But the ledge wasn't big enough, and on his second pirouette, he lost his balance and fell off. Laughing, he waited until the very last second to save himself, but even that rush couldn't compare to the high his Lady had just given him.

Read Chapter Ten Here

***

Author's note: This story is officially a "Notre Dame Cathedral Didn't Burn Down" AU. I'm a writer. I can make reality whatever I want, and I want that building to not have burned.

I had a lot of obstacles to getting this chapter done for tonight, and I wasn't sure I was going to be able to. I had to push myself to get this done in time, but I'm happy that I did! Next week, back to Marinette. Let's see what SHE makes out of her own behavior!

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #ladynoir july

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dontcallmecarrie · 5 years ago

Note

Are you planing on ever making By Dawns Early Light into a full blown story? ... And is Thanos an issue in this AU? I think you havent mentioned him in it so well, I wondered?

UMM. *looks over what I’ve got in that tag, and winces*

geez this thing’s longer than some of my actual fics, when did that happen?

Here’s the thing, though: this AU’s meant to be a writer’s-block-buster. Which, if the current evidence is anything to go by, has been a resounding success.

However.

As of right now it’s just that, a thought-and-snippet-writing exercise, because there’s a lot of things that’d need tweaking before I’d even consider posting it on AO3 [aka my inner perfectionist strikes again].

Again, this is mostly just me messing around with a fluffy tumblr-exclusive [for now, anyway] AU because this feels smaller stakes than if I were to round this up and make it into a full-out fic.

Also, in regards to the second part of your ask: not exactly. By Dawn’s Early Light is, at its core, a fairly fluffy self-indulgent AU, which for me is also code for ‘nobody dies if I can help it’ and ‘if the MCU can have a Gary Stu villain then I can do what I want, Deus Ex Machina-levels of fixits included’.

How? Simple. By nerfing the heck out of him, while also unfridging as many other moms as I can, with a side of I-have-yet-to-forgive-the-writers-for-pulling-this-bs-seriously-what-kind-of-writing-was-that.

Here’s how the entire Thanos situation would go down, in By Dawn’s Early Light (spoilers for a fic I have yet to write):

First, let’s take a step back, shall we? This is, among other things, a timeline-crunch AU. There’s a lot going down in a very compressed time frame [originally just because I wanted Howard to still be around just for Tony to be able to punch him, but now I’m invested in this so time go the full nine yards, buckle up everyone].

So. The entire situation around Maria Stark and Tony and Bucky’s been covered fairly well, but to sum up: when Howard turns out to be an abusive asshole of a husband, his wife smiles at him and promptly turns around and burns both SHIELD and Stark Industries, revealing HYDRA and Obadiah Stane’s double-dealing ahead of schedule [unintentional fixits ftw]. In the chaos, Bucky manages to escape and joins up with Maria and Tony as they go in hiding.

Ripple effect that didn’t get mentioned: Hank Pym sees this shit going down, realizes that the most famous missing child in the country is about the same age as his daughter, and decides to not aim to be Absentee Father of the Year. He ends up being a tad overprotective, sure, but is way more involved in his kid’s life and Hope Van Dyne grows up with at least one (1) parental figure in her life, so…there’s that.

Things happen, and the timeline for bringing Janet back gets moved up somehow, right around when the Avengers assemble.

Note to self: adjust part of Scott Lang’s origin story in this? Compare whistleblower laws of that time era, alt. entrance for him could be him somehow helping Tony hide because BDEL!Howard’s the type of petty and vindictive asshole who’d pull some strings if he found out this rando interfered with his search somehow.

Bonus for giving Scott and Hank something to commiserate about, later on, and would also have Tony and Co. feeling indebted to him [which would result in a lot of shiny prototypes and records being expunged, later on, probably]

…though that might be a bit much. Hmm.

Reason to bring Janet back: I do what I want also I think the MCU fridged moms because otherwise they’d be too powerful

Ripple effect that didn’t get mentioned, the second: since this is also the AU where moms get unfridged, Frigga’s going to be derailing the plot from her corner of the galaxy.

Also, since I finally watched Ragnarok but was a mythology nerd as a kid and have a passing knowledge of the comics, time to revamp how Hela fits into this universe.

Okay, she’s still murderous and powerful and ruthless.

Only, turns out there’s a very good reason for it: she was one of Loki’s students [iirc she’s his daughter in the myths, that’s the best I can come up with atm] before Odin saddled her with the thankless duty of being the watchkeeper of Asgard’s enemies and prisoners. As in, Odin just straight-up went ‘hey you look pretty talented, here, I now hold you responsible for this entire goddamn realm of assholes and creeps, if any get out we’re all screwed’.

Which is something Hela absolutely did not sign up for, but she’s now just about the only thing standing between said realm of undesirables and her home so she stays put […also maybe Odin sealed the only way back? Maybe? Idk].

It didn’t help that in the early days, these ruffians thought they could overpower her and escape to wreak havoc. So she had to kick everyone’s ass six ways to Sunday, until they finally accepted her as the head honcho of this dump and as someone Not To Be Fucked With.

Thus, why Hela’s known as the goddess of death and ruler of Helheim.

…and it’s also why she accidentally came to Thanos’ attention.

(Because why the hell not, as if her day wasn’t bad enough Odin you owe her big time—)

Thanos, of course, is in love with her carnage and seems to be the kind of guy who doesn’t take no for an answer. Hela just wants to be left the alone but can’t tell him to fuck off because if she did, she’d risk leaving her home open to attack from enemy agents, which is how we get the story behind why Thanos is known as the madman who courted death.

[Hela: fuck you and the horse you rode in on shoo you bastard and take your stupid flowers with you—]

Thanos was on one of his especially annoying ‘let me woo you with the ashes of this one civilization!’ kicks [Hela: ashes. How romantic. Not. Leave me alone already.] when some of the Dark Elves snuck out and killed Odin.

Hela…is only pissed she couldn’t have done it with her own two hands. Also slightly embarrassed that the Dark Elves escaped in the first place, and relieved that it was only Odin who’d kicked it because his wife had seemed pretty nice, the one time Hela’d seen the lady before she’d been drop-kicked to this hellhole.

Also— apparently she now can leave this place? Sayonara, bitches.

Thanos is very displeased when he doesn’t find her standing guard over Helheim when he returns.

Displeased enough to get creative, as far as courting gifts go, and think that if she didn’t like rings or jewelry, well, maybe this Lady Death would appreciate a shiny, fully-assembled Infinity Gauntlet instead.

well…let’s be honest, if it weren’t for his ‘don’t take no for an answer’ thing, you’d have to give the guy props for trying. Nothing says ‘I love you’ more than ‘here have this item of absolute cosmic power’, amirite? [just kidding]

Hela now has mixed feelings about Asgard. Before she was crowned Queen of This Dump, she’d been a student of magic, had been used to certain things. There’s quite an element of culture shock to be had, now that she’s back. It’s the first time she’s seen sunlight in thousands of years, and also there’s a lot of systemic changes going on now that some of Odin’s dirty secrets are coming out at last. Turns out she’s not the only one who’d been pressed into duty: some of Loki’s other students[/children in the myths] came back with stories of the same. Fenrir was apparently voluntold to be the guardian of the Reality Stone, Jormungandr had apparently been busy on Midgard […which now had a school of Mystic Arts? Pfft. Overachiever], and the more Hela thought about it the angrier she got.

Especially when it turns out that her teacher had been mocked for suffering a breakdown and was also tortured by the creep who’d been flirting with her for millennia [Everyone: wait what Hela: I am going to KILL THAT BASTARD NEXT TIME I SEE HIM].

However, thanks to Frigga being Frigga and having a crazy-high charisma stat, Hela is still mostly willing to play ball with everyone else on Asgard. Despite her not being happy with how ungrateful the general populace acted [oh, magic’s just ‘tricks’? Here, have a fireball TO THE FACE I FOUGHT MONSTERS WITH THESE TRICKS FOR MILLENNIA].

So when Thanos shows up again, he gets one-shotted by Hela, who’s very very pissy about her vacation being interrupted.

Because this planet has sunlight and hot chocolate and punk rock and she’s got centuries’ worth of time off and she is damn well going to enjoy it.

…aka why Thanos is a bit of a non-entity in this one. Again, fixits are the name of the game for this AU.

#I got an ask!#replies #Naught replies #By Dawn's Early Light #thinking aloud #My writing #behind the scenes mini fic #in which fixits happen #canon went screwy years back here's my attempt to fix it

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thewillowbends · 5 years ago

Note

Bearing in mind that I only know of Lucifer from your blogging and, uh, inferring from the source material, I wish you would write a Lucifer/BotW crossover involving the Yiga Clan.

This is hands down the weirdest thing I’ve ever written. Lucifer/Breath of the Wild crossover fic below. 2200 words of madness.

-------

His companion liked to talk.

Link knew this because the man had been talking since their first encounter when he had crash landed outside of his home in Hateno Village. He had continued talking through the evening after Link had dragged him into the house and gotten him sorted, even after polishing off the last two bottles of his Gerudo wine. In the morning, he had begun inquiring almost immediately about what was to be done about his situation (Impa, he thought, definitely one for her), as he had “very important business” to get done with “The Detective” (Link could feel the capitalization implied in his tone). And now, he was still talking as they traveled down the road toward Zora territory. Most of what he talked about, Link hadn’t the faintest clue to what it pertained, but he was clearly passionate about it and spoke about it at length with humor and surprising fluency.

The experience was both novel and nerve-rattling after so many months of carrying the weight of both his sword and his silence. Novel, because Lucifer was certainly peculiar and of interest, nerve-rattling because he literally would not shut up, not even after they encountered a hidden nest of bokoblins. He fired off three arrows in quick succession, the third going wide as he started as Lucifer flung a wing out in a broad, gleaming, fatal arc and cleanly removed the head of the last, very startled bokoblin.

Link had forgotten about the wings. He was still digesting the fact that the guy had wings.

His companion was unperturbed. “Rather unfriendly sort, aren’t they? I’d say it reminds me of Hell, but even the demons were better company than that. Is everything in your world so primitive or is it merely my misfortune to have been dropped in the most well-funded Renfaire nightmare this side of a Tolkien convention?”

Link didn’t know who this Tolkien was, but he definitely did not like Lucifer’s tone and gave him a sharp look for it, which Lucifer promptly ignored.

He watched as the other man adjusted his cufflinks on a suit that had seen better days - which he insisted on wearing despite bemoaning its ruin a tragedy of its own. In fairness, it wasn’t much Link could offer that would have fit him, anyhow. Lucifer towered over not just him but the majority of the Hylian residents they came across, so much so that Link considered whether he could have been an aberrant male offspring of the Gerudo, but his complexion spoke fair and his dialect had not their rhythmic lilt but rather the crisp, clipped sound of the old Hyrule courts. Back when there was one, anyhow.

Lucifer must have taken his silence as an answer, so he shrugged his wings away (and wasn’t that nearly as remarkable as their existence themselves) and brushed some bokoblin splatter from his shoulder. That was another mystery in and of itself - despite his elegant apparel and generally imperious mien, the violence seemed to have hardly fazed him. Link filed away with the rest of the crazy he had labeled the mental box named “Lucifer.”

“Where off to now, then? More riveting scenic travel through the idyllic monotony of open grassland? Another row with the natives?”

Link’s patience was waning rapidly. He opened his mouth to tell him exactly what he thought of interdimensional travelers who descended in an otherwordly fireball, crashing into and destroying his favorite vegetable garden, finished off all of his alcohol stores in one night, and then insulted his fashion sense, when he was interrupted by the sound of bushes rustling. Both of them turned abruptly to face the intruder, Link’s sword raised in warning.

The young woman who stepped out from the outcropping gave them both a look of alarm as she spotted them, first at Link’s sword, then at Lucifer’s…everything.

“Oh, hello there! I wasn’t expecting to encounter strangers ‘round here!” Her eyes flicked between them, and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Or such handsome ones, for that matter.”

Lucifer preened. Link ignored him, fastening his gaze on her, though sheathed his sword. She seemed to take this as an invitation and moved out of the foliage.

“Where are you two headed?”

“Certainly nowhere as interesting as where you are going, darling. Or coming, for that matter,” Lucifer cut in with a grin. He stepped out between the two of them, offering his hand, leaning a touch too close to her. “The name is Lucifer. Morningstar.”

“Nice to meet you....Mis - Mister Morningstar,” she said, catching her own words. She blinked owlishly, then added quickly, “I’m Riza.”

Lucifer’s smile only grew wider, and Link rolled his eyes.

She cleared her throat, blushing. “You don’t look like you’re from around these parts.”

“Quite. Long story, love, involves a very angry knife and a space vagina, but I’ve been in stranger places as it were. Hitler’s art studio, for instance.”

“Oh, oh that’s, uh, very interesting.” Riza looked askance and traded A Look™ with Link. “Have you come by way of Hateno village, by chance?”

“That cheery little backwater with the vertically challenged residents? What a coincidence, we most certainly have. My laconic companion here has us off to consult some ‘Sheikah elder,’ or something of that nature, to see if she’s got the cure for this little interdimensional travel problem of mine.”

Riza’s eyes narrowed, cutting a glance between the two of them. “You’re friends of Impa.”

“Friends is a stretch at present, though I am hardly one to turn down an opportunity to know a woman better,” Lucifer answered with a smirk.

“So you’re going to Kakariko village, coming from Hateno village,” she asked again, clarifying abruptly.

Something in her tone had sharpened, and Link fastened his gaze on her, suddenly suspicious. He tried to recall her face from his previous travels, outside the Necluda peninsula. Somewhere farther out, maybe near...

“I just said that,” Lucifer answered in exasperation. “Are you hard of hearing or something?”

Several things happened at once. Riza whipped a knife free of her belt and sent it spinning toward Lucifer, who looked at it with puzzlement as it bounced off his chest, then forced him backwards with a spiral kick. Link pulled his sword free from his sheath milliseconds after, twisting his body to throw the full power of his strength into the blow as he swung forward. The glamour exploded off her in a wave of magic, revealing her yiga armor, backflipping to dodge the strike of his blade.

Of course, he thought, moving forward aggressively to pursue her, his sword swinging upwards in a diagonal arc. Something about her features had been a little too familiar, and he remembered well enough the young woman he had encountered near the Zora springs only days earlier. It was impossible for her to have come that way in the same amount of time from the opposite direction, and her interest in where they were heading had done the rest of the work in clearing up his suspicion.

She blocked his sword with one of her long knives, dodging the punch he followed it up with and landing a glancing blow of her own at his shoulder. Fortunately, the blade’s edge bounced off the edge of his armored shoulder, throwing off her balance. He moved in on her, sending out a sweeping kick that caught her unawares. She caught herself only at the last minute, somersaulting backwards to avoid the next blow. Frustrated, he gritted his teeth and went for his quiver -

A sharp whistle startled them both, and they both froze and turned dumbly to see Lucifer standing nearby looking determinedly put out.

“Are you quite done?” he asked, brushing grass off his shoulder, then adjusting his cufflinks one after another with exaggerated movements.

Riza snarled. “Our work is never finished until the Hero lies dead and buried and Lord Ganon is allowed to rise again and be restored to his rightful place of power.”

“Yes, yes, very exciting. Sounds very Revelations and all. However, as entertaining as this violent little tête-à-tête appears to be, I am most certainly short on time and patience both, and more importantly, I imagine the Detective has worked herself up in quite a tizzy over my absence. Therefore, let’s get this done and over.”

Moving in on them, he forcibly pushed Link aside to stand before Riza. “Come now, miss….I suppose Riza isn’t your real name, but no matter. Legolas here won’t be attacking you for the moment.”

The Yiga assassin sat crouched for a moment longer before slowly, warily getting to her feet. When she was at full height before him, Lucifer clapped his hands in approval.

“Excellent. Now, my dear, I need you to look me in the eye and answer one very simple question for me: what is it that you desire?”

Beyond affronted, Link started to move in on them, but Lucifer held up a hand in warning, annoyed. “Do not interrupt us.” Turning back to the Yiga, he reached out a hand to stroke her masked face. “Come now darling, I know you wish to tell me. A life of humorless roadway murder can’t be all that exists for you.”

To Link’s shock, he watched as the martial tension eased from Riza’s body, the knife falling to the ground. She swayed for a moment, then opened her mouth and out came -

“Banana.”

Lucifer pulled back abruptly. “What?”

“I want,” she repeated firmly, “a banana.”

Link stifled a laugh. Lucifer looked between them, his expression quizzical. “Banana? As in...oh dear, that’s not even a euphemism is it?” At Link’s nod, he gave her a piteous glance. “Well, alright then. I can’t argue with the results, disappointingly banal as they may be.”

Turning to Link, he asked, “I don’t suppose you would have a banana on hand then, would you?”

As it turned out, he did.

Holding it out to Riza where she could see it, Lucifer quickly snatched it back before she could close a hand around it. She growled at him, but he held up a finger, demanding patience.

“Let’s make a deal, Lady Vengeance. I give you this banana, and you let us part ways without incident so you can continue on your merry way, and I can finally see this Impa and get this little interdimensional problem of mine sorted out.”

“Yes,” she practically sighed, reaching out her hand longingly.

With imperious regard and grand generosity, Lucifer gently placed it in her hand. He patted her arm, picking up her knife and handing it back to her. “Off you pop now.”

“Of course.” Shaking her head suddenly, as if a spell had been broken, she backed away slowly, into the bushes. Before fading into them, she pointed a knife Link’s way. “Watch yourself, Hero. Next time we meet, you won’t be so fortunate.” Clutching the banana close to her chest, she disappeared in an explosion of black magic, so bright it blinded them both temporarily.

When the air had cleared, the road was clear, and Lucifer was standing before him expectantly, fixing his cufflinks. “Shall we?”

Link opened his mouth, then closed it. Opened it again but nothing came out. He had so many questions pertaining to, foremost, what had just transpired, what Lucifer had even done to the woman, and most importantly, what were the chances he would have had that banana on hand at just the right moment? He hated bananas!

He had seen a lot of strange shit in his life, but this was definitely - and dangerously - coming close to the most insane thing he had encountered since he had awakened in the Resurrection Shrine four months ago. Something dangerously like panic started to steal over him, like perhaps he should have heeded the little voice in the back of his head that had warned him not to eat that handful of deeply suspicious mushrooms he had found buried at the bottom of his sack the day before.

Fortunately, his mental breakdown was interrupted by Lucifer clapping a hand on my shoulder.

“No need to thank me, as it were. I can tell you’re quite the laconic sort. But we really should get going. Goodness knows how the Detective is faring without me. She can be quite emotional.”

Pausing, he gave Link a good once over. “I have to say, you look quite ill-sorted, my long-eared friend. I’d say a good drink would bring you around, but as we’re in the middle of nowhere, that’s not going to be happening anytime soon, which suggests we should get a move on, yes?”

Numbly, Link nodded, burying all of his existential terror and confusion in the place where he put all of his feelings that did not contribute to his ongoing survival: deep inside, where they would likely fester until he died - which, as it stands, could be happen at any point in his near future.

But not today.

He survived Calamity Ganon, Link thought. He could survive this.

Taking a deep breath, he sheathed his sword. Lucifer patted his shoulder. They started to make their way down the path. They managed to make it a good fifty or so feet before Lucifer got antsy and started talking again.

#my fanfiction #memes #lucifer #breath of the wild #link #crackfic #so apparently if you put a readmore link in an ask #it sticks the readmore in the goddamn ask itself #how useless are the people who code this site?

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anansislibrary · 5 years ago

Text

All of my thoughts on RWBY: taken from one of my videos here

If you haven’t watched RWBY yet... I honestly don’t know what to tell you. The show is genuinely one of my favorite anime of all time. It’s got an amazing cast of interesting characters, great writing, an amazing world to get immersed in. Every character you meet sticks with you, many of the fights are fast paced and memorable, and being a lore buff like me pays off in this world.

But RWBY isn’t... perfect, and having finished the newest season and rewatched the show from the beginning... I have some issues.

Don’t get me wrong, the new season had some excellent parts. The fight between Blake and Adam was literally perfect, and side note, idk why fans are saying Adam got nerfed for this fight or made weaker, when some of his only notable feats happen during this fight. The man lands hits like mortal kombat combos.

Anyway, I don’t want to just crap on the show so before I go into what I didn’t like, I’ll get into what I did. But before then, I’ll have to give you a brief rundown of the show. But before THEN I gotta give my obligatory plug

So make sure you like and subscribe if you enjoy this video and want to see more like it, and consider donating to my Ko-fi if you’re able to to help support my channel and help me make better content.

Without further ado

Here’s RWBY

Quick basic spoiler full rundown of the show.

Rwby takes place in a world callled remnant, with a shattered moon. Why is the moon shattered you ask? Satan threw a temper tantrum

Anyway

There’s monsters

Schools for people to fight monsters

Except no Because the main character’s school gets blown up by this BITCH NAMED CINDER, SCREW YOU CINDER.

Prompting Ruby and her Gucci gang to go on an adventure.

Got it? Good.

So here’s everything I love about the series.

I really like the character designs. Every single character has an excellent design and I could really do a video on how character design helps develop character and tell a story just using this show. Every person in the show has an interesting and cool design that helps you to remember and understand them.

An easy example is Weiss. She dresses like an actual princess, her color scheme and weapons are all very elegant looking and it hints at her high class status without even having to spell it out for you.

Plus I love how characters names are based off of fairy tales or mythology. For example, Sun, Sage, and the ironically named Neptune. The motif of fairy tales is fun too, for example Ruby being Little Red Riding hood, Ozpin and Glenda Goodwich being wizard of oz references, ironwood being the tin man and Leo being the lion, Qrow and scarecrows and all of that. Weiss and Winter both have names very directly based on snow.

Every name in this show was very clearly thought out, and even abilities too.

Sun can make clones of himself just like in the myth, Blake has issues with running from her problems, so she can make clones, yang has anger issues and can go super saiyan, almost everyone’s power has something to do with their personality.

Salem is such a fun villain. I wish she could do more because she’s really sinister and scary. She’s such a fun villain to watch but she doesn’t do shit.

I also love the fight scenes, I love how bombastic and fast paced they are, and it’s really cool how every character has their own unique style of movement and fighting that vary between them. The fights in this show are quick and stick in your mind, and there’s an emphasis put often on how much a character can move in a short amount of time.

Cinder as much as I hate her is also a great villain, and that’s why I hate her.

Roman Torchwick is also a GREAT villain and The way he dies is satisfying as hell, and seeing Neo again made me scream.

The worldbuilding is my favorite aspect of the show. Now I’m weird and I like info dumps and that’s why I enjoy those World Of Remnant videos that expand on the worldbuilding so as not to bog down story with info dumps. The world is really fun to learn about, how humanity has evolved in terms of technology is fun to speculate on, for example since Grimm attacks are common and destructive, towns outside of major cities are less technologically advance because they often don’t have time to explore that and have to move from town to town quickly in an emergency.

The Grimm are excellent monsters with varying abilities that make them scary. I love the Apathy from the most recent season, and how it doesn’t just attack you like a Beowulf, Ursa, or Nevermore, but it drains away your will to fight back at all.

This show also has my favorite trope of all time MIXED TIMELINES

YOU GOT TRADITIONAL CHINESE CLOTHING AND DRESS AND ASIAN ARCHITECTURE ON TOP OF CELL PHONES TOWERS AND ALL OF THAT

this trope is so fun because it really makes a world feel unique.

The world of Naruto has all kinds of modern stuff, but until Boruto it was mixed with older tech and tradition, really selling how this is not our world.

Another thing I love: every weapon is a gun. That is SO fun.

Now as good as the show is, it does have problems. That’s inevitable though, all shows, movies, and books have problems, nothing is perfect.

Except Avatar. Avatar is flawless.

Me pointing out the issues I have with this show is by no means to say it’s bad, just to point them out.

I truly do have love for this series and I still cry about Phyrra and her death.

I love you baby.

But that being said, pointing out the issues a show has can be important for both understanding the pitfalls to avoid in our own writing, and helping creators fix issues later on.

A lot of hard work goes into making this show and I would just be an asshole if I did nothing but shit on the show.

No matter how many issues it has, I can tell the people making it love what they’re doing, and that always shines through a series no matter how many issues it has, just like a show or movie can do everything conventionally right and still be a soulless shit show.

Looking at you call of duty black ops 3.

So here’s the issues

Fight scenes

I love the fight scenes. I’ve said that, they really can be so fun to view and I find myself coming back to them a lot.

But I have issues.

Lemme just say first that I don’t like complaining against animation. Animators go through enough crap already and it feels mean to criticize them at times, but this needs to be said.

One, I hate how people throw punches in this show.

They swing so wide it’s annoying.

Okay listen. If you swing at someone with a punch this wide, and they know how to fight, it will not land. They will block or dodge. I know this because as my subscribers know, I am a martial artist. I know jujitsu and boxing, and I took taeqwondo.

This is a bad punch.

My theory is that they do it to emphasize the impact of a bit, but that’s not necessary. There are other ways to do that.

You could say “they’re animators they don’t know how fighting works.”

But Naruto exists and those animators get martial arts stuff down PAT.

Hell, avatar the last airbender depends on its animators being able to animate fights with consistent accuracy, and those characters use styles most people have never heard of like Baguazhang.

And I know this doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it is. It’s hard to really get behind fight scenes at times when the characters can’t throw a simple punch right.

And again it’s not like it’s impossible for animation to animate a fight.

There’s a scene during a fight in Naruto where Obito Uchiha kicks Kakashi, and Kakashi uses his foot to redirect the kick and pull obito off balance.

This is a real move, that people do, and it’s done accurately, but RWBY seems to struggle with accuracy in their fights. Which is fine when a character’s weapon looks like this, but not in hand to hand.

This issue comes up in sword fights too. The way Weiss fights annoys me because her sword is a rapier, and the most important characteristic of a rapier is that often times they don’t have blades, they have points, and when they do have blades, they aren’t meant for slashing. Rapiers were made to exploit the gaps in someone’s armor by stabbing them, and thus it is a thrusting sword, not a slashing one. A sword like a Katana or Khopesh would be good for slashing. Roman gladius can kind of do both, but not as good as either one.

The point is that if they’re gonna give Wiess a rapier, they need to stop animating her slashing with it. Especially when her rapier doesn’t appear to have a sharp edge.

My next complaint is wasted characters.

It’s very frustrating when RWBY takes times to show us a character, but then never uses them.

I didn’t even know sun had a full team sometimes because you never see them.

And furthermore it’s annoying when a fight scene will just stop so that a character can do a cool thing.

Oh no this robot is so hard to beat, how will we beat this dangerous and powerful robot

Oh wait, this character can solo it because the plot needs to pause so she can be cool then promptly never be seen again.

It is so frustrating and it makes it hard to actually know when a character is in danger.

It takes 20 hits to kill a Grimm in one scene, then like two in another.

And the reason for that is because the plot is being pushed aside for the sake of spectacle.

A character’s abilities will be made inconsistent for a chance to make them seem cool.

Like this scene where Tyrion is fighting qrow, he uses his tail to block bullets.

But why?

He has his Aura up, the bullets wouldn’t hurt him anyway! Then when he gets shot later after he looses his aura his tail comes off.

If he was fast enough to use his tail to block bullets he wasn’t even paying attention to, why can’t he do it now!

There is no internal consistency.

Like why are Grimm so strong if they don’t have auras? That’s not explained because they Grimm rarely serve the plot, they spectacle. Adam putting 20 kombo hits into yang to beat her makes sense. He has to wear down her aura to actually hurt her.

But 20 hits to kill a grim that then gets solo’d by a character later on?

No.

Then there’s hazel.

He annoys me.

His villainous motivation is that his sister joined a school for trained soldiers, then died because it was dangerous and now he hates Ozpin.

Dude what?

Like I get why he’s mad, but she knew the risk and someone had to sign off on her getting in for her to be able to go to beacon at all. A child can’t just register for a school especially one where it’s a known risk you could die.

Also another thing I hate is how characters will overreact to stuff in annoying ways.

This is mostly in the most recent season.

Spoiler alert here

But everyone finds out the history of Ozpin and Salem’s relationship from Djinn

And then they just all hate and distrust Ozpin.

Here’s my reaction to finding out about ozpins relationship

It’s just... not that big a deal.

Okay so he was pipping the villain at one point

Nigga so was dumbldore!

It’s just annoying how Ozpin didn’t really do anything but he still was treated like he was just a bad person when he wasn’t.

That whole plot point feels empty, and I found myself more annoyed with the characters for being mad at him and wasting time, than mad at Ozpin for wanting to get laid.

My next complaint on this nitpick fest is

Shit what was I gonna say again?

Oh yea, that annoying ass military lady and her whole reason for not letting the heroes into atlas.

That was so annoying and pointless. She really had no reason not to let them through, and her getting into a giant mecha to fight them pulled me so far away from the story because it was just too ridiculous.

The mecha is for fighting Kaiju grim but it’s taken down by like five kids and their drunk grandpa.

Which like... fine but I hate it.

I hate that whole sequence.

It didn’t have to happen like that, it was another fight purely for spectacle.

It made me mad.

Plus I really really hate mecha anime and mecha fights in general.

God I hate them.

I skipped almost every mecha fight in Voltron because I hate them.

Look the point is that rwby is definitely a good show and I love almost every part of it, but these issues really pull me away from the story at times and you can really sense how much of the story is less about progression and more about increasing drama like the Ozpin thing, or looking cool.

Please watch rwby it really is worth your time, just be aware of the issues it has.

#rwby #ruby rose #yang xiao long #rwby season 7 #rwby spoilers

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zyad-adeust-blog · 7 years ago

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Of Fire and Water

PART 1

AN: This is a compiled, plotted thread I have going on with @shadow-the-assassino. The whole purpose of this post is for archiving purposes and because I like to show off my rp partner’s and my hard work @w@. The premise of this thread is that everyone is born with an animal companion, and that there are a select few who have dragons as companions. Shadow and Zyad are one of the few. Stay tuned for danger, adventure, drama, and near death experiences!!!

(Zyad) As the scent of alcohol accompanies the boisterous laughter of several drunkards, the corner of Zyad’s lips quirk upward into a small smile. There's just something about stepping into a tavern that leaves her equally refreshed and excited. For here, there are different people with different trades and companions, new faces who'll forget her very own once they walk out the door, and most importantly, fresh targets. Or in this particular case, the rumors and whispers surrounding potential ones.

She traipses from each floor of the tavern, dressed as a boater escaping the midnight chill and with half a mug of jasper brandy grasped in one hand; the other occasionally taking a coin or two from unfortunate passerby who cross her path. And she'd continue traversing from one end of the room to the other, listening to bits of gossip until the words “gala” and “showcase” and “art” were filtered through the rest of the noise, making her stop and casually lean back on a post to take a swig of her drink, all while overhearing every detail that had to be offered.

Yet Zyad, self-proclaimed “infamous, elusive thief” is oblivious to the fact that she had caught the eye of a certain person who watched her every move intently.

(Shadow) Shadow sat at her usual table, the one in the corner. The hunter was not extremely keen on drink but came to taverns often to seek out new information, targets and just to observe. Maybe she liked to drink a little after some hard missions. She wasn't disturbed there by anyone; the only thing she received were the odd, nervous glances of a server maid.

This tavern is one you never want to draw too much attention to yourself. You either were feared, threatened, or killed. It's best to stay on the feared list. Many unsavory characters come to this tavern. The kind Shadow has pleasure in killing. Did she look that intimidating? I suppose being clad in black robes wearing a hood and armed with knives who have seen many victims, and having a companion of a merciless peregrine falcon, it's not hard to guess why people are afraid.

The assassin never had much table manners and that was evident here as she rested her heels on the table, lazily watching the crowds of people waiting for something interesting to happen.

So it was that something had caught her eye. This girl making her way around the tavern pick pocketing unlucky victims. Such ease and skill. Shadows assumptions were that she was a petty thief but even they wouldn't be this good. They wouldn't be this efficient. Shadow could even see the vantage points she used to eavesdrop into conversations. Definitely someone I need to keep an eye on.

Ah of course who came to crash the party only some palace guards who marched into the tavern. How brave of them to come in here, how foolish of them. It must be something important to bring them in here. They headed straight for the new mysterious girl.

(Zyad) It was not until the chatter of the other patrons quieted to a hushed muttering and the air turned deathly cold did Zyad pay heed to the oncoming palace guard brigade.

“Evenin’ gentleman,” she says once they are in front of her. But her smile does not reach her eyes. “You got a problem with me?”

“You know what the problem is,” the leader retorts. He is thick and sinewy with roughened skin that's decorated with creases and scars, and his animal-companion, a growling bulldog, stands beside him. “My brother's stuff's been taken. And you fit his description perfectly.” He spits at her feet, then points his sword to her throat, the others following his lead and drawing their weapons. "Now hand over whatever you stole and this won't have to get ugly."

Zyad's eyebrows furrow as she exchanges a glance between the blade and the stupidly brave guards standing in a den of vipers.

"Please," she breathes out as she carefully sets her mug on a nearby table, crossing her arms soon after. For a moment, all the onlookers think they might have a free show of a thief pleading for her life.

"I doubt this situation could become uglier than your face."

(Shadow) As soon as the swords were out Shadow was up on her feet. Quietly making her way over to the guards who didn't notice her coming. For someone with swords to her throats the thief is being very brave saying smart comments like that. She must have had near death experiences before. Shadows previous guess is correct this stranger is much more than a petty thief.

The assassin was inches away from the main guard, her falcon above in the rafters.

"She has a point." Shadow grinned showing her teeth, but her hood hid the rest of her face. "If I were you I would cease your convictions in retrieving whatever stolen objects this… petty thief has taken. I don't like trouble in this tavern and you sure don't want to make even more of a fool of yourself."

The guard’s only response was a grunt and remained firm in his position, but his true feelings were portrayed on his conflicted face.

"Besides you mustn't be that great of a guard if something got stolen, and also who exactly is guarding your master while you go on your little adventure to chase down his lost treasure?"

One thing Shadow learned is that when people are angry they can't fight effectively. She was trying to get him angry and he almost is outraged. The only problem this has is if he strikes the stranger and not her. Time shall tell in his response as for now he was visibly fuming.

"This is none of your business." He scoffed.

"Ah, but it is now since you disturbed my peaceful observations. Why don't we take this outside and I can show you just how much of this is my business. Just because you can't do your job doesn't mean you should kill someone," Shadow replied sarcastically.

It was then he whipped around, pointing the sword at Shadow’s abdomen, the two other guards attention still focused on the thief. His face twisted into a confident grin.

"I know you. Well, I know the stories and all you are is a cold-blooded killer. Don't lecture me, you criminal."

The assassin laughed again "Oh no! You got me there. You just proved I'm really efficient at my job, and if you don't step back from that girl I'll give you a demonstration."

(Zyad) Zyad snorted in sheer amusement once the now-revealed “killer” and the guard finished their banter with one another.

Sure, Zyad didn’t know who the girl in the hood was, but the thief knew when a person simply emanated “threat” and to stay far away from them as possible. However, with the way things are now, maybe a little help wouldn’t hurt from a fellow criminal, for the crowd already encircled them and blocked all the escape routes she previously planned to take.

The guard was highly livid with each word the assassin quipped back at him; and though the thief did not know her helper’s true intentions, she would do what she knew best: to adapt.

“If we’re placing bets, then I‘m putting mine on her. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure you just pissed your pants when you realized who she was,” she pointedly said to the red-faced guard.

He visibly tenses, his eyes shifting towards the thief, but his blade still trained on the assassin.

“Wow,” Zyad drawls. “I can already hear the people whispering about a failed guardsman who soiled his pants while attempting to fight a killer in a shady tavern.” She leans slightly forward, her arms loosely crossing over herself. There’s a glint of deviousness in her eye and a smile to go with it as she continues her mockery.

“You’d be the laughing-stock of this city by the morrow.”

Various, quiet snickering echoed throughout the building as the guard’s own lips twitched into a snarl while his knuckles turned white.

The thief saw the strike before he even roared his raging battle-cry. He diagonally slashed downward, the screech of metal upon metal ringing sharply when his sword was blocked by what looked like a small, gray cane that Zyad had deftly taken from her person. And the split second of momentary confusion that showed on the guard’s demeanor was more than enough for Zyad to bring her blunt weapon straight across his jaw and kick him back to the two other guards.

The thief shoots the assassin a quick, cheeky grin, while twirling the dark gray rod. “Keep up, will ya?”

(Shadow) Shadow was surprised to say the least by the stranger’s actions. They were rather quick for a civilian, nearly as quick as hers. I think her surprise was most evident from her facial expression with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

The phase passed quickly when she turned to the guards who were now poised and ready for attack. "I don't think we will be able to leave till these fellows are incapacitated." She directed to the stranger.

"Now what do ye say die now or live to fight another day?" The assassin grinned as she unsheathed her twin calcattas. Their responses were weary grunts and strengthening of their positions.

"Very well then, don't say I didn't give you a choice."

The guards charged forward but their strikes were slow and wide and easily blocked. One of the weaker guards was struck down by being impaled in the back after the assassin blocked his strike.

"Anytime you feel like it, you can join me so I can get you out of here before reinforcements arrive."

(Zyad) When the assassin killed one the guards, Zyad quickly fanned her weapon to the temples of the remaining one, promptly striking his ribs and shoulder afterwards. His distractedness had cost him severely and she watched as his body fell to join the others.

"Last time I checked," she sheaths her metal yantok, "I'm the one who had to attack first to get you to join me in the fight," she winks at the assassin. "But do lead the way. This city's streets are still unfamiliar to me."

Until the thief was far away from the people she stole, she'd have to rely on the assassin. For now.

(Shadow) "Let's not get too caught up in the details." The assassin chuckled a little. She proceeded to wipe the blood off the swords onto the guards on the floor, then sheathed them when satisfied.

"I have a horse out back. Let's leave before this gets worse."

Shadow turned to go pushing her way through the crowd to get to the stalls out back. Following behind was her animal companion, Aldmari, following overhead.

Reaching outside there was the horse tied up exactly where she left him. She untied him and mounted up. "Now you can either steal a horse and draw more attention to yourself or just ride with me."

(Zyad) Zyad was grateful to be away from the prying eyes of the other patrons in the tavern. The stir she caused here would spread whispers about her presence within the city, no longer leaving her obscure from the different factions and other thieves. It would be another problem she'd begrudgingly have to work around.

As she follows the assassin through the crowd, she taps one of her inner-coat pockets, making sure her little companion, Iko, was still snug inside. His head peeking out a moment later was all the affirmation she needed.

Once they're outside, the thief eyes the other horses in the stall, biting her lip while internally debating whether or not she should steal one on account of the assassin's quip. The owners could always replace it. But then again...

Zyad shrugs, a sigh following after it. "I think I had enough attention for tonight." She helps herself onto the horse and sits behind the assassin.

"So... Where are we going?"

(Shadow) The assassin squeezed her heels and the horse walked onto the street. It was a glamorous part of the town and the streets were dirty, thanks to the contents of the chamber pots being thrown onto them, just like the people who walked them.

"Where prying eyes don't look, somewhere the guards won't look. They call it 'Death Alley' but really it's perfectly safe, safer than that tavern even. Well, safe for a person like me. It's the perfect place to escape guards as the city folk fear it from the stories told about it."

The poor patrons evaded their path left and right, shooting glares at the hooded rider and her female companion. People were always curious, too curious, too nosey, too interested in everyone else's business.

That's one thing that annoyed Shadow- the gossip, oh people would kill for that. None of which affected her or which she cared for in the slightest.

"Where is your companion? That's mine." The assassin signaled up to the falcon. "Aldmari." The falcon cawed ((I don't know what sound it makes??)) in response to hearing its name and merely circled the sky above, the pace of the horse appearing too slow for her.

(Zyad) The pungent smell of the streets mixed with peering eyes that often looked their way instinctively made Zyad pull her collar closer to her face and her cap further down her eyes. It seems that the cold, night air wasn't the only thing causing goosebumps to crawl all over her dark skin.

But her silent snickering at the assassin's mention of such an innocuous name (for “Death Alley” was nowhere near intimidating to the thief) left her forgetting the wind's bite for just a moment. If it is indeed safe for a trained killer, then it is even better for an unsuspecting thief. However, she’ll make no mention of that to the assassin. She might need the leverage later on.

"What a beautiful bird," the thief mutters as she glances at the hawk gliding overhead. "Mine's in my coat po–”

Abruptly, she shudders.

“Never mind. He’s on my neck now.” The blue-tailed lizard continues to climb upwards until he’s resting on top of Zyad’s cap.

“Hope your companion isn't hungry 'cause Iko's a rather eye-catching lizard,” she jokes offhandedly with the barest of smiles curling at her lips.

“You know, I never did thank you properly for helping me back there. So uh… thanks. For not letting me die.”

(Shadow) Shadow glanced back to see the lizard on top of the strangers head.

“Indeed a very eye catching lizard. It's nothing really. I like to spice up my evenings every now and then. No matter who you are or what you've done I can guarantee I hate the city guards more.”

The horse’s hooves echoed through the streets as they went deeper into the suburbs. The streets seemed to have fewer and fewer people the further they went.

Finally, the assassin turned down a dark eerie street. They passed a sign post: “Death Alley”

“What is your name if you don't mind me asking?”

(Zyad) Zyad quirks a brow upon the assassin's remark on the city's guards, a silent sigh of relief escaping her lips. At the very least, Zyad now knows not to incur her helper's hatred to the point beyond what the assassin already has for the guards.

For the most of the ride, the two remained quiet, and the thief returned to counting the horse's steps that seemed to resound louder and louder the further down they went.

It was at 526 steps later that Zyad noticed the worn sign post held together by rusted nails. A perfectly placed eerie sign for a perfectly placed eerie street. All it needed now was a few dark clouds hanging overhead marked with occasional lightning and thunder to make it absolutely wonderful and inviting.

Yet despite the dreadful stillness it held, a small smile pulled at the corner of Zyad's lips, for the potential of becoming invisible once more lay greatly within Death Alley.

As the thief thought of the many things she'd do in her spare time when she is far from the city proper, the assassin interrupts her train of thought.

The thief blinks twice before relenting with a smirk.

"Zyad." A pause. "Just Zyad. Not 'petty thief,' mind you." It's not like she forgot what the assassin called her back at the tavern. "And what about you? Or should I just assume that everybody knows who I'm talking about when I mention a 'cold- blooded killer' with a big-ass hawk as her companion?"

(Shadow) “They call me Shadow. When I say they I mean everyone besides me. You may not be a petty thief, Zyad, but you are a thief all the same.”

The horse’s strides slowed and soon came to a stop outside a house. It looked better than some of the others on the street, but it still wasn't an inviting home. There was no paint on the outside which made it look dark, which was made even worse by the fact there were no oil lamps on these alleys. Least the house had all its windows unlike the others.

Shadow swung her leg up over the horse’s neck, sliding off the saddle, and dismounted. She grabbed the horse’s reigns and gave him a pat on the neck. She turned back to Zyad.

“My real name is Iolar. You can stay here for a while eat, drink and rest if you need. “

(Zyad) "You forgot to put 'fantastic' or 'amazing' before 'thief,'" and Zyad smiles a Cheshire smile, a small chuckle accompanying along with it. She leans her head against interlocked fingers and continues on,

"But 'Shadow,' huh? Wonder if that's just self-proclaimed or you earned it from your notoriety."

However, her mind wanders from the question once the horse stops in front of what she presumes to be Shadow's residence, one so carefully more intact, yet nonetheless daunting than the other houses.

She follows suit in dismounting, and was about to make a curt farewell, but is suddenly taken aback by the assassin's offer.

Her eyes narrow.

"Iolar, thank you for the assistance earlier, but I think this is where we should part ways." It's a shame such kindness is wasted on the thief.

But nonetheless, Zyad rolls her shoulders back, turns on her heel, then takes one last glance at Shadow.

"If we ever cross paths again, I'll make sure to return the favor. Thief's honor and all that."

She heads down an alleyway and disappears without a trace.

(Shadow) "Like there's much honor in thieves." The assassin whispered to herself. "I suppose a murderer’s wouldn't be that much better."

The assassin, although she wouldn't admit it, was disappointed. She was disappointed she wouldn't have company for the evening.

The assassin brings the horse around the back and takes off his tack, leaving him running free in the paddock.

Shadow made her way inside, slowly stripping off pieces of her clothes starting with her belt and boots, then her assassin blades and outer robes. She quickly got a strong fire going giving at least a source of light.

She made her way to the kitchen and grabbed a beverage out of the cupboard, hard stuff. She threw herself down on the couch and flicked off the top. The assassin sighed "Bottoms up" and continued to drink the rum.

#the assassin and the thief #of fire and water #oc rp #compiled thread #dragon companion au #for nerds: the word count is <3269 when you exclude all the extra stuff

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hopeymchope · 8 years ago

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Yuno? No, you don’t know: Part 1

(Yes, puns. Sorry?)

“My bad!”

It’s weird to me how so much of the artwork/cosplay/text posts I see of Yuno Gasai on Tumblr seem to portray/discuss a character that is at odds with the one I know from reading the manga and watching the anime so many times. Maybe I’m just getting a different interpretation somehow, but... I think I actually have a lot of evidence to back up the version I know and love.

So: HELLO, YOU! Welcome to the first in an informal series of character-study essays where I try to explain to the rest of the world and fandom why I think they’re getting Yuno Gasai totally wrong.

The first one is probably the most common mistake. It’s bolded below, and it’s the central thesis of this first post.

Yuno is the so-called “Yandere Queen,” but note that the Yandere label largely applies to any time anyone threatens Yuki’s life or safety. THIS is the primary trigger that sets her off, with the secondary trigger being “if you repeatedly and overtly try to tear her apart from Yuki by making her seem evil or dishonorable, she will eventually raise your death flag.” The first trigger can easily earn you instant death, but the second trigger takes quite a while to launch. You have to repeatedly attempt to ruin her life before she’ll decide “Well shit, guess I have to kill him/her.”

I could back the above statements up, but that’s not what this post is about. Instead, it’s about answering this question: What about the jealousy that the Yandere trope often exemplifies? Does Yuno threaten everyone who flirts with/shows interest in Yuki or vice versa?

Weirdly, a simple google search of her name would tell you “Yes, of course! Yuno tries to murder/actively murders anyone who even looks at her Yuki!”

Aaahhh. no. That’s the point of my post today.

Yuno does not attack or kill anyone who is attracted to Yuki or whom Yuki is attracted to. It’s just not true.

This is entirely false, and I can prove it using every available example of anyone hitting on Yuki or vice-versa throughout the show/manga.

More character analysis and plenty of animated gifs past the cut.

1) The first character in-panel/on-screen to fit this mold is Tsusbaki, a.k.a. Sixth. Yuno is a startled and displeased to see Tsubaki hit on Yuki in episode four, “Hand-Written,” but it isn’t until she realizes that Tsubaki is actively trying to tell Yuki that Yuno should be ditched that she starts threatening Tsubaki’s life... from a distance. And even then, when Yuno starts making threats, Yuki is like “Jesus Yuno, chill out” and her response is basically to shrug and be like “Fine, okay. But I’m watching you, Sixth.” It barely takes any effort from Yuki to make her just kind of shrug her own concerns off!

In fact, when does Yuno finally flip out on and attack Tsubaki? After Tsubaki reveals her entire plan like a damn Bond villain in episode five, “Voice Memo,” wherein Tsubaki exposes that she only asked them to help her and only tried to be sweet with Yuki so she could ingratiate herself and then kill them both. This naturally trips Yuno’s primary trigger (never threaten Yuki’s life), and she promptly goes medieval on Tsubaki’s ass.

Yuno SMAAAAASH!

2) The first character in continuity (though we don’t learn this story until episode 18, “Crossed Lines”) to fit this mold is Moe Wakaba. This takes place prior to Yuki and Yuno really having much of a relationship, but after the infamous “promise” that made Yuno view him as her only hope of escape from a miserable life. In the flashback ep, we learn about how, when Yuki wants to tell Moe Wakaba how much he likes her, Yuno dresses up in the (iconic!) ridiculous pink bunny suit. Then, while disguised as this unnerving mascot, does her best to block all attempts for Yuki to give over his love letter or for the pair to hold hands.

“Denied!”

In the end, however, Yuki prevails and delivers his admission of feelings to Moe. Despite this, Yuno leaves Wakaba unharmed and even lets her keep the love letter! Yuno just goes home and acts dejected about the experience but ultimately relieved that Wakaba appeared uninterested in return from what she could see.

3) Aru Akise is a big one for many fans. The slash addicts love this guy. He is, of course, the smooth gay detective boy who thinks Yuki is a hottie. The way he initially hits on Yuki in front of everyone doesn’t even earn a reaction from Yuno at all (although later on, she does call Aru a “perv” for immediately caressing Yuki’s face upon their first meeting).

Things move fast in the two-parter where Akise is introduced (episodes 8 and 9). Akise tries to rescue Yuki by bluffing and doing a 50/50 gamble; when Yuno realizes that he’s lyiing, she tackles him and tries to stab him for... what? Is it because of his interest in Yuki? No, she specifically tells him it’s because he was gambling with Yuki’s life. However, when he deflects her attack, she backs down. And when he tries to convince Yuno that he’s there to help by information her that he genuinely cares about protecting Yuki because his feelings for Yuki, are, in fact, lovey-dovey; and Yuno’s only reaction is a befuddled “What? Hold on a minute!” And that’s it.

In fact, it gets better! A couple of days later we see her greet this smooth gay sleuth politely and with open arms when he breaks into her goddamn house in episode 10, “Family Plan.” After all, Yuki vouches for him and he did set her and Yuki up on a pretty sweet date, so she is totally cool with him now in spite of his feelings for Yuki AND his B&E crime! THAT’S HOW LITTLE SHE CARES ABOUT HIS FEELINGS FOR YUKI. (Sadly, this would be the pinnacle of their friendship for other reasons; please refer to the second trigger for more information.)

And oh yeah, I’ve got more.

In the infamous episode 22, when Yuno and Yuki go to talk to Aru and Yuno is fully anticipating a betrayal from the guy after her unfortunate run-in with him in the prior episode... she doesn’t even try to kill him! She actively tries to keep him alive, which is pretty damn shocking in the situation. First she goes after him by stabbing him in the appendix region (the same area that she will later stab herself in this very same episode, noting that she purposefully aimed for a non-serious wound). The second time she attacks, she uses a stungun.

“High-speed stunneeerrr-aw crap.”

Non-lethal attacks only for the entire first round of someone that’s been trying to ruin her relationship with Yuki for the past eight or nine episodes, holy shit. I just realized this one, myself! Of course, when Aru lays out his entire plan to turn Yuki against her and then see her dead, ALL BETS ARE OFF.

4) Should I even mention Ai, who openly speaks of Yuki’s cuteness and how she likes flirting with him when she pops up in episode 15, “Dual Cell Phones”? No reaction from Yuno to any of that.

My point is that... despite all the artwork and photo collages of cosplay that portray Yuno as someone who will kill any man or woman that goes after her man, there’s shockingly little evidence to back this up.

I mean, come on. Yuno herself doesn’t even understand this widespread belief.

“Huh... yeah... no, I don’t get it.”

What evidence IS there to support the idea that Yuno would attack anyone who threatens her relationship with Yuki? Is there any?

Not a ton, but let’s look at the flip side.

1) She does, in fact, look pretty pissed whenever someone else is either interested in Yuki or vice-versa. She looks particularly cheesed off whenever it’s Yuki showing the interest rather than the other way around. I mean... she doesn’t necessarily act on this rage of hers, but her facial expressions sure seem serious even if she makes no effort to back them up.

"Her name is Moe?! How unbelievably trite!”

2) Yuno is shown to get a rage-induced adrenaline rush whenever someone else kisses Yuki. The thing is, on the only two times that this ever happens, Yuno has already decided to kill the person who enrages her because they previously tripped one of the two triggers I noted at the start; the kiss is beside the point, because she wanted to kill those people regardless of any lip-locks.

3) The biggest moment to support this notion comes when she puts her knife to Hinata’s throat towards the end of “Blocking Calls” (episode 9).

“Lemme borrow your neck for a second.”

Yuno and Yuki argue earlier in the episode about Yuki’s insistence that he can still be friends with Hinata, and Yuno’s counterpoint that, well, she did try to kill you almost all night. Yuno does threaten Hinata with her knife and even openly says that “If you start to like this girl, where does that leave me? So I’ve gotta kill her.” However, this is the only time she ever acts like this, and I think Yuki’s willingness to forgive Hinata’s attempt to kill him is probably a big reason she freaks out. To say nothing of the fact that Hinata tripped trigger #1.

Okay, that’s enough of this. My point is pretty obvious: With the exception of her speech about having to kill Hinata, there’s really nothing that actively supports the idea that Yuno will kill or maim anyone who looks at the object of her affection. That’s just not in the character, even though loads and loads of photo collages, cosplay pieces, and fan art seem to think otherwise for some reason.

I kind of suspect that many of these folks are fans of the “Yandere” concept more than Yuno Gasai herself, who doesn’t actually adhere to every single tenet of the trope.

#yuno gasai #future diary #the future diary #mirai nikki #character analysis #yuno gasai character analysis

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arriyire · 8 years ago

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Learn to Fly - A Fairy Tail Fic Ch. 4

Summary: The world is split into two realms - the mortal and the spirit. In this world, demons attack humans and the winged protect them. When Levy gets shoved headfirst into the spirit realm, she will have to adjust her whole way of living and learn to deal with a moody dragon winged Gajeel. AU vaguely based on the manga plot.

Rated: T

Chapter 4

"Ya sure Lil?" Gajeel grumbled; he wasn't often he doubted his cat but this just seemed like another dead end.

They had been here a week. A whole freaking week and nothing to show for it! If it hadn't of been for the dozens of demons prowling the place Gajeel would have lost it days ago. The respite of beating the vast majority of demons that crossed is path half to death, (he couldn't wipe them all out or Jose might get suspicious), wasn't nearly enough to keep the dragon from getting restless. Luckily for them Lilly was far more patient and an expert at keeping Gajeel on task, even with his constant reminders that he was 'fucking bored'.

Either way, they had been practically clueless in finding the 'key' Jose was so desperate to find. After a proper mission briefing Jose had told Gajeel that the key was actually a code on the ancient gateway which, when solved, would grant them access. If you believe the history books it was created by the 'angel winged one' who wiped out most of the demons in the first place. From what Gajeel had heard the guy was a genius, a great tactician who led the winged against the demons bringing about the peace they had today. That also meant the key to the seal was someone who could break the code placed by this guy to open the gateway and unleash all kinds of demonic shit – as Gajeel eloquently put it.

Fortunately for Gajeel, Jose was rather loose-lipped when he was in a good mood. He had told him all about his little spy team which had already determined no existing winged could crack the door; at least not willingly – given the constant battle of good vs. evil and that. So they were searching the mortal world for a human who could. After all, it was much easier to capture human than a fully-fledged winged soul. Of course no human could interact with the spirit realm so would have to be 'brought over'. Aka murder a poor sucker who might have the right skills for the job and a strong enough soul to form wings. It sure as hell wasn't an exact science, it was basically a crapshoot. They likely killed anyone who could fit the bill, then they hauled them off to Jose if they 'lived' or consumed them if they didn't.

Gajeel eyes hardened, he folded his wings which offered some shielding from the cold as he tried to forget the red in his eyes or his dark scales which were almost black. He was so close to being one of them, yet another killing machine. Gajeel allowed his mind to wonder back to the years when murder was just the way of his world. They'd tell him to go 'recruit' new demons; he was more than happy to comply even if most of his targets didn’t survive to become demons – they just became fuel for his power and he became a stronger weapon for Jose. It was safe to say that he was good at it and through his reputation, many people knew not to fuck around with Black Steal ‘Kurogane’ Gajeel – he was basically a rock star of the demon world.

"Based on the information at our disposal, I'd say she's worth keeping an eye on." The cat replied; breaking Gajeel out of his darkening thoughts and back to where he was now.

When Gajeel had gotten back from his meeting with Jose, he told Lilly everything, excluding a few details about the plan. Gajeel elected to say nothing about how he got the information, choosing to let the Exceed make his own assumptions. Just in case the worst should happen (his cat ain't taking the rap for his fuck-up). Using the information provided, Lilly had promptly narrowed their search criteria based on whatever facts they could gather.

They would need someone intelligent, probably an academic or a teacher. Also they would need to be strong; perhaps not physically, but strong enough to form wings when they die. Fortunately for them, demons had a sixth sense for that kind of thing - follow the demons find the key. Still, going on that alone hadn't really helped; fortunately Makarov had enlisted help.

The master had also decided to tell a select few of the guild members about the demons (but not Gajeel's role as a double agent) in order to aid Gajeel on his task. Natsu and his team had been sent to protect people they suspected of being targets and Cana had been busy using her magic to derive anything about the key or the target’s location.

The legendary drunkard had beautiful long butterfly wings, with swallowtail ends and covered in a colourful pattern which was mimicked on the back of her tarot cards. Said cards had been used to pinpoint the location of 'Jose's strongest desire' as Cana had put it. That had led them to the library east of Magnolia (well within Jose's current search radius, both a good and bad sign). Further delving into the divination arts Cana had been able to find one other clue; the colour blue.

Gajeel grumbled again to himself, it wasn't exactly the ground breaking hint they needed. Blue could mean anything! The guy they were after could have blue boxers for all they knew! Gajeel looked back towards the block of flats they were scoping out.

"I didn't think it would be actually literal..." Gajeel grumbled. This girl stood out like a sore thumb, it was a true wonder that she hadn't been found yet. Then again… "You realise this short-stack just dropped a bookshelf on her head right? I wouldn't call that a smart move…" Gajeel snickered

Lilly smirked back – he had a point. "Look through her window though" The Exceed replied.

"I can't! Damn woman has built a book fort – if I didn't know any better I'd say she's part dragon with that level of hoarding! Gihihi" Gajeel nearly broke into full laughter at the thought of a book dragon, made out of paper and everything.

"My point exactly, you can’t have that many books and not have some level of respectable intellect. I think it's a safe bet to say she's a potential target – even you can't deny the magic potential coming off her soul" Gajeel refocused, the cat was right (damn cat was always right.) So now they had tracked down one blue haired bookworm. The problem now was what next?

"So what? We gotta babysit her ass? Make sure she doesn't kick the bucket for the next 70 years?" Gajeel knew this girl wasn't going to be safe for much longer; he had seen the demons following her disappear into the night. She was going to be swarmed by every demon and its damned brother seeking fame and favour from the 'Great Jose'.

"I would hope not" Lilly gently chuckled at his clearly upset partner; the idea of protecting this woman for years also wasn’t his idea of a good time. "We should report back to the guild and get some kind of permanent protection put in place for her and the others we've found. Perhaps Freed's runes could be used?"

Gajeel stared intently at the apartment block where the shortest woman he'd ever laid eyes on had happily entered. No concerns, just living her life like everyone else. With a grunt he stood and stretched his wings. "Go now then; I ain't looking after a shrimp for longer than needed" Gajeel jumped to the roof of the apartment block and made himself comfortable on a nearby wall. He had no doubt that a swarm of demons would be on the way soon; least he might get that workout his muscles were craving.

The Exceed gave an amused sigh and began to head towards the guild "Try not to get yourself killed" he yelled back as he picked up speed.

"Shaddup and go ya damn cat!" Gajeel yelled in response, placing his hands behind his head he allowed his eye's to close while his ears and nose remained on high alert – nothing is getting past this dragon.

Cana stared at the cards in disbelief; she knew the cards didn't lie. That didn't stop her from repeating the reading three more times.

"Interesting…" She mumbled to herself

"What's got you in deep thought?” Macao made his way to his favourite drinking buddy still staring at the cards. His wings flickered lightly as the purple fire they contained wavered. He sat down nearby, causally checking out Cana’s drinking barrel. “Your barrel is still full!”

"Just a job for the master; helping Gajeel find something..." She mentioned absentmindedly, she reached down and picked up one of the cards.

"Oh? What did ol’ metal face lose?" Macao was vaguely interested now; new gossip was always welcome in the guild.

"I need to talk to Mira!" Cana was gone before Macao could blink; he looked at the card Cana was holding and got even more confused when he saw 'The Lovers'.

Full fic here - I own nothing except a vague plot, feel free to review/ask/be inspired and share with me anything you find :)

#chapter 4 #fairytail #fairy tail #Gajeel Redfox #Levy McGarden #gajevy #gajeel #levy #Learn to Fly #winged #wingedau #winged!au #arryire #arriyire

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blyanten · 8 years ago

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THE DUCK AVENGER: #49-50 IF...

This issue opens a dark night where, once AGAIN, an alarm is going off in Ducklair Tower. Even the High Priest in Dhasam-Bul says it. Once again. But this time, while Everett is shocked (again), he decides it’s not important.

This is because he’s up to something. Later, while lighting candles, Everett ponders the great threat that he, personally, is responsible for. Which is another «again?» moment. But we do learn that his dedication to science and voluntary exile to Dhasam-Bul was a way of avoiding the responsibility.

However, during his stay as Dhasam-Bul he learned of a great secret that can alter reality. As Everett is walking down a set of stairs and setting of alarms during this internal monologue, we can only assume that he’s gonna use that. However, setting of the alarm bell, a literal one, alerts the High Priest.

The secret turns out to be The Book of Destiny. Not very creative, but what you see is what you get. Everything that’s happens is somewhere in this tiny book. All of world history. In that. The only reasonable thing is that it shows you what you want to see.

I always want to know who makes those things.

Anyhow, what Everett wants to do is to alter a few events and indulge his need to know what would have happened if it went differently.

... this is cheating.

We start of with #1 Shadows on Venus, where Angus Fangus is kidnapped by Evronians and is promptly rescued by the Avenger and Xadhoom.

Then Everett throws a wrench into the event.

Alternate timeline 1 (Shadows on Venus).

Angus now fails to get into Ducklair Tower and is instead kidnapped outside, and therefore also outside One’s sensor range. Rather than a kidnapping attempt, One registers a minor failure with the security cameras.

And so Angus is left in the hands of the Evronians. Everett refers to this as a «small change», which might be fair on the grand scale, but come on, you’re playing with lives here.

Sometime later in that timeline, the Avenger complains that Agnus going missing has only brought him headaches. One disagrees, claiming that there have been positive aspects.

And this is where it gets interesting, because Angus not being there allowed One and the Avenger to intercept the farmer Russel (#6 Spores), who had Evronian spores growing in his fields, suggesting that that mess was sorted out earlier. It also leads them to the desert military camp like it originally did.

This time, however, the Avenger walks up to the front door, rather than being caught spying, and basically accuses Colonel Westcock of treason to planet Earth. He utterly unimpressed by the big men with guns, and when Westcock tries to have him arrested we learn why.

The Avenger at the gates is a hologram, the real one has already gotten into the giant robot, and it appears that One’s side of things have gone basically the same as they originally did, because he’s inside the system.

Making enemies and allies at the same time!

The Avenger starts burning the spores, while Westcock has a ragestroke, activating Defense Code Sigma-Zero Sigma Red.

And this guy shows up.

Why the hotpants?

The Avenger quickly realizes the new guy isn’t from Earth because he doesn’t crack stupid jokes. Wisecube, watching the fight is pissed, as he never authorized Westcock to bring in aliens to help with defense and demands a phone.

Meanwhile, the Avenger is in trouble, as his opponent gets stronger the more he gets hit. The Avenger does manage to get in a blow, knocking the opponent’s mask off.

The worst nighmare of anyone who knows Angus Fangus.

It’s Angus. Or, something like Angus. Angus-thing takes a moment to explain that Zoster’s experiments on Angus opened a whole new world for the Evronians, allowing them to create new kind of Evronian super-soldier.

He’s the first of many.

The art in this issue is great, by the way. So I mean it in the best way possible when I say "Gross”.

Westcock finally picks up on the fact that he’s been played and orders everyone to attack. The lack of talking during this fight gives it an air of seriousness that is often missing, mostly likely to show that this is bad. And it is. Unlike normal Evronians, the Angus-things gets stronger during the fight and there’s an entire field of them.

Repeating myself here, but the decsion to have no one talking: Great.

But then the Avenger tells everyone to stand down. He’s figured it out, the Angus-things draw strength from the negative emotions of the people they’re fighting. This plays right into Angus’s talent for pissing people off, and the Avenger thinks that, well, it’s time to let go of the rage and go to your happy place.

Westcock grumbles, but decides the Avenger is the one who’s showed good sense unlike a lot of bigwigs, and goes along with it.

Looking at those smiles, I am okay with not knowing what their happy places are.

The soldiers turn out to be shockingly good at focusing on the good memories considering that they were just in a firefight, and the Angus-things slowly collapse into nothing.

And then everyone is happy because they won, and the Evronians are beaten. To make things even better, the changes in this incident causes the Evronian delegation that Earth was negotiating with at this point in time to be arrested and sent back home with the message that Earth now knows they’re enemies. If they come back, the satellite missile defense systems will give them a warm, and presumably short, welcome.

It’s like they’re throwing acid at them.

Everett, however, is unimpressed. As far as he’s concerned, this scenario only makes things worse for him. He’s also forced to grab the book and go somewhere else, as the senior monks have come looking for the intruder.

So sneaky.

While on the move, we learn that whatever Everett is planning requires Angus to be on Earth. So he changes his focus to a different event, one he was personally involved in.

This time, the alteration Everett makes is stopping himself from going to help the Avenger and One stopping Two (#2 Two).

Alternate timeline 2 (Two).

This one opens right at the beginning of the issue, with the Avenger in the virtual reality bubble he’d asked One to construct. This time, however, when One starts the disconnection program, the Avenger gets stung by a red, virtual wasp before he can leave. When he actually tries to leave, the door is slammed shut on him as an anomaly has been detected.

Something is happening.

The Avenger is trapped until the anti-virus is satisfied, and it’s going to take about 20 minutes. Which isn’t that long, but the Avenger wants out. Now. One actually tsks him, and tells him no dice, not even One can override that program.

I appreciate how insulted the Avenger’s mindless body looks here.

The Avenger gets in a dig at One, claiming that the mystery hacker has gotten into his programs, and Once basically calls him a whiner and to go make himself useful. The Avenger again says to let him out, but right after some data goes flying by a tiny frog with tentacles on its head appears. The Avenger goes back to taunting One, claiming that finding the virus was easy.

Except it’s not a virus, it’s the anti-virus and take a wild guess at who doesn’t belong in virtual reality? That’s right, it’s the Avenger.

...no, I am not going to ask why Everett felt the need to make a tentacle monster his anti-virus.

Which One finds strange, as the made sure the Avenger should have been recognized as belonging there. He’s gonna need more time to find the problem than originally expected.

The Avenger is pissed at One blocking his exit from VR again, and demands to be let out. Again. One refuses and the Avenger responds by saying he thinks the hacker has infected One.

One graciously ignores this and tells the Avenger to chill. He’s working on it.

The Avenger does not chill.

The Avenger, not dealing well with doing nothing, tries to find his own way out.

This goes poorly.

Level 1 of intruder management, and it’s already overkill.

One tells the Avenger to run through a door at the end of the corridor he’s trapped in, and the Avenger does.

On the other side of the door we find this.

Three?

One, now appearing in cyberspace, says that the impostor in the Avenger’s body was too hostile when told he couldn’t leave. And when One later detected the trace of a direct path to a protected memory location, he became even more suspicious.

The real Avenger is more annoyed at being stuck in a fishbowl and would like some details about what happened. Well, the Avenger, when in cyberspace, has personality files that can be transferred. And that’s basically what happened, someone switched out the files in the Avenger-body hanging around in cyberspace with something else.

Fake!Avenger tries to claim this is all a trap, and One agrees. Fake!Avenger walked right into it, just like One planned.

The smugness is delightful.

Fake!Avenger admits that this was clever, but he already has the Avenger’s body, so. The Avenger asks who he is, and we get this lovely image.

Of all the things in this issue, this image actually disturbs me the most.

One recognizes Two… okay…. And we get the villain rant. It’s pretty much the same as the first time.

The Avenger asks for suggestions on how to deal with this problem, but One doesn’t have one. With the way the system is set up, Two has a direct line to the Avenger’s body and will take control if he’s let out. They can do some things, leading to this nonsense.

"Who’s a good boy” is the obvious joke, but I’m gonna go with it. Who’s a good boy? Not you. Definitely not you.

But in the end, Two has the upper hand and threatens to erase the Avenger if he’s not let out.

One gives in.

The Avenger says "Stop”.

This issue got dark fast, by the way. Murder, murder, suicide doesn’t even register as out of the ordinary.

He asks One to shut down everything, all power to the computer system. This means that all three of them will die.

One gets ready, the Avenger stands strong and Two panics. He switches places with the Avenger again, muttering about how he didn’t take the spirit of sacrifice into consideration.

Your dedication to heroic poses and one-liners is an inspiration.

In the real world, the Avenger gets out of the bubble. One is impressed, the role of superhero suits the Avenger well now.

When asked, One says that Two is back in standby mode. There also one other anomaly the Avenger needs to be made aware of.

While leading Two into the trap, One tried to copy the protected memory location to examine it in peace. This process was interrupted by Two, with the unexpected result of creating a Cyber-Avenger.

Cyber-space is now safe.

And again it seems like Everett’s alterations have made things better for Earth.

Not that he’s happy, this doesn’t help him at all, it just makes the Avenger an even bigger problem. Luckily, none of these changes are permanent.

Meanwhile, the senior monks are getting serious, moving on from looking to using magic to find the book-thief. Everett blocks the spell for now, just enough to give himself one more try.

Alternate timeline 3 (Day of the Cold Sun).

Everett prevents Lyla from helping the Avenger from stopping the reactor blowing up, and a large part of Duckburg is destroyed as we were told would happen in the original… original timeline. The Raider gets the Avenger out of there, just in time, but everyone else within range of the explosion…

And Everett cuts of here, because this is obviously not helping... nah, of course not.

This is actually awful. A+ to everyone involved.

In Time Ø, Lyla has asked to be suspended, but her request has been denied as her knowledge is too valuable when it comes to stopping the timecriminal known as the Retaliator. In-universe we seem to have gotten all the was to #33 The Day That Will Come.

The Raider invades Time Ø, and Retaliator is with him. And Kronin. They must have gotten him out earlier, or prevented his arrest to being with.

How is the Avenger not the best name for someone driven by a desire for vengance? I question your life choices.

It’s the Avenger, and we learn that it wasn’t just a large part of Duckburg being destroyed, as originally stated. Instead, there’s now no one left.

Nooo, One!

Suggesting that the delay in the reactor going boom caused a bigger explosions. Slow clap for the Time Police, people. I also fail to see how that’s in any way helpful to anything, Everett.

Kronin demand the release of the prisoners, and the Time Police folds like wet tissue paper. Because 90% of them are useless.

Lyla tries to talk to the Avenger, but he won’t listen.

THIS IS NOT HELPING.

She doesn’t give up though and finally she reveals that she had made her own deal with the Raider. She was sure she’d be discovered and activated if she tried to help openly, so she would hand them over to the Time Police and in the confusion activate the othership, sending the inhabitants of Duckburg to a different dimension. Frightened, but alive.

I realize this is supposed to be a happy ending, but… One is still dead. And being an adult, well, if what we’re shown is where the Duckburgians are then they are stuck in a place where they’ve had to learn to hunt with spears, gather food, a place with no medicine… yeah, quite a lot of them are dead from diseases, injuries, most likely starvation, poisoning, etc. And that’s without the assholes who’d see this as a chance to be the big man around, by any means necessary.

So, again, NOT HELPING. Everett. Lyla.

This revelation explains why the Raider cared to rescue the Avenger and of course, causes the Avenger to turn on the Raider.

Kronin shoots Lyla to shut her up, and stops the Avenger from doing any damage. The Avenger is locked up with the Time Police, and they’re going to be forced into the cells and frozen for a very long time.

The Avenger laughs, claiming it��s because he’s noticed that sometimes things go contrary to what one would expect, giving the Time Police commander a significant look.

The commander gets the hint, demonstrating that he’s not stupid at least, and when everyone is forced into the cells they remain safe while the villains outside are frozen.

Seems a bit too easy, but okay.

They exit the cells, immediately beginning to move the villains back to their cells. The Avenger goes to Lyla, who was so damaged by Kronin’s blaster that she dies in his arms.

I hate this timeline.

Like he did with Gina, the Avenger refuses to let them reactivate Lyla. You can do that with machines, not people.

The Time Police commander goes right back to useless as he tries to have the Avenger arrested, but a release order arrives just in time for this to be avoided. Apparently, there was a deal in place to facilitate the capture of Kronin.

Normally, I’d say «Odin did it!», but we see the interior of Ducklair Tower being destroyed and there’s much damage to the upper half. So.

The Avenger goes back to his own time, to a severely damaged Ducklair Tower, the only thing still standing, and starts talking to himself.

For once, fair enough.

He couldn’t let the repair Lyla, because if they did, they’d realize that Lyla gave him something.

We can rebuild her!

The Avenger goes outside, to a monument for the people of Duckburg, and throws his Retaliator uniform into the flames.

*insert sobbing breakdown*

Everett is baffled at this turn of events. Again, the new timeline is devastating. It’s almost as if the timeline he’s living in is the best one. He’d like to try again, but he’s out of time, the monks have found the cabin he’s hiding in now.

So he sets he book on fire, destroying the future we just saw, at least admitting that that shouldn’t happen. As the cabin go up in flames along with the book, Everett leaves while everyone else tries to put out the fire.

It turns out that the book is tougher than it looks, because it’s still there and recognizable. The monks still say it’s destroyed however, but the High Priest isn’t concerned about that. He’s worried about what has been saved, showing us that a page was torn out before the book burned.

As Everett walks down the mountain, he uses the torn out page to bring Lyla back to the Avenger’s side. He also realizes that he regrets betraying the monks’s trust in him.

Well, have a medal.

I am going to get a lot of use out of this one over the next 18 issues, aren’t I?

This moment of regret is interrupted by a flower growing out of the snow, making him realize that life tends to find a way.

IT TOOK YOU ALL OF THAT TO COME UP WITH AN OLD CLICHE?!

And back in Ducklair Tower, the alarm is still going off.

This issue is a fascinating one. It’s a very nice look back at the first three issues, and it’s even nice to see how well the Avenger and One does even with these events altered. Everett calls them devastating, but, aside from the the last one, obviously, those specific events seem to have worked out better. Angus is lost, but Earth as a whole is saved earlier, Two is defeated earlier and is now in a place where One can keep an eye on him.

Now, we never see the consequences those events have on the timeline later, they could be devastating. I mean, it can’t be the first time the Evronians have met a species ready and willing to fight back and the much of the trouble with Two can just have been moved to a later point in time. But based on what we see… not bad.

Of course, Everett was talking about himself, so his view is biased. I just wanted to point out that our heroes are very good at their job.

It’s also setting up future events, which… it has the mystery of what Everett is talking about down, but I think the actual events of PK2 never quite matches what this one hints at. This suggests something… more? I guess, than the family drama we get. Maybe if PK2 hadn’t been cut short, it would have been different.

I’ll have to get back to this later.

And that’s the end of PKNA.

#PKNA #duck avenger #comic #review #sort of #for fun

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