#i have to actually use my finger to point out and count how many 0's in a row there are for anything bigger than 1000

[little-klng]

cant deal with those poll posts asking how i do a simple math problem and they start listing weird pemdas number combos with an other option. the answer every time is "on my fingers for a couple minutes, crying" and its not likely to change

[ethvn-torchio]

Dom but kind Anakin and virgin reader? Nice and slow and Anakin is equally vocal?

HHSHHSHSSHDHSHDHSDHHSDHS???? OK MISS GIRL NOW IK U TRYNA KILL ME 🥵🥵 DAMN OKAY HERE WE GO

here ya go baebee, have an Anakin x fem! reader blurb 😏 (also taglist at le bottom;0)

warnings: smut (obv), cunnilingus (oh yes bitches, we’re goin there™), p in v sex, unprotected sex, soft!dom anakin

word count: 1238 ;)

Also yay for gifs this time!!

"But you've never-...are you sure? This is totally up to you-" he starts.

"I want this, Ani. I trust you," you say softly.

Anakin kisses you gently as his hands move around you, pulling you close.

The light kiss turns into something more, and you feel his hands move down to your hips. His hands grow more forceful, gripping you tightly.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispers in a deep voice that makes you shiver. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. It feels right having him hold you. Anakin's lips move to yours, kissing you deeper. 

He fumbles with the button on your pants, and you can feel his satisfied smile against your lips when he unbuttons the top button. He impatiently undresses you, unfastening your pants and sliding them off into the cold night air. He pulls away from you, peppering kisses from your neck to your torso. He kisses lower, dangerously close to the top of your exposed thigh.

"Please," you whisper.

"Please, what?" he asks, teasingly.

"Could you- I-" you struggle to get your meaning across. Thankfully, it seems as if he knows what you mean. He hooks his fingers in your underwear, sliding it off of you.

His finger circles your entrance, sliding a finger in with ease. “This okay?”

You weren’t a stranger to the sensation of being fingered - you had done it to yourself many times over the years. You were anxious to take it further. “Y-yes. More, please.” you keen.

"You're soaked," he mutters. "All because of me, hmm?" 

"I….I need you to-" you trail off as he curls his finger. 

"What was that, again? You didn't finish your sentence," he smiles wryly.

"M-more, please...I need more," you beg.

"More what?"

He wanted you to say it. You whine in frustration. "I...Maker, more fingers? O-or…" you trail off.

He slides a second finger in easily; curling and pumping them just right. "Or what? Go on, finish your sentence, Angel." He chuckles.

You blank on words for a solid moment there. "...I- you can read minds, I can't describe-!" you arch your back, squeezing your eyes shut as he hits your G-spot.

Anakin says nothing in reply. You can hear him moving, and when you open your eyes you see him between your legs. 

You automatically part your legs for him more to allow him better access.

"So beautiful," he mutters, his voice becoming impossibly low. He presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, kissing the other one next, taking his time.

Finally, he presses a kiss directly on your clit. Your breath hitches.

He drags his tongue along your folds, tasting you. 

You hiss, hands finding their way to his hair, and you accidentally pull on his hair in a silent demand for more, though he doesn’t seem to mind. 

"You taste so good," he says, quickly resuming his exploration.

He plunges his fingers inside your cunt right as he sucks on your clit, and you swear you see stars from that alone. Your back is arched impossibly high, mouth wide open in a silent scream.

You attempt to buck your hips, but nothing happens. Confused, you glance down at Anakin, who has your lower half pinned with the Force. 

Anakin Skywalker was going to be the death of you.

"I- Ani, faster, please," you babble.

You swear you hear him fucking chuckle - and you can feel the vibration. He swirls his tongue on your clit, faster and faster, electric waves of pleasure washing over you.

You clamp around his fingers, the distinct feeling of an orgasm approaching. 

Your breath comes in quickened, frantic breaths. “Ani,” you whimper.

He merely winks at you. Anakin’s fingers move faster, hitting your G-spot every time. 

He sucks on your clit once again, his mouth oh-so-hot and wet. He lightly grazes your clit with his teeth, and that action alone makes you cum, gripping at the sheets and cursing. 

He helps you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, greedily cleaning you with nothing but his tongue.

You pant as you come back to reality, so to speak. Your legs are still shaking.

“You did so good for me, Angel,” he praises. And then he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his lips.

You two begin lazily making out. At some point, he takes his pants off. 

“Are we still…?” You ask.

“That’s totally up to you, baby. Are you feeling up to it?” he asks, sincerely.

Your cheeks redden. “I really want you to…”

“To…?” he prompts.

"Ani...I need..." you trail off.

“Say it, Angel,” Anakin purrs in your ear, fingertips ghosting over your still-oversensitive clit- far too little pressure to actually mean something. “Tell me what you need,”

You ache with need, and your cheeks burn hot with heat. “I...I need you,” you breathe.

“You need my what? "I need you to use your words," Anakin teases, his blue eyes fixed on you. “What do you need?”

"I...please fuck me, Ani," you relent, most of your sense of shame long thrown out the window. "Please, I n-need you to fuck my pussy."

"Good girl," Anakin praises, and you can feel the head of his cock at your entrance.

He pauses, presumably to keep you in suspense because of course, he would, and you’re just about to open your mouth to say something when he slowly, finally, enters you. You moan at the sensation; the delicious stretch. You had expected it to hurt; instead, you feel pleasantly full.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” he whispers in your ear, nipping at your earlobe. “You s-still with me?” You distantly hear him ask.

You nod, unable to form words at the moment. 

He sets a rhythm of slow, deep thrusts. “I want to hear you, Baby. Use your words.” his voice drops to a near-growl.

You moan, your breath coming out in quick, short puffs. “Yes-!” you whine. “Anakin, yes,” 

His metal hand finds your clit, and the contrast of the cold metal on your hot, aching, oversensitive clit made you clench around him. A strangled noise escapes your lips.

“Say it again. Say my name again,” he demands, and you can feel his breath on your neck, lips occasionally peppering kisses on your shoulder and neck.

You scream his name in reply.

“Fuck. My good girl. So wet for me. You’re- you’re taking me so well,” he murmurs filthy praises in your ear, his thrusts gradually becoming erratic. 

His cool fingers circle your clit, and it doesn’t take long before you’re on the verge of orgasm for the second time today.

He moans your name as you clench around him once again, desperate for his touch.

His fingers circle your clit once again. “Y-you gonna cum again? Cum for me. Go ahead, Angel.” his fingers move at fast pace, rubbing tight circles. 

“Cum,” he says simply, and your body reacts to his command. You cry out his name, your orgasm hitting you hard and fast.

He soon follows, muttering your name, kissing you any and everywhere he can, burying himself inside you.

He rolls off of you, and you quickly snuggle up to him. “Thank you,” you sigh.

“What for?”

“That was...really good.” you blurt. “I- I mean, I really liked it. I want to do it again sometime soon.”

Anakin presses a kiss to your forehead. “Any time, Angel.”

----------

whoops, i didn’t mean to make this as long as it ended up. it was just gonna b a lil blurb and then i went “pussy eating go brr”. oopsie ;)

taglist ;p

@soveryhowvery @cr-uelsummer @haydens-moles @anakinswhore @anakin-railme @hansonveggieclub @itsmentalillness @passable-talent @missyatrocious and also motherfuckingstargirl10, but she was the one who asked so she got notified anyway.

anyway damnb i really struggled to write the scene where anakin eats pussy and it probably shows won’t lie. like ohmygod i was stuck on the pussyeating scene for like a whole ass day bc i couldn’t figure out how to describe that feeling you get when ur about to cum???? and i’m too stupid to google??

thx for reading tho ;00 rb or comment if you enjoyed ;) and don’t forget requests are open, so send em over babes <3

[pcvensies]

*.• Si vis amari.

I. The Moon.

in which 18 year old gojo satoru is left in charge of 6 year old fushiguro megumi, with the help of 17 year old nanami suki (oc).

word count: 2180

0. Prologue | II. The Sun

Suki listened from the kitchen, as the white haired boy explained the story to her brother, sat at the dining table.

The kid, Fushiguro Megumi as he had explained, waited patiently for his dinner in the living room, watching TV with fake interest, ears fixed on the conversation that was taking place in the other room.

The blonde girl poured the boiling water in the pan, hard noodles floating on it, and she turned around to the boys, lower back resting against the kitchen.

Satoru looked at her, trying to decipher her expression, while Kento simply sighed, rubbing his temples with his index fingers.

“So you killed a man, and he put his kid’s life in your hands to, what? Mentor him?”, the blonde asked, as his sister remained quiet.

Suki disconnected from their conversation, trying to process everything she had heard. The Zenin’s were not good people, that she knew. And if that kid’s father had denied them, and dirtied their name, Fushiguro wasn’t safe with them. But why put the responsibility on Gojo? Wasn’t that man meant to kill him?

She sighed softly, humming as she turned around and stirred the noodles, adding a small packet of spices on top.

Fushiguro Toji. She was sure she had heard it before, somewhere. Perhaps in class, or training with the older students? She couldn’t remember. But if his death wish had been for Gojo to protect his kid, it was to respect, right? As crazy as it was. But would the kid be actually safe? Was an eighteen year old the best option to raise a kid? Eighteen year old Gojo Satoru, of all eighteen year olds?

However, the question that mattered the most to her was why now. From what he had said, Fushiguro senior had died a year or so ago. Why take the kid now? What had been the inflexion point?

“Dinner’s ready”, she finally said.

Gojo frowned, eyes back on her. He couldn’t hear any kind of emotion through her voice. He had no idea what she was thinking, and it angered him. Suki always had had that ability, to turn it off and simply don’t feel, to hide her thoughts.

Kento got up from his chair, getting two plates, one for the kid and one for the white haired boy, and Suki walked to the living room.

“Eavesdropping is bad education, you know?”.

The kid looked at her with a plain expression, and the blonde girl sighed, waiting for him to walk to the kitchen. The kid sat next to Kento, and in front of Satoru. Suki took the plates that had been left next to the stove, and served two rations, handing one to the kid, and another to Gojo, who looked up at her with an eyebrow raised.

Nanami simply rolled her eyes, her hand on the back of his head turning it to look at the plate, a silent sign for him to just eat. She could tell he hadn't had dinner either.

Kento looked at his sister with that look, and Sue sighed softly, looking back at him with that other look. To the boys, it didn’t mean anything, but the Nanami’s were having a conversation just with their eyes.

“So…”, the girl cleared her throat, moving her eyes from her brother to Satoru, “Are you taking him to the school tonight? To sleep, I mean”.

“Not sure how our dear sensei would react to that. I’ll figure something out”, he said unimportantly, looking at the kid, “Pretty sure I can find somewhere for him to stay until I know how to tell Yaga about him”.

Satoru didn’t really want to have that talk, if he was honest. He knew what Yaga would say already, and it wasn’t something he wanted to hear. In fact, Kento had also said what he thought he would: that it was crazy, and irresponsible. But Suki, she hadn’t said anything. Her behavior around the kid was careful, with respect, but informal.

If he didn’t know her, he’d say she was angry. But it was something else, he just couldn't put his finger on it.

“He can stay here tonight. And you should too”.

He looked at the girl, then at Kento, and chuckled softly.

“You worried we’ll end up sleeping in the streets, Nanami?”.

“No. I’m worried you’ll end up dead in a ditch, and him with the Zenin’s. Plus, it’s Christmas vacation, tell Yaga you’re celebrating with us and will go around just to train”.

“I can defend myself quite right, thank you, I don’t need—”.

The sound of Suki’s punch hitting the table silenced the boy, and the blonde girl sighed softly, calmly even, closing her eyes and opening them slowly.

“I wasn’t asking, Satoru”.

The white haired man clenched his fists under the table, looking at the short girl with a serious face. Kento looked at her too, eyes opened with surprise at the sudden first name usage from his sister, and her very clear (to him, at least) worry.

“Fuck off, Suki”, the blue eyed boy said, getting up, and looking at her. But his expression soon changed, and he chuckled softly. “I’m sleeping with Nanamin, ‘cause that attitude you have today? Huh-uh, no thanks”.

Suki’s face changed at his words too, a smile cracking up as she rolled her eyes, and picked up the now empty plates, as her brother turned to the white haired boy.

“Excuse me, no, the hell you’re not. You get the carpet, and because I feel bad enough for you already”.

“Nanamin… don’t argue with me, not in front of the kid…”, the boy replied, pouting at Kento, and the blonde rolled his eyes, a small smile plastered on his face.

Suki left both plates at the sink, and told the two boys to go look for a movie to watch. They both looked at her, then at each other, then at the kid, and nodded understandably.

Megumi was annoyed. He didn’t want to be there, he wanted to go away and get as far away from that white haired tall baby as he could. Gojo was loud, extra, and incredibly annoying. He didn’t need Gojo to take care of him, nor whoever Yaga was. But something about the twins, Suki and Kento, made Gojo a little less annoying.

They didn’t look at him with utter admiration like the people on the streets did, girls and boys turning their heads his way and Megumi’s. They spoke to him like he was just another person, ignoring any kind of honorifics or respect, even when they seemed to be younger.

“He can be really stubborn when he wants, right?”.

The girl spoke, and Megumi looked her way, his blank expression never changing.

“Yeah”.

“Not much of a talker, huh? It’s okay, silence is okay with me”.

She gave him a sweet smile, and started cleaning the dishes, her back to the kid. She hummed a little song as she did, and Megumi felt his eyes start to get heavy, some silence finally forming around him. He hadn’t realised how tired he actually was until now, arms warm and stomach full.

He looked around slowly, eyes landing on various pictures displayed on the cabinets and bookshelves. Lots of pictures of the twins, from when they were his age, to their tenth birthday, to them now. A picture in which he could recognise Gojo, with another two girls and another boy seemed to be hidden behind a flowerpot.

“Do you want to go to sleep now, or later, Fushiguro?”, the girl asked, and he shrugged, trying to hold a yawn, “You can have my bed, and I’ll take the couch. Kento will lend you some old pyjamas to sleep on, too, and you can go to sleep or come watch the movie with us, okay? Your choice”.

She seemed like a genuinely cool person to the kid. She didn’t let Gojo’s arrogance put her down, nor did she allow him to let it get over his head. She spoke surely, without any shame to take charge of the situation.

But she wasn’t scary, or rude. Not even cold. At the same time, she seemed sweet. Allowing him to choose for himself, lending her room, and not forcing him to talk. There wasn’t a trace of condescension on her voice as she spoke to him neither, having a conversation like she would with anyone her age.

When she finished the dishes, she picked a glass from a cabinet, and filled it with water.

Megumi followed her around the apartment, his school backpack hanging from his shoulder, the sweater she had given him now folded in his arms.

Suki’s room wasn’t very big, but it was cool. She had Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling all over the room, and a long desk, between the window and the bed, with lots of books and a computer. There were also many little plants around, and a big mirror next to the window, framed with many polaroids of her and her brother and friends, but also of plants, street animals, and sunsets.

One of the walls was the color of wine, as were the bed sheets and the windowsill, and the other three were covered in lots of posters and more pictures. There were even some plants and vinyls hanging from the walls.

“Okay, wait here”, she interrupted the silence, as Megumi continued to explore with his eyes.

The closet was inside the wall, white wooden doors contrasting against the dark paint, as were the bedframe and the desk.

“Here”, she said as she came back, handing him the small pyjamas, and leaving the glass of water in the nightstand, “When you’re ready, you can sleep or come with us, in the living-room, okay?”.

The dark haired kid nodded, taking the things from her hands and sitting in the corner of the bed, still looking around the walls, reading the posters.

“If you need anything, just call me, alright?”.

He nodded again, and Suki gave him a little smile, and turned around to leave the room, already regretting allowing the boys to choose the movie, when the kid finally answered:

“Thank you, Nanami-chan”.

( . . . )

“God, that was scary”, Kento complained, picking up the empty soda cans from the table as Suki turned off the TV, stretching out on the couch, as Satoru´s head rested on her shoulder, “I can’t believe he fell asleep with your yelling”.

Suki chuckled softly, shaking the man next to her as her brother walked to the kitchen to throw everything away, then went to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Gojo groaned, sitting up and yawning, and rubbed his eyes.

“You cool?”, the girl asked, and the blue eyed boy nodded, giving her a smile as he rested his head back on the couch, facing the ceiling.

“Long ass day, it’s tiring always being the coolest person in the room”.

Suki chuckled, getting up, and Satoru pouted at the sudden cold by his side. The girl walked to the bookshelf, picking up a copy of Verne’s “Journey to the Center of the Earth”, and opening it to reveal a small box of cigarettes.

The white haired boy chuckled at her, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, and Suki sent him a serious look, not wanting her brother to hear.

She walked to a glass door, moonlight coming through it and lighting up the room, and she opened it with one hand, as she lit the cigarette with the other. Gojo watched her silently, her small frame walking out to the small balcony.

Suki was a confusing person to most of the people, but she was pretty easy to read once she opened up. Satoru knew she was worried, he had finally realised what the emotion was when she sat next to him for the movie, allowing him to rest his head on her shoulder. She could tell he was tired.

“Are you okay, ‘toru?”.

Her voice hung on the room for a minute, Gojo’s heart jumping at the first name basis again. She knew he wasn’t, and she was giving him the chance to talk about it by asking directly.

But he wasn’t ready, not yet.

The boy got up from his comfortable place on the couch, and walked slowly to the balcony. Suki was sitting on the floor, legs hanging outside of the surface between the handstand’s bars. Gojo settled next to her, legs crossed and blue eyes locked on the moon, as he held his weight with his arms behind his body.

His fingertips brushed against the girl’s, and he looked down at her. The blonde girl was looking up too, but not at the moon. Her honey eyes squinted lightly, trying to distinguish the stars.

She wasn’t the biggest fan of physical touch, he knew, so he left his hand there, allowing her to make whatever next move she pleased.

Gojo smiled at the weight of her head against his shoulder, just like he had done before, acknowledging the trust Suki had on him, and her intention of supporting him.

She was like that sometimes, she never made anyone speak, or tell her what they didn’t want to word out. She simply offered her presence, and a pure, genuine understanding.

“You cool?”, asked the boy this time, eyes fixed back on the sky.

“Very. Stars look better from this angle, just that”.

n/a: does anyone want to be on the taglist for when i post ?? idek if anyone actually likes this but yeah if u wanna be tagged on updates, lemme know! <3

also anything related to this fic will be posted on #sivisamare.lulu so i can keep things organised!! check it out for suki’s fc and me making memes of my own fic hehe :)

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//general dating headcannons//

Characters: Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Akaashi Keiji

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 2K (~630 a piece)

Notes: kdhfesdkfje catch me getting carried away on Kuroo’s ope 0-0

Bokuto Koutarou

My literal husband ;-;

He’s such a sweet boyf oml hi yes, where do I order one?

Bokuto 100% dates to marry.  He’s not here for flings or anything like that, so your relationship will turn serious pretty fast.

Bo is a simp and no one can tell me otherwise, so when it comes to PDA? Oh, he’s C L I N G Y

He always wants to hold your hand or sometimes he’ll walk behind you and cling to your waist.  It’s definitely super hard for both of you to walk, but it’s adorable and makes him happy, so you’re not really going to complain.

If you hug onto his arm? He’s going to melt, especially if you trail your fingers up and down his bicep

It’s the same when the two of you are in private.  He likes to have contact with you whenever possible.  He’ll lay your head in his lap if you’re both laying on the couch or he’ll sit you in his lap and place little kisses at the base of your neck, right above the collar of your shirt.

His clothes are your clothes.  At this point, you wear his training jacket more than he does.  Sweatshirts? Flannels? Shorts?  That’s shared territory right there.

And my G O D does he love it.  He already has to buy bigger clothes because he’s got those wide shoulders, so his clothes tend to either fit you perfectly or completely swallow you, there is no in between.

If you’re thicc too? He has 100% stolen your leggings, just to see the appeal of them.  Please hide them, because oH he understands now.

He gets jealous jealous.  As in, he will place himself between you and the guy trying to talk to you and he’ll act all big and tough.  But the minute the other dude backs off?  Baby boy is back, wanting hugs.  He’ll kiss you all over your face and be really pouty, asking if you’re okay and telling you that he loves you ;-;

Bokuto hoots bye i don’t make the rules. Okay yeah i kinda do, but still.

It’s not like HOOOOOT, but like a really soft h o o and he probably kinda wiggles in his spot, real happy

Bo has N O control over how he sleeps.  He’ll always start out really normal, like you’ll be tucked into his side or something, but by the time you guys wake up? S T A R F I S H he is on his face, limbs covering the whole bed, just snoring away

When he’s away for games, he’s always on the phone with you.  Like, the guys will try to hang out or something and he’ll definitely go off to his room with a “Oh, I want to call Y/N before she goes to bed, but I’ll come by later!” 

And then he just doesn’t because he’s the one who fell asleep, not you.

Compliments the shit out of you.  You’re his hype man and he is yours.  He’s constantly telling you that you look beautiful or if you send him a selfie, he’s absolutely sending back the simp emoji, asking how he got so lucky.

He calls you ‘babe’ but usually only when he wants your attention or if he’s in another room and needs something, so expects lots of “Baaaaaaaaaaabe”s to be headed your way.

Other times?  He calls you by name.  Because there’s a million people who get called babe or sweetheart, but your name is yours, so it feels special and kinda intimate to him?  So, if he’s feeling a little extra sentimental, he’s going to bury his face in your neck and just whisper lots of quiet, “I love you, Y/N”s over and over again.

Kuroo Tetsurou

R O O S T E R H E A D A S S that I love very very much

He’s a complete dork and I know the fandom makes him to be some kind of smooth talking God I’m guilty of it too but-

He’s literally not.  He fumbles over his words so much when he’s around you.  You guys can be dating for years and he’ll still have his moments where he’s a stuttering mess in front of you.

Asking you out?  You suffered second-hand embarrassment.  His face was about as red as his jersey and the boy was so nervous, rubbing the back of his neck, refusing to look at you, but then just shyly raising his eyes to look at you and muttering,

“Do you maybe wanna go out sometime?”

INSTANTLY STARTS APOLOGIZING

“But- but only if you want, of course! Don’t feel like you have to say yes, I can take rejection!  I’m so sorry.  I probably made you really uncomfortable.  You know what?  You don’t have to answer.  I’m just going to go.”

He’s so shook when you say yes, but then immediately puts his cool guy act back on, like “psshh of course you do.”

I don’t see him being super into PDA or physical contact period?  There’s something really special about just being near each other to him.  Just accidentally bumping shoulders or brushing hands while the two of you stroll, talking about anything and everything.

Even in private, there’s not a ton of physical contact.  Maybe tangling legs together as you sit on opposite ends of the couch, but that’s really it.  He likes being in close proximity with you, but he doesn’t need to be touching you at all times.

But he’s down to cuddle if you ask.  He’ll let you lay on top of him and hide your face in his neck or his chest.  Sometimes you guys will talk, but most of the time?  Cuddle time = nap time

He doesn’t get super jealous, but he won’t hesitate to come stand behind you if some guy is trying to hit on you.  Kuroo will probably just play with your hair or make some kind of comment about how that bracelet he bought you looks really nice on you.  Just dropping subtle hints that you’re taken.

Afterwards, though, he just drops it.  It doesn’t really bother him.  He knows well enough that if you didn’t want to be with him, you would’ve broken up with him.  He just wants to be there in case someone tries to make you uncomfortable.

Gamenightgamenightgamenight

I’m talking like board games.  Hours and hours of just sitting at the kitchen table with a bunch of your guys’ friends, slowly ruining relationships, but overall having a good time.

Kuroo plays Dungeons and Dragons.  I’ve said this SO many times and no one is going to tell me otherwise.  So, if you show any interest in maybe wanting to play, or, better yet, if you already know how to play?  He’s bringing you to A L L of the future sessions.

He’s probably going to write your character into his character’s backstory, so when Dungeon Master!Kenma scolds him for playing reckless in order to protect you, Kuroo can retort with, “Well, actually, if you paid attention when I was telling my backstory, you would know- *insert long-winded backstory of how your characters know each other and how his character vowed to your character’s dying father that he would protect you etc etc*”

Kuroo is super into domestic life with you, so you guys probably moved in together as soon as possible.  As in, if you started dating in high school, you were sharing an apartment your first year of college. 

He just has a lot of fun doing little household things with you, like cooking, cleaning, or just enjoying quiet evenings together after all of the work is done for the day.

Kuroo said “I love you” first, but it took you both forever to say it, because you were both kind of new to this dating thing and you had always been told that it was a really big deal, so you didn’t want to rush that.

;-; please take care of my dorky rooster

Akaashi Keiji

Akaashi is pretty easy-going in relationships, but he’s also super romantic.

As in, he has hand-written you love letters.  He’s got really neat writing too, so that just adds to their appeal.  Akaashi probably has a wax seal that he seals all of the envelopes with? I don’t know why, but he seems like the type of guy to have one.  

You guys have a book club, just the two of you.  Oh, it’s so cute.  It started as the two of you forcing each other to read your favorite books, but then, you guys ran out of books to share?  So, once a month, you guys will go to the local bookstore and just spend a good hour or two trying to decide what book to give the other next.  

Akaashi 100% always recommends classic novels.  Things like Sense & Sensibility, Fahrenheit 451, Lord of the Flies, and Brave New World am i saying that because that’s my favorite book? more likely than you’d think.

He’s a lot more prepared for these shopping escapades that you are.  He usually knows exactly what he wants to get you.  If they don’t have it?  That’s fine.  He has a list.

You on the other hand?  You’re asking the clerks what they recommend, reading the back of every book that seems like something he might enjoy, but you usually resort to dystopian novels (Never Let Me Go, Gone, The Handmaid’s Tale, etc), because he likes analyzing the politics and seeing how they could be metaphors for today’s world.  

Damn this really turned into me just recommending books huh

After you two pick out the selections for the month, you two coffee hop.  So, each month, you try a new cafe and you will spend hours just sipping coffee and reading.

He gave you a first edition copy of the first book that you recommended to him for your anniversary one year.  Akaashi wrote you a letter, telling you how happy he was to have spent so much time with you and that he can’t wait to share more books with you and probably some really poetic stuff, because he’s a good writer, but he hid it in your favorite part, so you don’t get to read it right away.  

Okay, now that I got that out of my head.  Like Kuroo, Akaashi isn’t super into PDA, but he does like to hold your hand.  He also always offers to carry your bag.

Akaashi likes to fidget with your fingers.  The two of you could be out or just hanging at home, but he’s playing with your fingers.  It’s just a habit for him.  He used to fidget with his own hands a lot, but now he’s got yours, so not only does he get to keep his hands busy, he gets to hold onto your hand

He doesn’t get jealous.  Or at least, you don’t think so.  He’s really good at hiding any sense of envy he might feel.  He doesn’t say anything.  He knows that you can take care of yourself, but he’s likely right there next to you, possibly playing with your fingers behind your back.

It’s a really chill relationship dynamic for the most part.  You two could be dating for a week and it’ll already feel like you’ve been together for years.  You guys just vibe really well, so there was never that awkward stage at the beginning of the relationship.  Likely because the two of you started off as friends, so slipping into dating wasn’t a very hard transition.

Akaashi isn’t one to say “I love you” a lot, but he really does love you more than anything.  He likes to take care of you and he tries to give you the best life possible and that says I love you more than any words ever could.

[chaser-mw]

Game changer

(Based off of BTS Run where they play the pc games)

Paring: taehyung/reader

Genre: crack, fluff

Au: best friend to lovers

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing, bad bitch energy, friendly teasing, sexual tension

You all headed to the set where the boys were filming bts run, they had invited you because you’re their best friend but also because they needed an eighth person so the teams were equal. You arrive and you can tell obviously Jungkook and Taehyung are excited as they would spend hours on end playing over watch or pubg. You had tried to play overwatch with the help of Jungkook but nearly threw a fit after he had tricked you into killing one of your own team members. Now pubg was a different story, you had been playing pubg since you were fifteen after being influenced by the boys at school. Playing pubg was like breathing to you.

You play the first few games of the episode with a clumsy hand, usually placing moderately in fourth or fifth. Jungkook and taehyung play each game with little to no struggle, even if the had never played the game, filling in the first and second spot each round. “Hey Jungkook, wanna take it easy on us for a bit?” you complain after he had won again for the nth time. “Then I would lose and that’s no fun.” he chuckles with a smirk hanging on his lips. Everyone else just quietly grumbles except for taehyung, knowing he’s also doing a lot better than everyone else.

Once you finish the first episode you get a little 5 minute break to have some snacks and chat for a little bit. You hang near hobi and the snacks not really saying anything while overhearing jimin, Namjoon, and yoongi complain about how it’s not fair that Jungkook and taehyung are allowed to play. You laugh in your head thinking about how pretty much every game they came in third last to dead last. You remember that pubg is the last game to play and you get excited to yourself as you plan on busting taehyungs ego by showing him who the REAL boss at pubg is. “Okay, everyone back together. Cameras on in 60 seconds!” You hear one of the staff yell, you all head back to stand in a line in front of the computers to pick teams. One to the camera crew staff members counts down from 3 to 0 on his fingers to let you and the boys know the cameras are rolling.

“Okay the next game we’re gonna play is pubg, here we will split you into two teams and you will fight against each other. There will be 3 rounds and the team that wins the most will win a prize of a 3 hundred thousand won gift card!” You see everyone’s faces light up at the thought of the prize even though you are standing amongst literal millionaires. “Each team will have a captain, team 1’s captain is Taehyung since he plays the most and team 2’s captain will be y/n since she asked.” Taehyung gives you a weird look as the staff member mentions that you’re the second captain. See about six months ago taehyung found out you play pubg by seeing it on your phone, you both thought it would be fun to FaceTime and play duos together when you’re not at their dorm. He hadn’t asked how long you’d been playing so one night when you were playing duos you decided to play it up as if you were a newbie. You have always been told you’re not a good actress or liar but somehow he fell for it, you had unexpectedly kept this act up for a bit longer than you had expected. You couldn’t help it, he looked and sounded so cute when he would give you little tips and you couldn’t help but adore how soft he would get for you and how he would always reassure you it was okay when you died or needed supplies. Saying things like “it’s okay, I got you covered.” Or “don’t worry, I’m right beside you and I have more bullets just in case you need some.” with his sleep filled voice. You spent many nights internally yelling at yourself for almost falling asleep to his voice or imagining his smile while he gently speaks to you.

So when he heard you were the other captain, he couldn’t help but look at you like you have 3 heads while also trying to contain his laughter. You played rock, paper, scissors to see who would pick their teammate first and you won. ‘Off to a good start’ you thought to yourself as you now had the chance to pick Jungkook knowing that’s the reason taehyung looked so annoyed losing at rock, paper, scissors.

You face your whole body towards taehyung with serious eyes and a slightly cocky smirk. “Jungkook” you say looking him dead in the eyes, Jungkook quickly moves to stand behind you with a giddy smile on his face. You can tell he’s excited for this game too. “Jin-hyung” taehyung says while still staring into your eyes trying to figure out what’s going on with you and why you look like you just stole his girlfriend. “Yoongi” Everyone is slightly taken by surprise as he has been in second last place every game but he moves to your side regardless. Your smirk doesn’t falter as you continuously stare at taehyung trying not to get distracted by his unbelievably handsome face. It takes more effort than you accounted for.

“Hobi-hyung” he says with cocky tone but you know by the way his eyes look at you that he is utterly clueless to what’s about to happen and he feels scared that he may be the only hope for his team. J-hope isn’t the best but is very persistent, you somewhat regret not choosing him as you know he will do everything taehyung says and do it exceptionally well. Taking him down will be a challenge but you’ve played long enough and known these boys long enough to know exactly how to take everyone down, including your own team.

“Jimin” you name your last teammate and revel in the fact that you won rock, paper, scissors. You don’t mean to offend anyone but can’t help but be at least a little grateful Namjoon isn’t on your team. He is an amazing human being and truly a breath of fresh air but he has probably never even heard of pubg never mind actually played it, though neither has jimin.

You internally thank your clever mind for asking about future Bts run episodes a few months back. You had heard of speculations of an episode like this and immediately backed it up saying it was their best idea yet. On that same day you set up a whole plan on how to secretly surprise and destroy taehyung at pubg. When you say it out loud it sounds silly but it will be worth more than gold just to see his face, if your plan works.

“Each team gets a 1 minute huddle to discuss, a timer will go off at one minute and you will return to the computers sitting with your team.” Your team makes a huddle and Yoongi and jimin look slightly worried no doubt thinking they’ll be killed first. “Okay, Jungkook I want you by my side always, I know games like these are your forté so I’m not worried about you. Yoongi, as you have probably never played this they will be on your ass like crazy. Let’s keep it that way, taehyung will most likely send Namjoon and hobi after easy kills like you and jimin so I want you to keep their attention on you. Jimin, you are the final puzzle piece. I need to you to do the same as Yoongi while also complimenting and flustering taehyung as much as possible. But not too much to where he notices, just enough to make him blush.” The timer goes off seconds after you finish your little speech, not forgetting to mention to leave taehyung for you and you can’t help but feel proud of your plan. Yoongi being the old soul he is, is 110% being labeled an ‘easy target’ by the other team along with jimin. Putting jimin in blush control has to be the idea you smiled the most about, you know how easily taehyung can be flustered and when he is he can’t focus. And that’s exactly how you plan to get him.

Once everyone has settled into their seats, seconds before the game starts you give everyone a once over making sure they remember their duties. They confirm and you put your game face on, you don’t think you’ve ever taken a game so seriously. It’s like you can’t focus on anything but taehyung and you find that this isn’t the first time that’s happened.

They follow you the whole way til you drop at your location and just as you thought you already hear footsteps heading towards Yoongi. “Yoongi, do you have any weapons?” “No.” He responds meekly with a hint of fear and you think it’s more of fear of letting you down but it’s only making you happier. The closer Yoongi is to you the closer a member of the other team is and the easier you can slowly take them out one at a time. “No rifle, siper, hangun??” You quickly ask fearing Yoongi will be killed quicker than you expected. “No.” This time it’s definitely fear. You can see that the footsteps are close and it seems that Yoongi is just running around him. Jungkook is hiding on the roof one of the buildings, you told him to tap your hand or look at you when he sees someone from the other team, you hear Namjoon mumbling something to himself and that’s when you feel it. Jungkook ever so slightly taps the side of your hand, gunshots fire and Namjoon goes silent. The amount of players in the corner goes from 8 to 7 and you allow a smirk to creep onto your face.

“Headshot” Jungkook says just loud enough for you to hear. “Nice” you give him a light high five when you catch sight of the next poor soul. “Taehyung I wanna find youuuuu.” Jimin whines from your side or the table. You can’t help but chuckle a little as it actually does slightly fluster taehyung. As jimin goes running off to find taehyung of course, not really part of the plan as he will most likely get himself killed but that’s not the issue right now. The issue right now is Jin heading your way with a gun pointed right at you, thankfully you were able to pick up a military helmet and bulletproof vest from the drop box so even after the few shots Jin takes at you, you still have full health. You hide in the building and wait for Jin to move closer. Jungkook seems to be on the move for hobi but still staying relatively close enough to help you if you need it.

You park yourself right at the top of the stairs where you can get Jin first, and seeing as he is wearing a police bulletproof vest, killing him should be quick and easy.And it is. Jin groans from the other side or the room “Yah I thought you loved me so much you would die without me!” You laugh at that but continue on with Jungkook. Jimin got himself killed by hobi a little while before you killed Jin and you and Kook head that way assuming taehyung is over there seeing as Jimin headed that way. You creep along in a crouch hoping for the best coverage from the bushes but you hear a zip and about eight more bullets fly right past you into Jungkook causing him to die.

At this point you slightly get worried but decide not to question you’re abilities, you know how good you are with a good scope and with your 6x scope you should be able to spot hobi like a sore thumb. And you do, now it’s just you and taehyung. “Hm it’s just you and me now, wanna surrender?” “Mhmm I guess it is, now why would I do that?” You question. “Oh well I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings, I know you’ve only been playing for a little while but sometimes you have to lose-“ taehyungs eyes go as wide as saucers. While he was talking you found his location easily as he didn’t move his character. “Hm? What was that?” You chuckle loudly as he is still left speechless, Jungkook throws another high five your way with a lot more weight to it this time and a hard slap is heard throughout the room, followed by two more. You couldn’t have asked for things to go anymore perfect. You all stand up and you give taehyung a hug out of sympathy and he looks like he’s a kid learning the abc’s for the first time.“H-how?? I can’t believe that just happened??!” “I wanted to play a little joke on you, I would say it worked.”You can’t help but say it with the biggest smile on your face. ‘He looks adorable’ is all you can think right now and his pout makes you feel a little bad for lying to him you have to admit it, his reaction was totally worth it.

You and the guys finish up the the filming and grab your things to go home. As you pack into the car with Yoongi, taehyung, Jin and hobi, you notice the slight pout on taehyungs face is still there and decide to sit beside him. “Hey are you okay? I didn’t think it’d hurt your ego this bad?” You attempt to comfort him but it seems that it only makes the slight blush on his cheeks worse. He chuckles “Nah, I’m not that butthurt I’m just sad that you didn’t tell me, we could’ve been the iconic killer pubg duo! IKPD, what about that that doesn’t sound absolutely sick!” You all let out a hearty laugh at that. “That does sound dope, well now we can be the IKPD.” He smiles at that. “So how did you get so good? When we were playing you needed help with basically everything, I think I have less kills then the amount of times I have saved you.”

You tell him the whole story along with the plan and he looks more interested in staring at you than actually listening. He can’t help it though, he is already so enamoured with you. The late FaceTime calls, playing pubg and sometimes just the multiple hour late night talks really created a place for you in his heart. But something about you secretly being really good at pubg and making a plan that revolves around him made his heart swell. He has to be honest he really wasn’t listening completely to you just hearing while admiring your beauty in the terrible car light. He is baffled with how you look so good when the lighting is so bad but what he doesn’t know is you’re asking yourself the same thing. Once you finish your little speech you yawn mumbling something about how you’re so tired from staying up last night with taehyung but all he can focus on is your head on his shoulder and your soft snores ricocheting from you to him. He thinks he’s about to explode and melt at the same time, he can’t help the feeling of wanting to take care of you. After so many months of babying you on pubg he realizes he’s doing it in real life as he slowly takes off his coat to put around you. He wraps it around your frame carefully not to wake you or knock your head. You snuggle a little closer adorably enjoying his warmth and he doesn’t think his cheeks can get any rosier until your lips unintentionally bush against his neck. You decide to place a light kiss there and sleppily mumble a thank you. He freezes, his mind automatically going into overdrive. He’s dreamt about moments like this, the way you talk to him and act around him convincing him he was just a bro was the only think stopping him. But this, bro’s don’t do this. You slightly wince thinking that was the wrong move and you quickly pull your head away, a heavy blush not too far behind.

You look out the window watching the city buildings past by and you’re so completely embarrassed until you feel a finger brush under your chin and pull your head to face the owner. Taehyungs looking at you with the softest look of adoration and he can’t help but think he’s never been more in love with you. “You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed.” He says it as if he’s so cool but his mind is racing and he’s very much not cool. His heart pulls him to focus and not get lost in your eyes. His finger lifts your head up to face his and he leans in. You start to realize what’s happening and relish in the fact that your one and only dream for the past 3 months is coming true. You lean in as well and wait for the connection of your lips, you’re so close you can feel his breath on nose and if you moved less than half an inch closer his lips would be on yours. He moves to fill the gap as you’re so close BUMP! You go over a speed bump and you’re in the parking lot for his building.

Everyone piles out of the car and not wanting to be locked in you both get out as well. You walk into the building and up to their dorm, with taehyung playing with his rings and you holding your elbow, both of which are very clearly nervous habits and you both know it too. Once you get inside everyone is there and obviously you’re not gonna pull taehyung into a kiss in the middle of the living room so decide to wait. It’s almost dinner time so you a few of the guys ask you would like as take out is tonight’s delicacy. You decide on Chinese from a place not too far that you’ve all been to one time or another. The tension between you and taehyung is so noticeable even the other members catch on. Also the fact that the both of you are strangely quiet but what they think the state of your relationship is, is completely opposite to whats going on. They assume you’ve fought because of pubg but really you’re just two fools in love but too scared to say anything. After dinner is finished up and the table has been cleared, you join the boys in the living room chatting with Jin about something, you’re not really focused as you’re mind is clouded with the events in the car. What would’ve happened if you kissed? Is he ignoring you now because he’s embarrassed? All your thoughts pause when grabs you off the couch by your hand and pulls you to his room. Once the door is closed he pushes you against the back of it “I’ve wanted to this for so long.” He immediately grabs your face with one hand and your waist with the other. It takes a second for your mind and heart to catch up but you finally kiss him back realizing what’s happening. Of course his lips feel like silk pillows but you swear you hear fireworks. You only realize how long you’ve wanted this just when he pulls away to catch his breath. You stare into his eyes and already miss his lips on yours. “You’re the only win I want.”

[adverb-slut]

The Purgatory Hall Boys Are Bad at Road Trips (Fanfiction)

I just *clutches chest* really love the boys at Purgatory Hall and felt they needed more spotlight so here they are being big dummies on the road.  Oh, I also posted this on AO3 here. 

Title:

The Purgatory Hall Boys Are Bad at Road Trips

Summary:

On a R.A.D-sanctioned road trip to the Caverns of Degeneracy, the Purgatory Hall boys prove that they have just as many brain cells as the demon brothers (read: none).

Genre:

Humor/Fluff/Slice of Life

Rating:

T

Word Count:

6870

-

Hour 0

Our story begins just outside the gates of Purgatory Hall, where two of its three non-native Devildom residents stood near a rather expensive-looking, immaculately-maintained vehicle. 

The short, prone-to-fits-of-righteous-anger one yanked behind him a wagon, which was piled high with duffel and overnight bags, all made of a stiff white and gold fabric straight from the Celestial Realm.  

The other, older man, who never left home without a mysterious smile and his magic wand, too, tugged the handle of his own luggage—although his was a wheeled backpack which sagged due to the weight of the approximately seven-hundred souvenir keychains from around the Human World that he had clipped onto it.

The pair were waiting for their third friend—who, in every sense of the word, was an angel—as together they were planning to embark upon a new R.A.D tradition, which the Demon Prince Diavolo had appropriately christened—Our Annual Road Trip to the Caverns of Degeneracy (A.R.T C.D for short).  The Caverns of Degeneracy were on the far outskirts of the Devildom, over six-hundred-and-sixty-six miles away from the R.A.D campus, and yet, for some asinine reason, Diavolo had decided that they were the perfect spot for hosting the academy’s yearly Bleeding Hearts Festival.  

(Many of the Student Council Officers and faculty had wagered that the Demon Prince had just wanted an excuse to take a road trip—a phenomenon he had recently been introduced to through one of Leviathan’s video games.)

Diavolo himself planned for his personal driver to ferry him and his butler, Barbatos, up to the Caverns a day early so he could begin preparations for the festival and encouraged all students to find their own means of transportation in order to get to the event on time.

The R.A.D Student Council Officers—all of whom resided in the House of Lamentation—had decided to pile themselves into Asmodeus’ tour bus (he had bought it specifically because once he became a famous DevilTuber, he would need it to do meet-and-greets with his fans and also because it had a “bear-y adorable design”) and drive down together.  

As the Purgatory Hall boys had no modes of transportation to call their own, Lucifer had graciously allowed them to borrow Mammon’s Demonio 666 Lexura (fits had ensued à la the secondborn but were ignored), which both Luke and Solomon now hovered around.

However, as Solomon poked and prodded the vehicle, commenting admiringly under his breath at the paint job, the young angel peered nervously at the sorcerer’s backpack.  

He cleared his throat, bent on sounding as polite as possible—but failing miserably—and said, “Solomon, er—are you the one who’s bringing our road trip snacks?”  He followed this with a silent please say no, please say no, Father please let him say no.

Solomon raised an eyebrow.  “I thought you were bringing them.”

Luke dropped the handle of his wagon.  “No!  I would’ve made some snacks if I had the time but I was helping those,” he gagged, “wretched demon brothers pack using some low-level Celestial Realm magic.”  

“Oh, that’s right,” Solomon said, snapping his fingers.  “I just remembered that I volunteered to make the snacks, but Simeon heard and immediately offered to do it for me.  Then he sent me on a bunch of errands to buy groceries, but it felt more like he was trying to get me out of the kitchen.”  He laughed at the last part and shook his head because there was no way that such a criminally calm angel like Simeon would be that underhanded.  

“No!” wailed Luke, yanking his hat off and clutching it to his chest in despair.  “Don’t you know what this means?”    

“It means you don’t like Simeon’s cooking as much as you let on,” decided the sorcerer with a smile at Luke’s theatrical display.

Luke shook his head so vigorously that Solomon had to hold in a laugh based on how much the angel looked like a chihuahua shaking itself dry.  “For trips, Simeon only makes the most nutritious, most energizing food.”  He screwed up his face in disgust as he seethed, “The most disgusting food.”

“The stuff Simeon cooks for dinner isn’t particularly unhealthy and you seem to like that just fine,” pointed out Solomon.

Luke frowned.  “Yes, b—but I’m talking about real healthy stuff here, so we’ll all have lots of energy throughout the trip!  L—like entire salads squished between two pieces of bread and ‘yummy morsels’ of banana slices dipped in cashew butter and drizzled with mung bean and coconut water paste!”  He gestured toward himself.  “Look at me, Solomon!  I was made for jam-filled pastries and perfectly-iced cakes!  No—not,” he shuddered, “health foods.”

“You’re serious?  He’s really going to bring that kind of stuff?” Solomon’s eyes widened.  “I guess I should’ve given in to my gut intuition and made some pork pies as backup snacks.  ‘Snackups,’ if you will.”

Luke could feel bile rising up his throat at the thought of Solomon’s cooking.  “Er—no, I don’t think that would’ve been necessary!”  He spotted a figure exiting Purgatory Hall.  “Oh, look, there’s Simeon, now; we can just ask him what snacks he brought.”

“And then burn them,” finished Solomon.

The younger angel gave a scandalized gasp at the comment as Solomon nodded at Simeon, who walked closer to the pair.  

A lone celestial blue suitcase trailed behind the elder angel as he beamed at his traveling companions.  “Is everyone ready?”  Before waiting for an answer, he turned toward Luke with a gaze that was almost motherly in nature.  “And has everyone gone to the bathroom?  We only have a day to drive to the Caverns of Degeneracy and I want to see some of the Devildom sights along the way.  I even brought an instant camera to take pictures.”  

He pulled out from his cape pocket said camera and an enormous stack of printed DevilmapQuest directions and began to rifle through them, trying to decide which of the landmarks and tourist destinations he wanted to visit most.  

“S—Simeon!  Why did you have to stare at me when you asked if we all went to the bathroom?  I may be young, but I at least know that I should go to the bathroom before long car rides!”  He then blushed and handed Solomon his wagon handle.  “A—and that being said, I—I have to go to the bathroom.”

As he ran inside, Solomon peered over Simeon’s shoulder at the map sheets and laughed.  “You know, most of these directions are online.”

“I know, I know,” admitted the older angel.  “But reading the directions off of a D.D.D requires knowing how to operate one, and you know I’m not too good at that.”  

Solomon smiled and said, “That’s fine, then.  We three will take turns driving and meanwhile, one of the two who aren’t behind the wheel will navigate.”  

“Haha, you’re aware Luke can’t drive, right?” asked Simeon, turning to give Solomon a look that cautiously strode the line between tolerant and what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you.  

“Well, I guess he’ll be the one giving directions, then,” replied Solomon, without missing a beat.  He couldn’t help but silently add he’ll be doing that, either way.  

As Simeon continued to sort through the DevilmapQuest papers and double-check all the items packed in the messenger bag slung across his shoulder, Solomon began to load everyone’s luggage into Mammon’s car.  He couldn’t help but envision himself playing Tetris as he carefully arranged in the trunk the seven blocky bags that the group had among them—six of which belonged to Luke, who packed as if he were planning to change his clothes at least twelve times a day.    

His own backpack—and Simeon’s messenger bag—would be staying with the trio in the cabin space of the car.  He hadn’t felt the need to pack nearly as many outfits as Luke and most of his bag consisted of medical supplies, while Simeon’s was supposed to be filled to the brim with road trip snacks.

Speaking of snacks, Solomon felt his mouth turn dry as he mulled over the healthy monstrosities that Luke believed the older angel had created in place of actually palatable food.  He turned to Simeon.  “Er, Simeon—what’s on the menu in terms of snackage?”

“‘Snackage?’” Simeon laughed.  He pat his messenger bag and said, “Let’s see, well, whenever I go on long trips, I try to make foods that provide a lot of energy, since we’re going to need it—especially you and I, as we’ll be driving.  Here, I made dried, salted edamame and roasted chickpea trail mix, almond-butter-and-white-bean-stuffed dried dates, and oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean balls with dried pineapple, coconut, and avocado.”   

Solomon did not like how many times Simeon had mentioned “beans,” for as far as he was concerned, road trip food was junk food exclusively.  He took a deep breath and carefully twisted his mouth into a smile.  “That sounds well … delicious. Ten out of ten.”

“Excellent.  Now, where is Luke?”  Simeon peered behind them toward Purgatory Hall, where a munchkin of a silhouette now appeared.  “Ah, there he is.”  He tossed Solomon the keyring Mammon had tearfully given him the day before.  “Mind starting the car?”

Solomon nodded and after examining the gaudy charms that adorned Mammon’s keys, he clicked open the car and stepped toward the driver’s seat door.  “I’ll take the first shift.  It’ll take us fifteen hours of sheer driving to get to the Caverns of Degeneracy, so we’ll take three-hour turns.”  

As Solomon yanked the car door open, something tumbled out of the front seat.  He jumped back, and Simeon and Luke rushed toward the commotion.  

“M—Mammon?  What are you doing here?” exclaimed Luke.  

Simeon laughed, his brows furrowing in confusion.  “Hoping to hitch a ride?”

Solomon had to swallow his smile when he saw the almost-comical tears that ran down Mammon’s face.  “Did your brothers leave you behind?”

“N— no!  They’d never leave without me, The Great Mammon!”  Mammon hastily wiped his nose before sprawling his hands over his Demonio 666 Lexura.  “I just couldn’t fathom leavin’ my beloved baby for so long!  I had to say goodbye!”

“Speaking of saying goodbye, you do know that Asmo’s bus already left a few minutes ago, right?” asked Simeon.  “I caught a glimpse of them before I came out here and they were already on the road.”

Mammon’s face paled.  “Wh—what?  They wouldn’t! Wait—of course, they would!  Those bastards!”  He immediately turned into his demon form, planted a kiss on his car’s hood, and sped off into the horizon.

“I suddenly understand what the term ‘speed demon’ means,” commented Luke as he watched Mammon’s quickly disappearing form.

“I sure hope he manages to catch up to them,” Solomon said, rubbing his chin.  “Anyway, everyone, pile in.  It’s time to get this show on the road.”

Hour 1

After they had driven well out of the bounds of R.A.D’s campus, Solomon announced, “All right—first item on the agenda—”

Luke raised his hand from the back passenger seat as he strained against his seatbelt.  “—What’s an ‘agenda?’”

“Oh.  An agenda is basically a list of things we have to do,” explained Solomon.

Simeon’s eyes widened in concern.  “I didn’t know we had an agenda.”

Solomon nodded gravely.  “Oh, yes—an unwritten road trip one.  And the first thing on it is picking some tunes.”

Again, Luke raised his hand.  “I have a suggestion!  I have a suggestion!”  From the pocket of his shorts, he drew out a CD case labeled 1001 Hymns to Praise Him.  “This album is my personal favorite.”

Solomon began coughing violently in attempts to cover his laughter, while Simeon smiled and took the CD from him.  “That’s a great idea, Luke, but how about we play this when I drive, and when Solomon drives, he’ll pick the music.”

The sorcerer handed Simeon his D.D.D, keeping his eyes on the road as he instructed, “Here, go to my Akutify account and play my Travel playlist.  Hope you guys don’t mind that I managed to export my entire Spotify account onto Akutify, so we’re going to be listening to Human World songs for now.”

It took Simeon seven tries to carry out Solomon’s orders, but before long, “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys blared through the state-of-the-art stereo system of the Demonio 666 Lexura.  

Luke was silent for a few moments before he innocently asked, “I don’t understand, Solomon.  What do they want ‘that way?’”

Solomon shook his head.  “I’ve been trying to figure that out for years.”

Hour 2

It didn’t take very long for Simeon to discover the first location on his list of places to visit along their trip.  

“The Maw of Beelzebub,” Simeon breathed, taking in their dark, ashy surroundings from the passenger seat.  “I’ve seen it in pictures when I researched for TSL, but I never fathomed I’d get to see it in person.”

Luke pouted as Simeon exited the vehicle.  “Don’t tell me we’re going to see those dumb demon brothers.”

“Nope,” Solomon said, unbuckling Luke from his seat, despite the vehement protests from the little angel.  “The Maw of Beelzebub is a chain of three volcanoes, actually.  The two smaller ones that form the ‘eyes of Beelzebub’ are active, but the huge, massive one that we’re going to walk across by way of that bridge,” he pointed to a shaky overpass that was suspended over a volcano crater a thousand miles wide, “is dormant.  However, you can still see the enormous pool of lava bubbling inside.  Tourists like to drop things down into it—and of course, it disappears into the molten lava—which is why it’s named after Beel because no matter what you feed him, he’s still hungry as if he’s never eaten.”

“Remind me again, then, why we’re walking across it?”  Luke asked as the trio wandered over to the entrance of the precarious bridge.  

Simeon looked at him curiously.  “Don’t you think it’s exhilarating, Luke?  To be so close to something so much bigger and powerful and dangerous than yourself?”   

The younger angel pondered that for a moment before deciding, “Father is so much bigger and powerful and dangerous than me.  I think that’s enough.”   

Simeon laughed.  “So it is.”  He wiggled his fingers under Luke’s hat to rumple his hair.  “But let’s go see it, anyway.”

 Hour 3

“Psst,” Luke hissed, “Simeon.” The elder angel seemed to be too enthralled by the latest song in Solomon’s playlist, “What Makes You Beautiful” by One Direction, to hear him, so Luke reached out to poke his shoulder.

If he wasn’t strapped to his seat by his seatbelt, Simeon would’ve jumped about fifty feet in surprise.  “Ah, you startled me, Luke.  Did you need something?”

Luke adamantly refused to meet Simeon’s eyes as he flushed and muttered, “I have to go.”

“Don’t worry, Luke—there’s no shame in needing to go to the bathroom,” assured Simeon.

“There is when you just went ten minutes ago,” mumbled Solomon under his breath, but he swerved into a gas station, nonetheless.  “I guess we’re due for a tank refill, anyway.”

Simeon put up his hand.  “You paid for the gas last time—let me do it, especially since Mammon left explicit instructions that his car is supposed to be ‘fed’ premium gas only.” 

Solomon grinned cheekily.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  He followed Luke, who had already gone into the gas station convenience store.  “I guess I’ll just have a look around, then.”

However, before he got more than a few feet into the store, he heard someone whisper-screaming his name.

“Psst!  Solomon!  Over here!  Behind the candy stand!” 

He followed the voice, only to find that it belonged to Luke, who was very much not in the bathroom and rather ripping open a packet of fruit snacks.

“Whoa, I didn’t know you had it in you to employ the much-loved five-finger-discount,” Solomon said, nodding appreciatively.  “Considering you’re an angel and all.”

Luke stared at him with blank eyes.  “I don’t know what that means, but these were in my pocket from earlier!”  He motioned for Solomon to come closer and poured a few of the gummies into his hand.  “This is my last pouch—eat them fast.  They might be our last bit of yummy food before we have to eat Simeon’s nightmares.”

Solomon bobbed his head, before dumping the fruit snacks into his mouth all at once, savoring their sweet taste.  He gestured toward Luke.  “Do you always keep those on you?”

The angel’s offended gasp could be heard by all the demons in the convenience store.  “I’m a ten-year-old, Solomon!  Of course, I keep fruit snacks in my pocket!”

Hour 4

It wasn’t that Simeon was a bad driver.  It was just that driving in the Devildom (and the Human World) was very different from driving in the Celestial Realm.

Here, in uncontrolled intersections, it wasn’t customary to say “hello” to the drivers rolling to a stop in all directions.  Even stranger, the traffic lights weren’t celestial blue, gold, and white, but rather red, green, and yellow! 

Luke, who had discovered a “2020 Devildom Rules of the Road” manual crumpled inside one of the cupholders, was forced to bark instructions at the eldest angel, all while offering condescending commentary on how imbecilic the rules of driving in the Devildom were.

“Simeon!  Listen to this!  In the Devildom, you have to obey the posted speed limits, or else you’ll get in trouble!” realized Luke.

“Wait—you don’t have speed limits in the Celestial Realm?” Solomon asked.

Luke replied smugly, “No, because angels have the sense to know how fast they should or shouldn’t be driving.”

“Wow, that’s honestly impressive.”  Solomon grimaced as Simeon ran through another red light.  “Remember, if the light is red, then you have to stop.”

Simeon offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m so used to remembering that blue means ‘stop.’”

Solomon slunk low in his seat, knowing better than to rile up the angel, who was rumored to have a feisty side when he got angry.  “I just hope the police or whatever they have here don’t catch us for breaking so many traffic laws.”

“What’s a ‘police?’” asked Luke.

“Oh, you know … people who are supposed to make people follow the laws and stuff,” replied Solomon.  His eyes widened.  “Do you not have a police force in the Celestial Realm?”

“The Celestial Realm is a perfect world, Solomon,” answered Simeon.  “We don’t need police.”

Hour 6

Solomon didn’t know that he could get sick of songs.  Sure, he got tired of the “Despacito” remix after the first dozen times it was played on the radio—but he meant real music.  

“Amazing Grace” in particular.

Luke’s favorite album, 1001 Hymns to Praise Him, really should’ve been called 1001 Ways An Angelic Choir Can Sing “Amazing Grace” because Solomon swore about ninety percent of the songs on the album were just renditions of the classic hymn sung by different groups of angels.

And this seemed to bother neither of his driving companions, who crooned along to the choir in heavenly tones—it seemed to be a prerequisite for angels to be divine singers—without missing a beat.  

He hadn’t even known all the words to “Amazing Grace,” but now he could recite all six verses on demand.  He fought the urge to smash the “eject” button on the CD player, but he worried that Luke would throw a fit or Simeon would look at him with a stare so full of disappointment that Solomon would be willing to throw himself off a bridge just to rid himself of its gaze.

But one could only hear the line “amazing grace, how sweet the sound,” so many times.

He had to do something.

“Hey!  I have an idea!” Solomon chirped.  “Let’s make up our own song!”

He had to fight the urge to smack himself upside the head.  Why did he say that?  He had no ideas for potential song lyrics!

“I like that!” Luke pursed his lips, deep in thought.  “Here, let’s have the first lines go like this: ‘Father, You are all that I need!’”

Simeon used one hand to snap out the beat, and continued, “‘Father, listen to my creed!’”

Solomon sighed.

He did not know if this was any better.

Hour 8

“Luke, wake up.  We’re here.”  Solomon couldn’t help but layer on the desperation thick as he shook the younger angel awake, despite the fact that they were in no danger whatsoever.

Luke shot up, trying very hard to hide the fact that he had been drooling all over his shoulder.  He rubbed his sleep-filled eyes. “What?  Did we beat all the other demons here?  Are the Caverns of Degeneracy as hideous as I imagined?”

Solomon unbuckled Luke’s seatbelt and dragged him out of the car.  He snickered, saying, “We’re not at the Caverns, yet.”  He gestured toward their surroundings, which now consisted of precarious cliffs and rocky crags instead of the open road of the Devildom. 

Simeon stood a few feet ahead of them and turned around, spreading his arms wide in wonder.  “Welcome to Sinner Falls!”

Luke stared at the dark stone formations.  “I don’t see any waterfalls.”

“That’s because Sinner Falls isn’t a waterfall,” Solomon explained.  “You probably better know it as ‘the Abyss—’”

“‘The Abyss? ’  Why didn’t you say so?”  Luke exclaimed, his eyes glittering excitedly.  “The place where demons are tortured for a thousand years during the Millenium has always been one of my dream places to visit!”

Simeon smiled, a little taken aback by the younger angel’s enthusiasm.  “If we’re lucky, we might get to see Abaddon, Angel of the Abyss. He’s supposed to be guarding the canyon up ahead.”

“If we see him, do you think he’ll let me call him ‘Abba?’” teased Solomon, even though the remark earned him a kick in the shin and a “He most certainly will not!  How dare you even say such a thing about one of the most high-ranking angels!” from Luke.

“Careful now, Solomon,” Simeon warned, as the trio walked toward the deep canyon amongst the cliffs.  As far as anyone could tell, there was no end to the inky, suffocating blackness that was visible when looking down into it.  He pointed into the canyon.  “This is the Abyss—er, Sinner Falls.  Us angels cannot pass this invisible barrier—” he pressed his hand out to the ledge of the canyon, only for it to smash against some kind of unseen wall, “—but any human or demon who falls down into it falls for eternity, never to come back to the surface.”

Luke beamed. “That must be why it’s called ‘Sinner Falls!’  Because most humans and all demons are sinners!”  Despite this, he grabbed Solomon’s hand to prevent him from wandering too close to Sinner Falls’ ledge (as he was wont to do), because, despite their bickering and mutual pestering, Luke had a soft spot for the sorcerer.

Simeon followed in suit and intertwined his fingers with Solomon as the trio looked down into the great Abyss, wondering if any of their demon friends would be among the many thrown into it one day.

Hour 9

Simeon rifled through his messenger bag, intent on looking for something to eat.  He had made sure to pack plenty of goodies and was pleased as to how nutritious the snacks he’d made had turned out.  He scooped a handful of edamame and chickpea trail mix into his hand and turned to Luke, who was hunched over a map in the back passenger seat. 

“You haven’t eaten anything in over eight hours; aren’t you hungry?”  Simeon offered him the bag of trail mix.

Luke gulped, as he beamed and shook his head.  “N—no, no!  I’m okay!”

Simeon shrugged and held out the bag toward Solomon, who was driving.  “Do you want some?  I can pour it into your mouth if you want, so you don’t have to take your eyes off the road.”

“As titillating as that sounds,” said the sorcerer, “I’m afraid I’m not hungry at the moment.”

“I guess that’s more for me, then.”  Simeon poured more of the trail mix into his palm, but before he could eat any of it, he heard a strange sound.

It was a low rumble, but very, very loud.

It almost sounded like … stomachs growling?

He whirled to face Luke and Solomon and scratched his head in confusion.  “Are you two sure you’re not hungry?”

When the pair shook their heads furiously, Simeon raised an eyebrow.  He yanked out from his bag the stuffed dried dates and the oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean balls.  “So … you two wouldn’t mind if I ate all of the snacks?”

“Yeah, sure, go nuts, Simeon,” Solomon assured.  He winced as his and Luke’s stomaches rumbled in unison.  “You wouldn’t actually have any nuts in that bag o’ treats, would you?  Preferably of the chocolate-covered variety?” 

“The dates have almond butter stuffed inside them,” pointed out Luke helpfully, although his expression was less-than-enthused.

Simeon raised his other eyebrow.  Clearly the pair were hungry but refusing food.  What kind of rebellious spirit had gotten into them?  Didn’t they know that food was essential to oh, survival?   His left eye twitched as he felt a black miasma of rage cover him. “If you two don’t eat, I’m turning this car around.  That’s a promise.”

Solomon exchanged nervous glances with Luke at the normally calm angel’s outburst. “Angry Simeon is scary,” he whimpered.

“If you don’t eat, you’ll see just how scary I can be,” promised Simeon with a smile that bordered downright terrifying.  He plopped an oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean ball into Solomon’s mouth and handed a stuffed date to Luke.  “Now, eat your snacks.”

He definitely didn’t miss Luke’s grumpy, “Yes, mother.”

Hour 11

“Solomon, I hate to complain—” which earned a snort from the sorcerer, as Luke continued, “but do you really have to play that now?”  He gestured toward the sound system, which, now that it was Simeon’s turn to drive, blared 1001 Hymns to Praise Him.  “Seven Lyres is my favorite orchestra and their take on ‘Amazing Grace’ is simply the best!”

Solomon, who had purposely pulled out a reed pipe from his backpack in an effort to drown out the nine thousandth chorus of “Amazing Grace,” sighed and put it down.  He knew he wasn’t an expert in playing the reed pipe—in fact, this was the first time he’d ever seen the instrument, but the racket was so soothing.

“Where did you even get that from, anyway?” asked Simeon.

“Found it in my backpack.  I didn’t pack it, but considering there was a note attached to it that said ‘Blow,’ I think Asmo put it there as some kind of visual innuendo.”  Solomon shrugged.  “Now seemed like as good a time as any to play it.”

 Luke tapped his chin thoughtfully.  “What’s an ‘innuendo?’”

“Something you’re not allowed to make until you’re much older,” replied Simeon sternly. 

Luke seemed satisfied with the answer and held out his palm toward Solomon.  “May I try?”

Solomon handed the reed pipe over and cocked his head.  “You know how to play?”

He received his answer when Luke gestured for him to lower the stereo volume (which Solomon did with immense pleasure) and began to carefully place his fingers over the openings and gently blow into the instrument.

The young angel played masterfully and Solomon would’ve given him a standing ovation if it weren’t for one tiny thing.

“Why don’t you play a different song besides ‘Amazing Grace?’”  he suggested.

Luke furrowed his brows.  “It’s the only thing I know how to play!”

Hour 12

“I don’t like this place, Simeon,” Luke mumbled, yanking his hat over his eyes.  “It looks like something straight from the End Times.”

He, of course, was referring to the town at which’s city limits they stood in front of.  It was one of the last tourist spots that Simeon had wanted to visit, and it was renowned for being one of the Devildom’s most haunted ghost towns.

Solomon nodded.  “I’m with the Chihuahua.  I’m super excited for the end of the world, and even I’m not getting a good feeling from whatever-this-place-is-called.”

“Deathblow Beggar’s Pass,” answered Simeon, ogling the city entrance sign gleefully.  “They say it’s the most haunted district in all of the Devildom.”  He took a step onto the creaky wooden path that led into the town.  “It’s been evacuated for centuries and now, even most demons are petrified to go inside.”

Luke gripped Simeon’s cape so tight, his knuckles turned white.  “Then why do you want to visit this place?”

“Don’t worry, Luke,” the older angel said (avoiding the question, which the young angel noticed), laughing, as he tousled Luke’s hair under his hat.  “I’ll make sure none of the scary ghosts come near you.”

Luke’s eyes widened.  “Sc—scary ghosts?”  He cleared his throat when he realized how incredibly uncourageous he sounded.  “I—I mean I’m not scared of any g—g—ghosts!”

Solomon and Simeon shared a secret smile at the angel’s feigned bravery, and instead of teasing him, Solomon turned to Luke very seriously.  “I strictly deal with demons, not ghosts.  How about you do me a favor and sit on my shoulders to be my lookout in case any of those ghosts try to pull anything?”

“W—well if you need my help, I’m definitely willing to offer it!” Luke blushed as he climbed onto Solomon’s shoulders.  “It’s my duty as an angel to help humans, after all!”

“That’s the ‘spirit,’” Solomon said.  He laughed when he saw the angels’ unamused faces.  “Get it?  ‘Cause we’re walking into a ghost town?”

Simeon laughed stiffly as to not hurt the sorcerer’s feelings before straightening his posture and looking ahead.  He channeled his inner fantasy writer as he declared, “Get ready, everyone!  We must put aside our doubts and fears as we charge forward into Deathblow Beggar’s Pass, where no creature has exited without releasing screams that could curdle the blood of the Demon Lord!  We might not be of this world, but we certainly can brave its most terrifying sites!”

It would have been a very heroic speech if it weren’t for the fact that not five minutes after the trio entered the city limits, Solomon and Simeon sprinted out, with Luke wailing loudly.

“That was the worst ever!” the little angel blubbered, yanking Solomon’s hair.

The sorcerer didn’t even have enough energy to flinch as he panted, “What in the name of all things unholy was that?”

There was nothing but fear in Simeon’s eyes as he doubled over, trying to catch his breath.  “We should’ve known the saloon bathroom stalls wouldn’t be empty.”  He gagged.  “I never want to see millennia-old demon penis again.”

Hour 15

“Simeon, are we there yet ?” asked Luke for the twenty-first time in the hour.

The other angel sighed.  “Almost, Luke.  Just a few more minutes.”

“Don’t you have the map?” Solomon pointed out as he honked the horn in irritation at a slow driver ahead of him.  “Shouldn’t you know where we are?”

Luke fussed with the multitude of papers that were stacked on his lap.  “I only have the stuff for Simeon’s places.”  His eyes opened wide in realization.  “Wait—how do you guys know where to drive if my maps don’t lead to the Caverns of Degeneracy?” 

“Diavolo said as long as we travel along Route 666 until we see the sign markers, we should have no problem getting there,” explained Simeon.  He peered ahead and squinted at one of the upcoming signs.  “And look—that sign says that the Caverns of Degeneracy are ten miles up ahead.”

“I hope we’re the first ones there,” said Luke.  “It’ll be nice to see all the looks on those dumb demons’ faces when we get there before them.”

Solomon pursed his lips.  “Speaking of those ‘dumb demons,’ I wonder if they’re all right.  We haven’t heard from them since we left Purgatory Hall.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Simeon assured.  He let out a laugh as he continued, “Assuming they haven’t killed each other already.  It must be hard having all seven of them cooped up in one small space.”

“We can only hope,” said Luke solemnly.  He paused for a moment as he shimmied as far as his seatbelt would allow him and peered over Solomon’s shoulder to look at what was going on in the front seats.  He pointed at the gear shift. “What does ‘D’ mean?”

“I’m not supposed to say that word in front of you,” answered Solomon as Simeon simultaneously replied, “Drive.”

“Oh.  What does ‘R’ mean, then?”

Simeon replied, “Reverse,” before Solomon could say anything.

At the elder angel’s preemptive glare, Solomon widened his eyes and innocently said, “I was going to say ‘reverse,’ as in ‘Uno Reverse Card.’’”

Luke turned toward the dashboard.  “What’s ‘E?’”

“I feel if I say ‘Evanescence,’ Simeon is going to yell at me, so I’ll just go with ‘empty,’” pouted Solomon.  

“Empty what?”

“Gas.”

“So … since that line-thingy is almost at ‘E,’ that means we’re nearly out of gas?”  

“Yep.”

Simeon turned around to cover Luke’s ears at Solomon’s next sentence: “Holy shit—we’re almost out of gas!”

The older angel’s eyes promised murder as he stared at the sorcerer, before directing his stare to the fuel gauge.  “We’re running on fumes.”

“We need to refuel, stat.  Simeon, grab my D.D.D and look up the nearest gas station,” directed Solomon.  “I always forget that Mammon’s car is a gas-guzzler.” 

“What should I do, Solomon?” asked Luke, eagerly awaiting orders like a baby soldier.

The sorcerer nodded, deadly serious.  “Sit there and be cute.”

Luke pouted as Simeon—with surprising speed—brought up a log of the nearest gas stations on Solomon’s D.D.D.  “There should be a station three miles ahead.”

Solomon frowned as he analyzed their fuel gauge.  “I’m not sure we’ll make it.”

“We have to!” cried Luke.  “How will we ever beat those demons if we don’t even make it to the Caverns of Degeneracy?”  

“We’ll have to trust that Mammon’s baby is strong enough to get us to the gas station, then.”  Solomon stroked the dashboard as if trying to offer the vehicle some kind of encouragement.  

And as the car’s fuel began to peter out, Simeon and Luke began to cheer in chorus, “You can do it, Mammon’s car!” while Solomon exclaimed, “You’re a fierce, strong woman who doesn’t need any man to tell you that your fuel gauge is empty!”  

After an eternity (okay, it was more like five minutes), the Demonio 666 Lexura finally eked it’s way to the first pump at a Demobil gas station. 

As the engine sputtered out, the trio let out a cheer, and Solomon and Simeon shared a hug in the front seat.

“Thank Father we made it!” exclaimed Luke as he unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the car.  He pat Mammon’s car.  “Also, thank you for getting us here, even if you belong to the scummiest demon in the Devildom.”

Solomon grinned and turned to Simeon.  “You spotted the gas bill last time, so I’ll do it now.”

“Are you sure?” asked Simeon.  “My TSL royalties are huge, even after I’ve tithed my ten percent.  I’ve got no problem paying.”

“Nah, it’s fine—you can go stretch your legs.” With that, Solomon exited the car and began to work the gas pump.

Simeon nodded and together with Luke, walked toward the attached Demobil convenience store.  By the entrance stood a higher-level demon, who appeared to be selling bouquets of fresh flowers.

The vendor, who had noticed the pair exit Mammon’s car and had seen Solomon get up to pump the gas, called to Simeon, “Flower for your Mister?”  He gestured toward the white-haired sorcerer. 

Luke gasped, absolutely scandalized, and huffed, “Simeon would never settle for a human!” while Simeon chuckled, replying, “I’m sorry, he’s not my ‘Mister,’ but I’ll take a bouquet, anyway.”

After exchanging Grimm for the flowers, Simeon and Luke strolled back to the Demonio 666 Lexura, where Solomon was just closing the fuel tank. 

“Simeon bought you flowers!” announced Luke.

The angel nodded as he handed the sunny bouquet to Solomon.  “It matches your wand.”

“How did you know gerberas are my favorite?” laughed Solomon.  “These are great—thank you.”  As they all piled back into the car, he carefully arranged the flowers in one of the cupholders and beamed, because God,  sometimes the angel was so nice. 

The group drove in silence for a few moments before Luke commented, “I didn’t know gerberas smelled like … salt?”

Simeon sniffed the air.  “I think that’s the sea.  After all, the Caverns of Degeneracy are right along the beach.”

Just as the angel spoke the words, Solomon pulled right into a parking lot that was situated right next to miles and miles of black sand.  

Luke cheered, kicking his feet at Solomon’s seat excitedly.  “Yay!  We’re here!”

Their road trip had finally come to an end.

Destination

After wandering the beach for a few moments, the trio eventually found themselves at the mouth of the Caverns of Degeneracy, which turned out to be several huge caves filled with glowing pastel stalactites and stalagmites.  Hellfireflies twinkled in the air, while friendly gentlemanbugs strolled about the cavern floor.  Some kind of glittering pink moss had been used to adorn the walls with the words, “R.A.D Bleeding Hearts Festival 2020.”

In the middle of it all stood Diavolo, who was discussing the festival decorations with Barbatos.

As soon as he saw the Demon Prince, Luke raced up and, bobbing uncontrollably, asked, “Are we first?  Are we first?” 

Diavolo let out a hearty laugh.  “Welcome you three!  And first for what, Luke?”

Solomon sauntered up and answered, “To arrive.”

“Luke’s been very anxious to know if we’re the first ones here at the festival,” elaborated Simeon, placing his hand on the younger angel’s shoulder.

“You make it seem like it was a competition to get here first—which, yes, you three are,” said Diavolo.  His eyes lit up.  “That’s an excellent idea, though!  Next year, we’ll make the R.A.D C.D a contest to see can make it to the Caverns the fastest!  First place will get a coupon for teatime with me!”

Luke wrinkled his nose.  “Teatime with you?  That sounds—”

“Incredibly fun,” cut in Simeon smoothly.  He turned to Diavolo.  “Have you gotten any word from those seven demon brothers?”

Diavolo grimaced.  “It seems that they’ll be late.  Beelzebub ate all their road trip snacks immediately as he entered Asmodeus’ tour bus, so they had to stop for food at every fast food restaurant they could find because he still wasn’t satisfied, Belphegor kept falling asleep at the wheel, and Mammon got so many speeding violations and every time the police showed up, Asmodeus tried to seduce his way out of their ticket, which only earned them more fines and lectures from Lucifer.  It’s comic-con season, so of course, Leviathan had to stop at every convention center along the way, and unsurprisingly, Satan’s road rage forced him to get into out-of-car fights with every driver he encountered when he was at the wheel.”  He sighed.  “They managed to turn a fifteen-hour trip into a twenty-two hour one.”

Solomon smiled as he said, “I guess we should’ve expected that.”  His grin grew even wider as he gestured toward his traveling companions.  “Meanwhile, we did all fifteen-hours of driving���courtesy of me bending the speeding rules quite a bit when there was no traffic— and saw some of the sights of the Devildom along the way.”

“Oooh, did you manage to get any pictures?” asked Diavolo with an excited gleam in his eye.  “I always want to travel around the Devildom but never get the chance.”

Simeon nodded as he pulled out from his messenger bag some of the pictures he had asked fellow tourists to snap with his instant camera.  He handed them one by one to Diavolo and beamed at the goofy scenes.

The first one was from when they stopped at the Maw of Beelzebub: Solomon teasingly dangled Luke’s hat over the bridge’s railing while the young angel cried and stomped on the sorcerer’s foot in retaliation.  Simeon, meanwhile, tried to rescue Luke’s hat.

The second photo showcased Solomon sitting at the ledge of Sinner Falls with his feet swinging over the bottomless canyon.  Luke and Simeon posed obnoxiously as if they were going to fall into the Abyss, even though as angels, they were unable to.  

The final picture was the only one he had from Deathblow Beggar’s Pass, and it was of the trio crouched in front of the sign that spelled “Enjoy your stay at Deathblow Beggar’s Pass!”

Diavolo examined the images wistfully.  He sighed as he handed the photos back to Simeon.  “You three looked as if you made some fun memories.”

The angels and the sorcerer exchanged contented glances and chorused, “We most certainly did.”

[okay-j-hannah]

The Vague Truth

Smosh : Fic

Damien x Reader

Word Count: 3380 

Warnings: Just a longer fic with some lovely big bro Wes - which I FREAKING LOVE ❤

Inspiration and dialogue came from this episode: DROPPING TRUTH BOMBS

Request: “Hi ♥️♥️ could I get a Damien x reader where the reader is Wes’ sister. She comes to visit the team a lot and gets put into videos. Fans slowly start to ship her and Damien but they also request for her to be in a video. And the one time she is in a video Damien and her flirt by not meaning too and end up going out on a dinner date that night. Thank you!” - Anon

A/N: You’re practically one of the fam as you visit your brother Wes and his friends on filming sets - subconsciously developing a flirty relationship with one Damien Haas

(Y/D/D) = Your dream date

(Y/S/N) = Your ship name

 (Two of the HANDSOMEST BOIS in the same place...? Sometimes I wonder why my heart hasn’t IMPLODED YET)

The incessant tapping of her fingernails on the phone screen filled the extra prop room – the space she always retreated to whenever Wes was needed for more filming.

She loved visiting her brother, feeling like she was a part of the great work community Smosh had built. For the first time since moving to LA, she had felt like she was making real friends; taking solace in their company.

She was currently scrolling through the latest video she had guest starred in; it having been posted that afternoon. Re-watching the fun time she had on Two Truths with her brother and Damien and Courtney as commentators reminded her of this newfound comfort she had in her friends.

But the comments that followed chipped away at that warm feeling.

“I don’t know about that (Y/N) chick – why do they keep bringing on new people?”

“Bring back the old Smosh members!?”

“Let’s just stick with Courtney and Olivia. They’re much prettier.”

“We have Wes, we don’t need another Johnson.”

There was a creak of the floorboards and (Y/N) found her eyes whipping up to the doorway, hiding her phone screen against her chest. Wes suddenly sprinted within the room, silver hair flying as he hurried to plant himself right on (Y/N)’s stomach.

“Wes!” she wheezed on impact. “Can’t… breathe.”

He snickered, watching her squirm, “Are you calling me fat?”

“No! I’m calling you very m-muscular and a foot taller than me.” She shoved her small fists into his arm in an attempt to throw him off her.

Instead his slid off her and the couch to sit cross-legged before her, holding his ankles with his hands, “Whatcha doin’?”

She quickly searched for her phone that was sent flying from her chest when he landed on her. But her frantic movements signaled Wes to look as well, finding the phone and its open contents first.

“(Y/N), are you reading the comment section again?” He kept his eyes on the device and he too scrolled through the responses.

She huffed, leaning back onto the couch, crossing her feet against the cushions, “So what if I am?”

Wes’ usual joyous face began to fall, a frown deepening. He flickered his eyes to his sister, seeing her gaze plastered to the ceiling in burrowing thought.

“You know how I feel about you reading the video comments,” he put the phone facedown in the carpet, folding his arms on the lip of the couch cushion. “You’re going to care too much about what they’re saying.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” she mumbled, feeling him inch closer to her. Wes was always trying to sneak in a hug where he could. “You’re not the unwanted Johnson sibling.”

Wes flexed his jaw, hurt swarming into his gaze, “Actually we’re the Johnson twins…”

“We’re literally three years apart, Wesley.”

“And the fandom knows us as the Johnson twins. Meaning, we’re a packaged deal! If they don’t want you, then they can’t have me.”

(Y/N) smirked, a ghost of a laugh under her breath, “Thanks, Wes. I guess there’s one good thing that comes out of this. People are starting to recognize me.”

He laughed, straightening out, “And it only took three videos – that’s pretty quick.”

She swung her legs over, sitting up and thinking hard, “Now all we have to do is convince them that you copied my hair color. Then I’d sign a permanent contract.”

There was a glint in his eye, and she knew what was coming, quickly pulling her feet up to her chest as he stood.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I got it dyed first.”

She squirmed to where she could slip behind the couch, standing and using the furniture as an obstruction, “But how many times do I need to remind you that I showed you my Pinterest idea board before you dyed it.”

Wes bit the inside of his cheek, planting his hands on his hips, “Are you accusing me of…?”

“You stole my idea – therefore you copied my hair.” She sucked in her lips to refrain from laughing, inching her way around the couch and away from his hands. “If you’re tired of this same old argument – why don’t you just go back to brunette?”

He finally launched at her, tumbling over the side of the couch as she squealed and ran off to the doorway. She paused, one hand on the frame as Wes came barreling towards her, yelling.

“You’re just saying that so you can relish in the victory of being the only one with silver hair!”

She sprinted off again, realizing she left her shoes back in the room as her socked feet pounded against the carpet. She scrambled around another corner, spotting someone casually making their way down the hall.

In an instant she was next to them, pulling on their arm with a huge grin on her face, “Wes is trying to destroy my insides with his tickles!”

She looked into the person’s face to find Damien staring down at her puzzled, a slight red tinge to his complexion.

Wes quickly appeared, huffing slightly at the sprinting he used to get there, “Let the girl go and I won’t tackle you to the ground.”

Damien was finally making connections in his head, (Y/N) hiding against his back and sending shivers down his spine. He folded his arms and gave a pointed eye towards Wes.

“How about you drop the subject and we can go to the Cheesecake Factory?” Damien gave Wes a small wink before tilting his head towards (Y/N) – a smirk on his face.

The brother raised his eyebrows in understanding, pretending to be contemplating the offer, “I do love me a slice of raspberry cheesecake.” A hand was to his chin as Damien silently held up three fingers, counting down.

(Y/N) was pressed tightly against her so-called protector, a grin on her face that wasn’t to last very long. Within a second, Damien turned on her, finding her arms quickly and holding them together as Wes bounded forward to attack her sides.

(Y/N) squealed more, trying to close in on herself as both men began tickling her sides and the crook of her neck. They were snickering themselves as she spouted profanities in their faces.

“I can’t believe… I thought…” she huffed and squirmed against their hands. “This is treason of the highest degree!”

Damien finally let go, his face red from much more than just straining to keep (Y/N) contained. Wes backed off as well, pumping a fist into the air.

“Brother 1; sister 0.”

She was about throw another snide comment back at him when he held a finger to her lips, continuing, “You know the reason I found you in the first place was to bring you to the next shoot. We have a Board AF livestream to film.” And he trotted down the rest of the hallway, sneaking a few giggles as he waved a few fingers in her direction.

“I hate him sometimes,” (Y/N) muttered, holding a stitch in her side. “But I love him for it.”

Damien laughed, slowly starting to make his way forward, “I guess you’re being integrated more into the family – making all these videos.”

She took a deep breath, straightening out and following him, though slightly behind, “Is that a good thing?”

“Technically you’re like the sister-in-law of the Smosh Family, seeing as you’re related to Wes. So, you’re basically already in.”

“That’s not what I asked, traitor.” She fell in step right behind him.

“What did you call me?” He snickered.

“You’re a traitor!” And with that she jumped right onto his back, causing him to stumble a few steps before he wrapped his arms around her legs.

“God, (Y/N)! I could’ve dropped you.” Thank goodness she couldn’t feel his rising heartrate.

She just tisked her tongue and mushed him forward, “You sided with my giant of a brother – you’re a traitor. And as punishment you have to carry me to the games room.”

He shifted her weight on his back before laughing, “You could have just said that instead of surprise attacking me.”

“And you could’ve protected me instead of carrying out an ambush.”

She giggled, lightly placing her arms around his neck and nuzzling her head against his. She found thoughts swirling into her mind without much filtering:

“He smells so nice.”

“I didn’t realize he was this broad.”

“He’s carrying me like I’m nothing.”

“Seriously, what cologne is he wearing?”

But she never thought anything more of these sudden realizations. At least she hadn’t ever before.

~~~ 

The group of six gathered around the game table, two to each side. Damien had sloppily dropped (Y/N) next to her chair, unintentionally making her stumble and grasp the tabletop for support.

Mari had grabbed her arm in an attempt to help, “What’s wrong with your legs? Couldn’t walk yourself in?”

“Uh – Damien is my slave for the rest of the day.” She sat down, realizing that Damien had already planted himself in the seat next to her.

“That was a one-time thing, (Y/N). Calm down.” His lips curving into a smile as she dramatically gasped.

Leaning over so her chin was grazing his arm, she asked, “What if I fell and twisted my ankle and couldn’t walk and you just so happened to be the only other person around and have to help me?” She batted her eyelashes as he finally turned to watch the teasing glint in her eye, “Would you just abandon me?”

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” he snickered, voice slightly quieter than before.

“Livestream is on!” Matt Raub yelled from behind the scenes, “Have at it, kids.”

(Y/N) continued to have her face right against Damien’s arm, staring back into his bashful eyes, “How can I believe you? You literally ninja attacked me ten minutes ago.”

He accepted some pads of paper Flitz threw towards him, breaking eye contact with (Y/N), “Do all those ice cream deliveries mean nothing to you? Or how about all the times I let you crash on my couch cause your roommates were partying?”

(Y/N) had a finger up towards his face with a speculating eye when Wes unexpectedly shouted to the cameras.

“Hey, guys! Welcome to Board AF. Today we’re playing Dan and Phil’s Truth Bombs.”

“Oh, I love being honest. I’m way too honest,” Joven stated, readjusting in his seat.

Damien gave a classic straining look towards the cameras while (Y/N) happily clapped her hands, “I’m gonna expose all of you.”

“You think so?” Flitz smirked, “You think you know that much about us already?”

“I guess this is a test to see how much Wes talks about us to his family,” Mari laughed, watching everyone’s reaction.

Damien giggled at the scared look on Wes’ face, “I don’t know. I think we can turn that around.” He pointedly stared at (Y/N), “We could be completely exposing you this game – you don’t know what Wes says about you here.”

“I have nothing but kind words for my little sis,” Wes muttered, smiling towards (Y/N) but then flipping to wink at the camera.

“Are you doubting the amount of tea I have on you?” she turned to Damien, a broad, menacing grin appearing.

He just plainly gazed at her, an indifferent smile on his face as he watched her tension in amusement.

She finally huffed, leaning away, “Stop being cute, it’s distracting.”

Flitz put a hand to his mouth, flipping his gaze from one camera to another to catch his reaction. Damien was the complete opposite, bowing his head to try and mask the heat warming his cheeks.

“Damn, alright,” Joven muttered, putting his hands behind his head, “The truth begins to appear.”

“Let’s find out about Damien!” Flitz yelled, slamming a fist into the table.

It seemed to make Dames jump back into his usual entertainer persona, “Okay! Now…” he pulled a pad of paper close to him as he continued, “I’ll be writing my own answers down here.”

“Yeah, we know the rules lover boy,” Mari muttered, leaning into (Y/N) beside her – laughing at the puzzled expression she developed.

“The five questions for me are: Which form of torture would make them confess everything?”

“Cats!” (Y/N) immediately yelled, slapping the table as if there was a buzzer there.

Damien paused, snickering, “What did their parents shout the moment they were born?”

“Cats,” Mari deadpanned, earning a well-aimed high five from (Y/N).

“What one thing would they save from a fire?” Damien continued, then gesturing to the girls to repeat what they’d been saying.

“(Y/N)!” Flitz yelled, throwing his hands to his chest as he started giggling.

“You better save (Y/N) from a fire,” Wes mumbled, eyeing the confused boy across from him.

Damien spluttered, not expecting the turn of events, “If – If (Y/N) was burning in a building and I just happen to pass by, then sure… I’d save her.”

(Y/N) leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder briefly, “He actually does care.”

And it took some real effort for Damien to push past the laughing everyone was suffering from, “Who is one person they wouldn’t mind being set up with?” That didn’t help the butterflies forming in his stomach.

“I think we can all guess that one,” Joven stated, not-so-subtly looking between (Y/N) and Damien.

Of course, (Y/N) was too busy trying to figure out a person Damien would actually like to date.

“If they were an app, which app would they be? Boom…” he set all the cards down and quickly went to his pad to write. “Now these guys get to write down what they think the answers are.”

“I swear – if I get this wrong,” (Y/N) muttered, fingers to her temples. “I swear I know Damien and Mari the best.”

“I’m assuming you’re not mentioning how well you know me because you know no one doubts our great relationship?” Wes stated, grabbing his pencil and batting his eyes at his sister.

She shrugged her shoulders, subtly beginning to peer over Damien’s arm, “|Or maybe I just forgot you were here for a second.”

“Are you trying to cheat?” Damien accused, pushing away the girl beside him and ignoring the sputters coming from the disgruntled Wes.

(Y/N) slightly pushed him back, “No! I know everything about you, remember?”

He jabbed another hand into her side, “Don’t make me ambush you again.”

“How dare you,” she laughed, slapping his hands away, “My ribs are still tingling from the last attack.”

“Just to be clear, we are talking about the tickle fight that happened right before this?” Wes stated, eyeing the duo suspiciously.

Joven threw his pencil to the tabletop, stretching, “Leave the kids be, Wes. They’re young and free to do whatever they…”

“Alright!” Damien shouted, turning to a camera before letting Joven read too much into their conversation. “So, I will read off my answer key first and we will see which questions are correct.”

“What one thing would they save from a fire?” Mari read off the cards.

“My cats.”

“Me!”

Damien and (Y/N) looked at each other for a split second before she couldn’t contain herself at the puzzled expression he gave.

“Sorry, I had to.”

“Well, this person responded with ‘Damien’s cats.’ So, they win a point! Next – let’s do… Who is one person they wouldn’t mind being set up with?”

Mari laughed, “This has to be obvious.”

Damien lifted the pad of paper and hesitated, his mouth slightly open, “I don’t think I want to say her name.”

“Nope!” Joven jutted a finger into the air, “This is Truth Bombs, you have to reveal the truth.”

“What if I was just vague?” he held onto the pad tightly, only looking towards the middle of the table, “For their own protection and my own peace of mind.”

(Y/N) folded her arms, swinging around in her chair and bumping her feet against Damien’s legs, “You don’t want to tell us who you like? Is she, like – a terrible person?”

“Quite the opposite actually,” he snuck a genuine look into her eyes before addressing the rest of the group. “It’s someone from Smosh. That’s it! I won’t say anything more.”

Everyone blew up, throwing angry hands as (Y/N) became antsy. She squirmed in her chair, staring at him and gasping, “Someone at the office? How come I never…?”

“Come on, (Y/N)!” Joven groaned, running his hands over his face. “It’s obviously y…”

“Alrighty, the person responded with my same answer, so they get a point too. Next!” Damien nervously yelled over the protest of everyone at the table.

Flitz stared pointedly into the camera, making it known that he was the one that responded with the same answer as Damien. He started laughing, putting a hand to his mouth and leaning into Joven who was smirking in a defeated fatherly sort of way.

They were quick to pass through the rest of Damien’s cards, his anxious hands shaking against the pads of paper; he was praying that no one said anything more about his vague answers.

(Y/N) was wholeheartedly enjoying herself as it came her turn to answer the questions laid before her, “I’m so excited about these!”

Mari read off her first card, snickering, “What would her dream date be?”

A giggle behind her words, (Y/N) responded with, “Well, probably (Y/D/D).”

“You hear that, Damien?” Flitz questioned, raising an eyebrow, “You better take notes.”

But Dames quickly stiffened his back, his eyes slightly widened as he hushed his friend.

(Y/N) subtly heard and laughed along, “Yeah, Day. It’s a great date to take a girl on. Besides, who can say no to that face?” She leaned over once again to wrap her hands around his one arm, posing for the camera.

Damien snickered, trying to push away the butterflies attempting to squirm out of his stomach, “More like I’m gonna need to find someone to take you on that date. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

Joven was facepalming into Flitz’ shoulder while Wes looked confused towards the two. Mari had a comforting hand on his shoulder as they continued with the rest of the rounds.

It wasn’t until after the game when anything more progressed, Damien dragging a whining (Y/N) behind him.

She had a hand clutching his arm as she persisted, “Just one more piggyback ride to the office and I swear I’ll let it go.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he stated, raising a hand to the back of his neck. “It’s just a date.”

“With a girl from the office! That’s so specific, yet so vague at the same time,” she pouted, pulling on his arm again. “But with one ride I’ll put my serious interrogation to a…”

“Or you could accept my offer for a day out (Y/D/D) and we can forget all the stuff that happened during the game.”

She paused, dropping his arm immediately, “Me? You want to go on a date with me?”

“Why not?” he stated, staring towards the ground, “I’ve been thinking about it and I don’t know…”

“Well, how could I say no to such a handsome face?” she laughed, watching him whip his eyes to her.

“For real?”

She laughed, snaking her arm back around his, “Like you said, why not? It’ll be fun.”

“(Y/N)! Damien. Glad I found you,” Ian came bounding through the doors with a phone to his face. “Have you seen any of the livestream reactions? It’s going crazy.”

“No,” (Y/N) admitted, not minding anyone seeing her arm wrapped around Damien’s. “What’re they saying.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen more shippers in one place at one time,” Ian laughed, continuously scrolling. “I think you and Damien broke the fandom.”

“The viewers are shipping us?” Damien questioned; his voice quiet but finding himself gazing down towards (Y/N).

Ian shrugged his shoulders, “Could (Y/S/N) be anyone else?”

(Y/N) laughed again, pressing her head into Damien’s arm and feeling him reach down for her hand.

“They’re shipping who?”

Wes came strutting into the hallway, immediately noticing who was holding hands with his little sis, “What is…?”

(Y/N) bit her lip, glancing up, “Listen…” A smile grew on her face as Damien stiffened at the look Wes was giving him.

Perfect chaos.  

~~~

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[kazbrkker]

Chapter 1: Fog of War

Chapter summary: When the transported gas is stolen by insurgents, codename “Saint” is sent to assist Alex. (2325 words)

Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, mild torture. 

24 OCTOBER 2019. 0630 "Alex" CIA with Marine Raiders Verdansk, Kastovia

Pain.

That was the first thing Alex registered. The throbbing pain held his body paralysed with every breath he drew. Black started to seep in the corner of his eyes, he clamped down on his teeth, struggling to stay conscious.

A god damn RPG. He'd be lucky if he didn't break anything.

The ringing in his ears smothered the pulses of enemy fire over his head. He watched helplessly on the ground as more enemy trucks infiltrated the compound.

"Watcher to 3-1. How copy?! Alex, do you read- over!"

Hitman 7-5 ran over and grasped his hand, intending to get him to safety while 7-4 provided them with cover. "I got you- I got you, 3-1!"

Alex felt himself being dragged away from his burning armoured truck, only strong enough to watch his legs dig in the gravel. In a blink, a bullet lodged itself in 7-1 and his supporter collapsed onto the ground.

God damn.

Badly wounded, 7-1 struggled to get up. "Who the fuck is this!"

Behind him, a masked insurgent walked from the gas truck and fired, killing Hitman 7-1. Alex only felt 7-1's blood splatter across his bare arm.

The insurgent kicked 7-1's body, confirming the kill. Alex cursed through gritted teeth, his gas mask muffling the angry curse words. The insurgent paid no mind, briefly inspected the dead corpse, eyes wide when the Marines uniform came into view. Panicking, he quickly called for his leader.

The insurgents took the truck filled with chemical weapons and boarded it. "Move out- Go, go, go!" The truck drove away with the chemical weapons.

Bilingual... decent English skills.

Alex ripped off his gas mask, breathing heavily from his wounds. They were so close. "Shit."

The CIA agent swept around, he was the only survivor from the attack. "Echo 3-1 to Watcher."

"Alex! What happened?"

"Terrorist attack- Multiple Marines KIA- Gas stolen- We need EVAC, now!"

"Roger– Tracking multiple Russian forces headed your way. Sit tight. We're pushing to you for fast exfil. Watcher out."

He was in no shape to fight properly, but if he stayed on the ground, he's dead meat. Groaning, he pushed himself off the ground with every ounce of strength left in his systems, wincing.

"3-1 be advised, Hammer 2-1 is circling back to you for exfil. ETA 10 mikes."

Busy putting pressure on his wounds, Alex blindly sprayed his M4A1, getting a few good kills. "Roger that."

"Command is sending Saint, she will meet you back at base for debrief."

"Shouldn't she be in Paris?"

"She's redesignated. Command wants the Aces on this. Watcher out."

Alex sighed, feeling irritated for her. The assignment in Paris was personal to her, and knowing her, Alex could count on one hand how many things could affect her like that. But that's how it is in the agency, you never get to choose.

━━━━ SAME DAY. 0600. CIA with Rangers Unknown CIA Site, "Hostel", Paris

Leaning against the cold concrete wall, she crossed her arm and drummed her fingers in equal parts anticipation and boredom. Her dark hazel eyes were solely glued onto the restrained target sitting in the centre of the room. After three gruelling months, she finally caught him.

Fedir Boucher, a dirty bomb maker.

The CIA agent nonchalantly popped a piece of mint in her mouth as Ruddiger delivered another punch to Boucher's face, another spray of blood dribbling messily.

She crouched, levelling with Boucher. "Give me a name, Fedir, and I'll make it stop."

"Go... to hell," Boucher meekly lets out, a bloodied grin on display. "боягуз (Coward). A weak girl like you couldn't even hurt me if you tried."

Smirking, she dusted her hands and threw a cloth to Ruddiger to clean the blood off his knuckles. Meanwhile, the agent started to strip off her weapons. "Your lucky day."

She took her sweet time detaching the rest of her gear, leaving her weaponless. Her best way of working. "My friend here from the Army, he has protocols to follow so we avoid any international incidents. But I'm... different. I have no rules. I actually don't exist."

In a flash, she swivelled and snapped Boucher's right wrist into half. The screams that followed were raw, each one piercing to their ears.

"If there's anything you're holding back... Now would be a good time to confess." Her voice was calm and accentuated. She wasn't fucking around and this should make Boucher well aware of that.

"You- You need me alive! I am no use to you dead!"

Or maybe he doesn't. She mentally sighed, reaching for her revolver laid on the table.

She loaded a single round in her revolver and spun the cylinder. "You're useless if you don't give me a name in the next 10 seconds."

The agent only held a cold expression on her face. "I know all about the games you play with your victims, tricking vulnerable women and children." She took aim between his eyes, eyes cold.

"What you are doing is illegal!" Boucher hissed, heavily breathing.

She huffed, that's rich.

Ruddiger stared at the scene, eyes slightly widening. He was surprised that this line of interrogation came quicker than expected. Just as the CIA agent placed the muzzle against Boucher's head, he interrupted. "Agent."

Pausing, she lowered the revolver. Eyes still trained on her target, she spoke in a solemn tone, "You should leave the room now."

The absence of a metal door closing made her avert her gaze in surprise. Ruddiger stood rooted in the same spot, hands crossed authoritatively, "Sergeant, if you choose to stay here, whatever happens next must be excluded from your debrief. Can you do that?"

"No, ma'am. I took an oath, I cannot break it."

"Can you take one then?" She watched as his eyes flickered to the HVT on the chair, a cold-blooded killer who denotes bombs for his sole entertainment and now, whoring out for profits.

A decisive nod from Ruddiger sealed the deal. "Let's end this."

"Roger that", she took the lead and slammed the armed revolver against Boucher's temple. Fat beads of perspiration rolled down his temples.

Click, the sound echoed throughout the tiny interrogation room. Boucher squeezed his eyes shut, a shaky breath escaped.

"A name."

Boucher shook his head violently, "I don't know anything!"

Stressing her brows in annoyance, she pulled the trigger again. Click. "You're a very lucky man, Boucher. Statistically, you have a 66.7% chance of living. Are you game?"

She eyed the man, the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, all signs pointing that he was about to break, "I never made contact with Valhalla!"

Sneering, she tightened a hand around his neck. "Lies! How did Valhalla get the package then?"

"I left it beside a poubelle at Bois de Boulogne! I never saw Valhalla or any of his men! I swear- I swear!" Satisfied with the steel proof sound of conviction in his voice, she forcefully released his face. Glaring, the agent shifted the revolver an inch shy of his right ear and fired twice.

Boucher flinched with every echo. Staring him dead in his eyes, she raised the barrel one last time, expressionless.

Her eyes flickered to Ruddiger, who didn't look bothered by her actions. She fired one last shot, this time, a loud bang escaped from the revolver.

Boucher fell sideways with the chair, thrashing. The absence of blood pooling around his body, or the fact that he remained alive startled the man. He groggily peeled his eyes open, the blinding white light left the woman standing over him to his imaginations.

"I..." He echoed incoherently about the afterworld.

She reached down to him, grabbing his chin. "Blanks. You're not dead, Boucher, fat wish. You're going to rot in a cell for the rest of your god damn life." Her revolver tumbled right beside his face, making him recoil, "But this? Consider this a fraction of the payback for the women and children who died in your hands."

The CIA agent exited the room with Ruddiger. They were met with two other Rangers standing guard at the door. "Did he break?"

"They always do." She smiled, "Said he dropped off the package for Valhalla beside a bin in Bois de Boulogne."

Blaze 0-3 nodded, "I'll call it in."

"I'll do it, I have something else to report. For goodness sake, go get some shut eye. I'll get some trustworthy agents to stand guard." The group grinned at her.

She tapped her wristwatch communicator, "Saint to Actual, Valhalla picked up his package in Bois de Boulogne. We're pulling up street cams for verification, over."

"Copy that, Saint, job well done. I've just received word that your Command has reassigned you. You are to leave immediately for Urzikstan."

"Sir? I retrieved the intel, I can catch Valhalla." She gritted her teeth, careful with her words.

"There's no doubt you will, Saint. This order came from Langley, my hands are tied. You are heading to Urzikstan, agent."

The CIA agent released her tightened fist. She should be used to this at this point, but this assignment... She wanted- needed to see this through. The group of Rangers passed her a solemn look, hearing it through the comms. "What about this mission, sir?"

"The CIA will assign another agent." She pinched her nose bridge and took a deep, controlled breath.

"Request permission to appoint handover, sir."

"Let's hear it, Saint."

Her hazel eyes went in search for Ruddiger, immediately spotting the 6"2 Marine. "Sergeant Ruddiger should takeover, he has been vital in this op."

A deep sigh came from the receiving end, "Copy that. I'll relay it as if it were my own, Saint. Whiskey 5 is en route to Hostel, get ready for egress. Charlie out."

She exhaled deeply, appreciating the Colonel's kindness. It made her reminisce about her times in the Army.

Urzikstan. That was Alex's assignment. She was hardly assigned to missions in such a hostile environment, it was Alex's speciality. They must really need her on this.

Ruddiger approached her, his tall figure towering over her 5"7 one. "Thank you, you didn't have to do that."

She scoffed, fidgeting with her fingers. "Nah. A new agent would take days to acclimate, that's precious time we can't lose. Plus, you've got heart, no better reason than why I recommended you. For what's worth."

Ruddiger noticed the way her last sentence lightly trailed off but didn't press on it. It wasn't his first day here, agents like her don't exactly have a choice. "I'm sorry about this."

"Me too." She mumbled softly, aimlessly fidgeting with her gear. "Just catch Valhalla. You'll be doing us all a favour, 5-1."

"Oorah." He passed a sincere smile.

"It was nice working with you for the past three months, Ruddiger. Appreciate it for... back there." She nodded towards the interrogation room. "I'll be sure to write up an excellent debrief for ya."

Ruddiger casually shook his head, smiling, "Just doing what I gotta do, Saint. But I gotta say, that name suits you well... Ma'am."

He mentally cursed, worried that he was trespassing. Some call signs were extremely sensitive. And based on what he has heard, so was hers. But could you blame him? He was still a little high off the adrenaline from the interrogation. Plus, a part of him would be lying if he wasn't curious though.

The agent merely cocked an eyebrow, interested. Standing before her, he was obviously nervous but didn't reveal much.

Huh, she noted, he'd make a good agent if he wanted to.

"What have I told you, screw the formalities." She said honestly, waving it off and Ruddiger visibly relaxed. "Go on."

Ruddiger scratched at the nape of his neck absentmindedly, sort of a sheepish look on his face. "Well, by the time you were done with Boucher, he was yelling something about saviours when we left the room. He must have thought you were there to save him.."

"Est mon sauveur. My saviour."

"Fitting." He hummed.

The agent only gave a smile that doesn't seem to reach her eyes, "Unfortunately."

━━━━ 24 OCTOBER 2019, 1500 CIA BASE, Urzikstan.

The CIA agent stepped off the jet, hands holding her go-bag. First thing she noticed? The atrocious weather.

Dressed in simple jeans and a loose black tee, her chestnut brown hair was neatly tied in a bun. Yet, she could already feel the stickiness on her body. Fun, she couldn't wait to be in full gear.

Amidst the blazing sun, Kate Laswell stood a few feet away from the landing strip, waiting for her. The agent took off her sunglasses and passed a knowing smile to Laswell.

"Station chief Laswell, it's good to see you again." the agent greeted with a professional smile, walking alongside Laswell.

"Wish it were under better circumstances, Saint."

She glanced around the base, noticing several tinted tentages everywhere. "When is it ever? I read the brief on my way over. To say we've got a big problem is understating it."

"Still not a sleeper, I see?"

She grinned, shutting the door behind her. "I never do on jets, Kate, you know me."

"It's military grade, Saint. It never crashes."

"I beg to differ." She grimaced, a distant reminder that made her skin crawl. "Anyhow. Where's Alex? Didn't the bastard know I was coming? I was half expecting a confetti ceremony the moment I stepped off the heli."

"I sure hope you weren't referring to me. Cause I got you something better." The door swung open and Alex came into view, his middle finger teasingly on display. Upon seeing Laswell, the other CIA agent swiftly retracted it, cleared his throat and pretended nothing happened.

She passed a rueful grin at Alex, rolling her eyes at his idiocy.

Alex was all smiles, spreading his arms wide. He sure was not holding back how happy he was to see his best friend.

"Alexis."

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. masterlist here. want to be tagged? let me know!

[quiet-onset]

Infinity (1)

Pairing: Orpheus!Peter Parker x Eurydice!reader (I imagine him in his early 20s)

Word Count: 2.7k+ 

A/N: This is yet another series I started because self control = 0, especially in quarantine lmao. I finally listened Hadestown, which I highly recommend if you’re into musical theater. This series is based on this musical by Anaïs Mitchell, which is based on Greek tale of Orpheus and Eurydice. There will be some of the same lines, but mainly iconic ones that I don’t think should be replaced. I’ll be sure to put a credit at the start of any chapter that I use the exact same lines. Consider this this chapter’s credit to Anaïs Mitchell!

The wind blew hard. This way and that as you tugged you coat tighter, stepping off the Greyhound that you’d been on for hours. You rolled your shoulders and stepped forward as you sought out the closest place to get a hot meal. You had no idea where you were anymore. You only knew that you needed to go.

Go where? You weren’t sure yet.

You’d been on your own for a long while now, and you liked it that way. No one to boss you around. No one depending on you, and not depending on anyone. It was a hard life, but that’s exactly what it was — life. Maybe it wasn’t how things should have been, but that’s how they were.

The sooner everyone learned that, the better they’re lives would be.

As you stepped away from the bus stop, you looked around at the town, finally catching a sign with its name: Hadestown. Well, that’s a bit dramatic, you thought. Sure, the place was kind of old and broken down, but that didn’t make it hell. Maybe there was something you were missing. If there was, you didn’t care to stick around and find out. Before you could walk too far, you bought a new bus ticket, tomorrow at noon sharp.

You could last till then. For now, you just needed food and a bed.

You tapped a young man on the shoulder, and he looked up from his phone. “Hey, do you know if there’s a restaurant around here?” You asked.

He gave you a onceover, taking note of your torn jeans and worn gray t-shirt that was fraying at the seams. He nodded his head to the left, toward the tracks. “You might wanna head to the diner, across town by the railroad tracks. ‘S cheaper.”

You scoffed and adjusted your backpack as you pushed past him. “Gee thanks.”

It took about twenty minutes for you to get to the diner the boy told you about. You let out a breath of relief as you stepped inside. It seemed lively enough, small pockets of laughter here and there. You breathed into your hands to warm them, ferociously rubbing them together. Then, a man walked up to you, not much taller than you with a flannel covering his ACDC t-shirt. “I’m Tony. Can I get you a table?” A deep voice, but warm. Kind.

And, by your book, not to be trusted.

“A booth, if you have one.” You nodded.

“Follow me.”

He walked past the few tables with people. At one table sat two men, drinking and laughing as they teased each other about this or that. Another with a group, two men and two women, toasting to some recently completed job that was, by the looks of them, probably illegal. Then, just as you rounded to the other side of the bar, three women sat together. One with light brown skin, the slightest bit of a curl in her hair that was braided down her back. Another with a short, dark bob that just reached her shoulders, the color matching the intensity of her eyes. The last, a younger woman, a coat of reddish-maroon leather just barely touching the floor. The trio gazed at you as you walked by, and it filled you with a strange feeling, but they said nothing.

Weird.

“It’s pretty cold out there to be April.” He said, attempting to make small talk as you sat down.

“And soon, it’ll be blazing hot.” You replied. “Same old, same old.”

“‘S not natural.”

You picked up the menu, “It is now.”

He paused, then gave you a chuckle and turned to go back to the bar. “I’ll give you a minute.”

As soon as Tony got back to the bar, Peter was on his tail. Peter had long since given up pretending to work, his pen and pad sitting on the countertop. He wasn’t working before you came in, and sure as hell wasn’t working after. As soon as he saw you, something in his heart twitched. It skipped a beat, and his breath caught in his throat. He always believed in love at first sight, but he never thought it’d happen to him. Yet, there you were, your nose in a menu, slightly crinkled as you began to think of how you were going to find somewhere to sleep. He didn’t know how he knew, but you were the one. “Who is that girl?” Peter asked eagerly.

“A customer.”

“What’s her name?”

“She wasn’t talkative.”

“Is she alone?”

“Seems that way.” Tony said, finally turning to face him. “You should be working.”

Peter looked at him indignantly, “I was working.”

“I mean working the bar, not working on a song.”

“It’s not a song, it’s the song. It’s important—”

“I know that, Peter. But you’ve still got a job to do.”

Peter knew Tony was right, but this job always felt like a means to an end. He worked there, with Tony, because he needed money. A roof over his head. Songwriting was his passion anyhow. Sometimes, when Tony was feeling generous, he’d let Peter play in the diner, and the people always seemed to love his music. Still, praise wasn’t enough to make a living.

Tony sighed at the dejected look that Peter did a poor job of hiding. He took a glass and filled it with cold water. “You wanna talk to her?”

Peter perked up. “Yes.”

“Go take her order.” Tony gave the water, tightening his grip when Peter was about to walk away. “Don’t freak her out, alright?”

“No problem.”

Peter tried to be as natural as possible as he walked around the bar to you, apron tied snugly around his waist. When he arrived at your table, he noticed you gazing at the pot filled with dirt on the windowsill next to her. You thought it was cute that they thought they could grow something in this weather. The weather hadn’t been kind to anyone, plants most of all. At least, not while it was freezing cold outside. Maybe when the sun comes back out, you thought, but it’ll dry out by then. The plant, the town, you. You’d all dry out when the sun came back.

It wasn’t natural, but it was now.

Peter placed the glass of water down in front of you, and gave you a small smile. “Come home with me.”

You looked up, eyes wide with surprise. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“The man who’s gonna marry you.” He answered. You weren’t sure if your eyes could get wider, but they tried. You looked over at Tony behind the bar, who glanced back and gave a helpless shrug. Sliding into the booth across from you, the man put his hand out for a handshake. “I’m Peter.”

You gave him a onceover. You couldn’t deny he was attractive. A brunette with honey brown eyes that matched the leaves of tall trees that used to change colors — reds, browns, and yellows —  while it was still a bit hot and just before it got cold. Just before, just before.

Except it wasn’t before. This was it now. Cold or hot, in or out. No in between.

You took his hand, “I’m Y/N.”

Why did you do that? Why did you tell him your name? The whole point of you travelling the way you did was so you didn’t form attachments. One town then the next. No friends, not even acquaintances. Since you couldn’t escape the wind, you went wherever it took you. Your name was one of the only things you still owned at this point. So what possessed you to tell this man — Peter — something so precious as your name?

You all but snatched back your hand as you caught your guard just as it was slipping. Still, Peter smiled. “Sounds like a melody.”

“So, you’re a singer?” You asked him.

“And I play the guitar.”

You hummed, looking back down at your menu. “Sorry, not interested. I’ve met too many men like you. Charm women into bed and forget their names the next day.”

“I’m, uh,” Peter paused, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. “I’m not like that.”

You chuckled. “I’m sure you’re not.”

He watched your face as you read through the menu for what seemed like the third time. Your plump bottom lip was tucked between your teeth, and your knee was bouncing up and down under the table. You were clearly uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem to be about him. No, you looked like you could hold your own against any unwanted advances.

This was about money, Peter realized. You didn’t know how you were going to pay for the food, let alone find somewhere to sleep. He knew from experience that lack of money was a touchy subject, so he carefully placed two fingers atop the menu and pushed it down and away from your face. “It’s on the house.” He said quietly. 

“What makes you think—-”

“I don’t think anything.” He told you. “I’ve been there before. Am there, actually. Tony can spare a meal.”

Your knee stopped bouncing, and an uncomfortably warm feeling rose at the pit of your stomach. “And if he can’t?”

“He can take it from my tips. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you.”

You placed the menu down gently and looked up at him. His eyes were kind, somehow filled with admiration for you, a woman he’d barely just met. You never believed in love at first sight. It was impossible for two people to look at each other and just know that this was it. That the other now owned your heart and would hold it dear. That it would be you and them against the world for the rest of your lives.

At least, you thought it was impossible. You still weren’t sold on the idea, but… considering.

“So,” Peter smiled. “What do you want?”

When you quietly listed the cheapest thing on the menu, Peter nodded and told you he’d be back. As you waited for him to return, you looked back at the pot, still filled with dirt but no plant. You placed a hand on the clay, cold to the touch. There was no telling how long it’d been sitting there, but you felt bad for it. It was doomed from the start.

Just as you removed your hand, the woman with the maroon leather jacket slightly bumped into you as she walked by. “Sorry.” Her sweet smile was a sharp contrast to the intense stare she fixed on you. Almost like she knew something you didn’t. “Just headed to the bathroom.”

Suddenly, your head was a bit cloudy. You closed your eyes, just for a moment. But in that moment, you saw a flash of something. Something that seemed more of a dream than a reality. The flash of faded yellow lights, swinging back and forth in a wide and dark hallway that was bathed in mist and fog. Just as soon it appeared, it was gone, and when you opened your eyes, Peter stood in front of you with a plate of food and a glass of juice. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, picking up your glass of water. “Just a little dehydrated, I guess.”

“Probably starving, too.” He added. He, again, slid in across from you and gave you the food he’d prepared with just a bit more than the average plate. Not that you’d ever know. He waited until you began to eat, which calmed his nerves, to tell you what was on his mind. “I’m writing a song.”

You rolled your eyes with the faintest smile pulling at your lips, “Isn’t that what singers do?”

“Well yeah, but it’s about what the song will do.” Peter told you. “It’s gonna make spring come back.”

“A song?” You deadpanned. “A song is going to make spring come back. Have you fallen and hit your head recently? I think you need to see a doctor.”

“You don’t understand. Things, life — it all works a little different in Hadestown.”

“Okay.” You started, reasoning with him. “If the song is supposed to bring spring back, why don’t you sing it?”

“It’s not finished.” Peter shook his head, suddenly not wanting to talk about the song. “You know, I am gonna marry you.”

“Really?” You held back a laugh. Not necessarily at the prospect of marrying him, but at his confidence in your answer to his proposal. “And why should I be your wife?”

“Well, I’m the only one to make you smile since you walked in this place. I’ve got a feeling that you’re the kind who survives.”

“Nothing wrong with survival. It got me this far, and it hasn’t failed me yet.”

“I think it has.”

“How so?”

“It hasn’t taught you how to live. I can do that for you.”

You paused, considering his statement. Some of the people you’d met along your way thought that you were the coolest person they’d ever met. A life on the road. In a car, on a bus, riding a motorcycle down the freeway. No one to answer to or worry about. But the longer you stayed on the road, the more you realized they were wrong. It was an incredibly lonely life in an even lonelier world, working for scraps and paying for what you needed with the little money you managed to gather.

Maybe it wasn’t how things should have been, but that’s how they were. That’s what you always told yourself. But maybe, Peter could show you another way, a happier way.

“Sing the song.” You told him. You watched the way he tensed up, and softly grabbed his hand that rested on the table. His hand was soft, but his fingertips were rough, seasoned by the thick strings of his guitar that his mother had given him before she died. It was a scary comparison for you and him. The one cared and the one who didn’t. The one who survived and the one who lived. “You wanna take me home?”

“Yes.” He answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You urged him softly, “Sing it.”

Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It wasn’t much of a song yet. Just a handful of notes and a string of la la las. Still, he sang softly, his hand still holding onto yours. Just then, the woman with the leather jacket passed by again on her way back from the bathroom, and she brushed Peter’s shoulder. It wasn’t noticeable by any means, but it made his brow crease, made his hand squeeze yours just a bit tighter. You didn’t realize it — you thought he was hyper-focused on the song. But behind his eyes, Peter saw a flash. A dream, maybe. Train tracks, his shoes covered with thick mud, and a stone wall under a pitch black sky, an overwhelming urge to cross over settling in the pit of his stomach.

Then he opened his eyes and the image was replaced by you, your head turned to look at the pot once more. Except now, a daisy had emerged from the dirt, strong white petals in the middle of a dark, cold diner. You looked back at him, eyes wide in wonder.

“How’d you do that?”

“I told you things work differently in Hadestown.” He repeated, smiling at the almost childlike wonder on your face. He added quickly after the fact, “It’s not finished though.”

“Still, if just a phrase can do that? You have to finish it.”

You weren’t sure what brought you to Hadestown or to this diner. What brought you to this booth and to Peter. What made the outside freezing cold or blazing hot. You just knew that, at that moment, the world only knew extremes. Cold or hot, in or out, alive or dead.

And you were done being dead.

You thought that’d be the end of your tale. The girl finds the boy who can make her happy. They get married and live happily ever after. That’s the dream, right? Well, your happily ever after turned to dust as Tony marched past the trio of women near the bar and over to your booth, leaning over to speak to Peter in a quiet voice.

“Where did you hear that melody?”

[zandracourt]

Something to understand about the Cog Test 45 says he took.

I work in Elder Abuse (meaning I investigate cases of elder abuse) and I administer a test very similar to the one 45 took. He took the MoCA. I use the MMSE. Both are similar and both have the counting backwards from 100 by 7s. This was the part that he said was where the test “got very hard”. Now, if math isn’t your strong suit, you might think, “Shit, if someone asked me to count backwards by 7s from 100, that would be tough”. But the point of the question is NOT to see if you still have your 7’s times table memorized enough to say them backwards. It’s all about if you can still PROCESS HOW TO DO IT. The test has no time limit, take as long as you like. There is no penalty if you count on your fingers. AND you get credit for groups of 7, even if one is wrong. So, for example, 100-7=93. That is the first answer. The test asks you to do serial 7s five times. 93-7=86. Now let’s say you do 86-7=78 and then you give 78-7=71. Even though you got the 78 wrong, you get a point for the 71 because from where you started, you subtracted 7 correctly. We only ask for one more, so next you say 71-7=63. So your answers given are 93, 86, 78, 71, 63 and your score on that question is 3 out of 5. Again, we are looking for if the person can figure out *how* to reason the numbers.

Normally, I give this to every alleged victim and almost all are over the age of 60. My experience has been that up until about 70, people will be able to do this, even if they take a while or count on their hands. After 70 most will either refuse to answer (earning them 0 points) or get the first two and not be able to do the rest. This is not because they are uneducated but because the brain does deteriorate and calculations are harder as the brain ages. So on the one hand, the fact that he found this part of the test to be “hard” is actually normal in my experience. But it also a sign of normal cognitive decline. And I should say that if someone I interview can do all the rest of the MMSE but not the serial 7s, that actually keeps them in the “normal” range cognitively.

But what it does tell me, as someone working in abuse situations, is how much they are able to work through problems. See, everyone who went through the American school system learned how to solve simple subtraction. And the generation that is over 60 came up at a time when mental arithmetic drills were still common (Hell, I’m Gen X and I did them), so even without newer methods of solving, like groupings by 10s or breaking out number places, their generation was used to doing math in their heads without calculators. So in theory, even if the process has *slowed*, they still should be able to access the *tools* for solving. But most won’t even try. And that gives me a lot of insight into how vulnerable they are in their abuse situations.

So my concern regarding 45 saying the serial 7’s question was hard is not so much in how quickly he’d have to do the math, because many of us, even young people, may have to take time in answering. My concern would be in either his refusal to answer the question (which I don’t know), or if he was unable to access those tools to solve it fully. And he could have “passed” (which is not what people do, they just get a number that indicates if cognitive issues are present and how severe) with a number in the normal range and still have issues of processing/solving that would, and should, be alarming in a president.

[maximumcatfeels]

So, this will eventually be a finished story, but for now… It’s Halloween. I’m excited. I just redid my icon and my header picture. And I just wanted to share this small piece with you guys.

It’s not Beta’d yet (obviously) and I’m hoping I can get the actual story done by New Years… but I don’t have high hopes for that time line :S

There is some bad language in it so far, so uh be aware? (Moira is cranky AF)

As for pairings : Currently it’s Pharmercy and Sigmoira – but it’s more that everyone thinks Moira and Sigma are together and they both dance around the issue. Also the Pharmercy is SUPER unhealthy. 0/10 do not model any relationships off of it, guys.

Anyways, enjoy.

________

Moira O’Deorain had troubling remembering things before her death. To be fair her death had probably been very traumatic, if the shackles on her wrists and ankles were any indication. That and typically one didn’t turn into a banshee if you happened to pass on peacefully. (Actually, she didn’t know anyone that turned into a banshee after death besides her, but that was neither here nor there.)

That being said, Moira did remember a few things. She had been a witch in a small coven in the woods outside Aldersbrun. She used to have two dogs and a pet rabbit, plus a small hutch of rabbits she kept for meat and … magical experiments. Her little cottage near a large pond was dilapidated now, but it had been quite cozy when she had been alive.

She also knew - like she knew her own name - that the Witch of the Wilds, otherwise known as Angela Ziegler, was a massive winged cunt.

A massive winged cunt who was currently knocking on the rotted remains of her cottage door.

“Sod off!” Moira yelled through the door, rummaging in a ratty torn bag, checking that it had what she need to check her snare traps. She didn’t have time for this, she needed to get out and (hopefully) get some rabbit meat for dinner.

“Oh Moiraaaaaaa,” the literal witch sing-songed, apparently ignoring her, “is that anyway to talk to an old friend?”

“If you were an old friend, you’d know that is how I talk to everyone, now feck off!” Moira yelled over her shoulder, stuffing her favorite skinning knife in the bag. Thank the moon and stars she had a ward on the door keeping the bitch out.

“You didn’t use to be like this,” lamented Angela. Moira looked over her shoulder and noted the blue eye of the witch looking at her through one of the many holes in the door.  Did this witch know no boundaries? “I would know, you know. Since I’m an old friend.”

Moira resisted the urge to poke the witch’s eye out with a long clawed finger. She was pretty sure that Angela couldn’t break the ward as long as no part of her got through the door. Sadly, if Moira poked her eye out, she’d probably get some blood on her claws and then Angela would be able to get inside. Pity.

“I don’t have friends now, and I doubt I changed that much from when I was alive. Now leave!” Moira barked out as she slung the bag over her shoulder. She needed to get going, the sun was rising and she had shite to do.

The blue eye that had been peering through the hole in the door retreated. “But wouldn’t you like to know for sure?” came the purr of a determinedly persistent witch. “I could restore your memories, you know. And your house.”

Moira mouthed the next words sarcastically as Angela said them, “I would only ask for a very small thing in return.”

Every single time, this is how the conversation between them went. Moira was tired of it. Maybe being blunt would help get rid of her. She didn’t want to open the door with Angela right there. Bitch might take it as an invitation to come in.

“No. I’ve seen what you ask for in return! Quite frankly, I don’t even know if I have a soul anymore, so stop asking!”

“It doesn’t have to be your soul…” Angela purred. Moira could see that she had plastered herself, well-endowed chest first against the door, a half lidded blue eye peeking through a hole. “Your mind or magic will do…. Hmmm, maybe even your bod-“

“No!” Moira was not going to play those games! Especially not with her! “Don’t you dare even go there! I am done with this conversation! Now leave before I start screaming!” She would start doing her banshee wail, if that’s what it took to get rid of this witch on her doorstep, but she’d rather not. She’d probably wake half the forest, and Akande, the fish monster living in the pond, did not appreciate that.

“Wait!” The witch sounded genuinely panicked. She had also stumbled away from the door a step or two, just in case of screaming.  “I just wanted to beg a favor of you!”

Moira scoffed. That wasn’t new either. “Let me guess, you got bored with your latest conquest and ‘accidentally’ did them a mischief?”

“No!” Now Angela just sounded indignant. “Fareeha is doing just fine!”

Moira rolled her eyes. How well could anyone be after having their soul stuffed in enchanted armor and their original body possessed by another spirit?

“What I need from you, my beautiful banshee,” Angela continued in her sultry you-definitely-want-to-take-this-deal tone, “is help me and my servants in assaulting the Castle this year. It happens tomorrow night, and I believe with you on our side, we can have the upper hand for sure.”

Oh bollocks, it was that time of year again, wasn’t it. She had finished her warding preparations last week, but she needed to stockpile a few extra days of food, too. Moira sighed, she had to get rid of this witch, now, or else everything would be behind schedule.

“No. I’m working.” That was… not the best answer, but it was fairly accurate. Angela didn’t need to know what the work was exactly.

“What do you mean working?! You’re dead!”

Maybe a dose of truth would get her to leave, Moira thought as she snapped back, “Every single fucking year, you either win or you lose your fight with the castle defenders with minimal difference either way, but the rest of the fae and supernatural folk suffer. When you win, the humans send more hunters, who tear up the forest looking for you but finding the rest of us poor sods. And when you lose, there’s a power struggle between idiots until you reform.”

The witch was silent for a moment. Moira hoped that she would take the hint and leave now, but sadly, the brat then asked, “And what does that have to do with you?” and Moira’s already thin patience frayed even more.

“I sodding live here, you insufferable harlot! I have to deal with the aftermath!”

“Harlot?! Harlot?!“ Ah, shite, now the witch was pissed off too. “How dare you! Like you’re one to point fingers!  I bet you’re just going to go disappear for a few days with your own man whore, the astro-mancer who lives on the edge of your territory!”

Oh. That. BITCH. That was it!

Letting her fury take over, Moira threw open her door and screamed right in the stupid witch’s surprised face.

The force of her scream forced the witch to topple backwards and be dragged by the sonic blast along the gravel laden ground of the walkway.

“Ugh. I don’t know why I even bother!” The witch huffed as she got up; reaching for her fallen hat and tugging her rumpled clothing back into place. “I’m just trying to help you!”

“I don’t need your help! Now begone!” Moira screeched, no longer caring about the neighbors.

The witch plopped her signature hat back on her head, hopped on her broom side-saddle and flew away with only a “hmph!” thrown over her shoulder in lieu of a goodbye. Which was fine by Moira.

“Good riddance.” She muttered under her breath.

She stepped outside (finally!) and shut the door behind her. But as she turned back to start down the gravel path, a new visitor zipped into view. Oh god, it was that annoying will-o-wisp, Lena. What else could go wrong today?

“Yes, Lena?” Moira sighed.

The Will-o-wisp rocked back and forth on her heels, mischievous smile plastered on her face, “Sooo, I couldn’t help but overhear part of your row with the Witch…”

Moira dug her claws into the strap of her ratty bag. “Get to the point,” she growled.

“You ARE going to the astro-mancer’s house instead of helping her, aren’t you?”  Lena asked, cocking her head to one side.

Moira counted to ten in her head, then exhaled. “Yes-“

“And you ARE setting up wards at his place to keep her out, right?” Lena interrupted.

Moira blinked. She set up those wards to keep the bitch out, and keep her from bothering poor Siebren yes. But why was Lena asking this now? “Well, yes but-“

“AND you ARE setting up protections to keep hunters away too, right?”

Moira was still confused as to where this was going. “Yeeessssss….” She answered slowly. “But what does-“

“Do you think Emily and me can spend a couple of days crashing at his place, too? I helped defend the castle last year,  (and they don’t need me this year thankfully) but I think the witch is pissed off at me. And yeah, she can’t do nothin’ to me, but she might target my new girlfriend Emily. Well, I say new – but is it really new if you were already dating in a different dimension? Anyways, have you met Emily? She’s a doll! Best human I’ve ever known! We need more humans like her! She doesn’t even ask about how I technically don’t exist in this plane or why I’ve got a pumpkin shackled to me chest-“

Moira blinked a few times at the sheer amount of word vomit Lena was spewing in her direction. But eventually her mind caught up and parsed the first question.

“Lena!” She said sharply to get the will-o-wisp to shut up for two seconds. “It’s not my house. You’d have to ask Siebren if he would allow it.”

“But what about your wards?”

Moira furrowed her brow. “What about them?”

“Don’t you have to let us  in or else I’ll get poofed?”

“No? That’s not how they work. Who told you that?”

“Sombra! You know, the new bride of Junkenstien’s monster that actually doesn’t want anything to do with him? Anyway, Sombra said you had to uh…’white-list’ us to get in through the wards or else we’d be poofed!”

Moira had NO idea what the hell Lena or Sombra were talking about. “Look, Lena, the only people who can’t go near Siebren’s house are the Witch of the Wilds, her known cronies, and hunters. Everyone else can go into his house as long as you politely ask Siebren, the actual owner of the house. So go ask him, not me!”

Lean’s face lit up. “Everyone can go?”

Moira froze. Oh shite. She should not have told Lena that. “Now, Lena, wait! Hold on a mo-”

But it was too late, the seed had been planted. Lena started babbling again, “Oh oh oh! We could make it a party! We could invite all the fae and supernaturals of the forest! Like a giant feast and slumber party! Oooooh! We could do party games! Like bobbing for eyeballs! Or pin the tail on the hellhound! Ahhh! This is the best! I’ll go ask him right now!”

Moira called out, “Wait, Lena!” but Lena just chirped “Thanks luv! Hope to see you there!” and zipped away like a hyper active flea.

Moira stood there in silence for a second, her mind reeling. The wards were done and so were the protections to keep nosy hunters away, but she didn’t have nearly enough food for a party much less several days of waiting out hunters with that many mouths to feed.

“Well,” came a low smooth voice behind her, “you know your soft hearted idiot mage is going to say yes to her. And yes to anyone else that asks.”

She turned around to see Akande, the fish monster, resting his head on his arms on the shore of the pond, webbed feet kicking lazily behind him.

“Good morning, by the way,” he added with a small wave of his webbed fingers. ”It’s always so lovely to be woken up by a screaming match between two magic users before the sun has risen. Especially when you are nocturnal and trying to fall asleep.”

Moira sagged her shoulders. “How can I make it up to you this time?”

Akande smirked. “Make sure there’s a tub of water filled for me at your precious Siebren’s place. I’ll come by and ask for his official permission tonight.”

She groaned, and pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand, but nodded.

“Oh and don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get the word out that the guests for this particular party need to bring their own food provisions. I sincerely doubt you’ve got enough stashed away for that many people. Besides, you’ve only been hoarding human food, have you not?”

Moira felt a surge of gratitude, “Yes, all the food has been for him, so I don’t have to leave and restock it.”

“And what about for you? Do you have some food for you tucked away?”

Moira shook her head. She trod a weird line between fae and undead, so her sustenance needs were tricky. If Siebren remembered to put out offerings of milk and honey, she’d be fine, but usually he forgot and she’d have to sneak in eating the life force off a passing bird or another small creature while he wasn’t looking.  “I’ll be fine.”

Akande raised one fishy eyebrow, but didn’t call her out on it. “Well, at any rate, I’ll bring in something as payment for the hospitality.”

Ugh, every time Akande brought her food it was a large stinky fish. Only now it would be several large stinky fish. Great.

“You better get going; the sun’s rising. And I know you don’t do well in the noon-day sun. See you later tonight, Moira.” And with that, he pushed himself back into the pond and disappeared into the water.

Moira sighed one more time for good measure and then set off to go find some food for the upcoming “party”.

[cosmotographer]

The Leica M10 Review

…yes I know it’s 2020 and it’s late

This review was a long time coming since I had originally planned on writing this review last Spring. It was during that time when I was fortunate enough to get the opportunity to pick up a second-hand Leica M10 in black from a fellow forum member in exchange for two of my lenses at the time (Summilux 35mm FLE and the Summicron 50mm V5). Was it worth selling my M240 at the time and trading off two lenses for the M10?

Before I continue with this review, I should caveat by saying that this is my second M10 as I sold the first one during the first draft of this review last year after my trip from Miami and Key West. I had sold it over the summer because I didn’t feel the premium wasn’t worth it to me, therefore I had sold it off and picked up a mint silver chrome M-P 240 which I loved and took it several trips with me.

Fast forward to 2020, an opportunity had come up for an M10 while I was at the gym one morning. I was catching up on Leica things during a break (as you do) and I had found a silver chrome M10 for sale for a price that was hard to pass up. A price so good, that I had completely stopped working out and went into full-time stalker mode with the seller on securing the purchase via text message. After less than 5 minutes of communicating back and forth, we had agreed on a price and a successful transaction was made.

I said farewell my beloved M-P (Typ 240) as it sold in less than a day to a gentleman in Texas. You were the best iteration of the best value digital Leica M camera, but how does the M10 compare and do I still think it was worth the money to upgrade?

My first Leica M10 in black

“Minute changes like these is what legendary products need. Nothing drastic, but incremental improvements.”

Introduction

When the M10 was first introduced in January 2017, it was a cause for celebration as reviews sang their praises as the ‘best Leica yet’ while commenting on its new 24 megapixel sensor paired with the latest Maestro II processor, a bigger viewfinder magnification with better eye-relief, a body that is as slim as the M7 film camera, a new manual ISO dial and what is this?

They’ve removed video recording!

Nobody cared. Moving on.

Not only did Leica giveth and taketh away with the M10, but they had also made the camera significantly more simplified compared to its predecessor. Leica’s new devotion to minimalism that could be seen back in 2015 with the introduction of the Leica Q, transferred over to the M10 as the camera now has less buttons, removed any superfluous menu options which led to a more structured and cleaner menu system. They even changed the power switch so that it only does one thing now: On or Off. This is a big deal as the Leica Q had a problem with some users accidentally switching to “Continuous” as the power switch had the tendency to go full-auto. Minute changes like these is what legendary products need. Nothing drastic, but incremental improvements.

Look at every new iteration of the the Porsche 911. It’s not the same car, but just improved.

As the difference in technology between the M240 (2012) and the M10 (2017) span 5 years, the improvements of the M10 can be noticed instantly with its new slimmer profile when you pick it up for the first time. While the M240 wasn’t a big camera compared to other full-frame cameras, but if you compared Leica’s other rangefinders, the M240 was a thicc boy. After a few weeks of getting reacquainted with the M10 again, I felt that the M10 is just like any other Leica: it’s more than the sum of its parts and more about its evolution rather than revolution. That’s why, at least currently, it’s the best digital iteration of Leica’s fabled rangefinder (until the M11).

My new Leica M10 in silver chrome

“…it’s more than the sum of its parts and more about its evolution rather than revolution.”

Build & Design

The M10’s new slimmer body and lighter weight compared to the M240 was very obvious and noticeable to me. As your right thumb rub against the right corner of the body next to the exposure dial, you’ll also notice the new paint finish as Leica had decided to use matte/chrome treated paint compared to the previous “black paint” finish in the previous gens. I personally prefer the black paint finish as the lacquer paint would fade over time, showing the dull gold glow of the brass underneath. This brassing gave the camera a nice patina, like a worn leather jacket after years of use.

Brassing on a Leica M240

I believe that Leica did this intentionally to give the camera a more timeless look as the brassing would give the camera an aged look over time, but I feel that the patina brings out the character of the camera. With each worn paint on different parts of the body, there is a story that comes with it. The new chrome paint finish will not age as gracefully, as it will just dull over the time, losing its matte luster to just a shiny sheen of metal.

Leica M10 Cutaway | Courtesy of Leica Camera AG

Tough as Nails

Just because the M10 doesn’t brass like its predecessors, doesn’t the camera feels cheap. The components are still machined from solid brass and magnesium alloy chassis, holding in all the components in such a small body. Nothing about the build quality is different with the M10 and they are still built to same high standards. Don’t let the smaller size of the M10 fool you either as the weight between the M240 and the M10 are almost identical (1.46 lbs vs. 1.50 lbs).

Width: 33.7mm

Weight: 1.46 lbs

Leica may not openly advertise this, but the body is weather-sealed against light precipitation and dust.

Refined Shutter

The shutter sound is definitely quieter and more refined than the M240, but the feel is about the same. Half press locks the exposure and full press releases the shutter with a refined “click”. I can’t explain the sound, but it feels slightly muffled compared to the M240. It’s definitely quieter than the M9’s robo-sex doll shutter cock sound, but I kind of like that as that’s part of the M9’s many charms.

I can’t speak for the shutter feel on the M10-P or M10-D as I don’t have any experience with them yet, but they have the quietest mechanical curtain shutters. Maybe one day I’ll pick one up (actually I know I’ll have one in the future).

Diamonds are Forever

Most of the back panel is dominated by a 3-inch TFT LCD monitor which has 1,036,800 dots and can display 16 million colors in addition to providing 100% frame coverage during live view. The difference in resolution between the M240 and the M10 may not be noticeable, at least to me, but the difference in contrast is very apparent. It’s also years ahead of the M9, which is only useful for checking exposure as it has the same screen quality of a GameBoy.

The LCD glass screen itself deserves its own paragraph as it’s sporting the latest Gorilla Glass, specifically developed for this camera by Corning. While the glass feel strong and strudy, I personally question its durability compared to the Leica M-P’s (Typ 240) more robust and exotic sapphire glass. Something that Leica had also omitted from the M10-P and M10-D. This is a big difference as sapphire glass is borderline industructible by conventional means, which is why it’s used on high-end watches that can only be scratched by diamonds. I wouldn’t be surprised if the M10’s screen is very similar to the Leica Q.

Balanced

Lastly, the body feels more balanced due to better weight distribution between the front and rear of the body if you hold the camera up by just the strap with a lens attached. This is one of the major benefits of the M10’s slimmer body as it pairs perfectly with compact lenses like the Summicron 35mm ASPH or the Voigtlander Ultron 35mm. This may not seem like a big deal, but weight distribution is counts if you want to pull some weight off your left hand, relieving some pressure off your fingers as you focus.

Miami, Florida | M10 + Summicron 35mm ASPH

“…body is weather-sealed against light precipitation and dust”

User Experience

There is something to be said about the user experience of a thinner, faster, and more accurate Leica rangefinder, especially with its improved eye relief for people with glasses. Compared to the M240, there are some noticeable improvements.

Pin-Point Accuracy

The new viewfinder has a magnification of .73x compared to the M240’s .68x magnification. This may not seem much, but that is a big difference when you’re looking inside a tiny window and you’ll notice it right away when you’re focusing your lenses. It’s much easier to nail a sharp focus and with fast lenses, this is a big improvement. By just walking around with the Voigtlander Ultron 35/1.7 ASPH I had at the time, I noticed that I was nailing focus with very little to no micro-adjustments to get a sharp focus patch. That means there is one less thing to worry about on getting a sharp focus. The second one being the quality of your eye sight to see the patch clearly.

This new viewfinder can also be a double-edged sword for those that wear glasses as composing with 28mm or 36mm lenses will have a more difficult time to compose since the eye-relief, while is improved, it’s still not ideal for glasses.

New Viewfinder | Courtesy of Leica Camera AG

Simplified Menu System

Leica had released a firmware update in 2018, which introduced the Favorites Menu that was brought over from the Leica Q. A very handy upgrade since it no longer required you to dive into the 2.5 pages of menus to change something as simple as White Balance. These are mostly quality of life improvements and once you set up your menu settings, you will very rarely ever go back in terms of shooting experience as I have everything that I need on the body of the camera: ISO, Aperture, Shutter. The dials feels solid and tactile, as you would expect from a Leica.

Carry Spares

The battery life will be a hit for people as the Leica M10’s BP-SCL5  battery has 1300 mAh of charge, which is noticeably smaller than the M240’s 1600 mAh battery. The difference of 300 mAh may not seem much and you should be able to hit 300 photos on one battery if you don’t use Live View (or EVF), but this is a far cry from the M240’s BP-SCL2 battery as a single one of those guys would last me all weekend.

Thumbs Up

The exposure compensation dial is just where it needs to be like the M240, but the Leica M10 has a slight curvature on the left side of the dial that acts as a pseduo thumb rest. Doesn’t seem like much, but it makes a noticeable difference in ergonomics, especially on a slimmer body like the M10. I still ended up buying a OEM Leica thumb grip and I recommend it wholeheartedly as we all know that Leica cameras were built for Lego people.

Controls at your finger tips

“…you will very rarely ever go back in terms of shooting experience as I have everything that I need on the body of the camera.”

Big Brains

The MAESTRO II processor is quick and depending on the Read/Write speed of your SD card, it’s as quick as the Leica Q on writing those DNG files. It’s capable of taking 5 shots per second on continuous which is impressive for a M camera. 

Wi-Fi is Lo-Fi

The built-in Wi-Fi feature is nice to have, but I doubt I’ll ever use it as my dedicated source of raw transfers since I prefer to use the SD card to transfer photos via iPad Pro or on the PC. The app itself is cumbersome and the transfer speeds are abysmally slow. To make matter worse, using the Wi-Fi feature absolutely destroys your battery life.

A Bakery in Richmond, VA | Leica M10 + Voigtlander 35/1.4 MC II

“…thumbs up grip is crazy expensive at $240 a pop”

Things I Don’t Like

Despite all these improvements, not everything is perfect with the M10. This may be the best digital Leica M camera to date, but there are a couple of issues I want to point out as they were noticeable that prevented the camera from winning over me completely.

Double Thumbs

The buttons on the back are big and easy to use, but it will take some time to get used to getting around the menu system if you’re coming from the M240…especially when you want to delete a photo.

You first have to press the “PLAY” button, which is one of the three primary buttons on the back, then press “MENU” to bring up the delete option since there is no dedicated delete button anymore. Then once you do that, you have to use the center button on the D-Pad to confirm your choice (what would be the INFO button on the M240). It’s not very intuitive but neither was the M240’s use of the “SET” button on the left. This is a minor issue as you’ll get use to it after a couple of days.

That ISO Dial

The new ISO dial on the left of side of the camera was one of the defining features of the M10 and while it is nice to have, I personally think it’s highly overrated. To change the ISO, you need to lift the switch up to unlock it (which surprisingly takes a bit of effort with your left fingers) and then turn the dial to your desired ISO settings, then press the dial back down until it snaps in to lock the ISO dial. I’m not of fan of this effort of using the ISO dial and practically impossible with gloves on.

I personally leave the dial unlocked and upright position while I’m shooting without the fear of accidentally bumping the dial to the wrong settings since theres enough resistance to stay in place. The constant adjustments to the ISO dial will require you to alter your grip a lot when it’s in locked position.

Also, good luck using the ISO dial in the dark as you can’t see anything. At least on the previous M240, you could easily manipulate the ISO on the LCD screen while turning the exposure compensation dial.

Overall, I think they just should have made the dial more tactile to reduce the chance of accidentally bumping the dial, a la Fujifilm X-Pro3. It’s a cool feature but I hated using it and I promise you that this feature will either be revised or removed in the next generation Leica M11 body.

The Options List

This should come to no surprise to anyone as Leica anything is expensive, but I want to point out that the accessories for the Leica M10 are noticeably more expensive than the M240. Par for the course, but here is the breakdown in costs for my recommended accessories.

Leica Thumb Grip – $240

Leica BP-SCL5 Batteries – $190 (however, cheaper than the M240 batteries)

Periscope

This is a WTF moment for me and for those that need GPS coordinates baked into their DNG files. If you want this feature, it’s only available if you use the optional Leica Visoflex EVF which costs a cool $600, which is odd to me. I never used or cared about this feature but it made me raise an eyebrow.

Image Quality

It’s strange to categorize the quality of the image output from a camera body, so I guess you can call this part the sensor’s characteristics.

The overall fidelity and tonality produced by the Leica M10 is excellent and while it may not win any DXO scores because Leica couldn’t give a shit about winning sensor awards, the overall output is absolutely beautiful. This is also very dependent on the type of glass you put in front of the sensor, but to keep things consistent, I’ve used both the 35mm and 50mm Summicron lenses to get a good reading on how the M10 likes to paint its pictures.

The M10’s DNG files have noticeable bump in saturation, and contrast straight out of camera when you upload them into Lightroom. Compared to the DNG files from the Leica Q, the output from the M10 is consistently more “colorful” with a hint of warmer tones. Another underrated improvement over its predecessor is the the white balance. How the M10 figures out its white balance is a big improvement as it is definitely more accurate compared to the M240’s yellowish tint.

The dynamic range is actually pretty good based on my experience in Lightroom. You can pull several stops on both highlights and shadows without destroying the file, and it should be satisfactory as long as you don’t expect Sony levels of dynamic range.

This doesn’t mean that you should be lazy on setting your exposure before taking the photo because a good baseline photo in RAW is much more preferable than trying to salvage your mistakes in post. A good rule of thumb is to underexpose my photos just a little bit to save the highlights during your tricky in/out lighting situations.

Expose for those highlights

This photo was heavily underexposed but the dynamic range headroom on the M10 allowed me to pull up the shadows while maintaining micro-contrast. The windows are actually looking inside the factory floor with the flood lights and not actually looking outside.

In Summary

What Leica had done here was to take a successful formula and make minor improvements to an already successful camera, but doing this also risked alienating fans. This is a known problem with any manufacturer that have a rabid fanbase with a long history (a la Porsche 911). When Leica developed the M10, it took some risks with some of these changes, but it’s easy to see that Leica went back to what they were very good and just made improvements to their existing core strengths. They understood who their base customers were and listened. It simplified the camera to its basics (it has three menu buttons for crying out loud) and took video out. While most DSLR and Mirrorless photographers will laugh at the idea of taking stuff out but charging the same price (if not more) for such a “low-tech” camera, this is not what Leica is about.

They cater to the niche and not the masses – something they’ve been doing for a long time and longer than any manufacturer.

M10 vs. M240

Now, some of you on the fence of purchasing a Leica M10 may be asking yourself if this camera was worth the upgrade over the M240?

Yes and No. Let me explain.

I came from a background of owning the following Leica cameras chronologically.

Leica M9 (Black),

Leica M9 (Steel Gray),

Leica M240 (Silver),

Leica M10 (Black),

Leica M-P 240 (Silver),

Leica M10 (Silver).

So I’ve been around the block and back and I feel as though I have some experience on this topic and for the most part, I would say no, it’s not worth the upgrade in my opinion. While the M10’s improvements are tangible, I don’t feel as though the incremental improvements are worth the premium. For example…

While the ISO dial is great, M240 owners can just as easily change their settings using the rear LCD and rear dial.

The improved viewfinder is wonderful and the magnification is great, but if you shoot between 35mm-50mm lenses, you won’t really notice it too much.

The battery life is worse on the M10.

The M240 is thicker than the M10, but I don’t think you’ll notice the difference when you’re out in the real world taking photos, especially if you use a thumb grip for both.

The improved LCD screen is nice, but I never looked at the M240’s screen and thought it was crap in 2020.

ISO Performance – if you’re not Batman and prowl the street at night often and don’t shoot a lot in low light, this is hard to justify.

This is how I feel after owning the two cameras (twice) back to back, but it’s ultimately up to you if you feel that it’s worth it to you. Otherwise, the M10 is the best digital M camera that you can get right now. With the predictable upgrades without changing the primary formula of what made the Leica M so great, it makes you wonder what the future holds for the next Leica M as we’re going to be due for an upgrade in 2022.

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[eafl id=”5679″ name=”Leica M10″ text=”Leica M10″]

[eafl id=”5419″ name=”M10 Battery” text=”Leica BP-SCL5 Battery”]

[eafl id=”5421″ name=”Leica M10 Thumb” text=”Leica M10 Thumb Grip”]

[eafl id=”5267″ name=”Leica Summicron-M 35mm f/2 ASPH II” text=”Leica Summicron 35mm f/2 ASPH II”]

[eafl id=”5282″ name=”Voigtlander Nokton 35mm f/1.4 MC II” text=”Voigtlander Nokton 35mm f/1.4 MC II”]

[eafl id=”5285″ name=”Voigtlander Ultron 35 f/2 Vintage” text=”Voigtlander Ultron 35mm f/2 ASPH”]

  I finally review the Leica M10 and wanted to share my experience and if it's worth the upgrade over the M240 The Leica M10 Review ...yes I know it's 2020 and it's late This review was a long time coming since I had originally planned on writing this review last Spring.

[agent-7-at-your-service]

The Hamartia Arc: Through Brine and Tides (Part 2)

((Agent 7, Bigfin Splatoon, Kimun and the Neanderthal Tribesmen, and Laguna “Garza” Rayne, Abigail Atled Calliostro, and others belong to me

Agent Blueshift belong to @myzzy

Wonder Inkling and Wonder Inkling Jr. belong to @inklingleesquidly

Agent 0 belongs to @son-of-joy ))

The naval ink-mine fields that were lined from the Koma-ga-take Mountain Peak to the city of Muroran have been breached. The fishing boats that were mustered at Aomori were able to carefully disarm the bombs as quick and efficient as possible. The entire right side of the first line was clear, and the counterattack fleet proceeded to sail into the bay, starting with an attack on Muroran. The other cities in the bay were being fired with ink-artillery: Date, Oshamambe, Yakumo,Toyoura, Toyako, and Mori. 

The counter-attack is already begun.

Colonel Jenna and Gravis arrived in the port city of Muroran. The waters were occupied with Agent 7′s counter-attack fleet.

All the Amemasu Military units stationed at there were all wearing gas masks with red-lense eyes. It was a sign that they would stand and fight. Sharklings, who are the commanding officers of the militia, welcomed the neanderthal and the pikeblenny with a salute. 

Gravis and Jenna proceed to the Institute of Technology where they will deliver the commands from. 

“Report!” Gravis commanded.

“The ships have been deployed to stop them at the Hakucho Bridge, but it seems they have fishing boats that are rendering the ship propellors immobile,” an Amemasu Commanding Officer reported.

“We cannot risk any more warships to be deployed until those fishing boats are eliminated!” Another Amemasu Commanding Officer reported.

“All ground units stationed in Muroran are placed on hold,” An inkling Amemasu private reported, “All commanding officers gave the order to rally at watchtower points, marked with spotlights.”

Colonel Jenna looked at the private unit. “Where’s your commanding Officer? I expected them to come to me instead of a messenger boy.”

“He was wounded critically. One of the enemy warships shot his flag vehicle at the Hakucho Bridge—” The inkling gets shot by Colonel Jenna by an Octo-shot.

The colonel took a deep breath and proceeds to have a map layout of the city along with some pieces to represent the units of the Amemasu Federation and Agent 7′s Campaign Army. 

“I heard there were attacks before this, on Hokuto and Kojima Island.” Colonel Jenna taps her fingers on the two areas. “I will not risk sending reinforcements less risk splitting up defenses. Radio them to fight with all they got until the last man is dead. If Jason wants to deliver a piercing attack, he will need to pierce deep through these defenses. Let’s play his game.”

The officers saluted. “Glory to the Federation!”

Under the Hakucho Bridge...

“Beta 4.13, Beta 8, with me! Agent Recruits, the navy is yours. All able soldiers prepare to super jump onto the Hakucho Bridge!”��

“Right!” Beta 4.13 responded.

“That’s crazy! But whatever can get us out of these waters!” Beta 8 replied.

“Wonder Inkling and Wonder Inkling Jr. are right behind you, Agent 7!” Wonder Inkling replied.

“I’m ready to splat some Amemasu!” Agent 0 hyped.

“Ready when you are, Seven,” Blueshift replied.

Currently, the fleet cannot go any further past the Hakucho Bridge less they ram into the enemy fleet. Their propellors may be down, but the ships were still armed and ready to board with enemy ink-shooters.

A number of counter-attack fighters volunteered, numbering up to 75 people; the rest remained in the ships to help stoped the boarding enemies. All of them were armed with Inkopolis brand ink-weapons. Despite the numbers, their power was enough no matter the situation, especially in war.

“On the count of three, jump,” Agent 7 commanded, “One... Two... Three!”

They all turn into their cephalopod forms and jump out of the ship and onto the concrete platforms of Hakucho Bridge. Abandoned cars were present, and there was no sign of the enemy coming.

“Okay, so far so good.” Agent 7 move onto instructing where to go. “Two-thirds of the counter-attack will go south of the bridge to make it look like we made out attack on the peninsula, Hijack some vehicle and go Mad Max on them... I mean just fight them with vehicles! I will lead a third north of the bridge to head straight to the Takasagocho Ward.”

“Agent 0 and I take care of things around the peninsula,” Blueshift offered.

“This is going to get interesting.” Agent 0 prepared his ink-blade.

“Then that means we’ll be with Agent 7, fighting towards Takasagocho,” Wonder Inkling stated.

And with that, they split up, Blueshift and Agent 0 went off to do some hit-and-run tactics and hijack some vehicles with the two-thirds of the counter-attack. Agent 0 swung his ink-blade, splatting the Amemasu’s militants; he even hit a sharkling elite down with his built-in shield. 

Blueshift was able to clear a vehicle parking area with his ink-disks. They disks ricochets around and splatted the militants and knocking out the elites. When it was clear, their contingent went into to steal keys and take over the wheels.

Agent 7 and the Wonder Inklings would go north of the bridge to fight their way through rushed defense who didn’t prepare for this lightening attack.

Since Agent 7 and the Wonder Inklings were going on foot, they and the third of the counter-attack took a while to reach the Takasagocho Ward. They had to pass through a few facilities, neighborhoods, and hills to get to Chiribetsu Park. At this point, they looted some intel to get an understanding of the terrain and how the defense was planned. Here, this is where they’ll take the high-command by surprise.

Agent 7 instructed like a military general, barking orders at his men.“The contingent will split into teams of four. Create a chain of diversions to keep the Amemasu busy and confused. Make sure they don’t see you. Don’t get caught. Cover your tracks. I need five volunteers to come with me and the Wonder Inklings to go further north. Our target is the Muroran Institute of Technology, and we will set up a beacon.”

Agent 7′s contingent did so and split up; they would be wreaking havoc on several vital spots of the military heart. It left many of the Amemasu forces in disorder, reacting strongly to all the attacks but lacking any protocol to rebound. 

Agent 7 and the Wonder Inklings made their way towards one of the buildings of the Institute. They would encounter a few guards and splatted them without warning. When they reached a room where the operations are being handled, there are no signs of anyone working there. Equipment and computers were still on, but no one to operate them.

“No one?” Junior questioned.

Agent 7 puts his N-zaps away and searched. “Maybe they left something.”

For minutes, they would be going through the data that was left behind. They weren’t able to figure out where everyone in the room went. It was until Agent 7 searched through a personnel computer that he found a lead. 

“From Colonel Jenna...” Agent 7 presses the button.

A screen popped up and it showed a recorded video message. A Neanderthal in military uniform was glaring at the camera. 

“Agent 7. You sure came quite quickly to this area.” Colonel Jenna adjusted her military cap. “I was going to stand my ground along with Gravis, but the attack you’re throwing seem to hit hard on my defenses. However, I was able to mitigate the attack by forcing my men to fight until the last man is dead. Look to the windows.”

“What does that mean?” Agent 7 then looked at the windows which had closed blinds.

“Hmm...” Wonder Inkling Sr. walked over and opens the blinds. She is then shocked. “Get down!”

Agent 7 and the Wonder Inklings quickly took cover and avoid and inkling blast stronger than any blaster in turf wars. The ink bubble sent bursts enough to cover the room in ink and sabotage the equipment and computer present.

Out the window was a view of the athletics grounds. Gravis and Jenna were there along a few Amemasu Sharkling Elites. Gravis, the yellow pikeblenny, is carrying a cannon that he ripped off a tank. He was using it as his personal weapon of choice. 

When Agent 7 and the Wonder Inklings recover to look out the window, Jenna and Gravis were already boarding a convoy.

“They going to escape!” Junior alarmed.

“We have to follow them...,” Agent 7 ordered, “We have to rally everyone... at Date.”

“Agent 7?” Wonder Inkling Sr looked at him.

“Forget the beacon... they’re a living target...” Agent 7 took out his N-zaps. ‘They have to be...”

“Seven!” Wonder Inkling Sr objected.

Agent 7was silent for a moment, and he took a deep breath. “Stay with the counter-attack.... stay with the counter-attack... Alright, let go then...”

Despite the hesitance, they leave immediately. A flare is fired into the sky to signal a rally and the contingent responded and followed. Agent 0 and Blueshift already had their contingent arrive when the streets of Muroran. They hijacked a number of jeeps and armored cars. 

“Took you long enough!” Agent 7 actually didn’t expect the two agents to do this. “Some of the elites are retreating to Date.” He gets into the jeep with Blueshift and Agent 0.

“Why a retreat?” Blueshift questioned.

“They’re probably retreating to another defense point,” Wonder Inkling Sr speculated.

“Who knows, I want all fleets to stop at Date. We’re camping there for the night.” Agent 7 ordered as the wheels started turning. “I’ll radio the fleets the message.”

[inthedrift]

More Chaleigh headcannons

Because I’ve been spreading a lot of sad recently so

Who hogs the blanket? - Chuckles, Raleigh doesn't feel the need for the blankets half the time, he grew up in Alaska for gods sake, a blanket in Sydney might just finish him off. Also Chuck gives off the heat of a dying star and is always adamant about wrapping himself around Raleigh's back and causing him to almost expire from heat exhaustion. So it's less Chuck hogging the blanket and more Raleigh fighting to have the thing as far away from him as possible

Who eats the others uneaten pizza crusts? - Rals, he spent 5 years on rations, he doesn't let anything go to waste. Even before that when Richard bailed and Dominique got sick they didn't have a lot of money so every bite of food counted. They get plenty of food now but it's still a hard habit to break if its on a plate in front of him he's not gonna leave it.

Who is more likely to cry over a sad book or movie? - Honestly I think Chuck, like he's this emotionally walled off kid effectively. And he probably didn't get to watch or read a lot of stuff and when he did it will have been engineering books or something. So Raleigh comes along and he had a childhood before the kaiju attacked he was 15 before the world even started ending, he didn't even enlist till he was 17 so like he spent his childhood with films and books. So he picks these films that Chuck missed that he has to see and some of them are sad, like super sad and Chuck has spent so long bottling in any emotion that wasn't anger or smugness and Raleigh makes him feel safe so these films the sort of shock the tears out of him. And at first he's embarrassed but Raleigh is always there always comforting and honestly sometimes it's more beneficial than their mandatory therapy sessions as he feels so much safer crying about a film with Raleigh and just being normal.

Who talks smack while playing video games? - Both of them. Are you kidding me? Raleigh is a middle child like, he probably grew up with a wii, bet you he tried to beat Yancy to death with a wii remote once for blue shelling him (they hurt, my brother broke my finger with one). So like Raleigh was raised on smack talk and video games, but Chuck who no doubt missed out on a lot especially like COD or stuff, is a competitive and contrary little shit. No way is he taking anything lying down, bet you he starts teabagging Rals the first time he kills him even though he has no clue what it is or that it has a name. Also bet you they've fallen out/actually had a physical fight over Mario Party just saying.

Who sings along with the radio? - Raleigh probably, like again he was old enough when the war started. So most songs that come on the radio he will know and he'll take great delight in pissing Chuck off by singing at the top of his voice and out of tune (he can sing in tune, fairly well tbh, but were is the fun in that). Chuck surprises him though, like ok he doesn't know any of the modern stuff but he knows like everything 80's and some vague 90s stuff and Raleigh is kinda shooketh, and the kid is adorable when he knows a song on the radio and he just can't help himself singing along, (Raleigh won't say it outloud but he's not a great singer, but he loves Chuck's voice so he couldn't give a shit) also and Chuck would kill Raleigh if anyone else ever found out but Chuck knows musicals. Like he doesn't know movies but Angela loved musicals and Chuck has a playlist - he listens to it in the shower.

Who would accidentally set the kitchen on fire while cooking? - Chuck. Raleigh had a sick mother, who lets be real he would have had to cook for as Yancy must have been working to bring some money in other than any benefits or sick pay or whatever. So Raleigh is like a super competent cook, maybe he hasn't done it in a while but it's ingrained into him. Chuck on the other hand he hasn't lived anywhere but military bases and shatterdomes since he was 12. Food just kinda appears, like he tips up to the mess hall and there it is. So the first few times it will go as expected the food isn't great, but it's edible like Chuck is too much of a perfectionist to fuck up that badly. But then he'll get a little confident a little bit cocky and will try and do two things at once and before you know it he's put a towel on a burner ring and all the sprinklers go off.

Who would throw the other into a pool? - Raleigh? Again he's a younger sibling, I feel things like that come from either having a sibling or high school shenanigans and seeing as Chuck has experienced neither he just wouldn't consider it. But Raleigh decides it would be fucking hilarious to grab Chuck off the stretcher he's been reading on by the pool bridal style and it takes Chuck a second to react first by dropping his book followed by an "Oi, Ray, fuck do you think you're doing" and before you know it the kid has been dropped in the deep end. Queue all out war, Raleigh still has a tan line in the shape of a dick on his back.

Who shops for groceries? - Raleigh, Chuck comes along and just throws garbage in the cart like he'll 100% see how many snacks he can sneak in there before they get to the check out. If Raleigh sent him alone they would have exactly nothing with any nutritional value.

Who kills the spiders? - Max, Raleigh is scared of them like not to the point where he'd die if stuck in a room with one, but he isn't getting close enough to the fucker to kill it. And Chuck well Chuck is deathly afraid, like would happily just burn the house to the ground and leave kind of afraid. He trained Max to eat spiders, because if there's even one in the room with him he can't sleep, can't focus on anything but where the thing is. Like he's slept in the mess hall a few times to avoid a spider.

Who is the morning/night person? - Raleigh is a golden retriever personified, he's all baby Anna from Frozen "The sky's away so I'm awake", so like it will be 6am and he'll be raring to go and he's not exactly quiet or tactful when he wakes up, and Chuck will be jostled awake and every morning without fail Chuck will have to debate whether he punches Raleigh hard enough in the throat that he passes out. Chuck has learned however that Raleigh will sleep in later if he's well and truly fucked the night before so that's usually his tactic, alternatively if Chuck can wake up long enough to give Raleigh a good blow job he tends to go straight back to sleep, so yeah Chuck is certainly not a morning person and has learnt to use sex or violence as a way to get more sleep.

Who proposes? - Honestly I think it would probably be Chuck, like Raleigh probably wouldn't even consider it. He loves Chuck like with his whole being, but Raleigh's experience of marriage is a father who had a whole other family and bailed on his mom so he's not exactly the sort of person who would consider it the ultimate declaration of love. But Chuck his happy memories were from when his mum and dad were together and it was the three of them and Herc still loves Angela so of course Chuck would see it as a way to show Rals he loves him and Raleigh would be so shocked and awed that Chuck would want to saddle himself with his has been ass and of course Raleigh says yes.

Who forgot to put the cat dog outside before sex? - I mean Raleigh probably as Chuck has experienced that awful feeling of eyes on him during sex only to turn and see Max staring woefully at him from across the room probably way more times than he wants to admit but Raleigh. Raleigh has probably never had a pet and has never had to worry about being watched by anything other than another human which they tend to remove themselves from the situation fairly quickly when they've grasped what's about to happen. So yeah Raleigh would forget and they'd be happily cracking on as it were and Max instead of just watching in that creepy unblinking way that pets tend to have he'd come up and actually lick any part of either body he could reach standing on his hind legs and Raleigh would actually fucking squeak and Chuck would be laughing to hard to focus on much of anything else for a good while. So they don't forget anymore.

Who posts vines of the other doing embarrassing shit? Chuck? Like I can see Raleigh doing more embarrassing shit, like tripping over constantly or just being a fucking dork and Chuck just films it. But Raleigh is 100% the more likely one that if Chuck did trip over or he caught him singing Les Mis or something to post it somewhere. He’s also the one that’s gonna get a bo staff to the head for the trouble but he’d probably only regret it when he’s lying in bed with the lights off because he has a minor concussion and the light makes his head want to explode but at least Chuck is stroking his hair and hasn’t turned them back on so that probably counts as a win.

Who breaks the most phones? Raleigh probably. I see him as being the clumsy one but if Chuck is mad he’s so gonna launch phones at things like walls or people. But I think Chuck accepts that failing and would have a proper case on his phone, Raleigh on the other hand is always adamant that he won’t drop this one cue two weeks later having to admit to Chuck that the screen is in a million pieces and the battery might be leaking as he dropped it off one of the engineering decks.

Who thinks they can do something really well even though they can't? Neither? Like Raleigh isn’t that sort of cocky, he would never think he’s good at something that he isn’t - he knows what he excels at and is perfectly accepting of what he can’t do. And Chuck honestly I think he’s pretty good at a lot of things and he’s far too proud to do something that he’s bad at and wouldn’t be willing to make a fool of himself in front of others. So I think they both know what they can and can’t do

Who is more likely to get kicked out of the bed? Rals 100%. Like he’s an eternal sunshine child, he goes from 0-60 in the blink of an eye and Chuck is not into the whole being awake before a reasonable hour unless a goddamn kaiju is here and about to fuck shit up. So I don’t doubt that if Raleigh is being either too noisy or too handsy before Chuck is either willing to wake up or willing to have morning sex before having a nap then I can bet Raleigh has either been pushed/kicked out of bed forcefully onto the floor, punched somewhere usually the throat or his balls or Chuck has actively tried to smother him either with a pillow or just his own body. That and I’d put money on Raleigh taking great delight in coming back early from being outside maybe just taking max for a wee and putting his cold hands/feet against Chuck’s skin, and Chuck has just removed him not just from the bed but the entire room and left him out in the corridor until he’s ready to get up.

[jonathankatwhatever]

I found stable wifi. My phone to iPad connection was dropping constantly. Some form of interference.

I’m going to run through what I remember by attaching the same photo as before. The other post uses photos from my phone and I don’t have enough battery left to transfer those.

To focus only on the work.

I realized I can connect gs directly to movement (and thus to yoga, tai chi). All the examples work: shoulders to elbows to wrists to finger tips are each 1’s connected by 0’s, and now that connects not only across those segments but to other ideals. I visualized the creation of the actual out of countable potential: as my shoulders twist, they reach a point where that motion enters a Complication in which at least one other ideal movement takes over. This is not only the physical sensation but the shifting of the focal area of actualizable and actual.

The upper left is from yesterday. It lays out from top: CM100 divides into CM64-36, so named because they are counting methods, and that twists as a Complication and that creates CM28, which appears rotated in szK along the s-zK line at either of the versions listed, meaning there is a ‘volume’ (at least) associated (and it becomes a sphere aligned along the s-zK, meaning the Riemann sphere, as noted upper right). And now there’s a twist across the quadrants that makes cP and actuality within that. Need some terminology there, but it is beautiful, isnt it?

So, I realized I could make my shoulders into a unit, tilt them slightly at the upper arm - which can become tension carried all the way to the fingers (and tips) - and that drives the attached structures now that they have also been ‘idealized’, meaning they have achieved sufficient degrees of freedom for the awareness of those degrees to pass from one ideal to another. This is actually in the drawings below because I found myself sitting down and in a few minutes writing out the nature of primes as identity checks.

I explained all that in the lost post. I don’t have the heart right now to go over that. I’ll wait until it appears as part of something better.

Note that though I prefer grid view, I started using a line and thus lines and thus a different grid form.

The strangest example is L15, lower right; it was a surprise to see the green squares next to each other, and to realize that 1-0-1 counting over 0-1-0-1-0. You can count that yourself. This means between 5’s is an ideal that attaches to the gap, meaning it’s an ideal that fits. Example I used is we hold each other’s hands and you and I are between the hands. How we hold ourselves and what that means in a moment or context is a 1-0-1 that is the 0’s of the not visible 1-0-1-0-1 of L5. There is a great subtlety in that, which I currently lack words to describe.

I am probably unclear about the ‘actuality’ conception: as I tilt my shoulders, that adjusts my hips, legs, etc., which works out the unevenness and shifts into a posture change rooted in my hips. Or legs. And then to my feet (and maybe up to my fingertips, which may be in many positions). As I’ve developed the movement freedom, the awareness of the potential has increased and passed from side to side to form the ideals of that motion, and that motion connects to other motions, and clarity of connection makes the tensioning movement appear in my head as a wireframe of me. I noted that I am soft because I havent hit anything in a year, and that helps explain why I developed this understanding: without an outlet, I had to understand tension which is in the hit without the hit. This became a model that matches the inward focus of dance, martial arts, etc.

The definition of primes is now well advanced. You can see the identity SBE checks developing out of the implicit complexity of L3. At L5, you see the passing of complexity over s-zK, instead of it being conceptually perhaps a wall between equal halves. The more that complexity develops the more intricate the balancing, the more information passes, etc. That applies to this process, which makes me feel very good about you. And me.

The part I’m truly sad I lost is where I wrote out the transition of complexity into actuality. I remember writing this appears to be the first time this process has been described. And I talked about how until yesterday I was unsure: it was only through that hideous experience of physical, emotional, and mental disruption that I could visualize the process which yesterday I described as the imagination meeting the reality. I had to build this up. It’s much less nauseating to describe it top down. That, I think, may be due to having gone through fCM so much that CM28 as a twist result isnt disturbing. The new part I described is the generation of endpoints: the overlap of the potentials enabled by the degrees of freedom. That’s idealized. In most cases, it becomes a messy pull one way resisted by stuff pulling other ways. This description removes awareness.

I also described where I think I met you. When Jordan was maybe 7 or 8, she had nightmares in which Captain Hook was chasing her. I had at the same time confronted my recurring dreams of being chased: by something unknown, each dream ending as I either escaped or was pushed into space with no way out. I decided to turn around to face what was chasing me, and the dreams stopped. So I told Jordan to hit Captain Hook in the nose. I explained he wasnt really chasing her, that the dream was really telling her not to be afraid. It worked. A few days later, I bumped into another consciousness in my head. Said ‘hello’. I thought it was Jordan, but I believe now it was you. When this came back to me, the word ‘imprinted’ came to me.

To back up, I had already learned there was visual trick happening: I’d noticed the insertion of familiar imagery, often my childhood home’s yard, when scenery was needed. Stock footage, like the famous scream used in western movies for decades: the scream is an ideal form, so why change it to something worse? In this case, the other ‘side’ or half balancing over the ‘prime’ form you can see so easily in grid is that storyline uses backgrounds too, meaning the storylines are imposed on backgrounds, the reverse of the first idea that storylines are fleshed out by stock images. In this case, I had violent dreams in which I recognized no one was ever actually hurt. I eventually decided most were set in a hotel lobby or the like, meaning people, indeterminate place, great setting to borrow for a massacre that isnt real.

This means we can alter storylines away from violent actuality. I was very excited to realize that because that is such a horrible thing now.

As to imprinting, as I said, until yesterday, I could not be sure that what I had seen in great depth before was real because it had not come back round, like your note about having independence being a reason for return - which to me reaches into the Bread song I love, It Dont Matter to Me and to teshuvah and other deep conceptions, but also including what I typed above about actuality coming out of cP. In other words, an injection of meaning to be realized. Which ties to rep. And that bump in the night.

I am running out of battery.

[astralchicken]

Kallista burst into a fit of giggles. “God they bought that hook line and sinker, how gullible can you be?”

Ronan glanced down at her with a smirk, “I made it all up. Complete and utter bullshit.”

“Pfft, I figured as much. I didn’t understand a word you said, but it was certainly convincing. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you were an actual wine critic.” She patted him on the back and cheerfully crowed “Carmadys 1, Aristocrats 0!”

A spiritual sequel/insert to a fic I wrote a couple of months ago. You can find the rest of the fic, as well as a close up of the art under the cut!

Wine Wednesday

The late afternoon sun cast its golden glow across the bustling city of Holden. Because of the holiday, the streets and shops seemed fuller than usual, but once Kallista and Ronan crossed into the Marble District, the crowds thinned out. Ronan followed closely behind his daughter, unsure of where she was dragging him to. They rarely came this far into the Marble District outside of work or to use the bath houses, so when she mentioned she was taking him to a bar he’d been a little confused.

After a short walk, they found themselves at a wine bar. The place was lavishly decorated, full of priceless works of art, everything embellished with gold and silver, and countless shelves of wine lined the walls. Judging by the decor, the location, and the clientele, it was clear this place was incredibly expensive and incredibly exclusive. Ronan shuddered to think what booking a tasting here must have cost her.

After checking in with the hostess, they were ushered into a large room full of people, many of whom were also there to enjoy the holiday. Everything was going well until…

"You must be joking"

A young server stood before Ronan, bottle in hand, having just poured two fingers worth of wine into his large glass. They flinched at his disapproving tone, eyes looking anywhere but at him. They looked petrified. "I'm afraid not sir-"

Ronan cut them off immediately. "How am I supposed to taste this if you gave me the tiniest splash imaginable.” he snarled, gesturing to the pitiful amount of wine in his glass. “You can’t possibly expect anyone to be able to savor anything with this.”

"S-sir, this is the customary amount of wine for tastings, I'm not really sure what you want me to do..." the server stammered, inching back ever so slightly from Ronan’s ire filled gaze. The disgruntled tiefling opened his mouth to protest once more but stopped short when he heard a loud cough at his side.

Kallista, who’d been watching them and trying very hard not to laugh, stepped between them before the conversation could escalate any further. Ronan narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion. She winked at him over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the server and smiling warmly down at them. Her voice sounded sickeningly sweet and, to a trained ear such as Ronan’s, incredibly fake.

"My dear, have you ever met or served tieflings before?"

"I...well I can't say I have...only seen them from afar...never talked to one before..." they mumbled, their eyes nervously flicking between her and Ronan, then between Kallista’s red eyes and her sharp teeth. They shuddered.

"Well then, this little disagreement makes perfect sense then!” she clapped her hands together enthusiastically, her smile growing slightly wider. The server jumped at the sound, but seemed somewhat relieved by the fact that their apparent blunder was a common mistake and that she wasn’t as angry as Ronan was.

Kallista continued, “You see, because of our demonic lineage, our taste buds are much duller than those of say, an elf or a human such as yourself. So it takes much larger quantities of things for us to be able to taste, which is why my father here-” she placed a hand on his shoulder, “- reacted the way he did."

It took everything in Ronan’s power not to roll his eyes.

The server frowned slightly as they considered this new information. They looked from Kallista to Ronan, then to the people around them, then back at them. They nervously picked at the label on the bottle as they spoke, "Um...well...I guess that makes sense..."

"Splendid!” Kallista said cheerily, clapping her hands together again. “So, just for future reference, if you ever get more tiefling patrons, make sure to fill their glasses to around here," she tapped a long nail near the brim of her glass, "so that they can have the proper amount needed for tasting."

"Thank you so much miss! I'll make sure to do that from now on. Sorry for the misunderstanding.” they nodded and smiled timidly up at her as they filled both their glasses, careful not to look Ronan in the eye as they emptied the bottle into his glass. Once done, they bowed slightly and turned to leave.

The two tieflings, glasses filled nearly to the brim with wine, watched the server’s hasty retreat. Kallista smiled and waved at them somewhat mockingly when they turned to look back at them before they disappeared into the crowd in search of a new bottle.

After a long sip from his glass, Ronan gave Kallista a mildly amused look as he switched to Infernal. "That was the most bullshit excuse I've ever heard you come up with.”

Kallista grinned at him from over the top of her glass, arching an eyebrow, "Is it though?"

Ronan paused for a moment in thought, brow furrowing slightly as he racked his brain for similar wild tales she’d told. After a few seconds he gave up and let out an exasperated sigh. There were too many to count, all equally ridiculous. "....Okay maybe not."

She snickered. “You should be glad one of us is charming and capable of holding conversations. And besides, they bought it and your glass is full, and will stay full so long as they serve us, so there's really no reason to complain."

Ronan grumbled in response, taking a long sip of his drink. She was right of course, painfully so, but he wasn’t about to inflate her ego by agreeing with her. He glanced up at their surroundings for a moment, eyes darting from one noble to the next, listening to their idle chatter for a few seconds before he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Well I have a fair amount of complaints about our fellow patrons."

Kallista sighed, swirling her wine around in the glass a bit as she watched the crowd. "Yes well I can't do much about that in particular. The company may leave much to be desired, but the wine selection here is phenomenal, so I figured we should at least try it out, especially since most bars in the lower districts are quite lacking in the wine department."

Ronan frowned and turned to face her. "Since when do you drink in the Marble District?"

She shrugged, taking another sip of her wine. "I came for work. Had to get chummy with a duke and this was his favorite place. And thank goodness for that, the man was an insufferable bore."  

Ronan snorted in response but said nothing. Her line of work was a little too socially involved for his taste and he’d never understand how she managed to talk to so many people all the time, but it clearly had its perks, if the exquisite glass of wine he was currently drinking was anything to go by.

They sat in companionable silence, drinking their wine and taking in the atmosphere. After some time, Kallista noticed Ronan’s trademark scowl had grown more intense, very obviously aimed towards the packs of people milling about, who were giving them strange looks and talking about them in hushed whispers. Kallista frowned, her tail swishing around her legs in annoyance as she shot the newest set of onlookers a nasty glare. This would not do. Today was his day and she was going to make damn sure he had a good time, nobles be damned.

Kallista shuffled close to his side, placing her free hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He gave her a questioning look but leaned down slightly to humor her.

“I know a good way we could pass the time and annoy the hell out of some nobles.” she said in a sing song voice.

He let out an overdramatic sigh. “And what would that be?”

“We can pretend we're different people. Like royalty or nobles or business tycoons or some shit, and make fun of them later. Or during, it’s really up to you.”

Ronan pulled away a bit to give her a puzzled look. “We already do that almost every day. Why do you want to do it now?”

She scoffed, gesturing widely with her glass. “I mean yeah, sure, we do it for work, but how often do we do it for fun? Or to fuck with people?”

He grumbled. Ok maybe she had a point. He narrowed his eyes at her slightly as he considered the little game she was proposing. “What if we get thrown out?”  

Kallista’s grin grew ever so slightly. Good, he was at least considering it. “I doubt that'll happen, but if it does, I know a guy who works here that can get us some wine at very competitive rates.”

“And what if you need to come back for work?”

Kallista placed her hand on her hip and gave him a look of disbelief. “Do you really think I come up here looking like this when I have a date? Honestly?”

Ronan scowled, rolling his eyes at her little display, “I suppose not.”

They stood in silence again for a couple minutes, Kallista watching him, Ronan doing his best not to take notice of the growing amount of glares the two of them were getting and failing miserably. Eventually his annoyance outweighed his desire to remain anonymous, and he let out a disgruntled sigh before chugging what was left of his wine. Kallista sidled up next to him again with a toothy grin.

“Weeeeeeeell?”

“Oh fine. I suppose it could be entertaining to see how gullible these people are and watch them squirm after they've been so rude and obvious.”

Kallista cheered and did an excited little hop at his response, grinning mischievously as she hooked her arm around his. “Ok, just follow my lead.”

She quickly finished off her drink and led him forward, pausing momentarily to get their glasses refilled by their server, then dragged him towards one of the clusters of nobles who’d been staring. They looked a bit taken aback by their sudden close proximity, and some of them even took a step back. Kallista ignored them, putting on a winning smile and nodding to them all in greeting.

“I’m ever so sorry for the intrusion, but we couldn’t help but notice the looks you were giving us, so we decided to come over and introduce ourselves.”

The nobles gasped at her accusation, murmuring amongst themselves before one of them spoke. “Well, pardon us for being shocked by your presence, we don’t usually see your kind here, to put it simply.” The others looked amongst themselves nervously, a few of them nodding.

Kallista was unfazed. “Yes, well, believe it or not, anyone’s money is good here, including ‘our kind’s. It would be bad for business to turn people away after all.” The majority of the group said nothing, looking around awkwardly, but the one who’d spoken still looked confrontational. Kallista took that as her cue to step it up a notch.

She let go of Ronan’s arm and placed her hand on her hip, gesturing towards the man with her glass. “You still don’t seem convinced we should be here. Fine, I’ll let you all in on a little secret then. My father and I-” she gestured towards Ronan, who nodded, “-are food critics! We have a column called ‘Fresh Perspectives’ that we put out bimonthly! I focus more on the food side of things, dad’s the wine connoisseur. While we’re here tonight for the holiday, we figured it’d be a wonderful time to come see what sort of wine this place has to offer!”

Some of the group seemed surprised and interested by this revelation. Others, like the protester, seemed somewhat confused or skeptical. “I’ve never heard of your so called column. And besides, why should anyone listen to your opinion on food and drink when the majority of you live in your own isolated district away from good cuisine?”

Ronan shot them a nasty glare but said nothing. Kallista on the other hand crossed her free arm over her chest and scoffed. “Well, first of all, we're all quite capable of walking and leaving the district you’re referring to. You might want to try it too some time. Might open your eyes a bit to what the real world is like.”

Some of his companions snickered, others looked appalled. The leader of the group was speechless, fumbling wordlessly as he tried to think of a good comeback.

Ronan’s lips twitched up into a smirk. She was right. This was definitely fun.

Kallista waved her hand in the air dismissively, “Regardless, the fact that tieflings generally aren’t used to the high life actually works in our favor. Our palettes aren’t as over exposed to rich flavors as yours might be, so we can give more honest criticism on the foods we eat. That’s why it’s called ‘Fresh Perspectives’ you see. After all, wouldn’t you prefer an unbiased, fresh opinion over say, one of your rich local food critics who eats these sorts of foods every single day?”

The leader hesitated for a moment in thought, but eventually spoke in a halting tone, “Yes...well...I can see how that might be beneficial to some people…” After a few seconds of silence, he glanced over at Ronan, a suspicious glint in their eye. “You haven’t said a word since you two waltzed over here. Tell, me if you’re a ‘wine connoisseur’ as your daughter claims, what are your impressions on-” he stopped mid sentence with a look of horror as he noticed the obscene amount of wine in Ronan’s glass. “Why on earth do you have so much?!”

Ronan gave him bored look, “Obviously if I want to write a proper review I need to drink a good amount of the thing I’m reviewing.” he deadpanned, tapping one of his long nails idly against the glass.

The noble stammered a bit, but eventually composed himself enough to finish his earlier question. “Alright then, what are your impressions of the wine you’re drinking Mr Wine Expert? Please, illuminate us with your thoughts.” he gestured towards his companions, who stepped forward slightly, their curiosity piqued by the confrontation.

Ronan was silent for a few moments, staring down the individual before him. Eventually he brought his glass up close to his his face, making a big show of swirling it around and admiring the wine’s bouquet for several moments, before he took a long, careful sip. He savored it for a few seconds before swallowing.

A tense silence fell upon the group as they waited with baited breath for Ronan to give his review. When he finally spoke, he launched into a highly detailed, long winded analysis of the wine, filled with flowery language and technical terms. The group looked on in shock, totally engrossed in his appraisal, the leader included.

Once Ronan was done, the group apologized to them profusely for being so rude and thanked them for the impressive review. Some even said they’d be on the lookout for their column. After a few more minutes of idle chit chat, Ronan and Kallista excused themselves to go look for more wine. Once they were out of sight, Kallista burst into a fit of giggles. “God they bought that hook line and sinker, how gullible can you be?”

Ronan glanced down at her with a smirk, “I made it all up. Complete and utter bullshit.”

“Pfft, I figured as much. I didn’t understand a word you said, but it was certainly convincing. If I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought you were an actual wine critic.” She patted him on the back and cheerfully crowed “Carmadys 1, Aristocrats 0!”

They spent the rest of the afternoon in much the same fashion, picking out different clusters of seemingly disapproving patrons and tricking them into thinking they were different people, all while poking fun at them with snide remarks. With each group they approached, they created new aliases, each one more ridiculous than the last. From owners of the largest gold mine in the south, to knights for the emperor, Kallista and Ronan played each role flawlessly. Nearly everyone they encountered was convinced of their lies, and those who seemed skeptical were met with scorn, both from them and from their more easily tricked companions.

After several turns about the room and several glasses of wine, they retreated to a back corner to take a break from the excitement, opting to people watch instead. Between the large amount of wine in their systems and the enjoyment they got out of tricking so many people, they were both in much better moods.

Ronan let out a disgusted noise, gesturing with his glass towards a nearby nobleman, “Is that supposed to be a wig? It looks like an animal died on his head.”

“Honestly it looks like it could just crawl off his head at any moment.” She drawled, placing her hand on his shoulder and leaning against him slightly so they could gossip a bit more secretively. She silently pointed out another person in the crowd to him.

“And they were giving me shit for my sweater? What in the hell is that.”

“It’s the latest fashion among Holden’s elite supposedly, but if you ask me it’s absolutely atrocious.”

Despite their attempts to keep quiet, one of the people closest to them heard their conversation and turned to give them a heated glare.

Ronan rolled his eyes at them and sneered, “By all means, stick your nose up at us. Saves us the displeasure of having to look at your face.”

Kallista howled with laughter at that, and laughed even harder at the wounded look on the person’s face as they trudged away. Distracted by the comical scene before her, she didn’t notice Baskerville wiggling out of her bag and climbing onto her shoulder in search of the hors d'oeuvres.

A blood curdling scream cut through the loud conversations being had around the room, and the music abruptly stopped. Kallista looked around in mock concern. “Good lord who died?” she asked sarcastically.

A noblewoman a few feet away, presumably the one who’d screamed, was pointing directly at Kallista’s shoulder, a look of horror on her face. “There’s a r-r-r-RAT!”

Ronan scoffed, arching an eyebrow at the woman, “I’m not sure why you’re screaming. Your outfit is much more alarming than my daughter’s rat.”

“He’s dressed to the nines too!” Kallista chimed in, pointing at Baskerville with a grin. “I mean, look at his embroidered silk vest! And his gold collar! He’s the most handsome person here!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ronan noticed one of the managers making his way across the room towards them. He leaned over to warn Kallista in a low voice, then plucked Baskerville from her shoulder and tucked him into the wide neck of his sweater to keep him safe. Kallista motioned for him to go, giving him a confident nod before she strode forward to talk their way out of trouble with an apologetic smile.

Ronan slunk through the crowd, keeping to the shadows and along the edges of the room when he could. Thankfully most of the people present were too engrossed in watching the scandal that was currently unfolding, so no one seemed to notice him. With this in mind, he took the opportunity to swipe one of the more expensive bottles of wine they’d been offering during the tasting, and slipped it into his shopping bag from earlier. With that, he disappeared out the front door.

About 10 minutes later, Kallista emerged from the bar, still chatting with the manager who’d come to reprimand them. They seemed to be in a slightly better mood from what Ronan could tell, so it was clear she’d once again talked her way out of trouble. He chuckled a bit at the thought. He knew full well how persuasive she could be, having fallen victim to it himself on many occasions, especially when she was little. After excusing herself, Kallista trotted over to where Ronan stood a block away. “Well, we certainly lasted longer than I thought we would, and we didn’t get kicked out, which is good.” Ronan hummed absentmindedly in agreement, following by her side as she led them towards the gates to the Plaster District.

Kallista glanced over at him and smiled warmly when she caught him scratching Baskerville lovingly behind the ears. Baskerville had been rendered into a puddle of happy squeaking fluff nestled against Ronan's neck. “You know it’s partially his fault we had to leave.” she said loudly to make sure Ronan heard.

He shot her a nasty glare. “He did nothing wrong and you know it.”

Kallista laughed and shook her head disbelief. His soft spot for Baskerville nearly rivaled hers sometimes, and she could never resist poking fun at him for it.

After walking in silence for some time, Kallista let out a sad sigh. “I wish we’d gotten a bottle while we were there. Now what the hell are we supposed to drink on the roof later?”

Ronan said nothing, waiting until they’d crossed districts and turned down an alley before he stopped and showed Kallista the bottle he’d slipped into his bag. Her eyes widened in shock for a moment before she laughed, patting him on the back gleefully as she led him towards their next destination.