#ill save hugo for a bit

[6flyingosprey6]

Discuss

[jellitchi]

vat7k designs in my head...

i thought their canon designs were a eensy weensy bit Unpolished so i made these mostly for myself. erm if u rly want it i think varian is 19 here, hugo 19, nuru 18, yong 12.

i also made rhem all playlists and had to draw them a cover so thats what the last img is I linked each of em under my notes for all of em... Under the cut is Like a Huge Infodump of notes i have for each chara,,,,,,

i kept varians design basically the same, i dislike the design w the orange neck thing so i just Nuked it😭... Here's Varians playlist

Hugos design i just wanted to put him in something more Loose. hes a thief, a professional escape artist. i dont think wearing clunky metal is ideal for him. i also gave him a prosthetic arm (blond w no arm design trope!) but u cant see it in the ref so i added another drawing of him in his under layering👍 i vaguely referenced russian(?) clothes for him as well... Yeah not too much changed w him i just tried to make him slippery-er. Here's Hugo's playlist

yong came relatively easy to me, if it wasn't obvious i did rip gaming from g*nshin's hoodie. i thought the lion hood was Adorable and freaking perfect for what i had in mind for hos character. since the og notes said the fire kingdom is loosely Chinese inspired i basically just kept that. i mashed tgt a buncha diff dynasties though sorry for how inconsistent i was... i think he looks Okay. anyways i changed yongs role a bit, ill explain why im adjusting some of their roles later but i kept yong as the Jinx Type character. hes the eldest in his family and has a buncha younger siblings, hes a lion dancer and does performances w his family/siblings. he rly like special effects n keeps tryna incorporate his fireworks into their performances (it flops and he has to sew up the dmg) ill explain more of yongs role in another post maybe shrugs... Here's Yong's Playlist

miss nuru was a bit of a struggle for me i might share my full design process with her coz i did a Bunch of mockups for her😭😭😭... i didnt have a specific country of reference for her but i chose to make her vaguely south asian inspired. i also really wanted to keep the sheer fabric w the star / constellation map. i love that idea its so cute so shes still technically the navigator. but she also wields a sword too, fencing or whatever. (her and varian r Huge Cass fangirls which is probably why she started tryna use a sword (snuck out to watch cass compete) Okay ill talk abt this later) in my head, okay ill Probably make a whole nother post talking abt how im interpreting/writing each chara, but in my head i think nuru is the youngest and her kingdom's archivist. shes mostly in charge of like Her kingdoms history / artifacts / etc. ok im getting too side tracked ill save the lore dump for later but thats Nurus role in the party. Here's Nuru's Playlist

uhm below i made their character stats mostly to help me with planning / role developing. the yellow is their base stats the color behind is their end stats i guess. i was gonna explain my reasoning for their stats but ermm this post is kinda Really long so sorry😭... varian max int for obvious reasons, also max charisma just coz i feel like u kinda learn a thing or two being around a couple manipulators and spending time in jail idk shrugs... (also lets not forget the "ud b surprised what ppl would do for a cookie!") Hugo slippery guy, if a brick is thrown at him as hes running hes gonna try n run faster to shatter it, his mindset is Run Run Run! i think hes relatively agile too but yeah mostly a Speedster. i think he n varian got no Physical strength varian maybe just like A little coz Farm boy but I rly doubt quirin is making him do a Lotta heavy lifting. yong has incredible stamina and agility because hed a performer. nuru is the strongest coz this team would literally Flop without a proper Offense😭... i think varian n hugo r able to outwit plenty of their opponents but i think nuru is pretty good in a fight, same w yong. Yeah Okay Sorry for a Long Long Post thanks hope u guys enjoy

[stellahaze135]

Happy Pride y’all!

Have some more Resi poly goodness in honor of the occasion from your friendly neighborhood gender-fluid aromantic asexual (non sex repulsed) who’s few turn ons happen to be severely damaged superpowered badasses with voices silk n sin.

Before arriving in Raccoon, Shade had spent some time in Arkham Asylum for being mutant while mentally ill, being diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder while possessing the power of control over the darkness/shadows. So she was already unhinged a wee bit when she got the job in the tech dept. of RPD (in later years she would look back and think in retrospect that maybe getting a job in a police department when having just technically escaped from an a asylum after a massive earthquake may haven’t have been her smartest of moments ok?) and working directly with the STARS division. More specifically the Alpha team.

During her years (I’m thinking at least three maybe four years.) in Raccoon she’s always looking over her shoulder, fearing that Dr. Hugo Strange was still out there looking to bring her back, he was fascinated with the odd connection between her psychosis and her powers. However, Shade vowed when she broke free that she would never be anyone’s unwitting experiment ever again. That’s why even after learning of Wesker’s true motives and even after they started hooking up she never divulged that bit of herself to him.

Oh he knew she used to be in a psychiatric hospital, he noticed her meds on her bedside table one night laying in her bed post coital. That and after one night when a highly dangerous prisoner managed to slip loose in the police department and try to attack Shade. That was when Wesker became infatuated with her. Her pure unhinged rage as she defended off her attack awoke something in him. Oh he could work with that. He reckoned he could temper that rage to his advantage quite nicely. Because of this moment and after saving her from Strange’s clutches is when they move in together.

She had come busting through his office door late one night at RPD, she was frantic, and obviously terrified. Diving underneath his desk between his knees, silently screaming that to cover her, that she wasn’t there, and that he hadn’t seen her. That she WAS NOT going back to that hell hole.

Moments later two shadows are at the doorway to Wesker’s office. Dr Hugo Strange and Professor Jonathan Crane, sans the Scarecrow mask, but hiding that sick Freddy Krueger lookin fear toxin injecting glove behind his back, the one he had in the Arkham game series.

And honestly how much anyone wants to bet that if DC (specifically the Gotham Rogues) were connected to Capcom and Resi then Umbrella would’ve SO tried to outsource work from Gotham. Like there are too many psychos whose work lines up waaaay too well with Spencer’s agendas. Like that plant room in Resi 1? You cannot tell me that Ivy wouldn’t have worked on that shit, and if that’s the case I wanna see the working interactions between her n Weskie! Oh it’d be so bitchy and catty and hilarious! But like also Crane and Tetch’s work kinda goes along with Umbrellas MO too!

Anyways! Wesker and Strange never got along. Honestly they’re personalities are very similar, just Wesker doesn’t give off major creep vibes like Strange. Weskie gives off only daddy vibes, feel? So the heads are butting already, Hugo’s asking where Shade is, that she’s an escaped inmate *ahem* patient, and should be returned to treatment post haste lest she snap.

Albert ain’t havin absolutely none of that bullshit. He points out that A.) she was on HIS team therefore HIS keeping. If Strange was implying that Albert couldn’t handle the reigns on his people then Strange was more of a pompous fool than Albert previously gave him credit for.

And B.) even if he did know where she was he sure as fuck wasn’t about to tell hand her over to him out of pure spite. (I can see Wesker and Strange have kind of that same dynamic that Albert had with the rest of the older researchers when he first started at Arklay. They, including Strange, were old and out of touch stuck in their ways while he was the brilliant new visionary.)

Wesker makes Shade wait under the desk until he’s absolutely sure that the two are out of the building. Coincidentally, that was also the night they started to hook up. Wesker reasoned that it wasn’t a good idea for her to go back to her apartment, Strange and Crane were bound to go there next. So he offered to let her stay the night. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find her incredibly attractive in a manic pixie dream girl kinda way, and that he didn’t sometimes think of how she would look at his mercy.

Cut to the Mansion Incident, where everything’s gone to shit, and now the two lovers were forced to show the hands they were keeping so closely clutched to their chests. But ultimately they were separated. She made it out alive, and with nowhere left to go, she went back Gotham. He did as well, but after the chaos that became Raccoon City and the G-Virus retrieval, she slipped right through his fingers and into the darkness.

So for three years they were apart, and in that time Strange caught up to her and pulled her back into the madhouse. The second time was so so much worse than the first. She became a bit colder, her remaining moral compass being chip away at but by bit. The only people keeping her anchored were Ivy, Harley, and Killer Croc. (Her n Waylon are BFFs nay homies ok? He even gave her the nickname Spooks) What added insult to injury was after the fall of Umbrella that rumors started to go around about someone continuing with he work. Rumors of a ruthless Mastermind with unnerving superhuman strength, speed, and intelligence. She knew he had survived, and while he was out there working to conquer the world, she was stuck here waiting for her brain to rot. Plus side is in the time she’s been stuck her powers have matured and her control is impeccable. Ivy was a wonderful teacher. She even learned that she can use that darkness to almost ‘infect’ other people’s minds and consciousness. She go in and have a bit of a look see. Maybe shake things up a bit here and there.

(Cut to sometime before 5. Excella’s in the picture, but Jill isn’t under his control yet.) Another mass break out at Arkham occurs, and instead of staying in Gotham Shade was going on a bit of a trip. She was going to find a certain someone.

But the ironic bit? Albert was actively searching for her in the background. After witnessing her powers first hand he knew there was a reason they matched each other so well. How they complimented each other. Especially after learning her whole story after he hacked into the ‘Suicide Squad’ database and saw his kitten’s file. She was a busy little thing. (He would so have tabs on Waller and the Squad. Fuck Capcom shoulda teamed up with DC instead of Marvel.) She was still his little pet project, and he wasn’t done molding her to his whims yet.

But he definitely wasn’t anticipating, the fury that was headed his way! When Shade catches up to Wesker, she comes down on him HARD. Think that one scene in Mr and Mrs Smith ‘You still kickin baby?’ *chef’s kiss*! She’s beyond pissed, and he goes from wanting to play with her until she broke to straight up wanting to wife her, not really more like ‘Well looks like I found my Goddess.~’

He lets her rage, a.) he’s absolutely smitten and b.) after imagining being at the hands of Strange and the other assholes of Arkham, he figures she needs to unload and hell, he’s a God he can take it.

All of this to say the new unhinged and decidedly more ruthless Nightshade is a HUGE turn on for Wesker and eventually Karl. Albert adores her sadistic streaks when it comes to their enemies, and when she giggles her absolutely insane unhinged giggle she makes when she gets to wail into an enemy with her bare hands, makes this warm feeling in Albert’s chest just blossom. He’ll never ever call it love tho. He’s got a ‘certain fondness’ for Shade and Karl, but I don’t think he’d outright say love. Adoration maybe. But I think he’s been too emotionally stunted by Spencer’s machination bullshit to go there with his emotions anymore. That part of him died as a child in order to survive, and only then sorta clinging to Alex for support.

And then Karl! Karl matches her chaotic energy so fuckin well like they have so much FUN together! Before meeting Shade, Heisenberg never really knew what having fun and a genuine good time with someone looked like until he met her. She was genuinely, and ironically, the light that he needed in his dark n dreary life.

There’s this comic, I can’t off the top of my head remember the artist, but if you recognize this description lmk, that goes with Karl is standing next to Alcina, a decapitated head at Heis’s feet, and he’s lining up his hammer with the head like a golf club. He bets Alcina he can make the shot to the sword on the maiden statue in the village. He makes the shot obvi but I can so see that being the type of shit those two get into while Shade’s positioned in the village. They are chaos gremlins together. Chris thought Shade n Harley was a handful to watch is now nothing compared to the shit her in Heisenberg get into.

So when all three of them get together OH MY GODS!!! Watch out world! They all wake up choosing violence every single fucking day and they all antagonize each other. Karl n Shade are about to do a stupid thing and Albert’s just egging em on. While Albert n Karl are sciencing, Shade’s in the middle. Al enjoys nothing more than to unleash his lovers on his unsuspecting enemies!

And if they’re under the supervision of Chris and the others, they will almost never have a moments rest with those three.

[renegade--soul498]

Bittersweet Homecoming

Opening old wounds that one had buried and forgotten can hurt more that the ones that recently healed. Coming home and meeting an old friend was never supposed to be this bittersweet.

Mélie & Amicia. Post Requiem Epilogue.

This drabble was written in about 20 minutes while I was in a writer's block for another fic I should probably be writing in. I am not proud but I'm not sorry. Enjoy!

Fallen leaves crunch beneath boots that carry a soft march with them. It's a pace one takes while wandering, while feeling nostalgic, while admiring the surroundings. The forest ends at the sight of civilization, though abandoned and left to rot: a city that burned down, that couldn't be saved, the memories that once were warm are now painful to see up close. Amicia thinks it was a bad idea to go back.

Unbeknownst to the last de Rune, the last spark of life left in the God forsaken city is one that is trapped in by a collar– one that she didn't think she'd see again. The felon is barely breathing, afflicted by the Bite. It is embarrassing to not be caught for years but the one thing that kills her is a goddamn illness. Her mind's drifting but her senses still keep her aware, though one would think it is her mind playing tricks on her but she knows better when she recognizes the silhouette of a girl approaching.

She closes her eyes and smiles sadly. One's in relief and joy, because at least she got to see her again. Two in nostalgia and sorrow, because this may be the last time they see each other and she would've liked to see her while in a better state, physically and mentally, instead. Mélie doesn't try to speak, she knows her throat is dry and the effort may only get her closer to her demise. She just opens her eyes to regard the former noble. Amicia had changed a lot, Hugo's not with her, her clothes make her look more like a warrior than the princess she used to remember, her hair is short– shorter than she had seen a woman sport ever, and fuck everything and her miscalled sin, she looks regal even with all the dust and dirt on her. Mélie then wishes she hadn't left.

Amicia recognizes the blue eyes amongst the ashes and the scarred skin. The mischief is gone, the playfulness is gone, the voice that carried so much irony and sarcasm doesn't come and fill her ears, the banter doesn't happen; and so she just mourns in advance of what could have been. She walks over but notices that Mélie tries to move back, slowly and painfully in vain, as if not wanting her to come closer at all. She noticed the signs of the Bite while approaching but it didn't stop her, it hasn't stopped even after two years of his death.

Mélie tries to look up and meet her gaze, but the collar makes the action difficult. So carefully tiptoeing around to find the chains, she brandishes her sling and frees her old friend without touching her at all. The thief can barely stand but Amicia can't do anything but watch, feeling her chest tighten at the sight, unable to do anything – once again. She had already resigned herself to these situations. Every single friend and companion she had, died in front of her or in her arms. It didn't make it any easier though.

Amicia then wishes she had insisted a bit more.

[crackspinewornpages]

Les Misérables 365/365 -Victor hugo

361 

One day Valjean left his house only to go back in and the next day didn’t leave, eat or drink to his portress’s dismay. He only left to get a cross and remained in bed for a week. The portress believes his daughter has a bad marriage and the doctor agrees he is very ill. “He is a man who, to all appearances, has had cost some person who is dear to him. People die of that.”p.906 (he’s literally dying of sadness and loneliness)  

362 

Valjean made an effort to sit up and dress himself, get Cosette’s mourning clothes and candlesticks, it exhausted him. In the mirror he didn’t recognize himself, he looked like he was dying, his strength failing. Trembling, he wrote to Cosette that Marius was right to send him away, love him and writes about black jet as he’s about to die, he wants to see her but he’s alone. 

363 

That same day Marius got a visitor and a letter, the smell of tobacco from it triggered a memory of Jondrette, the letter said he had information that could ruin his family. It was signed Thernard, (didn’t even try with that alias did you) he found one man, now if only he could find the man who saved him. He has the man sent for and he comes in disguise. There is a Jew (oh this book is going there) in Rue Beautreillis that changes crooks to honest men for a while. The man gave a fake story, Marius was never at the places he mentioned or the people and demands to know who he was. He gives a story that America is dangerous, and people go for the good and he wants to establish himself and needs money. 

Marius has him state his case, he has an assassin in his house under a false name, his real name is Jean Valjean, he knows him and that he is an ex-convict. Marius could see the fury in his eyes and the man says he’ll keep the secret for twenty thousand francs. Marius won’t give it as he also knows his name, Thenardier, also his aliases and he had a house at Montfermiel and threw five francs at him. Thenardier takes off his disguise, a humiliation worth five hundred francs, he didn’t make the connection between Marius and Pontmercy of Waterloo. Through Azelma and his research he found who Valjean was in the sewer encounter but didn’t know who Cosette was and didn’t have proof she is a bastard. (even says going up to a guy and accusing his wife of being a bastard with earn him a kick to the balls) 

He ought to have drawn back and change tactics, but he wasn’t compromised yet and knew what he was talking about. Marius was humiliated he owed a villain but content to settle his father’s debt and maybe Thenardier knew the source of Cosette’s money. Marius tells him he already knows Valjean robbed a manufacturer and assassinated Javert, he recounts Madeliene’s history and how Javert was shot by Valjean. Thenardier says his information is wrong, Valjean is Madeliene and Javert killed himself, he has papers as proof and Marius felt joy at being wrong. 

Valjean was really an admirable man, he is really Madeliene, a saint and his savior and Thenardier says while he didn’t rob Madeliene, he is a murderer. What he knows is unknown, a year ago in June, during the insurrection, he was at where the sewers enter the Siene. He had hid in the sewers and heard someone in there with him, he had the air of an ex-convict and was dragging a corpse. He had a key and talked to buy time, the corpse was young and had an air of wealth and disfigured with blood, he had torn off a bit of coat without notice. He unlocked the gate and the assassin threw the corpse into the river.  

He brandishes the strip, stained with filth and blood, Marius springs to his feet and opens a cupboard where his grandfather stored his clothes from that night. He declares to Thenardier he was that young man and the torn strip fits. He shoves a thousand francs at Thenardier. “You come to accuse that man, you have only justified him; you wanted to ruin him, you have only succceeded in glorifying him.”p.918 He knows enough of Thenardier to have him sent to the galleys only Waterloo protects him so get out go to America. (it was played for comedy but at least in the movie Marius sees Thenardier is a complete rat bastard) Thenardier didn’t understand any of it but was happy he had money and left for America with Azelma under false names and set up as a slave dealer. “Contact with an evil man sometimes suffices to corrupt a good action and to cause evil things to spring from it.”p.918 Marius rushed Cosette to get ready and left for Rue de l’Homme Arme and tells Cosette to call Valjean father, he is the one who saved him and they will bring him back, Gavroche must have delivered his letter to him, Cosette didn’t understand but went with it. (if I was his wife I’d have a million questions) 

364 

Valjean let them in his room and he was joyful to see Cosette and hugged her, he asked if they forgave him, he was at the point he accepted he wouldn’t see them again, how funny God is to send him an angel. Cosette scolds him for going away so long and not letting them know he is back or tell them how ill he is. Marius bursts out that he saved his life, gave her to him and sacrificed himself, while he is the guilty one, why didn’t he tell him the truth. (says the person who never asked and acted like a jackass) Because he thought he was right to send him away, if he had known he would have had him stay which would lead to embarrassment. Marius won't have him stay here, not even until tomorrow, Valjean says he won't be here, not even with them tomorrow. (he’s too lonely and sad) Cosette won't have him leave again, they’ll go home, be a family and he’ll have a little garden and they’ll eat strawberries, Valjean would like that, but he is dying. (the sadness is too much) 

Cosette insists that he must live, maybe with them here he won't die, Marius says he is full of life, he won't have sorrow anymore and has forgiveness, (make a hastag Valjean did nothing wrong) he will live and live with them. Valjean says that won't change what he is, God thought it useful for him to go, he has Cosette to be happy, she’s better off with him. The doctor came in and with a glance let Marius know it wasn’t good and the doctor figured out it was Cosette Valjean wanted. “It is nothing to die; it is dreadful not to live.”p.922 Valjean walked up to the crucifix and told them to behold the martyr. (ok stop being dramatic and get back in your death bed) Cosette starts crying, begging him not to leave after they found him again. (he never left this house) Valjean had a moment of lucidity and tells Marius what pains him is he hadn’t touched the money and explained what he did with black jet. He refuses a priest, he already had one and it was the Bishop. (remember him from the beginning of the book in the movie Fantine was there as well) 

Valjean was falling, heaven already in his eyes, he had Cosette and Marius come closer as he had last words. He loves them and it's nice to have them by his side but they must be happy and assures Marius the money is honest so use it to live nicely. He leaves Cosette the two candlesticks and he doesn’t know if the person who gave them to him is pleased, he’s done what he could. (sometimes that’s all you can do and sometimes it’s enough) He wants to be buried in a poor plot, no name on the stone but he would be happy if Cosette visits. He asks Marius to forgive him for not always loving him, he’s grateful he makes Cosette happy. He has five hundred francs for the poor and still has Cosette’s mourning clothes, does she remember the forest in Montfermiel, does she remember the happy years, but forgive the Thenardiers, her mother’s name is Fantine, she suffered and loved her. “She had as much unhappiness as thou hast had happiness. That is the way God apportions things.”p.924 He sees us all and knows what he does. “There is nothing else but that in the world: love for each other.”p.925 He has other things to say but no time, he hugged them and stopped moving no doubt in the night an angel awaited a soul. 

365 

In the cemetery of Pere-Lachaise, far from fancy tombs, in a deserted corner, lies a stone, aged by time and nature. it is plain and has no name. Many years ago, someone wrote on it with pencil and the lines have been washed off since. “He sleeps. Although his fate was very strange, he lived. He died when he had no longer his angel. The things come to pass simply, of itself, as the night comes when the day is gone.”p.925  

This took me a fucking year and damn 

a bunch of miserable and desperate students and working class dying for what they believed in against the government spurred on by economic hardships and an epidemic really makes you think as we recover from the last few years and head into 2023 

people get what they deserve or what they don’t deserve 

people suffer by circumstance or their own doing 

they change their ways or are entrenched by them to their doom  

how the past has consequences for the future how everyone interconnects with fate’s tapestry for a little moment insignificant to the larger piece of history but significant to your own  

How you can give your life for a cause and it means nothing as the cycle repeats itself 

The more things change the more they stay the same 

it is a good book but definitely one I only plan to read once 

once was enough 

...and next is War and Peace 

FIRST

[blackandwhitebutblue]

It was probably for the best that Dio avoided interacting with his mother directly. As the only real question he would have for her is, 'Where the fuck were you when my dad was dying?'. To comfort him like a mother would or save his father like a god could. Dio would've taken anything from her if she had answered his many prayers to however would listen over the course of his father's illness. But no, she remained silent. And he wasn't sure there was any real answer that could take away from the inner rage he felt. Hugo had been spared, he was human. Flawed creations bound to make mistakes. What was the excuse for a god?

"Oh no, I could handle it. But I felt the other plants might feel a way if they saw me chopping the tree down." Half joking but like 70/30. Which was which isn't important. "I was looking for help to find one of those helmet relics. And when you looking for help the last thing you want in response like I should know how this talking to plants works." His mood starting to shift a bit. The thought of his mother and catty trees building some annoyance in his chest.

Then Hugo was there to offer support and aid where those he felt should were absent. It cooled the fires in his chest like a heavy downpour of rain. Even his gaze softened as the sounds water drops beat across his chest. "Thanks...I'm sure I might need the help..." He smiled his legs stretching out a little bit, unaware of how he created a space between them for Hugo to stand between where the length of his ankles rested. "...we did didn't we? Kind of like old times when we had to crush a few skulls." Smiling filing a little nostalgic "Think my first bar fight was because of you."

And then another fire started, familiar but not sparked in ages. Or about five minutes ago. "Oh...you and Forest have research? Cool....coolcoolcoolcoolcool....so you two seem pretty close?" It was a loaded questions but the pair did appear to have some history. Dio wanted to know the details but didn't feel it was his place to ask. Though it did make it feel...punchy. Hiding as best as he could while gripping the edge of the table. "No plans. Just going back to my lodge..." Open for invitation or accompaniment.

Though Dio's attitude toward his godly parent was unusual, Hugo knew well enough that the other had no connection to his mother in the past. Now, his mother was a literal god. It had to stir up so many questions. Hugo had his own reservations when he first arrived. Yet, after living among the Shinto and feeling Raijin's presence, he couldn't deny that as an orphan he always wanted family. One that wouldn't hurt or betray you.

He accepted Dio's invitation to explore, but didn't push the matter further. He was more interested in hearing about this tree than pressing a subject that had disgusted Dio a moment ago. Hearing him speak with joy again, like he used to, warmed Hugo's icy heart. Maybe he deserved a second chance, maybe not, but standing before Dio who was warm and happy at the Ark was absolution enough for Hugo.

"What, you can't handle the sassy ones?" Hugo joked, though his expression remained cocky and expectant. Hearing of the forests magic being tampered with was certainly troubling. It could connect to a greater issue in their near future, if left unresolved. "If you need help with that... ya know. We did some damage with the beetles. 'think that'll be useful, soon."

It was offer enough, and while it was a practice to do the same for most allies, Hugo felt especially motivated to help Dio. To make up the past to him, to protect him, or to just take in more of the view he was staring at now. Dio effortlessly posed against the table. Dark eyes drinking Hugo in. Song had been here before, but it was a city rooftop, and he had to make Dio out through cigarette smoke. His heart was now racing.

"I'm laying low. Waiting for the next. Forest and I have research to do here before rushing to set out." He hesitates before asking. "... What are you up to? After this."

[sirthisisa-wendys]

(okay hol' up, i just followed you recently despite visiting your blog for over a month now, but you followed me back and i'm short-circuiting) Congrats on 1K! Thought I'd send in an idea for the event - something lukewarm for Priest!Toji and a Witch!Reader? I'm thinking 1600s trial vibes but I know whatever you write will be dope <3

You said 1600's trial vibes and I heard the ghost of Victor Hugo go "hey you remember that one book I wrote" and I said "uh wasn't that set in the 1400s, though" and he said "mmmkay, so? you gonna write this shit or not?"

So here I am.

Bewitched: Preist!Toji Fushiguro x Witch!Fem!Reader

wc: 1.1k

tw: NSFW

1K Follower Event Masterlist

"Recite verses from the Holy Book, take the sacrament, and I will let you go."

You turn your head away from the priest, who is holding out the cracker and wine.

"I cannot do that. It is a--"

"Against your religion!" The priest finishes for you, throwing the wine and cracker onto the floor. You flinch, feeling the wine splatter the tips of your bare toes. "And why have you given your soul to the devil? What does he hold over you that cannot be forgiven by God?" The broad-chested man reaches a hand out to touch your chin with his crooked index finger, but you step back, keeping your eyes on the stone floor of the chapel.

"I have not sold my soul to the devil," you reply, gripping your hands by your sides. "I am not a dark witch."

"Please do not tell me you think there good witches or bad witches," he laughs, stepping over the mess he just made and advancing upon you in the robes befit for a holy king. "A witch is a witch. And you will be hung or burned at the stake if I say so."

"Then kill me," you gripe. "But you will suffer the wrath of a thousand others if you do."

"You are ill," he pleads with you, his green eyes searching your face earnestly. "Come, be saved by the power of God and--"

"Your god does not exist," you retort, but you can't seem to catch the hand that strikes out at your face. You stumble against a pew, bringing a hand up to your face.

"Blasphemy! Repent, witch, or you will burn in Hell for eternity!"

I've got one last trick, you think to yourself. One last option. But I would be breaking my own rules to do it. The priest continues to advance on you, and you muster up the last bit of magic you can to cast a final spell. You don't even need to speak, the thought of the old words is enough.

At first, you don't think the spell has taken effect, but when the priest stops and blinks three times, you inhale deeply, hoping the effect of the love spell is strong enough to save you.

The priest stares at you for a long time before exhaling shakily, clasping his hands together. "I would be remiss if I did not permit you to take sanctuary here for the evening," he finally murmurs, mesmerized. "You are welcome to stay in the comfort of my chambers." He swallows hard, and you nod, silently thanking your magic for the quick solution.

_____________________________________________________________

"Shall I call for someone to light the fireplace? I would hate for you to catch a chill."

"I'm fine," you whisper, curling under the sheets in the large four-poster bed. "Thank you." The priest has changed out of his vestments, now clothed in simple pair of pants, and his black hair is visible, laying against his forehead as he settles into the chair beside the bed.

There are only three other women in your situation - witches who have bewitched priests who sought to murder them. You vowed as a young witch to never put yourself in this situation, for the risk of the spell not working was higher than the reward of it actually taking effect in the way you want it to. But it seems this priest already had wavering faith, which strengthened the hold of your magic on him. He looks at you with a lost puppy gaze, the scar on his lips parting as he drinks in your visage in his bed.

"Your scar," you whisper, reaching your hand out to touch it. "Where did you get it from?" The priest kisses your fingers, then murmurs,

"A witch scarred me as a child when she attacked my family." You hum, frowning.

"I am sorry to hear that. Such a malicious act for no reason..." The brutish man leans into your palm, and you stroke his face as he sighs.

"May I join you in the bed? Feel free to say no."

"You may." In the waning light of the sun, the priest climbs into the bed with you, wrapping a strong arm around your figure.

Before he blows the candles out, he whispers, "Goodnight, my love."

And the lights go out.

_____________________________________________________________

Your hips bang against the dresser as Toji rocks into you, his muscled body hovering above yours.

"Excellent... sermon today," you moan, leaning your head back. You don't really think it was an excellent sermon, but his infatuation grows stronger every single time you praise him.

"Enough about that," he whispers, leaning down to kiss you. "I love coming back to your embrace. You're so perfect..."

For the past three months, you've been living in the church and carrying on a relationship with the priest inside. And you have to admit, beyond his staunch and unmoved exterior, Toji is softer than you ever imagined he would be.

"I'm gonna cum..." he whispers, bracing himself for the sensation. "Oh, my--" The hiss Toji lets out is divine, and the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you is just as amazing.

"Toji, that feels so good..." you moan, and he laughs, kissing down your neck.

"You love it when I cum inside of you, huh?" You nod, kissing him again as he carries you to the bed, covering you with the sheets and smoothing your hair away from your face. "I love you."

"I love you, too," you admit, touching his face before curling up and drifting off to sleep.

But you awake in the middle of the night, and upon finding the other side of the bed cold, you sit up and look around the room. "Toji?" You slide out of bed, feeling the stickiness between your legs but ignoring it and wrapping yourself in a shirt discarded on the floor. You open the doors to your shared chambers and walk through the church, peeking around every corner and even daring to look in the confessional box. But there's nothing.

And then you hear a soft whispering, and you creep into the main sanctuary, seeing Toji kneeling at the altar. You hold your breath to hear him better, and you pick up the words,

"Forgive me, Lord, for lying with a witch... I cannot be parted from her, and she believes she has cast a spell upon me... and in essence she has. But I am sure if I remain by her side, she will be converted and--" You turn quickly and rush back to your chambers, sliding back into the bed, shaking.

No, you hadn't truly escaped. Your magic hadn't worked.

Toji had bewitched you, and now, you couldn't leave him.

[livingforthewhump]

okay okay what if paladin gives caroline truth serum and asks her questions. (in front of hugo)

the questions would be stuff like “do you enjoy being here, deep down?” or “if you had to choose between killing yourself or hugo, who would you kill?”

but the twist is, caroline is under mind control. her answers to the questions are all curated by paladin.

(this can be taken as a what if or a prompt. I love you (/p) and your work so much, keep going!! you’re an amazing writer!!)

I am absolutely IN LOVE with this concept ajdwjs—I have no excuse for how long it takes me to actually write things but thank you all so much for sticking with me!!!

First Previous

—

Caroline’s ears were ringing when Paladin came to get her. She’d listened to Hugo’s muffled screams for so long that she was dizzy from worrying about what Paladin was doing to him. Paladin’s mouth was quirked into a slight smile, eyes dancing with a sick kind of enjoyment that Caroline knew only came from him torturing someone.

She swallowed dryly. “Wh-what did you do to him?”

“Nothing he won’t recover from.” Paladin paced over to her and knelt down to her level, meeting her wide-eyed gaze. “He said some very interesting things, while we were talking.”

Her heart stuttered, as if it were afraid to beat.

“Aren’t you curious, doll?” Paladin gave her an amused look and paused, waiting for a response. When she gave him none, he finally sighed and continued, reaching out a hand to card through her hair. “He said that you don’t want to be here with me. Isn’t that odd?”

Caroline stared blankly forward as he tilted her chin up towards him.

“Well, doll? Is that true? Do you really want to leave me?”

“No,” she whispered, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. “I want to stay here.”

Paladin studied her for a moment, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and trembling chin, then released her with a small laugh. “Good. Not nearly convincing enough, but we’ll get there, hm? For now, you just need a bit of help if you’re going to convince our dear vigilante of that.”

Caroline’s eyebrows furrowed as she processed the meaning behind the words, and she barely had time to suck in a sharp breath before his power enveloped her.

Hugo wished he could smash the camera to pieces. It was obnoxious, really, the way it had been blinking its little red light at him nonstop for hours, letting him know that every single second was being recorded. Unfortunately, being tied to a chair, the best thing he could do was give it a dignified glare, to at least show that he was unimpressed.

Suddenly, the door clanged open, and Hugo jumped in a decidedly undignified fashion.

Paladin traipsed in, pulling Caroline along behind him. The poor girl looked dazed, tear tracks drying on her face as she weakly fell to her knees in front of Hugo when Paladin released her.

Hugo tried to catch her eye as Paladin rummaged around somewhere over his shoulder, but Caroline’s gaze remained resolutely on the ground.

“Here we are,” said Paladin, coming to stand behind Caroline, one hand on her head with the other loosely holding a syringe filled with clear-looking liquid.

“What is that?” Hugo demanded, jerking against his restraints despite how weak his muscles were from exertion. “What are you doing to her?”

Paladin snorted, rolling his eyes. “Oh, calm down, Hugo. It’s just a truth serum. Little Caroline here is going to clear up some…misconceptions you have about our situation.”

Hugo briefly thought of the irony that Paladin of all people had access to a truth serum (if he drank it, would the hero just spontaneously combust?), but it was quickly drowned out by the horror he felt for Caroline.

“Get away from her,” he snarled.

Paladin’s fingers tightened in her hair, lifting her head up. “You see Hugo, even when my doll has learned her place, you still haven’t. I’m hoping this will fix you of that.” And he stabbed the serum into her neck.

Caroline cried out and slumped forward, but was held in place by Paladin’s hand in her hair. Hugo breathed heavily as he tugged forward, staring into Caroline’s glazed eyes.

“Caroline! Are you okay?”

She blinked, once. Twice. Her chapped lips cracked open to form a word. “No.”

And, of course, Hugo already knew that. But hearing the raw admission from her was like a punch to the gut.

His focus slammed back into Paladin. “Let her go, you b--”

Paladin’s power slammed into him, closing up his throat even as Paladin smiled calmly. “I’ll be asking the questions from now on. Don’t make me gag you.”

He waited until Hugo’s fingertips twitched sporadically from lack of air before releasing his hold and allowing him to breathe again.

While Hugo gasped and hacked, Paladin’s hand went to Caroline’s chin, forcing her to look at him with her glazed, terrified eyes.

“Now, doll, deep down, do you really want to be here?” Paladin asked softly.

Hugo shot Paladin a glare, wondering what he was trying to do.

Then Caroline’s weak voice met his ears. “Yes, I do.”

It sounded like an admission. He gaped at her. “What?” It was so blatantly untrue that he almost wondered for a moment if it wasn’t.

Paladin’s smile grew, but he kept his eyes on Caroline. “Tell me why, doll.”

“I belong to you. Where else would I want to go? I want to be good for you, and, and make you happy with me.” She stared up at him with an adoring expression that tore at Hugo’s heart.

That wasn’t her.

Was it?

“Good. Now, tell me, do you regret saving him?” Paladin turned her head so that she was looking at Hugo.

His jaw tightened while she looked at him blankly for a moment before nodding shallowly. “Yes.”

He looked away against the tears stinging his vision. If he had to save either her or himself, of course he would pick her, but that wasn’t what the question was.

“You know, Caroline, I don’t think he believes you,” Paladin said, smirking. “Are you sure you're telling the truth?”

“Of course.” She seemed surprised, like there could be no other alternative.

“And why don’t you want him here, doll?”

“He's just getting in the way. He’s not worth it. He thinks he’s helping, but he’s not.”

“Forgive me for not seeing that as a bad thing,” Hugo drawled, face setting against the stab he felt in his heart. Those words were so, so similar to the ones that had been thrown at him by the person closest to him. He’d desperately tried to believe it wasn’t the truth, but deep down, it really was, wasn’t it? Even if Caroline was coming from the wrong perspective entirely, the words themselves weren’t wrong. Hugo clenched his fists until his fingernails cut into his palm. “Now are you just about finished, or is there more?”

“That was all,” Paladin smirked. “I just wanted to give you something to think about for a while.”

He lifted Caroline up and left the room with her, and once again Hugo was alone with the blinking red light of the camera.

—

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @lonesome--hunter @whole-and-apart-and-between @written-to-death @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @villain-enthusiast @hurting-fictional-people @kixngiggles @whumpfessional @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @1phoenixfeather @chartreusephoenix @kemonoinuzuka @sunflower1000 @1becky1 @multifandoms-multishipper @susanshinning @shadowylemon @onestopheroxvillain @freefallingup13 @basica11yg33ky

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: The Flash (Wally West)

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Wallace “Wally” West, also known as the Flash. Session One. So, Mr. West, how are you? 

Wally: Let’s go over the situation I’m in, shall we? My wife and I visit your creepy, Gothic asylum-perfectly legally, by the way- to make sure that Bruce Wayne is okay, and you get us arrested on bogus charges of trespassing. Then you pull strings to get me stuck in Arkham Asylum while I’m awaiting trial, and now you’re trying to have me declared legally insane so that you can lock me up in here for good. How the heck do you THINK I’m feeling? 

Hugo Strange: Your hostility is unnecessary, Mr. West. I am trying to help you. 

Wally: If this is your definition of ‘helping’ me, I’d hate to see what you do to people you want to hurt. Seriously, did you go to the Zoom Academy of Making Things “Beeetttteerrrr”? 

Hugo Strange: I am nothing like Mr. Zolomon, Mr. West. 

Wally: I’ll say you’re not. Hunter...he’s sick. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But you? What’s your excuse? 

Hugo Strange: I do not need an excuse, Mr. West. You may not realize it yet, but you-and all the other costumed vigilantes-are doing more harm than good. 

Wally: What do you mean, more harm than good? I’ve had my powers since I was ten years old, and since then I’ve done my best to hold to the promise that I made to Uncle Barry: to use my speed only to help those in need, to combat evil-and never for my own personal gain. I haven’t been perfect at it-I’m not as selfless as Uncle Barry, and I’ve got quite a temper-but I’ve tried. I’ve really, really tried. 

Hugo Strange: Let’s talk about your Uncle Barry, shall we, Mr. West? 

Wally: Why? So you can twist my words and use them to make him out to be some sort of misguided lunatic? Not gonna happen. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I assure you I bear no ill will towards Mr. Allen. Obviously, you bear a great deal of affection for him. I simply wish to know why that is. 

Wally: Because he’s a hero! He’s brave and loyal and honest and kind and good. He cares about everybody. He uses his powers to protect the weak and help the poor and defend the helpless. He became friends with Albert Desmond when nobody else would’ve given him a chance and got him his job at S.T.A.R. Labs, and he’s tried to help Mick Rory get the treatment he needs for his pyromania, too. He’s raised billions of dollars for charities, and he’s helped to save the world more times than I can count. (Pause) And he does all that while also working for justice as a police scientist! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, the exploits of Mr. Allen are well-known. I was asking you why you, in particular, are so fond of him. 

Wally: Well, he did marry my favorite aunt. (Pause) More importantly, though...as a kid, I really needed a hero, and he….he was my hero. My parents barely knew I was alive, except when I did something that inconvenienced them. When that happened, my dad would call me names or hit me, and my mom would wail and cry and guilt-trip….and then they’d go right back to obsessing over their own problems or arguing with each other. I...I felt like I was all alone, except for Aunt Iris. She was the one person in my family who really seemed interested in me, and she also had this awesome job as a reporter in a big city. She was really cool, but because I lived two hours away from her, I didn’t get to see her very much. (Pause) When Uncle Barry first became the Flash, I didn’t know who he was...but I idolized him. I was his biggest fan! I was even the President of the Blue Valley Flash Fan Club. (Pause, laughs) President and only member. The other kids thought he was cool, but they weren’t as invested in him as I was. To me, he represented freedom. 

Hugo Strange: It sounds as though you were a rather lonely little boy, Mr. West. 

Wally: Yeah, I guess I was. (Pause) That’s why I was so excited when my folks sent me to live with Aunt Iris in Central City during the summer when I was ten. And that’s when I first met Uncle Barry. Like I said, I didn’t know he was the Flash yet, so at first I thought he was...well, honestly? Kind of a dweeb. But then he told me that he knew the Flash and could introduce me to him. I was so excited, I probably could’ve inhaled an entire shoe. Anyway, Uncle Barry used his super speed to change into the Flash and act like he’d been waiting for me to arrive, and that’s when I met the Flash. He was everything I’d dreamed he would be. Even though I had been a little bit of a brat to him as Barry Allen, he treated me with respect; like he was happy to meet me and have me around, and it put me over the moon. Eventually, he started to explain how he’d gotten his powers, and that’s when it happened: lightning struck twice. I was doused in the same chemicals he’d gotten his super speed from, and I gained access to the speed force. It was the best day of my entire life. Besides the day I married Linda, of course. I became his sidekick, and from that point on, he was like a second father to me. He laughed at my stupid jokes, got me ice cream, took me on field trips, played games with me….all the things I dreamed of having my dad do with me. Eventually, he told me his secret identity. It was shortly before he and Aunt Iris got married, and I was ecstatic to learn that my favorite aunt was going to marry my hero. I was the ring bearer at their wedding, and from that point on, Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris basically raised me. They helped me through my parents’ divorce. Uncle Barry taught me how to balance a checkbook and apply for college scholarships; Aunt Iris helped me get my driver’s license and taught me how to really notice when other people were in need. (Pause) If it hadn’t been for them, I...I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. Maybe I’d be one of Captain Cold’s strays right now. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, let me posit a question to you. If your uncle loved you so much, why did he put you in a costume and allow you to fight dangerous criminals? You became the so-called Kid Flash at ten years old, and by the time you were eleven, you had already faced the Weather Wizard, Captain Cold, and the first Mirror Master-to say nothing of your garden-variety gangsters and thugs. Surely, a responsible adult would have ensured that you stayed far away from such violence...and yet Mr. Allen seemed to almost thrust you towards it. 

Wally: (Annoyed) Thrust me toward it? Are you kidding? If Uncle Barry hadn’t allowed me to be his sidekick, I’d have struck out and done superhero work on my own. I wanted to be just like him, remember? If anything, I thrust him into letting me fight criminals. (Pause) Besides, it wasn’t like he was just letting some random kid fight crime. I had super speed, remember? The chances of my getting shot were virtually nil. And the Rogues have a thing about not hurting kids. I wasn’t in any particular danger, especially not with Uncle Barry watching out for me. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, you obviously are unaware of this, but your uncle is a very sick man. 

Wally: Have you been listening to anything I said? Uncle Barry is the best man in the world. If that makes him crazy...well, I don’t want to be sane! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I understand that this is difficult for you, but you must face reality. Your uncle was a very eccentric, very lonely man. He had few friends; most of his life was absorbed in his work. He always wanted to be someone special, but he knew that slow, lazy Barry Allen was no one important. Like you, he idolized a superhero-in his case, the Mystery Man known as Jay Garrick, and, like you, he wished that he, like his hero, was special. When his metahuman powers were activated by the lightning strike, his mind, already fragile from years of being mocked and looked down upon by his peers, shattered. He decided to use his powers to emulate the hero he had read about and idolized as a child, so that he could finally be special. Eventually, his antics drew the attention of other, even more damaged individuals, thereby indirectly inspiring the debut of all the costumed oddities that both you and your uncle spend so much time playing cops and robbers with. And then he met you. Another lonely little boy who wanted to be special. When you got your powers, he saw a chance to expand his fantasy world; recklessly endangering you. He may have been deluded enough to call you a sidekick, but what you really were was a child soldier. No wonder your life was sent into such a tailspin when he was temporarily lost in the speed force five years ago. Without him around to help maintain the fantasy that he had indoctrinated you into, you were lost, and the only solution you could think of was to take up the role that he had once filled. You are not a hero, Mr. West. You are a sad, deluded child; just as your uncle is a sad, deluded man. But I will see that you get the help you need. 

Wally: (Furious) That’s a load of bunk, and you know it! I don’t know what your game is, Dr. Strange, but you’re not going to get away with dragging my uncle’s name through the mud! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, your loyalty to your uncle is misguided. He is a dangerous vigilante, one who took advantage of your innocence and loneliness to turn you into yet another costumed freak. What he did to you was wrong, and it is my duty to make sure that you, and the rest of the world, realizes that fact. 

Wally: (Very loudly) Don’t you talk about Uncle Barry that way, you filthy liar! (Stands up rapidly; knocks over the chair he was sitting in) 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I would advise you to refrain from such open displays of hostility. Otherwise, I will have to recommend that your children not be allowed to visit you, for the sake of their own mental health. 

Wally: And how do you think it affected their mental health to have their parents locked up on phony charges, huh? 

Hugo Strange: Neither of you were fit guardians for them, Mr. West. I understand that having them separated from you was upsetting, but it is for their own good. You and your wife obviously love them, but you are too ill to properly care for them, and your wife was only enabling your behavior. It was simply not a safe environment for the children, so they have been removed from your home until such time as you have been cured and can properly care for them. Two generations of costumed vigilantes is quite….(Hugo Strange is frozen solid) 

Capt. Cold: And he’s got the nerve to call us crazy. Really, accusin’ you an’ your missus of being bad parents? I seen how you dote on those kids, West. Only a nutjob could think you were unsafe for ‘em. 

Wally: Captain Cold? 

Capt. Cold: The one and only. You ready to bust outta this joint, kid? 

Wally: Are you seriously asking me to help you escape prison? 

Capt. Cold: Sam got Lisa and all the guys out already, and I’ve pretty much already escaped, kid. Just figured I’d be nice and get you outta here, too-before the Doc decides to give you a lobotomy. (Freezes and breaks Wally’s metahuman power dampener) Besides, Central City is furious over what happened to you and your missus. They ain’t exactly gonna expedite you back here. 

Wally: All right...but as soon as Iron Heights gets rebuilt, I’m taking all of you Rogues straight back there. 

Capt. Cold: I wouldn’t have it any other way. (Pause) C’mon, kid. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.

[zekroudon]

Passing the Baton

Coming back from work, Adrien never expected to find something from his past on his desk.  Raising and caring for your children is never easy, but sometimes, he wishes he could do more.

Discussion between a loving father and his son. You can read it on Ao3 here!

Stopping in front of the door to my home, I fiddle with the keys before unlocking the door and entering. As I close the door behind me, light rain starts to pour, as if the sky was crying. A heavy silence greets me. Growing up in a cold mansion, I’m used to cold emotionless silence, but in a house that was once filled with laughs, screams, and joy, it’s overwhelmingly out of place. I can’t say the lack of warmth pleases me, which has grown usual since everything that happened…

 I spot some camembert wrappings on the counter, probably left there by Plagg without Hugo noticing. I chuckle as I pick them up and throw them in the trash, remembering my teenage years living with the cheese-eating kwami. So much has changed since then. I notice the absence of Emma’s shoes and Louis’ sports bag, meaning they must still be out, probably with their friends, or Ethan in Emma’s case.

 As I walk past my wife’s office, the absence of humming and buzzing from the different sewing machines hits me like Stoneheart's fist. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Everything will be alright, everyone is safe. I turn around and enter my room.

 I drop my shoulder bag next to my chair. I sigh noticing the piles of papers I have yet to mark. I’ll have to work on some of them tonight if I want to give them back by the end of the week. The joys of being a teacher... I open the curtains to let the remaining light in my office. The grey clouds taunt me as if they know something I don’t. Something sparkles on my desk and catches my eye.

 A black ring with a cat paw symbol on top.

 What is it doing on my desk? Is it really the miraculous, or just another one of Plagg’s pranks? It should be with Hugo now, he’s been Chat Noir for nearly three weeks now…

 I slide it on my finger and it turns a silver-grey. My stomach sinks as the flash of green light fades, leaving the black kwami before me. All the blood is drained from my face, turning my skin as white as a sheet of paper. Not that I didn’t miss Plagg, and I’m glad he didn’t fall in the hands of an ill-intended person once again, but      why is he not with my son?  

 “Plagg? Why… Where’s Hugo? Is he alright?” I turn around and dive to my drawer, taking the Miracle box and opening it. Other than the ladybug, cat, dragon, snake, and butterfly, they all seem to be in their spot.

 “Meh, people were talking behind his back at school, some stupid journalists harassed him once again, he said he wasn’t worthy of my miraculous and that’s the last thing I remember before he slid the ring off.” He shrugs it off, but being my kwami for so long, I can see in his eyes that he’s worried.

     Oh    ... Those stupid journalists are trying to throw me and my wife into the mud by targeting our son. I’m disgusted at how they used the recent events knowing we wouldn’t notice their idiotic articles and pandering. It’s not the first time it happened, but Hugo has always been the most sensitive of the three. Louis thrives in their attention and Emma ignores them, but their baby brother would rather be left alone.

 Someone knocks on my door frame, bringing me back to Earth. I turn and see bright blue eyes filled with worry looking at me accompanied by a sad smile. Her black hair cascades past her shoulders, her mother’s spitting image. She steps forward to hug me, but she stops in her tracks when she notices the black Kwami hovering next to my shoulder.

 “He heard, didn’t he?” She asks Plagg, continuing once he nodded. “Louis called them out, and I felt that Hugo was hurt, Nooroo did too, but I didn’t think he’d relinquish you…”

 “He did, and now we should go and find him.” Says the Kwami.

 “He’s not in his bedroom, do you have any idea of where he could be?” She asks me.

 I’m startled by her certainty of it before noticing the small brooch in her hair. Right, I gave her the Butterfly Miraculous since she can’t be Ladybug any more. How could I forget that? She lays her hand on my forearm, trying to reassure me.

 “He’s going to be okay, he’s strong.”

 “I’ll go look outside, stay here and wait to see if he comes back. Try and call him.” I look at Plagg before adding “Like old times?”

 “Can I have some cam....”

 “Plagg, claws out!”

 A small smile stretches my lips at his antics while the magic costume appears on my body. The rush of energy is even stronger than what I remembered. The black fabric covers my body in the same design I wore a few years ago. The two ears stand on top of my head and the belt tail swooshes worriedly behind my back.

 I give my daughter the salute that was once so characteristic to me before opening my window and jumping outside under the cold autumn rain.

 I shiver as the freezing water flattens my hair and runs on my body. The cat part in me hates rain, even though it was raining the day I met Marinette and it grew to have a romantic significance for us. Using my baton, I raise myself over the buildings to scan the city from above. If Hugo is out in this weather, he’ll get sick in no time...

 The grey sky is barely distinguishable from the rooftops, the color has faded from everything. Cars still roam the streets, but most passersby have gotten cover. On the dimmed bright side, I’m more likely to go unnoticed as Hugo’s suit is quite different than mine and word of Chat Noir’s reappearance would spread like wildfire in Paris.

 I stop on top of the bakery, hoping to channel a bit of my wife’s good luck and extend my weapon once again. I make sure to be as silent as possible, there is no need to bother her with this right now.

 I’m a good father, I should be able to handle this myself, right?

 Anyway, it isn’t like I could ask her for help right now, I don’t know if she has remembered me yet…

 In the nearby park, the statue that was erected for us so many years ago, in our beginnings as Paris’ heroes, still stands strong against the wind and rain. Things were simpler then, yet I wouldn’t change anything that happened. I have three amazing kids, a loving wife, and a life I enjoy plenty.

 Something moves behind the statue, only noticeable with my enhanced sight. It looks like a mop of dark hair. A flicker lights up in my chest, it must be him…

 I land far enough to not startle the person, but they keep their head down, either ignoring me or hasn’t heard me. As I walk closer, I recognize Hugo with his usual Chat Noir t-shirt and hoodie. He took the saying hiding in plain sight very seriously, though he has always been one of my biggest fans. Hunched on himself like this, he looks as small as he was years ago when I cradled him in my arms as opposed to the strong young man he grew into, just like his grandfather, well, not      him    , obviously.

 I sit next to him, ignoring the squelching sound of the soaked ground under me. I snake my arm around his shoulders and he leans into me.

 We stay silent for a bit, the droning sound of the rain deafens, my ears focussing on my son’s breathing and sporadic sobs. I would like so much to give him a shell, which is ironic since he used the turtle previously, to protect him behind him and fight people who hurt him, but I can’t.

 I can’t overprotect him, I wouldn’t do him any favors. Some would say that he has to learn to grow a thicker skin, but I hate that. He was born into celebrity because of me, because of his mother. The last in a line of models and heroes. Grandson of amazing bakers, but also the biggest terrorist Paris has ever known. His brother and sister thrived in the spotlight, but he never liked it. Huge shadows cast by us and enormous shoes to fill for him.

 “I love you.”

 It doesn’t feel enough. It doesn’t feel strong enough for everything to convey to him, but I don’t really know what else to say. I want him to talk to me, to help me understand so I can help him feel better in return, but I can’t force him to. It has to be his choice, his decision. I tighten my hold on him and I lean my head on his.

 “Do you want to talk about what happened? I’m here for you if you want.”

 Here, I stretched him a pole, or a baton in our case, I just have to hope he takes it. He seems to calm down a bit, his breathing returning to something more regular.

 “I don’t know… I’m just tired, mad, I don’t know… It feels like everyone is against me, that the world is mocking me and punishing me for not doing my job and failed at protecting mom against Lady Papillon’s akuma… Because of me she had to give up guardianship and all her memories…”

 “It’s not your fault, just like it wasn’t mine or Emma’s… It’s Lila’s. She kept akumatizing people, she manipulated Ethan to akumatize him under her control, she tricked all of us. You didn’t do any of that. If anything, you saved the day. You protected the Ladybug and got back the Cat miraculous with Louis! You even dual-wielded before your siblings. To be honest, I was a mess having to fight your mother and seeing her lose all her memories as she said the incantation…”

 “But why make me Chat Noir? Wasn’t I better as Jade Turtle? Why give the grandson of Hawkmoth the Cat Miraculous? The press would go wild and…”

 “Then why give his son the miraculous? Was it a bad decision? What about your sister, did we make a bad decision making her Ladybug?”

 “Of course not! You were the best Chat Noir ever and Mom couldn’t have defeated Hawkmoth and Mayura without you! And even though Emma’s time was cut short, she was an amazing Ladybug too, just like Mom.” He looks at me with horrified eyes, offended that I would say such a thing.

 “So then, why would making you Chat Noir be a bad idea? You are kind, compassionate, caring, incredibly smart. You use Cata… um, your power in ways I would never have thought of. I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with taking care of Plagg, you know how he is…”

 “Yeah, different in so many      ways    .”

 I chuckle at his pun, a true Chat Noir.

 “See, you even make great puns, that’s a sign of a great black cat!”

 Even though I don’t see him, I feel him rolling his eyes just like his mother.

 “So tell me, why do you think you are not suited to wield this ameowzing miraculous?”

 “People… the journalists, they keep saying that I’m becoming like      him    , that I’m a social recluse, that never goes to events and that I’m rude to people. And… I’m not...thin enough…”

 The last part is barely audible, less than a whisper. If it weren’t for my feline auditory senses, I wouldn’t have heard.

 But thin enough? I know he’s more on the bulky side, having inherited Tom’s stature and my height, but he’s not fat or overweight…

 “And I don’t love Coccinelle like you love Mom or Emma likes Ethan, even when you were in your ‘just a friend’ phase… I like her, sure, but only as a friend… Since I’m Chat Noir, shouldn’t I be in love with her? Didn’t you and Mom say that Ladybug and Chat Noir are always made for each other?”

 “Okay, slow down, one thing at a time. You need your space, there’s nothing wrong about it. You are more introverted and it’s okay. I don’t even remember any event you have missed, so they’re probably making stuff up for clicks and views.”

 I turn to him and place my palm on his soaked shirt, near his heart.

 “But, this right here, as long as it beats, you won’t become like him. You have so much love to give others, anyone on it’s receiving end knows how much you care and love, how lucky they are. Maybe you don’t show it in big gestures as I do, but in smaller ones and by being there for others. Gabriel never did. He was cold, distant, heartless, and cruel. To him, everyone was a pawn, a chess piece meant to be sacrificed if it meant he reached his goal. You two are absolutely nothing alike.”

 He looks at me with big green eyes, still red from crying, but for a second, it’s like I was looking at my four-year-old when he found a shiny stone for Plagg, his “imaginary” friend. Full of hope and kindness.

 “And I don’t know who said that you are ugly, but it’s also a lie.”

 “Well, only me… and maybe some of my classmates, I don’t know… They mocked me for not being a model like Emma and Louis, that it was probably because I’m too ugly to be a model… I guess it must have gotten inside my head...”

 “Mom offered it to you a few times and you always refused, we wouldn’t have forced you to do something you don’t like. And beauty doesn’t come from outside, but from what’s inside, and you’re shiningly beautiful. Many of the models I’ve worked with back then and now may look “good”, with six-packs and all, but they are mean and cold. Anyway, most of what companies sell us is fake, models are starving to be so cut, you don’t want to do that. Mari’s company is one of the only ones where models don’t need to starve themselves and she has lines for everyone.”

 I pause to breathe and think about what to answer to his last question. I always knew me and Marinette were meant to be, even if we had our moments of doubts, and I never questioned it. Emma and Ethan seem to love each other, even though I thought she would hate him for what happened. It shows how compassionate she is and understanding.

 “I don’t think that you are a bad Chat Noir for not loving Coccinelle. Feelings do change over time, and maybe later you’ll have those feelings for her, or never. Don’t base your worth as Chat Noir around whether or not you love her. Maybe you’ll be the first Chat Noir in history to not love his Ladybug, but it doesn’t mean that it is a bad thing.”

 “But, how do you know that you love someone? LIke that kind of love?”

 “I guess that they always brighten any room they’re in, you feel good when you are with them and make you want to spend more time with them. Your eyes are always following them and your body is drawn to them in surprising ways. You want to kiss them, hug, cuddle, which you can totally do with friends too! Well, maybe not the kissing part… Even though it's different for everyone, when it will happen, you’ll know. You will feel it in your heart. When I met your mom, I was amazed by how strong, and amazing she was. Mere seconds prior, she was unsure of herself and scared, but she faced Hawkmoth and talked back, assuring the city that we would protect them. I also fell in love with the girl whom I apologized to and gave her an umbrella under the rain. She made me laugh and smile in a way I hadn’t for a long time, it was like thunder had struck. For me, that was love, for you, it might be different, but it’s okay. Love is scary, it’s like jumping into the unknown and you can’t prepare enough for it, other than trusting and believing in yourself... Does anyone make you feel that way?”

 Maybe he’ll have the same bad luck, or good luck, to fall for his civilian partner as I did, but it would be unlikely since they never met before.

 “I think so…”

 To my chagrin, he’s closing himself again. But it’s okay, I’ll love him no matter what. I tighten my hold on his shoulders in a way I hope is reassuring.

 It seems to work a little, so I try to nudge him a bit farther.

 “Even if you don’t, it’s okay. Aromantic people still find happiness in life, romantic love is not necessary to be happy and have a fulfilling life, it’s not the only kind of love. I’m not well versed in the matter, but I did some research after I heard some students talking about it.”

 I must have said the right thing because he brightens a little and continues.

 “ I do feel what you described, sometimes, but it wasn’t… with a girl.”

 I feel him flinch against me and distance himself as if I was about to shout at him, disown him or something. It hurts a bit, but I’m more thankful and honored that he told me. I can’t imagine how scary it is to tell someone something like that.

 I snake my other arm around him and pull him for a tight hug. His cold wet clothes stick to his skin and my costume, but I feel him warming up against me.

 “Let’s go somewhere safe from the rain, you’re freezing.” I tell him softly.

 He nods and I take him on my back like we used to do when he was little and clad in his tiny kitty costume. Some people brought their restless kids on car rides, we took them to the Parisian rooftops as superheroes. It worked like a charm every time. He grew up a lot since then, they all did. They are becoming young adults ready to face the world together.

 Thankful for my enhanced strength, I make sure that Hugo is holding on tightly before leaping off with my baton.

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

 While he dried up, I went to a nearby coffee shop to get us something warm. It was one of our favorites when we were young and in collège. We used to go there often as friends, or on dates.

 it was still as cozy and welcoming as I remembered, though I had to detransform to not alarm everyone with Chat Noir’s very temporary return. Anyway, my goal wasn’t to stay for long anyway, only to order a cup of coffee and hot cocoa.

 I rejoin him on one of Notre-Dame’s towers. He’s wistfully looking at the Seine as if someone or something was calling him.

 I spot The Liberty 2, now Luka’s home, it’s windows lit up with warm and inviting lights. Turning to my son, I realize that he’s been looking at the boat all along.

 “So, that person that you like, how are they like?”

 “I… Um… He’s kind, grounding even. He’s always there to listen when I’m too far gone in my worrying or that I’m panicking. I know I can just go to him and he’ll play something for me... In a weird way, it’s as if spending time with him recharges my battery, you know?”

 “I know the feeling, I used to feel the same every time I went to the bakery to eat croissants because I had a particularly rough day or I spent an afternoon playing videogames with Nino.”

 “I’m afraid of telling him how I feel, what if it ruins things between us, what if he doesn’t want to talk to me ever again because of it? What if he’s homophobic, what if…”

 “Do you really think he could be homophobic? If he’s half as awesome as you make him up to be, he’ll accept you just as you are. You’re amazing too, and if he doesn’t return your feelings, it’s not the end of the world, I know that there’s someone out there for you.”

 “Probably not, well, I doubt it. I fell asleep on him once… Don’t look at me like that, it was an accident! I was tired, and he was playing his guitar, and when I woke up, my head was on his chest and he was sleeping too. I was so embarrassed…”

 “Well, you didn’t spend four years calling the love of your life a very good friend, I think Nino still has nightmares about that. You can’t even imagine the number of plans Marinette made with Alya and the girls to try and get me to notice her or her to confess her feelings to me. You falling asleep on your crush is cute, even though you think it’s embarrassing.”

 A comfortable silence installs himself between us, only broken by the sound of rain hitting the stone. He leans his head on my shoulder and I hug him once again. I feel my chest rumble in a small content purr, glad to have my son safe with me.

 “You can still purr?” He asks, surprised.

 “Apparently, it is not something you lose easily after being Chat Noir for more than twenty years…”

 “It’s okay, I always liked when you purred, it meant that you were happy.”

 “And you deserve to purr too. This is for you, you more than deserve it.”

 I take the silver baton from my back and give it to him.

 “      Je te passe le flambeau, le baton.    It’s your turn to be Chat Noir, your version of the black cat. If ever you are doubting yourself, or unsure, know that I will always believe in you and love you. You might be the first Chat Noir to like a guy, but it only means one thing, that you were born to make history.”

 “I’ll do it. I’ll protect Paris and forge my own path. I’m sorry for scaring you, I should have talked to you before doing something stupid like this…“

 He pulls me in a hug, a soft embrace. Stepping back, happiness and warmth return to his features, as if the dark clouds that were filling his mind had been pierced by the rays of sunlight. Smiling, I call off my transformation and slide off the ring from my finger. I expected to feel more nostalgic about it, but I know I did my time with Plagg, I already moved on. Anyway, I know that he’ll never be far, and I’ll cherish my memories of my time as a hero as long as I can.

 I extend my hand to him, the miraculous resting in my palm.

 “Hugo Dupain-Cheng, this is the miraculous of the Black Cat, which grants the power of destruction. You will use it for the greater good.”

 “Of course, I’ll try and not be as catastrophic as the last one. Clawsome as I am, there’s no one better for the job.”

 He definitely is my son, there are no doubts about that.

 He smirks as he takes the ring and slides it on his finger. As Plagg reappears, Hugo grabs him and hugs him to his chest. I hear the kwami groan a bit before accepting his fate. A small purr reaches my ear, but I’ll say that it’s the stones and wood of the cathedral to keep his “strong and intimidating” character.

 “I’m so sorry Plagg, I won’t give you up again, I promise.”

 “Alright, alright, but I’m starving! I want Camembert, and some Pont L’Évêque too.”

 My face scrunches in revulsion, hit by memories of how bad that particular cheese smelt. Hugo seems to be aware of it, but he’s too happy to be back with his kwami to care much. It’s obvious he’s not the one doing the laundry and finding melted cheese in pockets and socks…

 He transforms, doing his own little choreography as the green energy covers his body. Black and green ears stand on top of his head, black belt tail swishing behind him. His two peridot feline eyes filled with joy staring at me.

 I climb on his back and it’s my turn to be carried around Paris.

 “See, I told you that you’re a great black cat, but now let’s head home, I'm getting hungry too.”

[split-n-splice]

A small fic in which heroes aren't all about fighting villains and a young Shego has qualms with a particular F word.

Find on FFn or Ao3 in chapter form. 6k

“The F Word”

She’d only been a hero for a few short months. Already she’d aided in the arrest of more than a dozen men and women, some – if not most – of which probably needed therapy more than incarceration.

For starters, bird-brained Dr. Robinson had gotten into a turf war involving the defacement of property with a bird-loathing guy who looked like a scarecrow, with his bristly beard and ill-fitting rags. There had been a geeky woman who’d posed a more serious threat by allegedly hacking various electronic systems of city officials and murdering them via electrocution, and even though Team Go had caught her in the act, she’d destroyed the evidence with the press of a button and walked free with the aid of a good lawyer. Likewise, Mr. Richie had the wealth to get out of jail when busted red-handed for trafficking, despite Shego herself testifying to being bribed and touched when left alone to interrogate him. And then there were the occasional costumed losers desperate for a confrontation with local heroes cleaning up the streets. So far, they could all pass as normal people more or less.

At least until she met Gloria Grace.

Shilo sat alone now on the bleachers at school – as a student, not a hero – with a turkey sub sandwich left uneaten on her lap. Two weeks in a row, the sophomore had left campus to take lunch across town, but her big brother had caught on and put his foot down once he’d learned she’d been skipping class too. He’d tracked down one of her connections yesterday, consequently catching Alex smoking and very nearly busting her, but the stoner had gotten off the hook by snitching that Shilo wasn’t taking lunch with her lately. He’d just barely caught Shilo yesterday, and today as well, right as she’d been about to sneak away to go hitch a ride across town. They’d had a little argument, and now she was stuck under his watchful eye as he chowed down on a bench somewhere above her, chatting and laughing loudly with his clique.

Another cherry tomato struck the back of her head, and she turned a deaf ear to Hugo lightly chastising the girl who’d thrown it only to be immediately accused of having a crush on “the freak.” Somehow no one at school had made the connection yet that they were related. With Hugo’s broad build and Shilo still a little on the scrawny side, it was hard to see the family resemblance. Not to mention, only one of them had a sickly complexion other students feared was contagious.

She heard disgusted whispers behind her back, and when Hugo dismissed the girl who’d been all over him until now, Shilo was the one to take the heat for it. The scorned woman dumped her salad over Shilo’s head as she trotted down the bleachers, scoffing, “Freak,” back at her as she left.

“Fuck you too,” Shilo spat back, clenching her fists and planting her rear back down to resist the urge to sock the girl. Civilians were off-limits, she reminded herself, breathing deep and counting to ten before shaking off the lettuce. Her hair was still short, but it tickled down the nape of her neck now and was long enough to cover her burning ears, and she benefited from a clip to hold back her bangs.

A hand brushed her head, and she smacked it away in reflex, turning sharply to shoot a heated glare up at her brother come to wipe salad dressing out of her hair with a wet tissue. He ignored the rebuff and plopped down just above her, continuing to clean it off while she snorted and rested her cheek in her hand, scarcely tolerating it.

“You need to eat,” he said quietly.

“Not hungry.” On cue, the growl of her stomach claimed she was a liar.

Breakfast had been canceled, as Hugo’s beeper had gone off as he’d been reading the morning paper with a front-page blurry photograph of an entity that had been “terrorizing” Go City’s crumbling and underfunded Southside for months. Global Justice was a little late in informing them of the sighting. Their father had taken over breakfast prep from Shilo and wished them luck then, echoed by her young twin brothers. Shego had barely convinced Hego to let it go, just in time to get to school before they were tardy. There would be other chances for him to serve justice on the monster scaring the townsfolk, she’d told him.

“I gotta piss,” Shilo announced suddenly, hopping up. He almost stood to follow but she shot him a scowl and he slumped back.

“I’ll give you five minutes, and then I want you back here.”

Ignoring the allotment and giving him the finger, she took her sub sandwich and left.

A quick clean up in front of the restroom mirror, and she was ready to sneak off – but Hugo knew better than to let her out of his sight. She barely bit back the urge to scream in his face when she exited the lavatory and nearly ran into him.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

She grimaced at the bell chiming just then. “Um, to class?” she lied.

Hugo stared her down for a moment before uncrossing his arms and stepping aside to let her go with a nod. “No more skipping,” he said sternly.

“Yeah. Whatever.” She looked down to the sandwich she carried, still wrapped up and untouched. “Catch you later.”

Forced to go their separate ways, Shilo seized the opportunity to slip away once and for all. Lately, Hugo had taken to reminding her how dangerous Go City was for a pretty girl to wander alone in. His concern was more bogus than the flattery. She was superhuman now and she could fend for herself now better than ever with the aid of her comet-given gift of alien fire. There was really nothing to worry about. Big brother just didn’t want any of them out alone without backup in fear that someone worse than the average criminal might get a hold of any member of Team Go. Hugo bought into it easily though, convinced danger and threats lurked around every corner.

In any case, the supervising organization had locked a monitoring anklet on her. If she ran into trouble, all she had to do was flare up and Global Justice would be alerted and Hugo’s beeper would go off so he could come save the day. He loved hearing his beeper go off.

Breaking the private school’s stupid dress code, Shilo tied her stiff blue jacket around her waist and sighed in relief as she relaxed back into a hard seat on the bus minutes later. After just a few moments of the bus driver eyeballing her bare legs, she tugged at her skirt and moved to the back. Not that the back was any better when another man turned to look her over and a woman with a small child moved away from her, probably afraid of her hue like so many were when she wasn’t clad in Shego’s uniform.

++X++

Eventually, she’d made it across town, keeping her head low to ignore the variety of stares.

She wasn’t fond of venturing out to the Go City slums alone, but a few residents were familiar enough with her by now to keep their distance, and she hadn’t even once used her glow on them to win a healthy respect.

For months now, Southside had racked up countless reports of a creature prowling the streets after dark. Yesterday “the Southside Freak” had come out in daylight, and a photo had actually been snapped and plastered across local papers. Guilt gnawed at Shilo and she clutched the sub sandwich closer. She’d pickpocketed cash from a punk kid earlier, justifying to herself that the rich snob didn’t need it all that badly. A quick stop at a shady convenience store for a two-liter and big bag of chips, and she was off to find a shady niche beneath a rotting old fishing pier on a shoreline littered with garbage.

It was a tricky trek down with an armful of goods, across jagged boulders coated in places with sharp mussels, but she made it without dropping or squishing anything.

“Hello?” she called out into the dark shadow of the abandoned pier. “Anyone home?” As she crept out of the light, her eyes adjusted.

Something moved then, and if she didn’t know any better, she might have feared it was a leg of the pier collapsing as it bent.

The local known as the Southside Freak crossed the shadows in two long strides, coming to a pause before Shilo. She stood almost eye-level with knobby scabbed knees set into stilt-like legs for a moment before the living urban legend crouched down. Her head still hovered far above Shilo’s.

She tipped her head back to offer a smile and held up the sandwich, chips, and bottle of coke. “I brought you lunch,” she said, steadying her voice.

The gaunt giantess reached out with trembling fingers the length of Shilo’s forearm to delicately take the two-liter. “Thank you,” she mumbled politely, her voice both booming and fragile at the same time, and turned away to awkwardly shuffle further up the shore to a sandy spot she’d cleared of rubble, just out of the water’s reach during high tide.

Shilo followed and sat down beside the giant girl. Well, she wasn’t really a girl. Or maybe she was. Gloria couldn’t remember her age. She couldn’t remember where she’d come from either. One thing was for certain – she didn’t come out of nowhere. Someone as tall as her couldn’t have. It seemed like each day she’d grown another inch. Shilo chalked it up to her imagination.

She’d finally had her first fleeting encounter with Gloria a month ago, but it was hard to say if she’d really been shorter back then. And then, little more than two weeks ago, Team Go had been called out again to investigate a sighting. Shego had unwittingly cornered her beneath the pier, and by the green light of her fire she’d seen the long-limbed figure trembling, wrapped up in sheets stitched together with fishing line that sufficed as a dress. The Southside Freak had quietly and desperately begged Shego not to hurt her, pleading for her to just leave.

So she did. She didn’t even tell her brothers what she’d found.

Of course, she’d come back the next day as Shilo, and she’d brought a token of peace with her. Since then, rain or shine, she’d been skipping school and sneaking off on weekends to bring lunch to the famished Southside Freak whose name, she learned after a full week, was Gloria Grace. At close to twenty feet tall, glorious or graceful weren’t words Shilo would use to describe the gangly giantess. She often suspected the girl had made up the name, but never questioned it aloud. Gloria it was.

Shilo unwrapped the sandwich as Gloria carefully sipped from the bottle. “I couldn’t make it yesterday,” she said, as if the starving girl hadn’t noticed, and added in a mutter, “sorry.” She would have brought more cash than what was necessary for the bus fair and lunch, but Hugo was careful about how much he let her go to school with lest she bring home some gateway drug and risk spoiling the good hero name. As it were, Gloria needed the meal more than she did.

She passed up the sub and opened up the bag for Gloria too without taking a single chip for herself, staving off the hunger pangs.

“So,” she said carefully as the giantess savored each bite. She tore her eyes off the sheet-clad girl, finding an old fishing pole lodged in the rocks a little ways down the shore to watch instead. Most days Gloria swore she caught enough marine life to sustain herself – she certainly smelled like she did – but a girl couldn’t survive on fish alone. The mere thought made Shilo gag a little, but she cleared her throat and ignored the pungent odor permeating the air. “Is today the day?”

Gloria held a tiny chip between two overgrown nails and frowned at her knees. Then she shook her head. “N-no. Not today.”

“You can’t hide forever, GG,” she pressed gently. It was a fact. The girl had certainly become worse at staying discreet, if the increasing number of reports had anything to say about it. She tried not to frown too deeply at the ocean when the giantess scooted away from her. “I know you’re shy, but the sooner you get it over with, the sooner we can…maybe…get you back to normal. Or as close to normal as we can.” Clothes that fit her would be a good place to start. She’d recently tried learning how to sew for GG’s sake, but there wasn’t enough time in the day for it. Not with the burden of Team Go duties anyway.

“I like it here.” She wasn’t a very good liar.

“You were seen yesterday.”

Gloria winced. “Yeah.”

“The weather’s going to get bad this weekend,” Shilo noted, knowing already she was failing to persuade Gloria to come out of hiding. Before the giantess could disregard it too, she added, “And my sweet sixteen coming up. Would be cool to have a friend there.”

The long-limbed mutant nearly dropped the bag of chips. “I-I’ll take a rain check,” she said nervously.

Shilo rocked back, quipping, “You sure? We could talk about boys, paint each other’s nails.” She tried to laugh lightheartedly, knowing full well that bringing a giant girl over to hang out wouldn’t fly. “I’ve got a big brother you might think is cute.” The notion was absurd, but it worked to bring a very human blush out on Gloria’s bony cheeks.

The giant girl fidgeted with her sheet-dress and shook her head. “You wouldn’t want a freak like me crashing your party.”

“Ah, the more the merrier,” Shilo said flippantly. “Come on, GG. What do you say?”

Gloria Grace looked down to her with apprehension. “What do you mean?”

“Hm?”

“The more the merrier,” Gloria echoed curiously. “You’re not a freak.”

Shilo spared a glance up at the giantess finishing off the sub sandwich in two bites. She wanted to tell the giant girl that she wasn’t a freak either, but that was a far stretch from the truth. Gloria was a lot of things – scared, scrappy, exceptionally tall – but she wasn’t stupid. The giant girl knew she was unusual to terrifying degree, and it daunted even Shilo.

She stood then, brushing off the sand. “I gotta get going.”

“Wait!” The desperation in the giant girl’s voice was pitiful. “You’ll come back tomorrow, won’t you?”

Biting her lip and hugging herself, she could do little more than shrug in reply. “No promises – but I’ll try. Bye!” She spun then and began picking her way across the boulders back up to the road. One small glance over her shoulder, and she saw the pale figure and head of dirty brown curls peeking out from under the bridge.

“Goodbye, Shilo,” called GG after her.

Shilo gave a small wave and was gone, barely catching a northbound bus in time.

As she flopped down in the back, watching the last glimpse of ocean slide away, she mulled over Gloria Grace’s words. “You’re not a freak,” she repeated to herself. It felt like a lie. Her chest constricted and she swallowed hard. Even if the giantess was undoubtedly the more peculiar of them on the surface, they were both misfits. Gloria didn’t have to know that though. Shilo almost hoped she’d never make the connection. Someone who didn’t view her as freakish was nice in a way, even if it meant hiding a part of herself.

++X++

She made it back to school in time for sixth period, but she’d barely shrugged on her dirtied jacket to conform to dress code when Hugo came sprinting up the hall to cut her off. She knew she’d been caught the instant she saw him bowling towards her.

“There you are!” he gasped. He didn’t pause to shoot the breeze – merely latched onto her arm with a grip like a tourniquet and began hauling her away. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Her shoulders would have slumped if she was given a chance, but instead she was forced to stumble after him. “What is it this time?” she groaned, exasperated. She could take a good guess. He wouldn’t be in such a hurry for anything else.

If there was any question about it before, the glance Hugo shot her told her all she needed to know. He couldn’t openly discuss the details in a hall full of ears – not outside of uniform anyway. So he pulled her along quickly as he could without slinging her over his shoulder to pick up the pace.

Once she’d claimed shotgun of his coppery old Sloth, Hugo barely waited for her to buckle up before flooring it out of the parking lot. Moments later, they were pulled up behind the junior high, tween brother Milo popping up out of his designated hiding place in the bushes to dive into the back seat.

“Sweet!” he practically shouted, voice cracking in Shilo’s ear. He leaned between the seats, smelling strongly of sugary donuts he must have conned out of a classmate, and Shilo had to hold her breath to ignore her hunger pangs. “What is it this time? Someone threatening the ballpark again?”

“No,” said Hugo, making a beeline for the nearest Global Justice hideout where Betty Director herself would be waiting for them. “The Southside Freak was just spotted.”

Sitting on her hands, Shilo sank in her seat and scowled out the window. She should have guessed they were being sicced on GG again. They were called on her no less than twice a week. So far, Shego had been able to steer her teammates clear of the giant girl, who was still adamant on keeping her low profile to avoid confrontation she was so sure she’d be faced with should Team Go or anyone else catch her.

The way Hugo’s knuckles paled as he gripped the wheel, she couldn’t say a confrontation wouldn’t escalate and blow up. “We’ll catch the monster this time,” he swore. “And then the people there can rest easy at night.”

“I think the people from Southside have a lot worse to worry about than a walking lamppost,” Shilo grumbled.

Her big brother flicked an unhappy frown her way. “We should have been on this ten minutes ago,” he chastised. “Where were you?”

“I bet you a fiver she was smoking again,” Milo said and leaned over to take a whiff. “Hego, you got a breathalyzer on you?”

Shilo shoved her little brother’s face away. “Breathalyzers don’t work that way, idiot.”

“Quit fooling around,” said Hugo. “We’ve got to make this quick if we want to catch it.”

It. Shilo rolled her eyes.

Sooner than she would have liked, she was zipped and buckled up in the snug form-fitting attire of Shego, the second uniform she’d worn today.

The head honcho of Global Justice wished them luck, wearing a smirk for Mego and giving Hego an approving nod. Suspicious eyes cast to Shego however, and she was glad to escape them, following her brothers back out of the hidden conference room and into the alley to get back in the car – only it wasn’t the car they’d arrived in. Global Justice worked in mysterious ways and had the means to do mysterious things – like replace the Sloth with a white Spider customized with vibrant bolts of color coinciding with each member of Team Go. Shego turned a blind eye to the two little red stripes in the paint job.

The sportscar was a trap – and not just a deathtrap – but the seats were comfortable and Shego knew for a fact that the radio wasn’t as static-ridden as the ones in the old Sloth or family van – not that she ever got to enjoy it. The pricy convertible wasn’t for pleasure. It was armed to the teeth and the dash was equipped with advanced technology for tracking, spying, and communications that Team Go still hadn’t fully learned to operate. Even without the rocket boosters mounted to the back, the Go Kart was capable of reaching 300 miles per hour – just in case they were ever in a hurry.

It was excessive and nothing more than a flashy bribe to tempt them with the gadgets and luxuries they could have if they gave up their family life to play GJ’s game indefinitely. Their family was just shy of dysfunctional enough not to buy into it just yet, even if Hugo – Hego – reveled in playing the game at any given opportunity, convinced he was duty-bound.

Shego was just tying on her domino mask as they sped out of the ally, feeling like a clown and hating that people pointing and gawking was becoming an everyday occurrence as they sped across town. She rehearsed in her head the protocol she’d set in place for when they reached Southside. She’d tell Hego to look over there, while she’d take Mego and look elsewhere, steering them clear of the pier where the resident cryptid took shelter.

That plan was blown out of the water when Hugo pulled abruptly to the shoulder, the pier in question in sight. “Around here,” he announced. “Spread out.”

“Mego, you’re with me,” Shego said anyway, and made a grab for her little lavender brother.

He dodged her, shrinking to duck before bouncing back. “No way!” he said. “I’m going to find it first this time!”

Hego shot him a smile over his shoulder as he strode off toward the defunct pier. “You call for us when you do,” he said, as if he really had faith in his little brother. After a month of tracking the mysterious creature supposedly terrorizing the neighborhood, honing in on her location with each sweep, Shego could tell he just wanted the goose chase to be over with once and for all, even if it meant Mego got credit for it.

She knew from experience that Hego was unmovable once he got in the mindset. The best she could hope for was that the giant girl had taken shelter in an alley or someone’s garage somewhere as she dashed after him.

He opened his mouth to tell her off but decided it was a lost cause, and cracked his knuckles instead, no doubt ready and eager to punch something. He really liked getting to show off like that lately. “The Southside Freak was spotted around here,” he stated with a nod toward the dilapidated pier, and Shego grimaced once more at what Gloria Grace had been dubbed. It was an official label of the supposed culprit terrorizing the neighborhood, filed away with many others like it in GJ’s records.

“What if she’s not a freak?” Shego blurted suddenly, jumping out ahead of Hego, hands up to stop him.

“Sister, you’ve seen the photos,” he reminded. “This thing defines freakish.” It was a hard point to argue.

She couldn’t smother her nervous chuckle. “But what if it’s all just a big hoax?” she suggested, not for the first time.

Hego was ready to brush her aside, but slammed a fist into his palm as if to drive his point. “Then we’ll reveal the culprit behind it and call it a day.”

“It could just be a prank—”

“When it comes to destroying private and public property, it’s no longer a prank,” Hego argued.

Shego opened her mouth again but before she could even think of anything to add, the frenzied barking of a dog followed by a car alarm and a crash interrupted. She turned and the last person she wanted to see came tumbling out of a street ahead, scrambling in her mad dash for the pier.

++X++

While Shego stood rooted in place, her brothers sprinted past her, their superpowers activated and ready for a fight. Gloria Grace’s bewildered eyes locked on hers, if only for a split second. Next Shego felt her legs begin to move just as the Southside Freak backpedaled to run the other way.

 “Don’t let it escape!” Hego bellowed, and he grabbed hold of Mego, who was happy to bounce into his hands to be hefted up and thrown like a missile. Barely hitting the mark, the lavender boy landed on the giant’s back and clung to her sheet-dress like a baby monkey.

Shego raced past her big brother, giving him a shove of annoyance that didn’t even faze him.

“Halt! In the name of justice!” Hego shouted at the giant, as if any perpetrator was ever that compliant. Shego might have rolled her eyes at the rehearsed line if she weren’t preoccupied, and she ignored the order he barked after her. “Shego! Trip it!”

Gloria Grace covered ground fast with her long legs, seemingly oblivious to Mego squealing for her to stop as he held on like a tiny purple backpack. Shego pushed herself harder to catch up, desperately hoping with every beat of her pounding heart that the girl wouldn’t bump into a deadly power line by accident as she ducked beneath the cables every few paces.

“Wait!” Shego screamed, but the gentle giant must not have heard her. She barely heard herself.

She heard the engine of the Go Kart revving up behind her though, and barely had the chance to flick a sidelong glance before the sportscar zoomed ahead of her, only to pause just long enough for Shego to hop in. Hego stomped on the gas a little too eagerly, lurching them forward, and she caught his eyes popping wide in alarm. He’d only been driving for a few months and it was much too soon for him to be behind the wheel of such a vehicle.

Ahead, Gloria had taken a turn inland and was bounding through traffic, many vehicles swerving out of her way and at least one rear-ending another. The compact Go Kart barely zipped through in her wake.

Hego’s hand hovered over the dash and the numerous buttons and knobs there. “Which one of these deploys the—?”

“You are not launching anything at her!” Shego snapped. She was braced in an awkward crouch in her seat, holding on tight to the door and headrest, ready to jump on Gloria or wave her down – or something—

“I’m not going to hurt it!”

“You guys!” shrieked Mego as he was jostled upon the giant’s back. “Any time now!”

“Get up alongside her,” Shego ordered, and Hego threw her a questioning look. She scowled back. “Do it!”

His apprehension was fleeting, but he must have trusted her to have a plan because he did as she requested.

Ignoring her brother’s worry, Shego stood as straight as she dared in the speeding Go Kart now zooming along beside the panicked giant’s shins. “GG!” she shouted around cupped hands. “GLORIA!”

Wide panicked eyes snapped down to her, and Shego scarcely had the chance to hope it was recognition she saw in them. Gloria took more two gigantic steps and reeled, curly brown locks bouncing around her gaunt face as she came to a sudden stop uncomfortably close to the next set of power lines across her path.

Hego’s fingers hooked her belt then, pulling Shego back down into her seat to keep her from flying out as he hit the brakes and whipped around in front of the giant collapsing back on her rear. “That thing is a woman?” he blurted in realization now that he finally had the chance to really observe it.

Shego threw a worried glance back and was relieved he wasn’t springing into action as he’d been so ready to before he’d thought to fetch the Go Kart. Even someone as dense as Hego could read a room, though his aura all but shimmered in pops of blue around him in anticipation for a fight.

Jumping out of the car, Shego held her hands up in peace, stopping in her tracks when the giant girl began shuffling back at her approach. Car horns and alarms blared and civilians were still screaming as they scattered, but she tried not to let the commotion bother her as she called up, “We’re here to help you.” It was a lie. The assignment wasn’t to help the perpetrator – it was to take down and capture an unidentified creature. Plans had a funny way of changing though. She could only hope Betty would be understanding.

“Sh-Shi—?”

“Shego,” she corrected before her name could leave the giant girl’s lips.

“You’re one of them?” cried the giant, her distress resonating off the surrounding buildings towering above even her.

“It’s okay, Gloria,” Shego swore, hands up and unlit. She had a hunch Gloria was terrified of Team Go’s glow – especially hers, which presented itself as something too similar to fire. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

Huge hazel eyes were brimmed with tears and she looked from Shego to Hego approaching slowly to stand just behind her. She didn’t look terribly convinced, but seconds passed without one of Team Go’s signature fights breaking out.

“Someone get me down!” howled Mego suddenly, his head peeking up over Gloria’s shoulder.

He was almost shaken off with her startled gasp, and GG dented a car hood as she leaned aside to gawp at the boy clinging to her. It was a wonder she didn’t brush him off like a bug in reflex.

“Oh, just jump, Mi— Mego,” Shego snapped at him. It wasn’t that far. He’d be fine.

Before he could work up the courage leap down, Gloria reached over and, as gentle a giant as ever, plucked him off her shoulder. Mego didn’t complain about the ride in a palm the size of a chair seat, but he hopped off before she could set him down herself and stumbled unsteadily toward his teammates.

Hego was quick to give him a congratulatory smack on the back that nearly knocked him to the pavement. “Way to go, champ!” he praised. “Good job holding on. You could take up professional bull riding.”

A woozy groan answered Team Go's posterboy, and then Mego was doubling over, upchucking his lunch. Which had been colorful, to say the least. “Dude,” Mego whimpered, tears streaming past his domino mask and down his cheeks, “I’m never eating donuts with sprinkles ever again.”

Shego cringed and tore her eyes away, stepping back quickly before the mess could get on her boots. She looked up to Gloria, the giant girl still stunned but clutching herself.

A hand rested on Shego’s shoulder and she flinched, looking up at her big brother who was looking down gravely at her. “You know the Southside Freak?” he asked.

She swallowed and nodded in reply.

++X++

So she got in a bit of hot water that day.

It didn’t end with a distraught lecture about a whole slew of things from Hego once they were in private or a slap on the wrist from Betty for withholding information. The penalty wasn’t too severe, but it was still a little more than a simple grounding. She had makeup work to do for skipping classes, she was essentially put back under house arrest, and the supervising organization swore to keep a closer eye on her for the foreseeable future until she proved herself trustworthy again, which meant hanging out with particular acquaintances at school was no longer an option to fill the social void.

She’d anticipated the punishment and was ready to accept it, even keeping her aggravation to herself when the morning after the Southside Freak was – peacefully – taken into custody, the newspapers began selling stories of Go City finally rid of another terror, all thanks to Team Go. Of course photographs had been snapped before a semi-truck had arrived to take the scared woman away to one of Global Justice’s outposts.

Shego had felt like she was lying through her teeth when she promised the research center would help her sort out her little mutation crisis.

Otherwise, the case of the Southside Freak was put behind her. There were bigger fish to fry and a new villain of the week to contend with. She had enough on her plate juggling family, school, and hero life to dwell on closed cases she was officially no longer involved in.

Some weeks later, like a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, relief washed over her to discover big brother had kept their end of the deal. She almost didn’t recognize the brunette towering over the front door when she answered it. The giant girl was still inhumanly tall, casual jeans and tee custom tailored, but she was much more proportionate now, even if she still had to stoop to fit under the porch roof.

Gloria Grace was a stage name as it turned out, as she was a born and raised performer. She was a circus freak by definition and she was happy with her hand in life. She’d been seventeen and on tour with her folks, who were exceptionally tall themselves though they no longer held a candle to her, when Lady Fate came to Go City last April. Gloria never returned home to her trailer that night. Whatever had happened to her during her strange year away living on the outskirts of Go City, Global Justice’s team of clever scientists had been able to treat, gradually reversing the effects.

Her memory was still sketchy, GG explained as she sat on the front porch with Shilo to sip cola, but she still knew how to do what she did best – and that was be a freak. She smiled as she said so, and gave Shilo a handful of tickets for the traveling circus that had come to Go City. Shilo was apprehensive, but the show was for one night and one night only, so she took them and smiled back and promised to see her there.

She almost didn’t go.

She was glad she did.

It took some degree of begging before her pops let up on the curfew restriction and agreed to an outing for the sake of overdue quality time with the family. Surrounded by them on all sides, either popcorn or the twerps in her lap, Shilo waited anxiously for the giant girl’s debut that night, beating back the fear of the audience gasping in horror.

She was nervous for nothing. Despite first impressions, Gloria Grace the Giant Girl lived up to her title. The crowd was surprised – but in a remarkably good way that put her worries to rest. Oohs and ahhs were a much better sound than the screams of terror Gloria had been met with time and time again over the past year.

Gloria fit in among her own family of misfits, and her extraordinary condition was a more than welcomed sight. Shilo watched as the giant girl in the billowing skirt and vibrant sequins fluffy frills preformed her dance routine with a family larger than life and assisted in the performances of others. Throughout the whole evening, the giant girl wore a smile. It wasn’t just for show, either.

When all was said and done, Shilo slipped away from behind the circus tent, waving a tentative goodbye to the exuberant young lady who was ecstatic to be reunited and back bigger and better than ever, though she had joked about standing to lose a few inches, as if it would be as easy as diet and exercise.

The last she saw of GG was through the rear window of the family van, catching a final glimpse of her happily signing autographs and posing for photos.

Clearly some people – mutant or otherwise – took genuine pride in being a freak.

As Shilo sat on the edge of her bed that night, studying the radium-green plasma bubbling from her hands, she couldn’t help wondering if being a freak was for her.

[nicbrouillette]

Review: The Court of Miracles by Kester Grant

I received an ARC of this book from Net Galley and Random House Children’s in exchange for an honest review.

The Court of Miracles is a re-tellling/alternate universe version of Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, and the eponymous musical. The story follows Éponine from childhood up until the ill-fated Paris Uprising of 1832. At the age of 11, Éponine’s sister is sold by their father Thénardier to the Tiger, a ruthless tyrant who runs the Guild of the Flesh. Before being taken away, Éponine’s sister arranges for a friend to take Éponine and help her to become a member of the Guild of Thieves in the Court of Miracles, with the hopes that this will keep her safe from both Thénardier and the Tiger. As Éponine grows into thief and womanhood she develops a strong bond with her foster sister Cosette. Unable to save her older sister, Éponine is obsessed with keeping Cosette safe and out of the Tiger’s grasp. Throughout the story Éponine encounters all of the characters we’ve come to know, love, and hate from the novel and musical, along with the dauphin of France. 

Les Misérables is one of my all time favorite musicals, so this was a real treat for me. Overall, I really enjoyed it! I was engrossed right off the bat, though I wish there had been a bit more development of the actual court itself. I would have loved to have learned more about Nina’s upbringing in the Guild of Thieves of her relationship with Tomasis. I felt a little frustrated by the time jumps for this reason.

I loved Cosette and Éponine’s relationship! That was something from Les Mis that I have always really wanted to see explored. I loved that the author featured so many people of color, and that she made Javert a woman. I’m super excited to hear more about Javert and Valjean’s relationship/past. I cannot wait for the second book! 

France has been a very trendy setting lately (Bone Crier’s Moon, Blood & Serpent. The Gilded Wolves), so it’s interesting to see it go in a direction other than straight fantasy.

A super quick read, I devoured it within a few hours. It wasn’t perfect, but it was fun, and since finishing it I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the characters, especially Enjorlas and Éponine. 

The Court of Miracles will be published on June 2nd, 2020. Thank you Random House Children’s and NetGalley for the advance readers copy.

[quentinblack]

Smoke and Mirrors 

Chapter 6: Dean I - I Should Have Just Gone To Eton (link to full story on FF.net)

Featuring: Dean Thomas, Justin Finch-Fletchley 

Word Count: 4K words

Dean looked around desperately at the various signs signalling all of the different departure gates as he walked through the main entrance.

Gatwick Airport was an absolutely massive place and he’d never been to an airport by himself before, so he was finding it very difficult to navigate.

It was all a lot easier travelling internationally by portkey, but that was too risky – at least this way there would be no trace of him.

Professor McGonagall had sat down with each and every muggle-born student before the end of the last year and explained the likelihood of what was to happen.

Dumbledore was dead, which meant it would not be long before You Know Who moved against The Ministry – and who knew what might happen to the muggle-born population of Wizarding Britain. She had taken the bold decision to wipe the records of every single muggle-born student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, so that they would be protected as best they could be if You Know Who and his followers were to purge or take control of the school over the summer. It was almost as if she knew something they didn’t.  

Dean had been one of the most outspoken students in the initial meeting with his Head of House. He had been adamant that he wasn’t going anywhere and would return to school. He wasn’t a coward. He was a Gryffindor!

But he had read and heard of terrible things happening over the summer. The Daily Prophet was ramping up disdain for muggle-borns – and whilst watching and reading the muggle-news there were many events that were very evidently influenced by dark wizards and Death Eaters, even if the muggles themselves were blissfully unaware of that fact.

It was his Mum who had made the decision for him in the end. At first she had been very strong-willed and stubborn that he was to go. This tactic didn’t work on him, but when she started crying and guilt-tripping him instead he quickly relented.

He couldn’t let her down so he agreed to go and live with his step-sister in America until it had all blown-over, although deep down he knew it would only get worse – and soon Wizarding Britain would be in open war with You Know Who and his army of Death Eaters, Dementors and worse. He just wished he could have done his bit and been part of it.  

It hadn’t been too much hassle to sort out his departure. He’d had to get a passport and a VISA, but that was no bother really. Bruce had managed to do most of it for him. Bayley was based in Los Angeles for work and had a spare room in her apartment, so he would go and live with her and see what happened. She said she would be able to get him a job and he was reasonably excited about the move. At the very least it would be a nice new start.

The check-in process at the airport had been simple enough. Dean had only taken a small carry on-bag so he didn’t have anything for the hold.

He put his suitcase onto the security conveyor belt to go through the X-Ray, then as it slowly made its way in, Dean wondered what the border officer was seeing on the reading on his screen. That small suitcase he’d picked up from Wiseacre’s in Diagon Alley had about two full 15KG hold bags worth of stuff in it. It was a real test of magic vs muggle technology.

Who would win in this battle of airport security scanners and undetectable extension charms?

It seemed that the wizards had taken the victory as the stern staff of the airport barely raised an eyebrow when his bag went through. The metal detector failed to go off when he walked through it with his wand in his jacket pocket. Of course his wand was made from cedar and the heartstring of a Ukrainian Ironbelly dragon, so it shouldn’t have gone off anyway, but that didn’t dispel his nerves when he walked through it.

He had to remind himself that it was, after all, a metal detector, not a magic detector – and even if the airport staff had have found his wand, they would’ve just thought he was just an oddball that was carrying some weird kind of stick.  

Dean retrieved his bag from its tray and after putting it with the other collection of discarded trays he strolled through to the departure lounge.

There was still at least an hour before he would be able to board the long-haul flight, so to kill some time he thought he would wander through Duty Free. He soon regretted that choice though.

As soon as he walked in he was flanked by massive posters and cardboard cut outs of the muggle band Oasis. It all seemed to be advertising a new album being released called ‘Be Here Now’ and the poster showed what looked like a massive country house, with the members of the band dotting around outside standing in-front of a moped, whilst a white car was sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool.

Dean never had much time for Brit-pop bands like Oasis, Blur or The Stone Roses. His best friend, Seamus, was very much a fan though and often loved blasting their songs in their Gryffindor dormitory. He could just about make out the lyrics of what must’ve been a new single.

A cold and frosty morning there’s not a lot to say,

About the things caught in my mind,

As the day was dawning my plane flew away,

With all the things caught in my mind,

And I want to be there when you’re

Coming down,

And I want to be there when you hit the ground,

So don’t go away, say what you say,

But say that you’ll stay,

If the racket of the music wasn’t enough of an annoyance - the one thing that Dean hated most about muggle shops was the staff’s tendency to constantly badger you. Within a minute of browsing the aftershave section he had been harassed by four different people trying to shove samples in his face.

There was Armani, Versace, then Dior and Issey Miyake and Hugo Boss too. He was sure there was one that he would’ve really liked, but having test strips shoved in his face every time he tried to look had put him off going anywhere near them.

A pretty young red-headed girl advertising the latest Chanel release stopped him in his tracks though. She had piercing brown eyes, just like Ginny’s. The girl blushed slightly when she noticed that he was staring at her – he snapped himself out of it, feeling quite embarrassed.

He’d moved on from Ginny now.

Well, mostly.

He held no real ill-will to her or Harry, but he was quite disappointed at how it had all worked out. He thought everything had been going pretty swimmingly with her and he didn’t really know why they’d argued as much as they did by the end of it.

Dean had always tried to do right by her. He’d hold doors open for her, stand-up for her if anyone ever spoke out of line to her in-front of him and always insist on paying on every date they went on. She had called it controlling and patronising, but he was just trying to be nice and he knew that she didn’t have a lot of money so he didn’t like letting her split the bill like she would often suggest.

During one particularly-heated row she’d told him that she wasn’t a damsel in distress that needed saving, yet on numerous occasions she’d spoken in awe of how Harry had saved her in the Chamber of Secrets. Dean had pointed this out to her, which to put it lightly, had not gone down too well.

One of the last straws of their relationship had been when Cormac McLaggen inadvertently fractured Harry’s skull by hitting him with a bludger by accident. Dean hadn’t quite realised how serious the injury had been at first and he’d had to laugh at Cormac’s gross incompetence – as he’d flown past Ginny he’d made a joke about how You Know Who had spent years trying to kill Harry, yet after all that Cormac McLaggen might beat him to it if he wasn’t careful.

Ginny hadn’t seen the funny side, yet even Ron and Harry himself had cracked a laugh when he’d mentioned what he’d said later in their dormitory. It didn’t matter what Ginny thought now though. He might well never see her or any of the others again.

Perhaps it was for the best.  

It took great effort but as he made his way through the store he managed to duck and dive out of the way of a man trying to sell him a ginormous toblerone, then dodged another trying to sell him a bottle of ludicrously expensive vodka. Dean couldn’t have even bought it if he had wanted to, as whilst he was considered of age by wizarding standards at 17 – it would still be a few months before he reached the legal age to drink in the UK as a muggle.

As he escaped Duty Free he saw a big stack of newspapers on a side-wall. The headlines all read ‘BROWN BLOWS BILLIONS ON BENEFITS AS LABOUR ANNOUNCE FIRST BUDGET’ and with it there was a still picture of a white man in a suit, with dark hair, who Dean guessed was in his mid to late forties, who was addressing a collection of journalists whilst standing in-front of a red banner that read ‘NEW LABOUR - NEW LIFE FOR BRITAIN’.

Dean didn’t care much for muggle politics. He turned the newspaper over to see what was on the back-page.

‘INTER MILAN BREAK TRANSFER RECORD TO LAND SAMBA STAR RONALDO’

That was more like it. Dean pulled up a seat nearby, then eagerly read the article which described in detail how the Italian super club had spent an incredible 19.5 million pounds to buy the brilliant Brazilian from Barcelona.

He lowered the newspaper from his eye line slightly to check the departure board and see if his flight was boarding yet.  

“Oh, I sayyy…surely it can’t be…Dean Thomas?”

Dean didn’t immediately recognize the very ostentatious voice addressing him, but then he saw for his own eyes someone he’d shared the Hogwarts castle with for the best part of six years.

“Alright Justin, mate?”

“Dean! My goodness. It is you! What a surprise to see you here! I almost didn’t recognize you there for a second.”

Justin Finch-Fletchey had briefly broken away from who Dean assumed must be his parents. A very prim and proper white man, with old-fashioned spectacles and greased back hair, who Dean guessed was probably around forty-five and Justin’s father, followed his son but looked a bit hesitant.

“A friend of yours, Justin?” he asked, squinting curiously at Dean.

“Yes, Father. From school. You must excuse me for a moment. We have much to discuss,” Justin replied confidently, yet still very politely.

“Yes. Yes. Of course. Don’t forget though, Justin… first class boards first so we mustn’t dither too long.”

And with that his Father headed back towards his Mother and they headed to what looked like the Ralph Lauren boutique store.  

“So… you’re upping sticks too, huh? Always knew you were a smart man,” Justin said in a slightly condescending, yet very light-hearted manner, patting Dean on the shoulder slightly as he winked.

“Yeah, well… I thought it was best to be on the safe side. Nobody knows what will happen if You Know Who does kick off a war. And with Dumbledore gone, well, not even Hogwarts is safe anymore so-

“Hogwarts was never bloody safe anyway! Especially for us. I was nearly killed by a murderous snake for Christ’s sake. If it hadn’t been for that irritating ghost I would have been,” Justin scoffed, quite understandably still annoyed at his petrification in their second year.

Dean had dodged a bullet that year to be fair. The basilisk had made short work of many muggle-borns in the school, even several in his own year, but he’d somehow managed to avoid the potentially lethal glare of the giant serpent, more through luck than any kind of skill or planning.

“I wouldn’t have minded it that much,” Justin began. Dean knew that some kind of rant was coming.

“But that old fool Dumbledore didn’t even have the humility or self-respect to go to the Ministry of Magic for help. He was too concerned about the school’s reputation that he left several students petrified indefinitely. You can’t tell me that St Mungo’s couldn’t have cooked up a remedy within a few days? It was farcical! Never would have happened if it had been going after the purebloods. It beggars belief that a society can have such a ridiculous order based entirely on social class.”

“Yeah, terrible…” Dean managed to mutter out.

He’d never spoken to Justin that much particularly, perhaps that had been a good decision as he seemed to have all the self-awareness of a goldfish.

Dean thought it best to try and change the subject. He had never been particularly close to Albus Dumbledore, but he wasn’t exactly going to stand here and let Justin shit-talk a dead man he had at least held a lot of respect for. It did also seem a bit rich for him to be criticising their former Headmaster, when Justin himself had been a member of a group named Dumbledore’s Army for several years.

“So where are you heading then?” he asked neutrally.

“We’re flying out to Los Angeles. Father has got a transfer at work to the San Francisco office, so we’ll be based there for now. I might also shadow my Uncle if I get the chance. He works with the Foreign Office in Washington. He’s quite high up, you know,” Justin said very proudly, perhaps not all that aware of how he could be misconstrued as boasting.

“Oh that’s cool,” Dean said, doing his best to sound as interested as he could.

“How about you, lad? You heading to The States as well?” Justin enquired.

“Yeah, Los Angeles too,” he replied, trying to play down the fact that they were probably going to be leaving on the same plane. It really was a small world after all.  

“Ohhh snap,” Justin said, presumably thinking he sounded quite cool, but in his posh-voice he actually sounded as far from cool as it was humanly possible to be.  

“Yeah ha-ha… my sister lives out near Santa Monica so I’m going to go and live with her,” he added half-heartedly.

“Santa Monica, ehh? Right near Bel-Air? Why, you’ll be just like that coloured chap in The Fresh Prince!” Justin chided, positively under the impression that he’d just cracked the funniest joke anyone had ever heard. Dean didn’t really see the funny side, but chose to ignore the slightly offensive gag.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, doing his best to muster an awkward laugh and hide his annoyed demeanour.

“I’ll be a little sad to leave, you know. I won’t miss Hogwarts that much, nor the magic. No…I fear that was all a big waste of time now. I should have just gone to Eton like Father had planned. But it will be a shame to leave Oxford. We’ve got a really lovely house there. Of course, we won’t be downsizing in San Francisco, no if anything quite the opposite with house prices over there, but well, you can’t beat home. Where was your parent’s house?”

“Surrey,” Dean said quickly, which wasn’t technically a lie. Surrey was where people from Croydon told people they lived when they wanted it to sound fancier. If they wanted it to sound a bit cooler than they’d say they were from London, although anyone who lived in ‘proper’ London would fiercely argue that Croydon wasn’t really London at all.

“Lived there with my Mum and step-dad as long as I can remember. It’s a shame to have to leave them, but I guess it’s for the best.”

Dean didn’t fail to notice Justin’s slightly raised eyebrow when he’d said that he had a step-dad. He didn’t care what Justin thought of him though.

“Hmm, yes. Not to worry though, Deano. It’s a good time to be leaving Britain anyway really… with Labour back in power the country will soon be bankrupt anyway. It’s a disgrace how much they’re going to spend on welfare. Bloody lefties. You know, it’s actually the wizard’s fault that they got in anyway.”

“You think?” Dean asked in bewilderment.

He knew enough about Wizards to know that they didn’t care in the slightest about muggle politics, let alone know or care enough to actively influence who the Prime Minister was.

“Well yes, it’s obvious really, isn’t it? The Conservatives had no chance of winning the election given everything that’s happened in the last few years. They had enough on their hands with the bloody Irish, but look at all the extra problems they had from the wizards. Mass murderers on the loose. A government funded bridge collapsing unexpectedly. Those bloody Dementors roaming the country making everybody miserable. Poor old John Major never stood a chance! Of course there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t exactly come out and tell everyone that it was actually the incompetence of the wizarding government causing all of it.”

Dean wondered what would have happened if a British Prime Minister had gone on TV and announced to the public that wizards were behind all of the country’s problems. He guessed it would make a change from them blaming all of the foreigners and unemployed people.  

“With any luck they’ll all wipe each other out if there is a war,” Justin scorned.

Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You don’t mean-

Justin reacted quickly to Dean’s incredulous response.

“Of course I don’t mean everyone at school. I mean you know, The Death Eaters and the Ministry forces. Almost as bad as each other if you ask me. Everyone else is far too young to be getting involved in a bloody war. Michael and Terry are both adamant they’re going to fight in any battle that they can,” Justin said as if it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

Dean had never been that fond of Michael Corner. It was nothing he had done personally, but he’d been Ginny’s ex-boyfriend, so Dean had to hate him on principle. He was emboldened by Michael and Terry Boot’s courage to fight though.

“I had a lot of fun at all of those DA meetings of course,” Justin mumbled.

“It was good to learn more spells from Potter and his friends for self-defence. But that night the Death Eaters raided the school and Professor Snape killed Dumbledore, well. That was it for me. It’s one thing training up for it and all, but I’m not willing to put my neck on the line to stay a part of the magical word. If everyone else wants to throw their life away, well more fool them. Some would call it bravery, but I say it’s just naivety. We’re not even 18, Dean. The days of teenagers being needlessly slain in pointless wars should be left behind in the 1940’s. We’ve made the right choice, pal,” he said solemnly, once again patting Dean on the shoulder.

It was at that moment that Dean suddenly began to question whether he had in-fact made the correct choice.

“You know, Zacharias Smith was even trying to recruit me for some kind of secret resistance movement his uncle is involved in,” he scoffed. “Told me to keep it all very quiet of course, but well, I suppose given the circumstances telling you won’t do any harm, will it?”

“Resistance movement?” Dean asked curiously. He hadn’t been asked to join any resistance movement.

“Yes. His Uncle is an Auror, isn’t he? On quite good terms with that Mad-Eye Moody fellow. He said they’re setting up a top secret resistance movement, recruiting some muggle-borns for some highly classified unofficial operation if You Know Who gets in power. Sounded like a bloody suicide mission to me. Well, as you can imagine, I practically laughed in his face at the idea. What sort of braindead moron would sign up for that?” he scorned.

“Yeah. Right…” Dean replied, but his head with racing with ideas. This was it. He’d wanted to stay and fight, but it wasn’t as if the Wizarding world had an army you could just sign up to when you were 17 like the muggles did. But if this resistance movement had been interested in recruiting Justin, then they’d surely take Dean too.

Dean looked past his old class-mate and saw that Justin’s parents were heading out of the boutique shop with several bags of clothes that they must’ve bought in there for some serious money.

“Ah, well, I suppose I best be off,” Justin murmured, having noticed this development himself.

“I’ll be sure to pop down from first class and come and see you during the flight,” the youngest member of the Finch-Fletchley clan said elegantly, as he reached out to shake Dean’s hand.

“Can’t wait, mate,” Dean replied, trying his best to sound as enthusiastic as possible. Justin’s handshake was almost like a metaphor for his whole character, half-hearted and weak.

“See you in a bit,” Justin said as a parting comment, which Dean mumbled a polite agreement too, although if Dean was honest he would’ve been pretty happy if he’d have never seen him again for the rest of his life.

As it would happen, Dean never boarded that flight bound for Los Angeles – and it would be four years before Dean, or anyone else in the Wizarding world would see or hear from Justin Finch-Fletchley again.

[richincolor]

#ReadingAfrica 

Catalyst Press held a #ReadingAfrica Week during the first week of December. The campaign just ended, but we encourage everyone to #ReadAfrica all year long. Here are some of the Young Adult books we’ve enjoyed and recommend:

It's Trevor Noah: Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood (Adapted for Young Readers) by Trevor Noah - Delacorte

The host of The Daily Show, Trevor Noah, tells the story of growing up half black, half white in South Africa under and after apartheid in this young readers' adaptation of his bestselling adult memoir Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood.

Trevor Noah shares his story of growing up in South Africa, with a black South African mother and a white European father at a time when it was against the law for a mixed-race child like him to exist. But he did exist--and from the beginning, the often-misbehaved Trevor used his smarts and humor to navigate a harsh life under a racist government.

How Dare the Sun Rise: Memoirs of a War Child by Sandra Uwiringiyimana, Abigail Pesta - Katherine Tegen Books

This profoundly moving memoir is the remarkable and inspiring true story of Sandra Uwiringyimana, a girl from the Democratic Republic of the Congo who tells the tale of how she survived a massacre, immigrated to America, and overcame her trauma through art and activism. Sandra was just ten years old when she found herself with a gun pointed at her head. She had watched as rebels gunned down her mother and six-year-old sister in a refugee camp. Remarkably, the rebel didn’t pull the trigger, and Sandra escaped. Thus began a new life for her and her surviving family members. With no home and no money, they struggled to stay alive. Eventually, through a United Nations refugee program, they moved to America, only to face yet another ethnic disconnect. Sandra may have crossed an ocean, but there was now a much wider divide she had to overcome. And it started with middle school in New York. In this memoir, Sandra tells the story of her survival, of finding her place in a new country, of her hope for the future, and how she found a way to give voice to her people. 

Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie - Harper Perennial

Fifteen-year-old Kambili and her older brother Jaja lead a privileged life in Enugu, Nigeria. They live in a beautiful house, with a caring family, and attend an exclusive missionary school. They're completely shielded from the troubles of the world. Yet, as Kambili reveals in her tender-voiced account, things are less perfect than they appear. Although her Papa is generous and well respected, he is fanatically religious and tyrannical at home—a home that is silent and suffocating. As the country begins to fall apart under a military coup, Kambili and Jaja are sent to their aunt, a university professor outside the city, where they discover a life beyond the confines of their father’s authority. Books cram the shelves, curry and nutmeg permeate the air, and their cousins’ laughter rings throughout the house. When they return home, tensions within the family escalate, and Kambili must find the strength to keep her loved ones together. Purple Hibiscus is an exquisite novel about the emotional turmoil of adolescence, the powerful bonds of family, and the bright promise of freedom.

Aya: Life in Yop City by Marguerite Abouet, Clément Oubrerie (Illustrator) - Drawn and Quarterly

Ivory Coast, 1978. It’s a golden time, and the nation, too—an oasis of affluence and stability in West Africa—seems fueled by something wondrous. Aya is loosely based upon Marguerite Abouet’s youth in Yop City. It is the story of the studious and clear-sighted nineteen-year-old Aya, her easygoing friends Adjoua and Bintou, and their meddling relatives and neighbors. It’s a wryly funny, breezy account of the simple pleasures and private troubles of everyday life in Yop City. Clément Oubrerie’s warm colors and energetic, playful line connect expressively with Marguerite Abouet’s vibrant writing. This reworked edition offers readers the chance to immerse themselves in Abouet’s Yop City, bringing together the first three volumes of the series in Book One.

Hope is Our Only Wing by Rutendo Tavengerwei - Soho Teen [Rich in Color Review]

For fifteen-year-old Shamiso, struggling with grief and bewilderment following her father's death, hope is nothing but a leap into darkness. For Tanyaradzwa, whose life has been turned upside down by a cancer diagnosis, hope is the only reason to keep fighting. As the two of them form an unlikely friendship, Shamiso begins to confront her terrible fear of loss. In getting close to another person, particularly someone who's ill, isn't she just opening herself up to more pain? And underpinning it all - what did happen to her father, the night of that strange and implausible car crash? Rutendo Tavengerwei's extraordinary debut takes an honest look at hope, and the grit and courage it can take to hang on to it. 

This Book Betrays My Brother by Kagiso Lesego Molope - Mawenzi House Publishers [Rich in Color Review]

What does a teenage girl do when she sees her beloved older brother commit a horrific crime? Should she report to her parents, or should she keep quiet? Should she confront him? All her life, Naledi has been in awe of Basi, her charming and outgoing older brother. They've shared their childhood, with its jokes and secrets, the alliances and stories about the community. Having reached thirteen, she is preparing to go to the school dance. Then she sees Naledi commit an act that violates everything she believes about him. How will she live her life now? This coming-of-age novel brings together many social issues, peculiar not only to South Africa but elsewhere as well, in the modern world: class and race, young love and physical desire, homosexuality. In beautiful, lyrical, and intimate prose, Molope shows the dilemmas facing a young woman as she attempts to find her place in a new, multiracial, and dynamic nation emerging into the world after more than a century of racist colonialism. A world now dominated by men. There are no simple answers.

Akata Witch by Nnedi Okorafor - Speak [Rich in Color Review]

Sunny Nwazue lives in Nigeria, but she was born in New York City. Her features are West African, but she's albino. She's a terrific athlete, but can't go out into the sun to play soccer. There seems to be no place where she fits in. And then she discovers something amazing—she is a "free agent" with latent magical power. And she has a lot of catching up to do. Soon she's part of a quartet of magic students, studying the visible and invisible, learning to change reality. But just as she's finding her footing, Sunny and her friends are asked by the magical authorities to help track down a career criminal who knows magic, too. Will their training be enough to help them against a threat whose powers greatly outnumber theirs?

Akata Warrior by Nnedi Okorafor - Viking Books for Young Readers

A year ago, Sunny Nwazue, an American-born girl Nigerian girl, was inducted into the secret Leopard Society. As she began to develop her magical powers, Sunny learned that she had been chosen to lead a dangerous mission to avert an apocalypse, brought about by the terrifying masquerade, Ekwensu. Now, stronger, feistier, and a bit older, Sunny is studying with her mentor Sugar Cream and struggling to unlock the secrets in her strange Nsibidi book. Eventually, Sunny knows she must confront her destiny. With the support of her Leopard Society friends, Orlu, Chichi, and Sasha, and of her spirit face, Anyanwu, she will travel through worlds both visible and invisible to the mysteries town of Osisi, where she will fight a climactic battle to save humanity. Much-honored Nnedi Okorafor, winner of the Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy awards, merges today’s Nigeria with a unique world she creates. Akata Warrior blends mythology, fantasy, history and magic into a compelling tale that will keep readers spellbound.

[oceansandblades]

My brain, currently high off of the new hyperfixation endorphin that The Magnus Archives have been giving me: Y̵̻̞̱͠O̵̞̮͎̠̝̺͔̲̕͠U̶̧̹̦̬͕̮R̴̨͈̩̖̺̤̞̦ ͏̲̭̟̮͓O̴͍͍͔͖͍ͅC̣̞̝̳̳͎̝̀͘͡S̝͔̖ ̺͔̞̭̗̖͞A̖̙̪͘̕S̜̰̝̳͈̯͎͢ͅ ͕͕̮̼̘͈͉̜̥̀Á͔̦̩̲͇̻͚V̥̞͇͝A͏͍̠̭͖T̸̙Ḁ̢͔̰̼̙̗R̢̜̹͓̰͔͠Ş̗̮̬̳͈̗͝

Me: SICK LETS DO THAT RIGHT NOW

From left to right:  Coi - The End, fear of death and the unescapable Millie - The Web, fear of being controlled and manipulated Kane - The Hunt, fear of being hunted and being prey Rozwell - The Lonely, fear of isolation and disconnection Blanche - The Slaughter, fear of pain and war

more “cool” rambles thoughts under the cut

- I matched my guys up with their most prominent fear and then went crazy - Yes, I know, I know that the avatars aren't quite as monstrous as this but this is my au ill bend the rules all I fuckin want - They all have human forms too, which all look... off from what a normal person would look like. These correspond with their cannon OB/Albre universe designs cause I'm using my human/earth designs here           - Coi has stark white hair and one completely white eye           - Millie has grey hair and a green tint to the whites of her eyes           - Kane has the same blue eyes he has in cannon and very sharp canines           - Roz’s hair has deep white streaks and pure black eyes with no irises           - Blanche has black gums and her hair always moves even without wind - Bir in the au is the Avatar to The Eye and Hugo is fully human - Millie and Kane both have connections to The Eye as well and Roz has connections to the Vast - Out of all of them, Roz has the best control over his abilities - Millie is the newest avatar, Coi is the oldest - Blanche, Kane, and Millie have permanent scars from their entities - They all try to find small ways of eating without dragging humans into it. Their favorite activities together are incredibly completed hide and seek, (There are, like, so many rules and they can hide anywhere in the world. Games last for days.) board games, lighting trash on fire and running away screaming, and watching flies stick to fly tape and die - They all fell through a mixture of fear and love            - Millie and Blanche are not actually dead            - Roz was actually killed by the Vast, but was “saved” by The Lonely as his main fear while drowning was that no one would care            - Kane killed the werewolf hunting him before dying of blood loss            - Coi tried to create a ritual to grant them immortality but gave up halfway through and “sacrificed themselves to the god of death” - Roz will occasionally disappear into The Lonely only to reappear when Kane gets lonely enough, goes in after him and hunts him down, dragging him back to reality - Roz is a bit of a hypocrite because he hates it when Kane goes full Hunt, he goes full on feral and he’s the hardest to control. Also when he looses control and grows wings it makes cuddling so much harder - The plus side to having a predator for a boyfriend is that anyone who was homophobic in your life gets their face eaten off, you fucked with Roz and you will find a monster in the alleyway - But that's nothing compared to what happened to Kane’s abusive ex and the rest of his gang. They are still slowly and painfully dying in the space between The Lonely and The Vast

[swordsandrayguns]

Riker’s Beard And Family Time: Looking Back At Star Trek: TNG

I write science fiction and fantasy novels… so I am no stranger to things dubbed “nerdy.” The last few months, though, I have been doing something that pushes the boundaries of nerdy even for me. I’m watching all the Star Trek properties in the order of their release. Yup, an epic binge watch covering over five decades of television series, cartoons and motion pictures. Look, I can try to explain and rationalize this a couple ways. Truth is, I travel a great deal and have to fill the time I spent in airports and on planes (preferably with things I can download as oppose to stream). I am also, as an author, studying some of the great examples of “universe building” and epic story arcs. Still nerdy, though; I admit it.

Obviously, I started with the original series and jumped into the animated series. I timed this all so my viewing of Star Trek: The Motion Picture coincided with the the special 40th anniversary showings in theaters. I followed through the next couple of movies into The Next Generation, alternating in movies and even the original series pilot The Cage (which was originally made available to the public as a pay per view offering between the first and second seasons of The Next Generation) as they fell in the original release timeline. I am getting to the end of the fifth season of Next Generation now and very much looking forward to alternating between episodes of The Next Generation, Deep Space 9 and even the occasional film in the near future.

Just in case you are wondering, I am pretty dedicated to sticking to the timeline but I am not strictly adhering to it. As I find myself, for example, in a hotel with channels such as BBC America or the Heroes and Icons channel I will only turn on episodes that have already showed up in my series overview… so no DS9, Voyager or Enterprise (yet) but the adventures of Kirk and company are fair game, as are Next Generation episodes up to season five. On the other hand, I am still watching Discovery’s Short Treks as they come out and I am definitely watching Picard as soon as I get a chance (meaning on my big screen at home instead of streaming it on my laptop over shaky hotel wifi). 

Even though I have not finished the complete rewatch, I find that I already have some new thoughts and ideas about I have seen so far starting with Riker’s beard.

Star Trek The Next Generation has generated a basketful of memes from “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” to “I am not a merry man” but undeniably the greatest is “Riker’s beard.” Just as the Internet has given us “jumping the shark,” the phrase to mark when a show is never quite as good again named for a really stupid moment when Fonzie was in Hawaii, it gave us “Riker’s beard” to mark the opposite. To this day, I know people that will immediately turn off an episode of The Next Generation if Jonathan Frakes turns up clean shaven (or if Wesley is in it, but that is a whole different story and, honestly, my harsh view of Wesley softened a bit with this re-watch). My first revelation from my Next Generation binge is that while season two, when the beard shows up, is better than season one, it is not when Next Generation really hits its stride.

First of all, let me defend season one of Star Trek The Next Generation. Twenty one years after the premiere of Star Trek, after three seasons of a pioneering science fiction drama, a year of the animated series and four feature films, Star Trek The Next Generation had to take up the incredibly difficult challenge of continuing one of the world’s beloved stories without a single character from the original series. Even more difficult, the real world had changed. Where the original Star Trek was making a statement by having a Russian, an Asian and an African woman on the bridge The Next Generation would not have made any statements with this type of casting. After all, when Picard met his crew and first face Q at Farpoint the biggest show on television focused on the an upper middle class African American family, something that was absolutely unthinkable when Kirk boldly set forth with his crew. 

The first season of Star Trek The Next Generation not only introduced Q, the Ferengi and Data’s not so lovable android brother Lore it killed a main character. Star Trek The Next Generation took a major step that not only the original series never tackled but most shows avoid. Sure, other shows tease it and even then it was usually on a season ending cliffhanger. Even the original series backed away from the only death of a major character they ever portrayed with an entire movie dedicated to reversing it. Star Trek The Next Generation killed Tasha Yar completely out of the blue with three episodes left in the first season. This incredibly bold move cast a shadow on the entire series, adding a real threat to future episodes. 

Is season one perfect? Oh, no. Not at all. Not even close, but like I already mentioned it had an amazingly difficult challenge facing it. The fans were expecting… well, everything. Next Generation was trying to stay true to the essence of Star Trek while making itself something new. They put families on the Enterprise to emphasize it was a vehicle of exploration, not a military ship. They made sure there was not a Vulcan to be found and put the odd man in a kilt wandering the hallways. They put a Klingon on the bridge! But then they had to deal with it all.

Season two was better. For one thing, the anticipation and the expectations were gone. The show made it through the first season and when it came back with its second season it was coming back as Star Trek The Next Generation not “the new Star Trek.” Ironically, due to a writers’ strike, season two actually started off with a script recycled from the ill-fated Star Trek: Phase II series. In addition to the first officer’s facial hair, the second season brought Whoopi Goldberg on board as the ship’s bartender and saw Diana Muldaur (in her third Star Trek universe role as Dr. Pulaski) taking over the sick bay from Dr. Crusher. Geordi La Forge also migrated from the bridge to take over engineering. It was always a bit odd, somehow, in season one to not have the chief engineer as a major character, if only because the chief engineer would seem to play as an important of a role in the operations of the ship as, say, the ship’s counselor or a teenager doing his after school work study program as an acting ensign.

While season two was an improvement, it had its issues. Dr. Pulaski, playing a role meant, no doubt, to help humanize Data, came across as abrasive and (in my opinion) mean spirited. Gates McFadden had been fired, apparently because the head writer did not like her, but Gene Roddenberry resisted killing her character so Dr. Beverly Crusher merely transferred off the ship. When the head writer left the popular character of Dr. Crusher returned in season three. Whoopi Goldberg, although an interesting character, was the ship’s civilian bartender which is just kind of weird. Did the ship have a food court, too? The season was also shortened, because of the aforementioned writers’ strike, and it actually ended with (of all things) a clip show. A clip show!

As a final defense of season two, it did introduce the Borg, one of greatest science fiction villain races of all times. But was it really that much better than season one? Well, season two saw five episodes get a total of six Emmy nominations and won two (both technical Emmy awards related to the sound department). Season one’s premiere was the first television episode to be nominated for a Hugo Award in 15 years. Another season one episode was the first syndicated television episode to win a Peabody Award and six episodes gathered a total of seven Emmy nominations, winning three (for makeup, costume design and sound editing). If you place your faith in the numbers, it seems season one might have actually been better (at least if you go by its awards).

So by now, if I may be so bold as to make a prediction, you are probably thinking “This guy has put way too much thought into Star Trek The Next Generation” and “Okay, so if season two is not when The Next Generation gets great, when is it?” First, I said as an author I am studying Star Trek so cut me some slack. Second, I am glad you asked.

Star Trek The Next Generation, in my opinion, really hit its stride is the fourth season. Season four swept onto screens with the second part of season finale cliffhanger The Best Of Both Worlds. The Federation was facing the awesome might of the Borg and the crew of the Enterprise was desperately trying to save Picard, who had been taken and turned into Borg mouthpiece Locutus, so the season started with big action and drama. This quickly led to a series of episodes focusing on character relationships, particularly family relationships. 

After he is rescued, Picard is left a broken man and returns to his family’s vineyard in France. Although there had been several stories about Picard’s history, this was the first to address his family and his entry into Star Fleet. Data’s Day not only explored how the android navigated through his duties and relationships, it introduced Chief O’Brien’s new wife Keiko. The O’Briens are the focus in the very next episode, showing not only the natural difficulties they were having adjusting to their new life as a married couple but also O’Brien’s past Star Fleet career and the psychological wounds left by his service in the war with Cardassia. To me, Riker’s beard does not signify when Star Trek The Next Generation really gets good, it is when Keiko O’Brien appears.

Family was a major theme of the fourth season, as Worf discovered he was a father and worked to regain his family’s honor in the eyes of fellow Klingons. Luxanna Troi re-appeared as did the ghost of Tasha Yar when the crew encountered her sister. Data’s brother also made another appearance, as did Data’s creator. Data also grew a great deal, even being shown to try out a romantic relationship with another crew member. The true strength of Star Trek The Next Generation, as of season four, was that it was well established enough as a series to feature stories based on human relationships instead of action or the “alien of the week.”

It should also be noted that season four also brought more episodes which were a part of longer storylines, such as Worf’s dishonor and the political intrigues of the Klingon Empire. There were also many returning minor characters and new characters being set up for multiple appearances. It is only after three seasons Star Trek The Next Generation finally had established enough of its own universe for this to happen. Also, though, by season four plans were in motion for a second live action Star Trek series, one to run concurrently with Next Generation. It could have been that the introduction of multi-episode storylines were a result of the producers consciously attempting to expand the Star Trek universe while starting to differentiate Next Generation from the upcoming Deep Space Nine.

Ironically, season four also marks Star Trek The Next Generation outlasting its predecessor in terms of seasons on the air. While this did not actually influence the formation of my opinion season four is when Next Generation really gets good, it does really make me wonder what Star Trek may have become if it had a season four.