#like there is this one very specific cover of “yes to err is human so dont be one”

[red-velvet-0w0]

female covers of songs ...save me...

female covers of songs...

save me female covers of songs

[yandere-dark-cupid]

If you’re requests are open can I get a Yandere Zuko x fem reader where after the war he looks for his darling by making his guards track her down but without anyone knowing bc he doesn’t want ppl to think that he’s back into his old ways again and keeps her in the palace

Ok Angel 💜👌💜. If you want, I could continue this as a mini part to part scenario series if I have the time T.Angel. There is just so many ideas worming around this concept and just think of the crazy things the darling and Zuko is going to go through, while also keeping both of their identities on the veeery low-key. Just let me know Angel 😊☕💜.

Also everyone is going to be aged up to 18+ Btw.

Side note: For the sake of this scenario, the darling will be from the Southern Water tribe. If this Angel decides to let me continue this as a mini scenario series, then the both of us are going to talk about if the darling can be a Waterbender or not.

Warning ⚠!!!: Their is going to be some slight Nsfw in this.

Yandere Zuko: A Dragon's treasure

Five weeks. It has been five weeks since you've went missing. Once the war has ended, Zuko was planning to propose to you. But every since his coronation of being crowned the new FireLord, you just up and vanished. It was like you were never there in the first place. And Zuko has been scattering everywhere in the palace and Fire nation to find you or some type of clue. But nothing. There was nothing there. You really covered your tracks, didn't you?

Right now Zuko was in his thrown room. He was fuming- No steaming with rage. If anyone were to walk in to the room, they'll notice it was boiling in there. He tried to look everywhere in the palace. Even outside the palace. But to no avail. Zuko couldn't find you. You've made it clear that you don't want to be with him or any where near him with this type of stunt you've pulled.

Zuko took a seat on his thrown. His hands was on his head, just about ready to pull his hair out and shout in frustration. But then a knock on the door stop him. " *Frustrated sigh* State your name and your business." Zuko said with spite and a hint of venom in his voice. The person behind the door flinched at his tone of voice. "It's me Sir. The guard you put in charge of the search party for Ms.Y/N". Zuko perked up at the mention of his missing lover's name. " Come in. " said Zuko. With out a second thought, the guard entered the room. She bowed down in respect for her FireLord.

" FireLord Zuko I have an update about Ms.Y/N's whereabouts. " Said the guard. She almost stuttered. The guard noticed how extremely hot it was in the thrown room. It was a clear sign that FireLord Zuko was pissed out of his mind. " Well, " Zuko said in annoyance and anger. Zuko was beyond angry at this point. He was a whole entire cluster fuck of emotions right now. " M-me and m-my crew found some people who could be connected to Ms.Y/N's disappearance , your majesty. " Stuttered the guard in slight fear. Zuko quirked up an eyebrow at what the guard said.

Ah. So the guard managed to find the ones responsible for his darling's vanishment, or at least had some part in it. " Bring them in. " Zuko said. The guard only merely nodded, not wanting to meet the FireLord's intimidating gaze. The guard got off their knees and went to call the other guards, to bring out the people that played some part of the darling going missing. The other guards quickly brought out four other people. Those people was tied up, bounded, and blind folded. The people was visibly quivering in fear. They were very confused and scared on what they did to upset the FireLord.

The four guards forcefully pushed the four people down to the floor. Each guard took off each person's blind fold. In front of the four people, there sat the FireLord in all his glory. FireLord Zuko glared down at the 4 people in a burning gaze. So these disgusting pathetic excuses of human was responsible for his darling going missing. Zuko scoffed at the thought. After a painful intimidating stare down, Zuko finally spoke. " So your the ones held responsible for Y/N's disappearance. " Zuko spat out to them with his voice dipped in poison.

" I-if y-you're talking about a someone that has (h/c), (e/c), and (s/c) then t-they came to m-my store to buy clothes." The woman stuttered in fear. Zuko stayed quite and only listened. " If you're talking about the same person; they came to my food stand and brought some food. " the old man said quickly in fear of what the FireLord would do to him if he took so long to explain himself. Zuko only merely quirks his eyebrow. " Y-yeah, that same person came to my Shop and bought some bags and extra equipment as his they were going on a trip. " The man said while sweating nervously. " The same person came to shack a-and brought some w-weapons. " Said the short lady in fear. Zuko only hmmed at what they said.

" So you're telling me the lady you just described went to all of your stores and shops to buy something. " Zuko said still glaring down the four people. " Y-yes. " the woman squeaked in fear. The old man only nodded quickly. " Mhm. " both the man and woman said. Zuko got up from his thrown and began to walk down to his stand. " What should we do with them you highness? " Said one of the guards. " Bring them to the dungeon. I will decide what to do with them later. " Said Zuko. " I-I don't understand what did we do wrong. " Stuttered the woman in fear and nervousness. Zuko quickly turned to the woman, the woman quickly shuts her mouth. Zuko then begins to slowly walk towards her.

Zuko shot one of his hands out and grasps the woman's face in a painful grip. The woman squeaks in surprise and fear. Zuko just merely just glares down at her. His eyes is filled with a flaming rage. " You all are held responsible for the disappearance of Y/N, " Zuko spat out in anger. Zuko releases his hand from woman's face. Zuko steps away from the woman and is now in front of the four bounded people. " Since you all play a part in my- err Y/N's disappearance, you all will be punished accordingly. " The four people only shook even more at FireLord Zuko's statement. " All of you take them away were they'll never see the light of day again. " Zuko said with venom dripping from his voice.

The four guards only bowed and said a quick " yes sir ". With that they took the four people away. Now Zuko was once again left in his thrown room...... alone.

Zuko let out a sigh of frustration out. He walked towards a window that was in the room. He stared down at his people, he was thinking about something. Based on what the four people said, Zuko can conclude that his darling is no longer in the Fire nation. Zuko dug into his pocket and took out something. It was a necklace. A betrothed necklace to be more specific. You see his darling was not from the fire nation, no no no. You were from a Water tribe, the Southern Water tribe to put it. While Zuko was on his trip to help Aang defeat his father and help him master firebending, Zuko found out from Katara on what her necklace means. He found out that from the Water tribe in order to marry someone, you have to make a betrothed necklace and give it to that special someone. When Zuko found out about this type of information, he instantly got rapped up about it. Ever since he's joined team Avatar he was thinking about what life would be like when he becomes FireLord, then his thoughts were drawn into marriage. He can't help but think, his darling would make the perfect FireLady. His FireLady.

And they'll have children. They'll be lovely children. With his darling swelled up with another one of his heirs all while holding another one of their children. It'll truly be a.. delicious sight to see ~ Zuko hmmed in delight at the thought of his darling bearing his children. But... that's if he witness such a darling sight. Zuko groaned at his mood being dampened and soured. But he knows it's true. Zuko knows if he doesn't act fast, he'll lose his darling. And that lovely little scene that played in his mind, will be nothing but a mere fantasy. Besides, he doesn't want to get himself accidentally sexual frustrated.....

With that aside, Zuko begins to start planning and strategizing. Zuko walks away from the window. He calls a servant, he orders them to get one of his best generals. The servant was slightly hesitant and confused, but never the less terrified. Wasn't the war over? They pushed their question aside, because they know now wouldn't be the best time to question the FireLord. He hasn't been acting himself lately and has been been flaring up at anything these past few weeks. With out much of a second thought, they did as they were told and went to see if someone could get one of the generals FireLord Zuko was talking about.

Zuko on the other hand, went back to sit on his thrown. He knew it will take time for the general to get here, so he decided to sit and be patient for him to get here. All while doing this, Zuko began to plan out in his mind on how he was going to get his darling. He was thinking about getting some of the Fire nation's best spies to help track down his darling. Sending out a whole search team and alerting the public while cause some type of panic. Not only that but he's trying to show that He and the Fire nation has turned over a new leaf, that and he doesn't want people and the other members of team Avatar know he's basically going back to his old ways. Since everybody knows the history on how he went to the ends of the earth to find and Capture the Avatar, and he's basically doing the same for his darling. It'll put a bad name on him and an even worse name on the Fire nation. So he'll lay as low as possible and keep shush shush about it, so he doesn't rise suspicion and ruin all the hard work he's been putting in the past time he's became FireLord.

With all those thoughts in mind, Zuko decides to call the same servant from before. So he can see if his message has been delivered. The Servant said they already sent a messaging hawk out to see if they can reach the general. Zuko only hmmed and dismissed them, and told them to report back to him once the massage has been delivered. With that the servant left, leaving Zuko in his thrown room. Zuko dug into his pocket again. He took out the Betrothed necklace out. He gently creased and rubbed the engraving and creases. He took so many hours and very much effort into making this for his darling. Looking at it always made him feel calmer, it made him happy knowing that his darling will be wearing it soon. But then his darling ran away from him before he can give it to them. Zuko pushed down on the purple garnet at the thought of his darling running away from him ( the rest of the necklace's gems are made up of smaller bits of Rudy and sapphire ). Zuko let out another sigh of frustration. He began to think. Once is darling is back with him he's never letting them go...........

My God, this was a boom ass idea. Not only that, but an idea of Zuko having a bit of a breeding kink has been floating around in my mind for some time now. I had a lot of fun with this. Like I said before T.Angel, If you want me to make a mini scenarios series about this let me know 😆! Well I hope you enjoy it. Until next time my Little Tainted Angels, see you soon ~💜❤💜

[writer-ish]

Hi Kat! Here are this week's questions for E x B!

Not Yet Wed Questions

Note: Great Scott! This week, we are going back in time to MC’s intern year. Think of Ethan’s relationship with them at this point and answer the following questions accordingly. It is entirely up to you when in year 1 this takes place (pre/post Miami, pre/post CH 15, etc). Feel free to answer with dialogue or pictures or both :) Have fun!

No worries. All of this is off the record and HR will never know!

The setting for this answers is:

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought__________

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Three people at work your coworker hates?

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

(Bonus round! Feel free to skip.)

Never have I Ever:

come into work hungover

had a fistfight

been kicked out of a bar

gotten a tattoo

broken someone’s heart

been in love

For MC (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Last thing he texted you?

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

For Ethan (MC is not there)

Where do you see her in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Last thing she texted you?

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Thank you to @jamespotterthefirst for humouring me and sending me these questions. I hope that it will help with my OPH/writing rut! I'm so excited to answer them for Brooke x Ethan. 🥰

The setting is: post-Dolores/the Naveen reveal, but pre-Miami.

Let's get started!

INT. COFFEE SHOP - MID-AFTERNOON

Two doctors sit at a small table. One has her leg crossed, foot swinging lightly. Her face is open and slightly amused. The other has his hands clasped loosely between his open legs. He is blatantly less impressed than his colleague.

Ethan: This is ludicrous.

Brooke: [laughs lightly] Can't you just humour them?

Ethan: Last time I checked, we had a job that didn't involve answering foolish questions for some sophomore publication.

Brooke: They want to humanize the doctors in the hospital. Make us more… approachable. It's not a bad idea.

Ethan: [in a low grumble] I don't want to be approached or humanized.

Brooke [loud laugh] Shocker.

Are we all set to begin?

Brooke: [clears throat] Er, yes. Sorry.

Ethan: [glares]

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought ____________

Brooke and Ethan: [look at each other for a beat, then speak simultaneously]

Brooke: Well, I— Ethan: She, uh—

Ethan: [clears throat] You go first.

Brooke: [shoots him a look] Well. I, uh, was taken aback by your presence.

Ethan: What does that mean?

Brooke: Well, you know, you're very—you command a room, let's just say. And then you got awfully bossy, but it was good because I was panicking. And, uh—that's pretty much it. Your turn.

Ethan: I thought she was very young and inexperienced. And I was proven correct almost immediately.

Brooke: [elbows him] Can't you say something nice?

Ethan: You said commanding and bossy!

Brooke: It was a compliment!

Ethan: Fine. She was…surprisingly competent for an intern.

Brooke: [sarcastically waves a hand in front of her face] My goodness, I'm swooning.

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Brooke and Ethan: "Fuck."

Brooke: It's not very professional, but—

Ethan: —it is necessary at times. Although I did hear another one from you the other day that I quite enjoyed. "Son of a whore", was it?

Brooke: [blushes] Whoops.

Ethan: You're lucky there weren't any patients around.

Brooke: [innocently] Patients don't swear?

Ethan: [withering look] I'll let you know when patients need to be held to the same professional standards as the doctors who treat them.

Brooke: Well, whatever. I was in the supply closet anyway and it was because I had gotten a cardboard papercut, which is notoriously the worst kind of papercut—[suddenly eyes him suspiciously] I didn't even know you were there.

Ethan: [coughs] I was, uh, walking past when I heard your inappropriate outburst and I stopped to ensure it wasn't a wayward psychiatric patient lost amongst the halls.

Brooke: [dryly] Hilarious.

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Brooke: Oh, blue. Blue-blue. Like, a very crystal clear blue.

Ethan: I think we get it. Brooke's eyes are hazel but they err on the side of green.

Brooke: "Err on the side of green"?

Ethan: Yes. Like when you wore that sweater the other day, they appeared more— [clears throat] I'm not going to sit here and explain the illusion of refractory light. Next question.

Three people at work your coworker hates?

Brooke: [dryly] Just thr—?

Ethan: [cuts her off] Yes, yes, we get the joke, I hate everyone. Brooke on the other hand, hates no one. I believe she should be more discerning.

Brooke: You would.

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

Ethan: Endearing? I—

Brooke: Oh, oh—the tie thing!

Ethan: The… tie thing?

Brooke: You do this thing when you're trying to get your emotions under control. It's like a [presses thumb against her other fingers in a crab-claw gesture] grab all the way down and then a flat palm just to smooth it again. [mimics a smoothing gesture down the front of her shirt, keeping her face pinched and stoic]. The "double-tie-grab-and-smooth" is what I call it. As of two seconds ago.

Ethan: Fascinating. As for Brooke, I can think of two.

Brooke: Here we go.

Ethan: The first is to ensure she never borrows your pen, as it will be returned to you as though someone inserted it into a pencil sharpener. I don't know how she isn't covered in ink constantly, the way she gnaws on the ends so violently.

Brooke: First of all, it's not that bad. Secondly, [mumbles] I have had a pen or two explode on me.

Ethan: I am extremely unsurprised. And the second is the sheer number of cardigans left everywhere - around my office, the faculty room, patients' rooms, and so on. She leaves them like breadcrumbs in a children's fairytale.

Brooke: [laughing too hard to speak]

Ethan: Yes, very funny and professional.

Brooke: [still laughing] Could you at least…grab one…next time you see it? I'm running low!

Ethan: What a surprise.

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

Ethan: [scoffs] A "crush"? The very concept of a 'crush' is extremely juvenile and I refuse to pander to such incongruous—

Brooke: Dr. Harper Emery

Ethan: [splutters] I beg your pardon?

Brooke: [smirks]

Ethan: Well, yours would be that scalpel jockey surfer boy that's always mooning over you.

Brooke: [turns to him, aghast] Bryce? I don't have a crush on him! And neither does he. On me, I mean.

Ethan: On you, indeed.

Brooke: What's that supposed to mean?

Ethan: Hmm? Oh, nothing. Simply that the way he pressed you to the floor in the observation room of Surgery B would say otherwise, that's all.

Brooke: [blushes deeply] You saw that?

Ethan: I see everything, Rookie.

[There is an extended, awkward silence.]

Never Have I Ever:

Ethan: What is this now?

Brooke: [hides a smile] It's a game. A drinking game. You really don't know it?

Ethan: If you're asking if I'm familiar with a college-level excuse to get sauced and forget about my classes for the next week, then no. I don't know it.

Brooke: [rolls her eyes] It's simple. They ask a question. If you've done it, you take a drink. If you haven't, you don't. And [lightly swings her take-out coffee cup in his face] I don't think you'll get drunk on herbal tea, so you'll be fine.

Okay, let's begin. Never have I ever…

...come into work hungover

Brooke and Ethan: [take a drink]

Brooke: Really?

Ethan: I wish I could affect the same level of surprise for you.

...had a fistfight

Brooke and Ethan: [take a drink]

Ethan: [raises an eyebrow at Brooke]

Brooke: [shrugs] Rowdy childhood.

Ethan: [nods] Same. [coughs] Perhaps… rowdy adolescence. And, uh, [another light cough] early adulthood, as well.

Brooke: Dr. Ramsey!

...been kicked out of a bar

Ethan: [takes a drink]

Brooke: Oh?

Ethan: That rowdy early adulthood I spoke of? Yeah.

Brooke: Ah.

...gotten a tattoo

Brooke: [avoids eye contact, takes a drink]

Ethan: [turns to her swiftly, looking shocked, then quickly composes himself] Let me guess - dolphin on your ankle?

Brooke: Shut up.

Ethan: Christ, am I right?

Brooke: No, but you might as well be.

Ethan: [laughs, which seems to surprise them both, then clears his throat] We all have regrets, Dr Spiers.

Brooke: [grimaces and slouches in her seat]

Ethan: [stares at her for a beat longer than necessary, before leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression]

...broken someone’s heart

Ethan and Brooke: [quickly look at each other; neither drinks]

Brooke: No? You?

Ethan: What's that supposed to mean?

Brooke: Just surprised all this [gestures vaguely at his face] didn't get the ladies all worked up in—where are you from?

Ethan: Rhode Island. And no, "all this" [gestures to his own face] took awhile to grow into itself, I assure you.

Brooke: [laughs] Oh, big same.

Ethan: [gives her a sidelong glance, a soft smile playing at his lips]

...been in love

Brooke: [takes a drink]

Ethan: Really?

Brooke: What, it's so hard to believe?

Ethan: Well, you said you'd never broken someone's heart.

Brooke: [smiles at him softly, a bit sadly] Never said my heart hadn't been broken, Dr Ramsey. Some people are the heartbreakers, some are the broken-hearted.

Ethan: [splutters] Preposterous.

Brooke: [looks surprised] What is?

Ethan: That you—I mean, that is—that someone— [he pauses, fidgeting with his tie before smoothing it down] It's his loss, Rookie. [clears his throat, looking away]

Brooke: [smiles, bemused yet pleased, a warmth in her eyes] Thank you, Dr Ramsey.

For Brooke (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

Oh, [scoffs out a laugh] wherever he wants to be. He's Ethan freaking Ramsey. He can do whatever he wants. What's the highest position in the hospital? Chief of Medicine? That. [Thinks for a moment] Well, no, actually. He probably wouldn't want to be admin. But whatever he could do that would still have him on the ground, helping people, at the highest level of expertise - that's where he'll be.

And, uh, personally?

Oh. Well. [fidgets, looks away]. I'm sure I don't know. Probably married to some supermodel who will put up with him never being home and always being reticent and grouchy. [Laughs humourlessly]

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Oh gosh. [Pauses] Probably how much he cares. I know you see him now and you think, god, what an asshole. And you're not wrong. But the truth is, he has to maintain this facade of a huge, unfeeling jerk, because the fact of the matter is he cares so deeply. [Her expression goes distant and soft]. Honestly, he cares so much I'm worried it will be his downfall one day.

Last thing he texted you?

[Laughs] He hates texting. But I think it was, "What time is this - redacted - thing again"?

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

Ah… [laughs uncomfortably] What, like, right now? The way we are? Or as two… random people in a bar?

Right now. The way you are.

[Blushes and continues to laugh awkwardly] Is he—you said he won't see these?

No, this part will be anonymous and the information gathered will be for statistical purposes, not anecdotal.

[Fake bravado affectation] Oh, well, if it's for statistics— [pauses] I would say yes. In a heartbeat. I would say yes. [Smiles, almost apologetically] I mean, have you seen him?

For Ethan (Brooke is not there)

Where do you see her in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

Wherever she wants to be. She's a highly motivated and intelligent individual. I give her a hard time, because I see great potential in her and feel as though, as her mentor, she should be pushed to achieve the pinnacle of success. Which is undoubtedly capable of.

And personal?

I don't presume to know what the future holds for my interns' personal lives. [A long pause] But I would hope… [clears throat, picks non-existent lint off his pants, continues gruffly] I would hope she remains happy and healthy, without anymore instances of [clears throat, again] heartbreak. Of any kind.

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

I'm sorry?

What do you find attractive—

No, I heard you, I just find this sort of question wildly inappropriate and I refuse to answer it.

Okay, so we'll just put down 'nothing'.

Hold on, don't—I didn't say nothing. Just say I didn't answer.

We need some sort of answer.

Oh, for Christ's sake—will she see this? Will anyone?

No, it's information that will be used for statistical—

Fine, alright, I don't care. She's obviously an incredibly attractive woman. Are you happy? [Pauses] I mean, specifically? I would say her eyes. Especially when she smiles and they crinkle up on the sides. Also, her laugh. She's not a woman who 'titters'. Brooke isn't afraid to—well, to simply live. She laughs loudly, loves boldly, defends strongly. [His expression grows thoughtful,] She said I was a presence in a room? When she walks into—anywhere, the entire room stands still. It's like the air has been sucked out of it. And within seconds, they're enthralled. Within minutes, they love her. That's Brooke. [Clears throat] Don't put any of that. Just write down "Her intelligence."

Last thing she texted you?

"Be nice." And then some moving picture image of a dog wagging its finger. [Rolls his eyes] I hate texting.

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

[Sighs wearily]

Again, she won't know. It's for statistical—

[Waves hand dismissively before sighing once more] In an ideal world—[cuts himself off and tries again] Look. Any man would be lucky to have Dr. Brooke Spiers as his partner. [Pauses] And that includes me. [clears throat] But we don't live in an ideal world. And a relationship between her and I would not only be inappropriate, but it would also inhibit her potential to achieve the highest levels of success that she is capable of achieving. [Pauses] And I would never do that to her.

[Stands up abruptly] Are we done here? We're done. Rookie! [Leaves to meet Dr. Spiers, who is waiting for him outside.]

EXT. COFFEE SHOP - LATE AFTERNOON

OBSERVED FROM INSIDE THE COFFEE SHOP

The two doctors greet each other with a smile. NOTE: Dr Ramsey immediately appears calmer in the other doctor's presence.

He says something and Dr Spiers bumps him playfully with her shoulder. Dr Ramsey continues to speak, gesturing towards her ankle, and Dr Spiers throws her head back and laughs loudly.

Dr Ramsey watches her laugh with a small smile on his face, before allowing her shove him lightly in the direction that they are meant to take.

They walk side by side, chatting and smiling, until they disappear from view.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from "Chapter Two: The Kithain" in Changeling: The Dreaming (20th anniversary edition) Part One of Two

"Humans define themselves by more than just species. They identify with certain races and cultures, separate themselves by generation or ideology, and express individuality while simultaneously looking for ways to connect with others like them. How they look, who they love, where they live, what they believe — these are all building blocks of identity."

"This desperate aversion to moving on does have its own consequences."

"Though the wisdom to temper the idea is sometimes there, the sheer excitement can sweep anyone off their feet quickly enough to disregard it."

"While these impulses aren’t usually much of a problem, it’s easy to forget that not every dream is a sweet one — nightmares can come to life, too."

"Every teddy bear protector is there to fight something,

after all."

"These things can be distracting at any age, especially for someone working in a dreary office or in a highly repetitive job."

"With little care for consequences or thinking through the details, they don’t consider the harm that will come to others, intentionally or unintentionally, in their pursuits."

"While they don’t have an inherently negative outlook, they are more likely to put their personal interests over those of others."

"Becoming jaded and unwilling to take risks is the death of childhood."

"Something may captivate them for a time, but once all the mystery is gone from it, they’ll just as easily drop one pursuit for another that still has questions to answer."

"Wonder lies in the discovery of a new species or an unexplored biome, and beauty in chemical bonds or lines of code."

"Repetition can quickly become a rut, and make even the most wondrous work commonplace and mundane."

"Whether they fight to preserve or subvert the ruling class as it stands, they all long to make their mark in one way or another."

"Even when caught, they are unlikely apologize for their actions, and instead have a dozen ways to justify them."

"Some enjoy collecting art and creating galleries to inspire others, or amass vast libraries of literature or music to the same purpose."

"They have an innate knack of deciphering relationships and picking up “overheard” tidbits of information."

"They explore the world with wonder in their eyes and will talk to anyone who will sit still long enough to listen and put up with the incessant questions."

"Their reputation for being consummate craftspeople is well learned."

"This does not apply to a sworn enemy."

"Rowdy fools, the lot of them."

"Rowdy fools, the lot of them. Still, they can be quite entertaining. . .so long as you keep them from breaking the china."

"They make wonderful guests and tell the most delightful tales, but they never stay for long."

"Pay heed to their stories and you may learn something."

"Their obsessions tend to make them boring conversationalists."

"Never leave them alone in a room if you want to be able to find anything afterward."

"They are quite entertaining at parties, but never stick around to help clean up."

"Foul mouthed and rude beasties, they are."

"Be careful how much wine you offer them. They can become quite. . . err. . .enthusiastic."

"No place on land, no friendship, and not even love can hold them."

"A selkie’s heart belongs to the sea and to the sea they will always return."

"They still understand the old ways but they do not always understand our ways."

"Things have changed and they are going to need to learn to adapt."

"It seems that they value little other than honor and duty."

"They are strong, yes, but they are more than simple brutes."

"They don’t lie outright, but they do love to tell a tall tale, often embellishing the story for the sake of humor or to build excitement."

"A good donnybrook clears the air, breaks the tension, and reveals hidden passions and personality traits."

"Nothing wrong with cutting loose a bit now and then!"

"Don’t leave them alone with your prize possessions; you’ll never know what’ll come up missing."

"They don’t understand limits — their own or anyone else’s."

"What a bunch of bullies!"

"Don’t underestimate them."

"Graceful, beautiful, mysterious, and always just beyond reach."

"They stayed by us and fought. That’s worth something."

"What we do today will live long after us, carried in the stories told by our children and our children’s children."

"Nothing new to learn here."

"Anger and foul language doesn’t make for a very good tale."

"There’s joy to be found in their revels, but take care!"

"They think themselves the kings and queens of this world, but they’ve never walked its many paths."

"How can they rule what they don’t understand and have never really valued?"

" I’ve heard it said that the real hero is the one who stays."

"I know I know. . .I’ve worked on the damned thing all week and it’s still not right."

"Maybe if you stop breathing down my neck, or better yet, just leave me the fuck alone and I’ll get it done."

"When they are forced to have social contact they are eminently sarcastic with everyone around them, and blazingly critical of anyone in charge."

"Artists, builders, crafters, and even writers all know the torment of “knowing” that their work is not good enough, that it will never be understood."

"People are mercurial, have feelings that can be easily hurt, and once broken they cannot be repaired in the same way as a tool or device."

"They are willing to take chances in order to come up with the newest and most fantastic design, often resulting in catastrophic (and sometimes humorous) failures."

"Rather than seeking the newest and most innovative designs, they have a deep desire for perfection — which, much to their chagrin, they can never attain."

"Sometimes all it takes is a kick and a few harsh words to scare a machine into working again."

"They’re fast, so they’re either cheap or good, too. You don’t get all three."

"Drunks and power tools don’t mix."

"Sorry, was that insensitive? Bite me."

"They just don’t know when to shut up."

"Sometimes they have something important to say, but you have to sift through the meandering drivel to find anything useful."

"Unruly and reckless children."

"Useless furballs!"

"Dangerous folk, but sometimes useful, especially if you want to dispose of some unwanted evid. . .err. . .garbage."

"Hedonistic freaks, the lot of ‘em."

"Don’t fall in love with one."

"Damn dusty in here."

"They think they’re hot stuff, but they don’t understand this world and its workings as we do."

"They want to rule, and who are we to say no."

"They pay well and I’ll happily take their commissions."

"Buncha creepy a-holes, if you ask me."

"Skulking around, up to no good, I’m sure of it."

"They are the strongest and toughest of us all, but their hearts can be surprisingly tender."

"I don’t know how it found its way into my pocket. Of course you can have it back. . .unless you don’t need it right now. I’d be happy to hang onto it for you until you do."

"I can’t imagine being tied down like that."

"We’ll wander many paths together, but in the end, they are who they are, and we never really are anything quite that specific."

"What is truth, but something we all agree upon? So, if we all agree upon a lie, isn’t it then truth?"

"Anything they say is likely to be peppered with lies, half-truths, and misinformation."

"Humans have always dreamed of a better, more carefree life."

"Lazy and reckless. And they keep all of the cake to themselves!"

"Drunken reprobates, every last one of them."

"Not exactly the most even tempered folks. Playing pranks on them can be a lot of fun though."

"It must be wonderful to always be at the center of every political intrigue."

"They start the shit that we have to finish."

"Just don’t get them started on how they’re royalty or some crap."

"You want to pound back a drink or wild out on the town, they’re the place to be."

"Mmm, seafood."

"You’d think such pretty folks would be easy to intimidate, but make that mistake and you’ll bite off more than even you can chew."

"Those nearby may experience a brief frisson of pure lust."

"How can such a simple life be a truly satisfying one?"

"A fight’s only as good as the kissing and making up after."

"So sweet and innocent. Cover their eyes before they see something naughty."

"Their passions are too dark and frightening."

"Someone so beautiful should never want for passion."

"I will return. . .one day. . .I promise."

"The sea gives and the sea takes away."

"A person’s secrets should be their own."

"Sharks that walk on two legs. Trust them at your own peril."

"They too are gifted with great beauty, but they wield their allure like a weapon."

"You think nobility a privilege, and you envy and resent us for it, but you cannot see that it is also a burden few would truly wish to bear."

"They must learn that respect must first be given in order to be received."

"Tremendously useful and occasionally even trustworthy, but beware what you allow them to slip into their pockets. You may never see it again."

"Who are these strange creatures?"

"What they know is invaluable, but can you really be certain they are sharing their knowledge with you alone?"

[fandom-necromancer]

Let’s try our best

This was prompted by an amazing anon! Let’s just say I’m in an angsty mood and I really like how this turned out!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warning: Discussions about death)

They had been caught in the middle of typical Monday afternoon traffic and were thankful to finally park the car in front of the house barred by holographic police tape. Gavin too had wished to be part of the people driving home after they had finished work, but of course, Detroit’s criminals didn’t think of his downtime when making their plans. The call had reached them about ten minutes prior to shift end and his pride demanded taking the overtime instead of letting others take over their case.

Nines exited the car first, waiting for the human in front of the tape. ‘Do you want me to wait for you, darling?’ Gavin sighed, waving him off. ‘Nah, you know everything already. Go take a look at the body, I’ll get the briefing done with and meet you inside.’ The android nodded with a smile and left his human with the responding officer at the door. It seemed to be a pretty straight-forward murder case: a man that mingled with the wrong people being killed by said people. The connections were quite obvious with E-mails on unsecured computers, text messages on the victim’s phone and evidence in forms of drugs and an unlicensed weapon. They had been called to assist only because one of the victim’s contacts could be the dealer narcotics had been looking for for years now. Maybe there would be some kind of hint to be found here that could lead them to the more than secretive suspect of their own case.

He walked into the living room and started casually scanning the place. All the evidence that lit up in his vision was already marked by the forensics and Nines hoped Gavin would come back soon with the other officer so they could get a look at the computers and the phone. That was when he walked around the table and all his systems came to a halt. Gavin? He blinked in confusion and stared at the man lying on the ground. That faint stubble from habitual laziness spotted his chin. There were the same dark rings from work and stress under his eyes and a near identical scar on the bridge of his nose. The man wore a grey hoodie and jeans, both drenched in caked blood from the stab wounds in his stomach. Nines couldn’t move. His face recognition software informed him the man’s name was Jake Blair and that he worked at a local electronics store. But somehow despite the facts lingering in his vision, he couldn’t stop seeing Gavin lying there, dead, body cold and bled out.

‘Hey, Nines! Found something?’ The hand that slapped his back made the android flinch and turn to a very much alive Gavin, who frowned at his red circling LED. ‘Hey, something wrong?’ Nines forced himself to relax and look at his human. ‘No, I’m… alright, it’s just…’ He turned back towards the dead body and immediately the incongruencies rained down again.

[Jake Blair. Male. 38 Years old.][Gavin Reed. Male. 37 Years old.][Cause of death: blood loss due to two stab wounds.][Current status: alive.]

‘Hey, Nines, you’re not alright’, Gavin spoke up. ‘What’s going on?’ ‘He…’ Nines swallowed. ‘He looks like you.’ Gavin blinked, taking in the body more thoroughly. ‘Shit, yeah, he kinda looks like me. And?’ ‘My systems have problems distinguishing’, the android answered. ‘I… I don’t think I can look at him.’ ‘Hey, that’s… That’s okay’, Gavin said. ‘I will take a look at him. You go with Charles and take care of the tech-stuff, yes? You’re far better at that anyways.’ The man smirked at him, but Nines didn’t even recognise the teasing as he followed the responding officer just to get away from the body. Gavin looked after him worried, then braced himself and crouched before the dead man. ‘Shit’, he cursed. Except for the fact he was out of blood and cold as stone, it really was like looking into a mirror.

-

‘Ah’, Gavin sighed, stretching as they finally made it home and he stood up from the table to throw his plate in the dishwasher. ‘You know this likely is the first time I feel good for doing overtime! I know it, this is just the lead we needed to get a hold this asshole!’ He shut the hatch of the dishwasher energetically and grinned at Nines. His smile fell instantly. ‘Hey, you okay there, buddy?’ ‘Huh?’ Nines looked up at him, then back down on his hands. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m okay. Err… It’s getting late, do you want to go to bed already? I think I need more time in stasis than usually. Have to find the error in my system that bugged me today at the crime-scene.’ Gavin shrugged and nodded. ‘Sure, why not? Just let me shower real quick, then I’ll join you.’

Nines followed him until he turned to the bathroom, pulling the android down for a quick kiss, before pushing him in the direction of the bedroom. ‘Don’t you dare falling asleep before I do.’ The android smiled faintly at him and walked towards the bed, slipping under the covers. He waited for Gavin to come back, listening for the human singing the wrong lyrics to the wrong melody in the shower. He didn’t dare to close his eyes fearing to see the dead body again, only for his scanner to return Gavin’s name back to him this time. Why did this affect him so much? ‘Alright, sorry for keeping you waiting!’ Gavin came waddling into the room, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. Nines watched him closely as he put on new boxers and the old shirt that he only wore for sleep. He took in the skin, smoothly wrapping bones, muscle and fat in olive tones. It was so full of colour, reddened from where the shower had warmed it. So different to the lifeless grey. His body was marked by scars, moles and stretch marks. But there were no wounds, no blood. And when he turned around, his eyes were vibrant, and his mouth pulled into a smile. He had to forget how it would look like when he was dead, had to stop pre-constructing and comparing it to what he had seen today.

Gavin joined him on the other side of the bed and let his fingers rest against his LED. Nines pressed his eyes close at the softness of the gentle contact. ‘You need to stop worrying, Nines. I’m here. I’m alive.’ The android opened his eyes to look into these eyes again and he couldn’t hide how his brows gave away his despair. Instead, he reached for Gavin and pulled him close to himself, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his chest to his back until he could feel that strong heart beating. He hid his face in the back of his shirt and breathed in the scent of coffee and sweat and something so specifically Gavin, he couldn’t put it in words. The human laughed, but Nines could hear the worry in it too. ‘Nines, it’s okay, I’m here.’ He took one of the android’s hands and squeezed them, directing his fingers to his pulse point. ‘I’m here’, he whispered. ‘I will be for a long time.’ ‘How can you say that?’, Nines asked, trying to nuzzle closer even if that was impossible. He felt the even breath of his human as he pressed back into him. ‘You are looking out for me. And I haven’t yet made the wrong people my enemy.’ ‘But you can be killed so easily. I… I guess I’ve never thought about it. Not really. All it needs is a bullet, or a knife, or an illness. You could crash with your car, someone else could crash into you or you could eat the wrong thing. I never thought about the possibility that you could die, and I could live.’ ‘Nines…’, Gavin tried, but swallowed. As much as Nines hadn’t thought about his demise, Gavin hadn’t thought about it either. About Nines not aging and staying behind when he grew old. Hell, he didn’t want to think about it! ‘Nines, yes, that can happen.’ He turned around and took the android’s head in both of his hands. ‘It can happen, and I will eventually die. But I’m alive right now. And we will always have this moment, this present, this day. Hell, we can have weeks and months and years of our life. If you always look out for what could kill you, you forget to live in the process, okay?’ ‘That’s… That’s a very human thing to do: postpone what you don’t want to think about.’

Gavin chuckled. ‘Yeah, guess so. But you can see it has its advantages, has it not?’ ‘We have to face it eventually’, Nines stated, evading the question. ‘I know. But I say, we do what we have done so far.’ Gavin kissed Nines and looked deep into his eyes. ‘We will continue living to the best that we can, you will look out for me and I will look out for you. That way when something happens, we have nothing but the world to blame it on.’ He heard Nines sigh and felt his hot breath on his skin as he vented his systems. The android leaned his forehead against his. ‘I will try’, he said, sounding exhausted. ‘That’s all we can ever do’, Gavin commented gently. ‘And one thing I can tell you: You already did an amazing job so far.’

[lokidrabbles]

Keep On Believing (Loki x Reader)

Reader and Loki share a piece of their past with each other. A/N: I’ve had this stuck on my head for a while and I feel happy finally putting it down somewhere. Thank you all for the surge of followers and feedback on my stories! I’ve been using them to keep me focused on something enjoyable for me :) As always, Gender Neutral Reader! Warnings: None! Fluff n’ such!

In the oddest of spectacles, Loki was seated in your living room, leg crossed over the other, sorting through a pile of photos you had insisted he take a look at. For what he figured was another way for humans to bond, he begrudgingly agreed and was now flipping through a variety of Polaroids he best referred to as ‘photographic illusions.’ Within these, a peek at your childhood and youth caught his interest, curious to learn exactly where you had come from. He observed through the many photos which included birthdays, holiday dinners, vacations, beach days and many more.

With two cups of warm tea, you soon came back into the living room, plopping a seat next to him on the couch. You placed both cups on your small coffee table, leaning over to catch at what Loki was peering at. 

“Just so you know, those things in my teeth were there so they could straighten out.” You explained as he squinted at a photo of you, sometime in your elementary and braces years.

“Ah. I didn’t realize human dentures came out misaligned.” He said, flipping through a couple more.

“Only sometimes. What do you think though? Interesting to see how different I ended up looking.”

“From my introspection, I’d want to say that you were quite the attention seeking child. See, here.” He said, showing you a small photo of you with a long forgotten childhood cousin. “From the way your hand is laid on this other child’s chest, I’m suspecting you were shoving them aside to be the main subject matter.”

You snorted. “Very impressive. I was super egoistic when I was younger, but I’m glad that trait didn’t last long.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He sneered as you playfully shoved his shoulder. He continued to sort through and came upon another photo which piqued his interest.

“You mind elaborating as to why you are dressed like...a squash?”

“Pumpkin. Also because it was Halloween. I guess you can say that’s out bastardization of some Pagan traditions.”

“It doesn’t appear like you were having a good time here.” He said, pulling the photo closer to his face.

“Oh no. I hated that costume but my mother was insistent about taking a picture.”

Loki chuckled to himself. “This sour face is quite familiar however. I think you still have a tendency to pout like that when I am intentionally ignoring you.”

You furrowed your brows. “Intentionally?”

“Oops. Did I say that?”

Loki braced for another playful jab at his side once he saw that pout forming once more. You continued to ramble on about your distinct hate for this Halloween costume as Loki flipped through a couple of more brief snapshots of your childhood. This was a new experience for him, albeit a tad strange. The use of photographic illusions wasn’t present back in Asgard, and for the aesir, there really wasn’t much need to have a tangible piece of time like this. Although his memory doesn’t remember every single detail of his younger years, it was still much more vivid than any human’s, and that was impressive to say for someone who was over one thousand years old.

He couldn’t deny your eagerness with all of it however. He observed how excited you had become to share your history with him, and how each small piece of glistening paper had brought back a memory that had been long forgotten. A part of him envied your fondness of your own past, especially with anything having to do with your family. Indeed this was the most bizarre part for him. Aside from his childhood and unconditionally loving mother, things didn’t exactly pan out that well for him. Of course he still struggled with obtaining the full responsibility of his own actions, but this was a part of his history he wished to be entirely blacked out. He certainly wouldn’t show you these parts any time soon, as selfish as it was.

He focused back on your own past, looking over the young human who couldn’t have possibly fathomed the idea of building a connection with a man like him. You were cute as a child and he briefly imagined his own young self meeting you. He wondered if you both would have gotten along as well as you both did now. Maybe, in a different space and age.

“Would it be stupid of me to ask if Asgardians keep family photos as well?” You asked, poking him out of his trance.

“Only if that includes large frescoes of the royal family over heading the royal palace.” “That’s a bummer. I’ve always been curious to see little Loki.”

“Do you want to? It wouldn’t take much honestly.” He responded casually.

“Wait, what?” You asked, bewilderment in your face. “What do you mean?”

“You know I’m a sorcerer, correct? The art of casting illusions, specific ones at that, come almost second nature to me.” 

Your eyes widened at the possibility. “Are you telling me you could cast down, like a memory or something like that?”

“Err, I suppose. I can concoct something specific, but of course it wouldn’t be the exact memory.”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, inching at the edge of your seat. “I mean, if it’s cool with you?”

“You’re too excited about this.” He said, eyeing you from top to bottom. “But it will be fine. Close your eyes however, the effect will be more potent like that.”

An inescapable grin cast between your cheeks as you shut your eyes intensely. Loki stood up, tugging at your arm to rise with him, and then beginning to conjure his seidr between his fingers. The green glow rose from his palm and began to cover the entirely of your living room like a thick coat of paint. As it dripped down, your plain walls soon became marbled and golden, mimicking the royal halls back in Asgard. Loki focused on a target memory, involving one of the many times he would often study his magic in the high gardens of Asgard. He purposefully chose a moment when it was just himself, still wanting to avoid exposing you to a painful part of his past. But for now, he figured you’d be more than satisfied with a snapshot of his youth.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Your eyes popped open immediately, darting back and forth, from side to side. Your mouth fell agape at the scenery in front of you. Your living room, with all its tacky decor, was now long gone, and soon replaced with a scene out of a fairy tale. It was a large indoor garden, garnished with a myriad of flowers, hanging vines, large overlooking leaves and a large fountain smack in the middle, flowing with gentle streams of water. At a small garden bench in front of the fountain, sat a small dark haired boy, legs crossed, flipping through a large archaic book. His hair was sleeked back and he wore a dark green robe rimmed with a golden hem. His gaze fell upon his readings, and you certainly could not mistake those inhuman green eyes. 

Loki raised an eyebrow at your uncomfortable silence until he patted the top of your head. “You can breathe you know.”

“Loki, is that really you?” You responded incredulously.

“Obviously. This was a little hideout spot from Thor when he wouldn’t allow me to concentrate on my studies.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Again, it’s only from the details I’ve been able to draw back on. Knowing how my mother tended these gardens, I’m sure I am missing much more here.”

“It’s still incredible.” You said while gently forward into the illusion. “Oh, Loki. You were so adorable as a kid!”

"I’ll gladly take that compliment.” He said with a smirk. He felt satisfied with how in awe you appeared at his little scene. While it would never beat having the possibility of showing you the real Asgard, this was just as pleasing. There was still much more he wanted to share with you, the good parts. His inward self however urged him to be cautious with how much he showed you, affirming it would push you away from him one way or another. Despite it, his nature allowed him to dwell in the self-gratifying moment of having you mull over his illusion.

“What exactly are you reading?” You asked, referring to his book.

“Just deepening my understanding of conjuring objects through pocket dimensions. Stuff that would surely bore you to death.” 

“You got that right. You think that kid would have wanted to join me during Halloween?” You asked with another toothy grin.

“Only if you agreed to wear that ridiculous pumpkin outfit.”

“Then that will be a big no. Still, it’s incredible to believe this was probably hundreds of years before I was born.”

He nodded. “Did I ever imagine in a thousand years that I’d be stuck in Midgard with a foolish human? Definitely not.”

“Way to ruin the moment.”

He slowly waved his hand over the illusion, causing it to dissipate out of existence. The green glow tore holes through the enchanting scenery, burning all over until it reached the young Loki last. For a brief moment, the young Asgardian peered upwards, his eyes now instantly connected onto yours. You cheekily waved good bye to the young boy until he illusion completely came undone, and your plain living room was back in sight.

“That was amazing!” You said while clapping your hands in a keenly manner. “Can you cast anything else? Oh, what about when-”

Loki shoved a finger onto your lips, instantly shushing you. “Don’t be greedy. I’m not opted to show this just to anyone. Besides, it does tire me when I use my seidr in such a way.”

You nodded slowly and understandingly. “Ah.”

He was quick to catch your eagerness in your bright eyes soon fall over. “I’ll be sure you more at some other time. You have my word.”

You nodded rapidly this time. “Yes sir.”

He let out a deep breath, relieved at how easily you became content. “Very, well. I assuming you want to show me more of these ‘photos’.” He motioned over to the pile on your couch, taking a seat once more

“Only if you want to.” You said, joining him on the couch as well. “I didn’t realize how many I had.”

“What do you want, (Y/N)?”

“Oh! Let me just show you my cringe teenage years. I’ll give you permission to make fun of my style back then.”

“See, now those are the things I would be more than eager to take a gander at.”

You took a chunk of the pile and began to sort through various photos, determined to find something from those adolescent years. Loki wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as you began to point out a series of hair dyeing disasters. You looked ridiculous, but he continued to ground himself presently. Unbelievable, how you continued to be more than willing to share a part of your past with him (even the seemingly shameful moments). He began to process what type of scene or moment in time he’d capture in one of his illusions, making sure the next one would continue to encourage you to share yourself with him.

[ginnyzero]

Publishing vs. Marketing Category

Okay, so book and writing community on twitter tends to have these flare ups of convos about books being shelved wrong and authors pointing out reasons such as their gender, or race, or even the content of their books being say, fantasy for them being placed on the wrong shelves in libraries and bookstores. Now, there is a human bias element to this. There are librarians and book buyers for stores who do see a female fantasy author and assume they must be YA no matter the content. Plus, everyone and their mother tagging things incorrectly on twitter or shelving badly on Goodreads.

Let’s dive into the INDUSTRY side of this though. The industry has two different and at times clashing categorizations of books, there are the publishing categories and there are the marketing categories. And while some, specifically some age targets and genres the marketing and the publishing categories will align, there are others that the age target and marketing target may be under the same “name” technically and then their aims completely clash.

Yes, I’m mostly talking about YA. (Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance can fall in here too.)

So, the publishing category of Young Adult, is pretty much what you’d expect. Young Adult should have protagonists of the age groups of 12 to 18, and most likely dealing with “coming of age” themes and “finding their place in the world” and quite possibly “being the chosen one.” I personally find theme categorization for age groups to be really limiting. But I read Brian Jacques from third grade on... so. .. yay fighting mice. (And I was into Star Wars at grade 7, like Timothy Zahn Star Wars. I am not the typical reader.) It’s just something to be aware of if you are querying agents because agents deal with publishing categories and not marketing categories. (And agents have biases too. Like, come on, Unicorns should not be limited to MG. How dull. Agents though will look for anything to clear stuff out of their slush pile, I guess.)

Young Adult publishing category books range between 40K words on the low end and 80K words on the high end. I’d aim for 50K words depending on age group. Remember, YA readers especially read upwards in age groups. So you’re 12 year old is going to be reading about 15 year olds and your later YA readers will have aged out into the adult category of books (supposedly. This is where MARKETING categories become a thing. More in a second.)

New Adult is not a thing. Until it gets a spot in bookstores. It is officially not a thing. Querying New Adult will get you nowhere. Don’t bother.

So, you’ve written your MS and it hits what you think are all the Adult markers, from age of the protag, to theme, to having ‘adult’ content such as sex, drugs, and violence. (Violence is so weird b/c we’ve normalized violence while keeping sex taboo. So, if your book has sex, it might be considered Adult, more than if your book has violence. Even then... marketing categories.) You’ve queried it as adult. You’ve got it through an editor and it’s been pitched to a publisher and they’ve picked it up and your marketing materials come out. And they, meaning the cover, and the blurb, all read Young Adult in their style and tone.

And this may be confusing because you wrote an adult book, why are they marketing it to YA? Like A Crown of Thorns and Roses? (Fae court romance is... err, dead on arrival btw.)

It’s because YA is also a marketing category which no longer equals the age group category. And there are some very popular book series you can thank for this, Twilight, Hunger Games, Vampire Academy, and Divergent are among them. These books were not only popular among teens. They were popular among their mothers. So, publishing quickly pivoted from YA being this age group category with certain things, to a marketing strategy to try and keep the attention of the moms of the teenagers with sex, and love triangles, and I dunno, forbidden romance. By the time ACOTAR came out, publishing decided maybe they should try for this college age, New Adult category so they could market these “sexy fantasy” type books to older readers and get the sex out of YA. So, they used ACOTAR to try and make New Adult happen as a marketing category for book buyers. It didn’t work. Because no one, like with Harry Potter, wants to split a book series across 2 sections. (And lo and behold Young Adult was kind of born because they didn’t want to keep the later HP books in the children’s section.)

And because it didn’t work, YA is now a mess. Because they still don’t want to give up those sweet, sweet, mommy dollars.

There is one very large aspect of publishing the author has no control over. Their marketing. Especially, their covert marketing done by the publisher. Covert marketing is the type of marketing indies salivate over, b/c covert marketing is basically the publishing house deciding where on the bestseller list this book is going to be, how much advertising it gets, does it get a fancy book launch, what is the advance of the author, when is it going to be published and will it have competitors in its genre that same month, who among the reviewers gets to read it, the style of the book cover, and more importantly, what, where, and how much book shelf space it gets in stores. Is the cover turned out? Is it at the front of the store? Does it get it’s own display? Or is it in the “new releases display?” Which book buyer at the chains gets to see it. How do Librarians get a hold of it and which ones? Because the buyer of say, romance, is not the buyer of young adult. The Adult scifi/fantasy book buyer is going to be different than say, mysteries. Same for librarians! There are more than one librarian in your system choosing your books! It is very important who your book gets to be put in front of, what they think of it to how it is going to be received and pushed on bookshelves. There was a very infamous romance buyer of a major chain store who refused to buy POC romances because she thought they didn’t sell.

If your book chain buyer, refuses to buy fantasy books or scifi books by female authors b/c they think they won’t SELL. Then, the publisher feels like in order to get your book to sell, they have to put it into a marketing category where it will sell, Young Adult. Because what do most of those “Young Adult” books have in common, women writers. (Urban Fantasy was almost an exception to the rule on SFF gendered authors. Then... UF became dead on arrival as they thought the market was glutted and yeah. Good luck on getting an UF published, you’d be better off writing paranormal romance. Same type of setting, different genre rules.) It’s not about the content of your book, or the age of your protag, or the theme of your book at that point, it is “What will make this book sell.” Publishing is an industry where profit is not a dirty word. Their job is to make your book sell and if they think it will sell better as YA, they will pitch it as YA.

Even if the book is written for, uses language appropriate for, and has content really intended for adults.

Be aware that Young Adult scifi is a very, very rare buyers market. For some reason, publishers don’t think they can market it? Dystopian yes. Scifi... no. So, if your YA is scifi, like either rewrite for adult or keep your eye open for that very rare time they’re willing to TRY and publishing YA scifi. Or, publish indie. (Dystopian is also I think DOA.)

Is this confusing? Absolutely! Because there are plenty of readers out there who are in the adult category, who don’t keep up with publishing trends, and don’t realize if they want vibrant fantasy books, they may have to look in the YA section of their bookstore. They’re adults. They want vibrant fantasy adult books. And I say fantasy because you see this happening MOSTLY with fantasy. It happens with other genres too, but it is a huge problem in fantasy due to, well, the combination of publishing trends (white, older, male) and the human bias. So, many times, if you want that cool marketed as adult fantasy book not written by a white older male, you are going to have to order it through the ‘zon because you aren’t going to find it most likely on your bookstore shelves. (Science Fiction is another kettle of fish. Outside of some very established authors, it’s not really publishing. It’s a very small category outside of indie. Like, Military SF was a thing for a bit in indie! Just... yeah. Sigh.)

Conclusion: Publishing category does not always equal marketing category. Even if the publishing category and marketing category are named the same thing. And it’s probably not going to change until something major happens that the big four are FORCED to change their current publishing and marketing methods. (Yeah, big FOUR now. Scary.) It’s a complicated system with the author having the most at stake and the least amount of control (and often the least amount of pay outside of agents.) I mean, when Disney of all corporations, doesn’t want to pay Alan Dean Foster his legal royalties for a book they acquired when they got Star Wars, there is a PROBLEM in the system.

Just be aware if you are going into this publishing game. I cover this and more in my FREE PDF “I Finished a Book, Now What? A Tongue in Cheek Guide to What Happens Next.”  Everything from editing types to querying to social media for authors.

It’s available for download on my website. https://ginny0.wordpress.com/books/

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 6 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:   AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 6

"You're clearly frightened, so allow me to explain," the creature told them with a flourished bow. "I am called Plasmius, and this is the realm of the dead."

"And does that make you a ghost or something?" Sam spat, sounding both angry and skeptical.

"Something like that," Plasmius agreed before seemingly fading out of sight. Before they had a chance to response, he reappeared behind them. His red eyes appraised them, but specifically seemed to focus on Danny. "I've been watching you for a long time."

Danny slowly backed away from the so-called ghost as he sarcastically stated, "I'm not sure if I should be flattered or scared."

"Now Daniel, that's no way to speak to an old friend."

"Psst, do you know this guy?" Tucker whispered as he also tried to escape from its gaze.

"Last time I checked, I didn't know anyone this creepy or glowing."

"I understand your doubts." Plasmius grinned, revealing glistening fangs. "Sadly, it's rare for humans to remember their time in this realm, but when you wandered in this realm before, I played with and entertained you until you found your way home. We then played again when you were a bit older, but again, you found your way home."

"Err… thanks? I think." Danny still wasn't sure what to make of this creature. Something told him Plasmius wasn't exactly lying, but he was certainly omitting important details. Still, if it was going to be somewhat cordial towards him and his friends, it wouldn't hurt to try to be nice. "You wouldn't happen to know how we can get home, would you?"

"Of course I do."

"Great! Could you please take us there or at least tell us how?"

"You want to leave already? But you've only just arrived, and I've put an extraordinary amount of effort into arranging our reunion." Plasmius' grin turned predatory. "Come with me. I would gladly entertain you and your friends."

"Thanks for the offer, but we really should be getting back," Danny told the specter as he grabbed both of his friends and tried to get them to back away. "Our teacher and classmates are probably looking for us."

"And not to mention the Park Rangers are already on high alert," Tucker added.

"Do you really think I am concerned about them?" Plasmius just laughed as he vanished again. His disembodied voice seemed to come from everywhere in the clearing.

Danny had just enough time to turn to his right side and catch sight of Plasmius reappearing before something hit him in the back of the neck. As his vision darkened, he heard his friends screaming his name as well as Plasmius saying, "Like I previous stated, I spent a lot of time orchestrating our meeting. You are not leaving that easily."

….

When Danny came to, he was in an unfamiliar location. He was seated at a grand table, much like he had seen in movies depicting royal banquets. The room where he was had high ceilings and seemed to match the feel of the table. The walls seemed to be white stone, but something seemed off about them. He wasn't certain if it was something about the color itself, or if it was how empty the room seemed because aside from the table, there were no noticeable decorations.

He then noticed there were silver plates and bowls covered in pristine and delicious looking food in front of him. As interesting and enticing the food looked, he wasn't really able to determine exactly what they were. It made him uneasy, but the smell was starting to overcome him. It wouldn't hurt to take a bite, would it? A quick shake of the head quickly dispelled that thought. Without knowing exactly where he was or where his friends were, he shouldn't touch anything he didn't recognize.

After glancing around and making sure he was alone, he tried to stand only to find that he seemed stuck to his chair. He could move his hands and arms without trouble, but everywhere from his waist down was stuck. There was no sign of any visible tie or restraint, so he couldn't understand exactly why he couldn't remove himself. He made several attempts to try to stand, and although he was able to push the chair away from the table, his attempts only succeeded in tipping himself over.

"Why Daniel, you didn't touch your meal." Danny looked up to see Plasmius looking down at him while wearing a frown. The creature then disappeared and reappeared on the other side of the table and took a seat as Danny's chair seemed to right itself without any form of assistance and return to its place at the table.

"I think I'll pass," he replied as he glared at Plasmius. "Where are my friends? Why can't I get out of this chair?"

"Your friends are resting in a room upstairs. As for the chair," he chuckled darkly, "it is nothing but a simple trick. You might learn how to do it one day."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's nothing with which you should concern yourself." Plasmius appraised him for a few moments. "You mentioned you have no memory of our previous encounters?"

"That's right. I only remember what happened after I was found."

"It's tragic really. There are weak spots between the worlds of the living and the dead, and humans occasionally find them. Usually, it is not an issue. The human may feel uneasy or sometimes get a glimpse of what lies behind the veil, so to speak." After chuckling as if he had made some sort of inside joke, Plasmius continued. "Sometimes that weak spot momentarily breaks and travel between the two words can occur. However, humans often need to catch sight of or hear something in this realm to travel to this side."

Danny's eyes widened. "You mean like that bird thing?"

"Exactly. Like I mentioned, Youngblood's pet is incredibly usefully for that purpose."

"So you purposely used that to bring me and my friends here?"

"Of course. Although, my intention was only to retrieve you. Their presence was entirely unintentional, but seeing how close you seem to be, in hindsight, it seems it would have been inevitable. You should be glad I am the one who found them as I can guarantee their safety. Others who live in this realm may not be as kind."

A cold chill ran down Danny's back at Plasmius' words as the image of Mikey being carried by that other creature resurfaced. "One of my other classmates… that thing took him, and Lester! Something killed him!"

"Yes," Plasmius' tone now sounded almost bored. "Youngblood is simply looking for a permanent companion. I doubt he'll purposely harm your classmate too severely, but humans don't always acclimate to this realm very well. I believe that is what happened to the one who passed on to this side."

"What do you mean? What happened to him?" Once again, Danny tried to stand, but to no avail.

"Ah ah, that is a discussion we should save for later. You should eat, son."

"I'm not hungry." Danny breathed deeply as he tried to keep his temper under control. It didn't seem to be a good idea to make Plasmius angry, and he still wasn't certain if his friends were okay. "Look, I know you're trying to be nice, and I appreciate it, but I'm worried about my friends. People are probably looking for us."

Plasmius regarded him for a moment. "If I show you that your friends are safe, will you then sit and have a proper conversation with me?"

"Maybe? Yes. I don't know."

"Very well." The ghost stood and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Come along now, Daniel. I will take you to your friends."

After giving him a searching look, Danny hesitantly tried to stand. This time, he was able to move without restraint. Once he was out of the chair, the urge to bolt nearly over took him. Although he really wanted to be as far away from Plasmius as he could, running from his could potentially doom his friends. That was the last thing he wanted. So, after a deep breath, he slowly followed Plasmius towards the staircase at the far end of the room.

What seemed to be several minutes passed as Danny followed Plasmius. The building they were in seemed to be either a mansion or possibly a castle, if he was to judge from how large it was. The coloration was similar to what he saw in the dining hall, but there were other decorations of green and gold in places. Strangely, those decorations seemed almost out of place, but Danny was unable to exactly pinpoint why.

Although Plasmius previously demonstrated an ability to at least float, he was now walking a little ahead of the teen. It just felt off to Danny. It was as if Plasmius was purposely trying to seem more human. While it was possible his host was just trying to be polite, it was doing little more than making him more unsettled.

Eventually, Plasmius stopped in front of a room. After taking a moment to unlock the door, he pushed it open. Danny was briefly greeted with the sight of his friends standing up from a large bed when the door was slammed shut.

"Sam! Tucker! I'm right here!" He could hear his friends yelling his name as he slammed his fists on the door and tried to push it back open. "What gives?" he demanded as he turned to face the specter.

"I promised I would show you that your friends are perfectly safe, and I did." Plasmius' grin widened as he grabbed Danny's arm. The teen tried to break free, but the ghost's grip was almost like a vice. "Now boy, it is time for our long overdue conversation."

xxxxxx

Although Sam liked to think of herself as a strong and independent young woman who could handle herself in most situations, she had to admit that she was at a loss on what to do. When she came to, she and Tucker where in what appeared to be a guest bedroom. Other than the normal furniture, the quality of which suggested the own had some money, there was little in the way of decoration, so it was unlikely the room was often used. There was one window which was locked, but Sam was unable to find any sort of mechanism that would allow her to open it. The only visible door was also locked.

"Pacing angrily around the room isn't going to do anything," Tucker told her as he fiddled with his PDA as he sat on the bed. She just glared at him. "Seriously, you're making me dizzy."

"I'm just frustrated," she sat across from him on the bed. "We don't know where we are, and we have no idea where Danny is, or what that thing could have done to him. And to make matters worse, I can't figure out how to get out of this."

"I know, and I'm upset too, but until we have more information, we can't do anything." After pressing a few buttons on his machine, he smiled at the notification he received. "While I can't tell you where we are, I was able to get a hit from Danny's phone. He's at least in this building."

"I don't think that makes me feel any better. We don't know what that think wants with Danny or what it will do with us."

"I'm trying not to think about it." Tucker looked up from his devise. His frown and furrowed brows told her he was worried. "Hey, do you happen to have any food with you?"

"Told you should have packed some before we left." Sam momentarily left the bed to retrieve her discarded backpack. "I know you probably won't like it, but I did bring some granolas with me."

"I'll take it," Tucker told her, much to her surprise, as he held out his hand. "I'm that hungry, and I think my brain needs the extra energy. There's no service here either, but my PDA keeps trying to connect with something. I've been trying to get into whatever it is, but I'm not sure if there's interference or if its purposely cycling between strong and weak signals. If I can get into it, maybe I can send a distress signal."

She handed him the snack. "It's worth a shot. Hey, what was that?"

The sound of something at the door caught Sam's attention. After an audible click, the door opened to show Plasmius and someone else. It took a second for her to register the second person, but it was Danny. Getting to her feet, she was about to run to him only to have the door slam shut before she had a chance to move.

That didn't stop her. She screamed Danny's name as she bolted to the door and started to try to open it. She barely registered that Tucker was right beside her, or that she could faintly hear Danny's voice on the opposite side. Her next memories were a bit hazy, but Tucker eventually had her sit as she tried to calm herself.

Her memories kept showing her that momentary glimpse of Danny. Something happened to him. Something strange, but she was having trouble registering what was wrong. "Tucker, his hair was white. Not black, white."

"I know. I saw him too." He sat next to her and rubbed her shoulder.

"You seem a bit distressed, hmm." The two teens looked up to see Plasmius floating above them. "Do not fret. Young Daniel is safe with me, but I still have yet to determine what I should do with you two."

"What did you do to Danny?" Sam snapped at him as she stood. She would not look weak in front of this thing.

"Who me? I didn't do anything to him. His body is just adjusting to this world."

"What… what are you talking about?" Tucker stammered as he also stood.

Plasmius smiled. "If you partake of the land of the dead, you must remain in it, or so the old adage goes. When he was a child, Daniel did so, and as he has returned, this world has laid claim to him. I'm actually very impressed as the process often goes awry. I can't tell you how many times I've seen it happen."

"Are you telling me that Danny's becoming like you?" The thought horrified Sam. What else on her friend would change? Did… did Plasmius mean Danny would actually die?

"I certainly hope so, but I'm not exactly sure what form he'll take. This world can do strange things to the humans it turns, but enough about that. I came here to debate what to do with you two." Plasmius regarded the pair for a few moments before he began to pace about a foot off the floor. "I could simply kill the two of you, but Daniel would not appreciate the loss of his two friends. I could let you go, but that could cause me unnecessary trouble. While it is unlikely you will remember your time here, it is possible, and letting you go too soon could bring unwanted attention. Oh, I know," the grin he gave them sent chills down Sam's spine, "I could try to induce the process in the two of you."

"Don't you come near us!" Sam warned as she crouched in a defensive stance. She was still stuck against the door, but there was no way she was going to let that thing touch her again.

"Hey, don't antagonize him!" Tucker whispered. "I'm just as scared of him, but maybe we can use this. He doesn't seem to want to kill us now, and if he can get us out of this room…"

Maybe they would get led to Danny, and maybe the three of them could escape. It was the best plan they had since there didn't seem to be a way out of the room, but if it failed… Actually, Sam wasn't exactly sure what would happen if they failed.

Tucker seemed to have thoughts along the same line, so he asked, "What exactly are you going to do?"

"Ah, so you are interested. The easiest method is to eat some of the food of this world, but the results are not always guaranteed. After all the experiments I've run, it seems like young children have the highest success rate."

"And what happens if it fails?" Sam questioned, uncertain if she would like the answer. "And what experiments? You've been kidnapping humans?"

Plasmius' smile disappeared as his eyes narrowed. "I want young Daniel to remain with me, but humans cannot remain in the realm of the dead indefinitely, so I wanted to make sure his transformation would be successful. I don't expect you to understand my rationale or methods." He moved closer and looked them over carefully. If Sam had to guess, it seemed as if he was trying to determine something regarding the process he mentioned. "The question becomes how to do this successfully. I certainly don't want Daniel upset if this fails and you end up dead and possibly horribly mutilated."

"What?"

"It sadly happens sometimes." Vlad dismissing tone and wave of the hand made it sound as if that was of no concern of his. "When the process fails, it simply kills, but sometimes the process begins and fails, and that is when the more interesting deaths occur. Some of the results are quite gruesome. That is what happened to the man who went missing prior to your arrival."

"How… how did you know about that?" Tucker whispered. His eyes were wide, and he was shaking.

"How else? I'm the one who took him."

===============================

Note: regarding Plasmius' explanations, I am heavily drawing from mythology and legends here. Many stories from around the world state that if you partake of the food of another realm (whether it be the dead, the gods, faeries, etc.), you will be permanently stuck there. In some tales, you remain as a human, and in others, you are transformed. There are other tales that state you can leave, but you will die when you return.

Regarding the more gruesome details, this again comes from some of the reported tales regarding mysterious deaths. In the cases mentioned in the Missing 411 series, if the missing person was found dead, the cause of death is often undetermined, and there aren't usually severe injuries – maybe some scrapes or bruises. However, there are some strange stories reported by Park Rangers and Search and Rescue regarding people they've found who are rather… well… we'll go with messed up and leave it at that. In those cases that can't be explained by an animal, an accident, self-inflicted, or other person, the Rangers and/or Search and Rescue are often at a loss to explain what happened.

So, this is how brain has taken it for this story regarding deaths. Missing and never found – successfully becomes a ghost. Missing and found, intact – process failed or killed by ghost. Missing and found, not intact – process started and failed or killed by ghost. The killed by ghost mention will get explained later, although it was briefly alluded to in this chapter. There are certain things I'm hoping to explain within the story in a later chapter, but if that changes, there will still be a note which will explain it.

[odysseywritings]

Call for the Priest - HL2 Prequel

(also can read here)

Grigori thought little of the Combine. He had enough experience of living under oppressive laws. A child of the Soviet Union, he learned to speak carefully even under the Glasnost policy. Not just for his sake, but for his family’s. So when this colossal boot planted itself on his homeland, he was already aware of the pain it would bring.

The town’s history with avoiding confrontation gave it a healthy lifeline, as the Civil Protection had little fun beating up stoic faces no matter how fresh or dried up the blood was. Any cries of pain had to be limited and reserved for the privacy of their homes.

Though quiet in public, Grigori felt an obligation to make life as miserable for the Combine as possible. During the night, he would stay up to decorate buildings with hooks, saws, and scrapped blades to unnerve the fickle police. This ripple effect encouraged more citizens to build contraptions as road-blocks in case armored vehicles would storm in. All of the dissatisfaction in this tiny town eventually led the Combine away until there was virtually no presence. Virtually none.

For a time, the town was off the radar from everyone outside. Many of the tender hearted citizens, however, Grigori included, wanted to take advantage of this peace by covertly spreading word to nearby resistance stations that it was a safe place for refugees. Grigori and others understood this risk, and he felt a pull to be the one to do so. Being childless while others were raising the final generation of humanity, he felt it was necessary to be independent and to be a sort of missionary for those craving sanctuary. 

It was a frightening endeavor at first traveling to alien-infested areas, especially with the headcrabs shrieking from every and any corner. But his senses developed greatly and he learned he only needed to pack fewer shells for his gun each travel. Each of these trips to uncertain areas made him memorize safe passages back home, furthering his survival skills. His increasingly grizzled, confident face likewise made strangers more comfortable in trusting his message of asylum from a fatal region. 

His initial speeches were clunky as these new faces were increasingly foreign, mainly American. Some mild discomfort aside, it didn’t get to him, but he spoke very little English. To help him clarify his words, a stranger offered some help. 

A knock was heard outside the Orthodox church he used as a home for asylum seekers. He got up after delivering soup to a dirt-covered teenager and walked over. His body was lean and sturdy from careful rationing and travelling, short black hair that was adequately trimmed, and a surprisingly smooth face despite all that he had seen for decades. 

He opened the door without considering any threat, and he saw a blonde woman appear on the doorstep with a worn-out book clutched to her chest.

“Hello, Father,” she spoke with a calm yet strained inflection. “The town said I should help you with your English. May I come in?” 

“Ah! Yes, come!” His hands patted her arms as he smiled mirthfully. “Seat?”

“Oh, I wanted this lesson to be private.” Her voice was very soft and young, clearly a woman, but her age was betrayed by the haggard expression she wore even when she smiled. Wrinkles across her face, bags under her eyes, unusually skinny even for the already malnourished citizens. “Is there a room we can use?”

“Back?” He pointed to the opposite side of the church with wide-eyed curiosity.

“Yes, thank you.” She simpered and had her head down as if to bow.

His confident, lively amble was followed by her cautious, weary walking. She took the time to admire the interior of the church, with beautiful mosaics and architecture she had never seen before. She assumed this place had a large part in keeping this man so optimistic in these horrid times.

He opened a door for her and made an exaggerated bow to make the westerner feel at home, which did get her to smile despite its faintness. They sat down on small wooden chairs within the small room, and the woman opened up the book. She methodically turned the pages until she spotted the right passage for him.

Throughout the lesson, she tried to make him understand articles like ‘the’ as well as specific words to help his talks with rebels such as landmarks and cardinal directions. She was pleasantly surprised how quickly he was taking in all of this in such a short span of time.

“You’re making good progress, Father.”

“Thank you! But call Grigori. No sermons now.”

“Got it.” She chuckled gently.

“You now.” She looked at him blankly, causing him to rethink. “Err. Your name.”

“Oh. You can call me Anne.”

“Anne! Beautiful woman’s name! When is next lesson, Anne?”

“How does tomorrow sound?”

“Very good. I will see you then. Be healthy, Anne.”

She nodded sluggishly and walked into the main church interior. Grigori had a light around him from how well he took the lessons, but he kept thinking about Anne. So frail and famished, undoubtedly had experienced a rough life, but she was set on making him learn more. He admired that diligence, reminding him of his own tireless duty toward Ravenholm. There was a melancholy in her that he felt deeply for, especially when she tried to show her placid joy. 

He was conscious enough to know that things may never be ‘good’ and that guaranteeing things becoming better was not much more helpful. But he held a sincere faith in the one force he knew that could defeat the Combine, and that those with the courage to face these sinful tyrants would soon live the life they were meant to have.

But for now, he focused on his English, his messages, and his survival. He had to be a source for hope, which to his credit, he was getting better at. More citizens arrived to fulfill needed mining jobs or cultural upholding, making the town flourish as a Mecca for underground communication that bolstered the resistance while remaining under the radar. A sense of paranoia would not leave him, however, that this prosperity would be noticed by too many. And that the Combine would catch them while they are at their most complacent.

[crazyfreckledginger]

The Girl’s Pack ~ Chapter 27: The Plan

[Princess][Archer][Wolf][Wally][Jason and Roy][Dick]

She hugged his arm tightly, head on his shoulder as she glanced between his face and the scenery in front of the pair.

“I don’t really deal with my moods, especially the negative ones because there is not much that helps and it’s only a waste of energy.” The ginger sighed.

“So you don’t do anything about it?”

“Well, usually, I kind of isolate myself so I’m not more upset or upset other people and I try to get my mind occupied. Jason and I often get that and we know what helps, I guess it’s like a mutual benefit,” He chuckled.

“You guys are cute!” She giggled teasingly.

“W-what?” Roy’s eyes went wide.

“Oooh, nothing!” A smirk appeared on her face.

“Anyway, feel free to ask for help from either one of us, we’d be happy to help!” He nudged her playfully.

“Thank you, Roy, really!” Her eyes softened as he stared back at her in surprise. They gave each other a smile before gazing back at the lake together.

“This is nice,” She whispered after a few moments.

“Yeah, nice break from all the shit-”

“Guys?” A voice called out.

“Too late,” She snorted as Roy grumbled under his breath.

“Yeah?” The girl turned around, towards the source of the voice. There, a shy Impulse stood, gazing at everything but the both of them.

“Err, Batman wanted me to call you guys for a meeting, bye!” He whizzed off.

“Not many people like me here huh,” She chuckled, covering up the small pang in her chest.

“No, they’re just takes some times to get used to young adult superheroes, especially since you’re not officially part of the team and we keep you excluded.” Roy reassured.

“I’m not a superhero?” She frowned, “I’m part of a pack, I’m a shapeshifter.”

“Yeah but you do good with your powers,” He shook his head. She sulked.

“I don’t really, I help the occasional person that I see but I haven’t done anything like you guys,”

“That’s okay, when this is all over, we can do that if you want,” His fingers ran through her hair.

“Really?” Her eyes lit up as she locked her gaze with his. He grinned widely.

“Yes of course! Now come, we have aN iMpOrTaNt mEeTiNg wItH bAtMaN.” The ginger mocked, she laughed, standing up and nudging his shoulder.

“You’re such a dork, come on!” 

*****

“Lex has created a radar that can detect a certain amount of unclassified energy in a specific radius, if he manages to pick up an energy signal, he’ll find the location of the Mount and could leak a lot of information on all of us,” Batman briefed. The girl gulped, glancing at her alpha who also had the same idea and gazed right back at her.

“We need to find a solution before he starts transporting this device over the city and finds our location.”

“I know what we could do,” The girl intervened.

“(Y/N), no!” Kai interrupted her firmly.

“Kai, this is the only way,” The shapeshifter shook her head before redirecting her attention back to the group. “My necklace contains energy that acts as a portal between here and Arvaysia, if anyone can decrease the energy it contains then there wouldn’t be an issue and-”

“That will make you weak (Y/N)” Kai shook his head in rejection, “the power that makes you shapeshift also comes from the necklace, reducing the energy will make it harder and more exhausting to change and defend yourself.”

“The guys have been training me,” She defended.

“And there’s always going to be at least one of us around her,” Red Hood informed, “she’ll be safe with us!” The girl didn’t need to see Jason’s face behind his helmet to know his teeth were gritted.

“We do that then,” Black Canary concluded, “also, things are going to go downhill very quickly, we’ll need (Y/N) to move out as well, if they’re after her, they’ll follow her away from the Mount, it will be easier keeping everyone here safe and it’ll help us bring them somewhere planned to trap them.”

Batman nodded, “Kid Flash, I want you to take (Y/N) out of town, we’ll do the planning and send you the coordinates,”

“We’ll do swaps right?” Arsenal asked seriously. The caped crusader frowned suspiciously.

“What for?”

“No, that’s a good idea Roy, in case some certain skills are needed,” Black Canary smiled.

“Y-yeah, for the skills things, yup!” The ginger flushed slightly, earning a nudge from Red Hood.

“Wally, I want you to pack your bags and take her to this location,” he displayed coordinates on the hologram, “they will be sent to you once we have mapped out the plan, understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good, it seems you have some things to discuss in the pack,” The billionaire turned to Kai, who nodded in agreement.

“Yes we do,” The alpha eyed his pack.

“You may be excused.”

“Thank you,” The wolf gave a curt nod, walking out as the wolves and (Y/N) exited the meeting room. As soon as the door closed, Batman faced the superheroes.

“Now…”

***** “This is very risky,” Keanu expressed worriedly, “we cannot trust the humans to our full potential.” Kai was sitting among them, observing them as they discussed.

“Yes we can, they have been nothing but welcoming, especially to (Y/N)-”

“That’s because she’s a human like them, they’ll try to pull her away from us.”

“Keanu, that’s not true!” The girl defended.

“(Y/N), you know when can’t-”

“No, listen, you might not trust them but I do, they have made me feel at home, I’ve made friends, I’m happy with them as well. I’m going to help them because that’s what they did for me, I trust them. Please!” She explained. Kai’s jaw clenched as he sighed, lowering his head in thought. After a few of anxious moments, Kai looked back up to his sister, then at (Y/N).

“Fine, but if anything happens whatsoever, I will come back for you!” He warned.

“That’s okay with me,” She sighed in relief.

“Case closed then,” He nodded, dismissing his pack, as he started pacing away, the human called his name. Stopping in his tracks, he redirected his attention back to her.

“Thank you, for everything.”  

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[nomediaplay]

If Tumblr shuts down, where do you go?

Most likely nowhere. In my good-bye note on onehallyu I said I might decide to answer questions somewhere. Then I regged this tumblr, but after a while decided to not do that as I wrote in the first post on this page. But with my usual “luck” in timing, Jessica left SNSD just some days later so I ‘had’ to post a bit.

supermofficial.*com/#events weren’t you bragging SM never forces their artists to do free events             

Sigh. All artists of course have to do promotional events for new releases. And this is even some new group. And not just artists. If an author has a new book coming out, he’ll have to be on TV shows to promote it. If there’s a musical, the cast need to promote it on TV etc. Heck even the very top star Hollywood actors have to go all around the world and be on TV shows and events to promote their new movies.

What I’ve complained about is how many shitty idol companies make their celebrities constantly do lots of promotion for free, and also especially when they use very big established celebrities for events to which fans get “free tickets” by buying CDs.

What would happen to Taeyeon’s music if she were to leave SM? Would she still be able to perform these songs or she’d literally have to start anew?

She (and anyone else) can continue to perform her music however she wants, but she (presumably) can’t make new recordings without SM’s permission. Look here: when it comes to music, there are 2 different types of intellectual property rights:

The first is for, so to say, the ‘creation/invention’ of the song, and belongs to the composers/songwriters.

The second is the copyright of a specific recording. This typically belongs to a record label. That’s literally what record labels do: they organize the recording of music, then market and sell copies of that recording. And the record label will typically sign deals with songwriters, producers and singers to make a recording from which these get a royalty % cut of the total sales of that recording.

Anyone can perform whatever song anywhere without needing anyone’s consent. But if you do it for commercial purposes you need to pay the songwriters. This is handled by collective agreements and organizations such as ASCAP in the US, JASRAC in Japan and KOMCA in Korea which work to collect money for song usage and distribute it to the songwriters.

But to make a new recording of the song (for commercial purposes) you need explicit permission of the songwriters. However, whenever any record label signed a contract for a recording to start with, that agreement would typically stipulate that the record label now has the right to determine who can make new recordings of the song.

So, surely, if you’re a fan of a kpop group, you must have experienced that members of the groups have performed covers of other songs in concerts (because they can perform whatever song they want) - but if there’s a DVD release of the concert some of those covers might be missing (because record labels have refused the right to make recordings of the song).

What does it mean for an idol to have a lot of copyrighted songs, like the ones on those lists?

Per the above answer: it means he/she is listed as one of the ‘creators/inventors’ of a song as composer and/or lyricist. So whenever that song is used for any commercial purpose (such as played on TV, played on radio, performed by at any concert/event, etc) he/she will get paid some money.

However, as I’ve said countless of times before: for any really successful artists the payments from songwriting are really small compared the very big money they can get paid in other ways, particularly from performing at concerts and from doing CF/endorsement deals.

Also, I’d like to point out that it’s difficult to know how much an artist really have contributed to creating a song. Sometimes I get the feeling that YG lists whatever people that happened to sit next to Teddy while he composed a song. And it’s well known that many big western artists throughout history have demanded to be credited as songwriters even though they didn’t actually contribute anything at all.

Does Jessica have the right to use Girls’ Generation’s name to promote herself? Other girls who left SM - left the group as well (at least for now) but they all still use GG’s name when promoting their new projects. OT8 stans believe GG should never be mentioned anywhere near Jessica but I don’t think their situations are that different actually? but maybe I’m wrong?

I doubt that there are any legal constraints, but really, your question is strange because she’d be laughed at if she went around saying she was still an SNSD member. Any ‘group’ in society is defined by how the members of the group recognize each other as part of the group. The other 8 members have made it quite clear that they define SNSD as 8 members without Jessica, so it would be ridiculous for her to call herself as SNSD. Of course, she could if she want have journalists write news-articles calling her ex-SNSD Jessica and she could do interviews talking about her time in SNSD etc. I’m not sure if that would help her or not.

How so many bands and solo acts in japan are able to survive for a long time even though they don’t have good digital or physical sales?

But the Japanse music sales have been completely fucked up for the last 15 years as I’ve ranted about plenty of times before.

Can those bands and solo acts actually sell decent amounts of concert tickets in Japan? If yes, they’re living a good life no matter what their music sales are.

what is more important for a company, the success of their newer groups or their established artists? sorry if it’s a dumb question

Err, it’s not entirely black and white. But for a company to make really big profits (as in money for the owners of the company) it’s most important to get a new group to become really big really fast. This is partly about how new groups are on worse contracts and partly about how fans of these new fresh trendy groups spend huge money on buying albums and streaming like maniacs etc which are things from which the company gets most of the money (unlike for example concerts).

But it’s not all about contracts. Several of these smaller companies have absolutely horrible contracts. That doesn’t mean the companies make any profit. Because their acts simply aren’t successful enough. They spend so much money on everything from music videos to stage outfits and make up to road managers and security guards so there’s no money left.

And so on the flip side, for most of the normal employees who work in these companies to sort everything from music videos to stage outfits and make up to road managers and security guards, it’s really just important to have successful acts period (no matter if new or old) in order to make sure they get paid safely.

It is true that GD alone bring as much money as blackpink?

Per above: yes, GD alone would generate much more revenue than Blackpink. But they are both profitable in the sense that they generate much more money than what’s spent on music videos, outfits and managers etc. And obviously Blackpink has a much worse contracts than GD, so after splitting profits per their contracts YG probably makes bigger profits on Blackpink than GD.

Why do you think YG did a fanmeting in seoul for blackpink instead of another concert?      

Well, considering the amount of negativity YG has ended up in recently:

I thought it had been well established that much of the audience at their previous Korean concert was in fact not paying for tickets, but people who had been given tickets through corporate sponsorship of the concert. In this current situation, there’s probably not a single company willing to sponsor a concert.

Secondly, even with regards to that fans actually would pay to go, I think it’s likely that media would have put out critical articles about YG doing concerts in this situation. By calling it a fan-meeting they’re pretty much making it impossible for journalists to write such negative articles.

Did that super junior member really leave because he got married or there is something more to it?

As I’ve always expressed: save humanity - disband Super Junior.

So no I really have no idea about what they’re doing. But I used to say some 7 years ago that there will probably be a Super Show 10. And we’re soon there. Because members seem to be aware of their own short-comings and their joint success and are OK with doing group activities.

But it was my understanding that this member not only didn’t really contribute with anything to the group, but that he also really pissed off the few fans he had with his actions (such as drawing symbols for his girlfriend when signing autographs for fans).

Is Mnet bigger than SM and YG?

If you just mean Mnet as in the cable-TV channel, the answer is that SM/YG are bigger. But this question is not straight forward to answer. First off it’s difficult to define what one mean with ‘bigger’ company:

By profit? By market cap (value)? By number of employees? By revenue?

My take would be to in most cases (such as this) go by revenue as the most relevant measure of ‘big’ company.

Secondly, in Asia in general and in Korea in particular they have this horrible habit of building conglomerates and interlinked companies. And it just runs in their culture/society. Both SM and YG were new small independent startups initially. But look at them now. They have used all the profits they’ve made over time to start all kinds of businesses very vaguely related to their core businesses and invested in a myriad of other companies and started to become big conglomerates in entertainment.

And Mnet goes way back and to the very top. Mnet is just one cable-TV-channel. The actual company here is CJ ENM. CJ ENM also has a lot of other cable-TV-channels and a huge home-shopping-channel. CJ ENM are also very big in for example producing musicals and concerts in Korea. CJ ENM once upon a time also almost had a monopoly on music distribution in Korea, but nowadays the music distribution business (now called Stone Music Entertainment) is far from the leading distributor. CJ ENM is also the biggest producer of Korean TV dramas and films. That was spun off into a separate company (Studio Dragon) but CJ ENM own like 75% of that company still. CJ ENM has also spun off its music streaming business (but they own like 15% of Genie Music) and its gaming business (but they own like 25% of Netmarble). So CJ ENM is a very big and powerful company in the Korean entertainment industry and much bigger than SM and YG.

And CJ ENM is in turn owned by and part of the CJ Group. The CJ Group also own a whole lot of other companies primarily into food production, restaurant chains and entertainment. Most known to kpop fans is probably that they also own the biggest cinema chain in Korea, but the main businesses are food related.

And CJ Group was in turn part of the absolutely gigantic Samsung chaebol group. CJ was one of the parts of the Samsung chaebol that was split off around 1990 following the death of Samsung founder Lee Byung-chul. It’s a separate group now, but basically, CJ Group is run by 2 siblings who are grandchildren of Lee Byung-chul. Other parts of the former Samsung chaebol are run by other relatives of Lee Byung-chul.

(PS, Lee Byung-chul had TEN children who in turned had a lot of grand children, hence why his gigantic corporate empire is nowadays a bit of a drama mess)

[iloveyouthree-thousand]

five(ish) times Peter Parker didn’t call Tony Stark ‘dad’

an: TW for mention of panic attacks. This was a hard one for me to write, as sometimes talking about panic attacks triggers a panic attack, so I did my best to give y’all a glimpse of what I think it would feel like for Peter—and for those of you that already know what it feels like, I love you.

chapter 1

chapters: [2 / 9]

2. / The Hayden Planetarium

“Within the last few hundred years, we humans, inhabitants of a small planet orbiting this unexceptional star, have learned where the galaxies are, what they’re made of, and how they got to be that way,” the voice of Neil deGrasse Tyson filled the theater, as students stretched their necks to the ceiling, eyes-wide, the universe spinning around them.

Peter’s class was on a trip to the Hayden Planetarium Space Theater, a trip that, last year, Peter would have been over the moon about, bad pun aside.

It was his thing, planets and stars and all the nerdy science to go along with it.

So why was it taking everything in him not to hurl all over the kid one row ahead?

His hands were sweating, running themselves up and down the plastic armrests before scratching across his chest involuntarily. He took a look at the kids around him again, still staring at the universe in wonder, but then the world was literally spinning around him, and it would only be a matter of seconds before he actually vomited.  

Peter quickly excused himself, brushing off a slightly worried look from Ned with a half-smile and a motion that said he had to pee. He gave the same look to his teacher and got a silent nod of approval before he nearly ran out of the auditorium.

He only made it a few steps out of the double doors before he was on the ground, hands clutched to his now-heaving chest.

“Hey, love, are you alright?” A uniformed employee strode over to him, placing her hand on his back. The alarmingly empty look that Peter gave her instead of a reply was answer enough.

“N-no... ma’am... I don’t—I don’t feel so good.”

And those words, those words, were enough to send him spinning again. His sweaty fingers gripped at his shirt, threatening to rip it to shreds, because he just needed to feel it, to know that it was still there, that he was still there.

“Is there someone I can call for you?”

Aunt May was out of town, he remembered, which only made the horrible palpitations in his heart surge again.

“Here, honey, let’s get your over into the bathroom,” she said, as Peter lifted a hand to cover his mouth, his body shivering and convulsions sending him forward every couple of seconds.

He was barely conscious of her lifting him to his feet and basically carrying him to a family restroom off to the side of the building.

“What’s your name, hon?” She gently asked, arms still wrapped around his shoulder’s.

“P-Peter,” he managed, his voice a broken whisper.

“Okay Peter, we’re going to get you feeling better, okay? Are your mom or dad at work, should I get one of them to come down here—breathe, love, just breathe for me—can I have your cell phone?”

Peter clumsily fished the phone out of his pocket, typing his password incorrectly several times because his fingers were trembling.

“Okay, who should I call?” She opened up the contacts list, holding the phone out in front of Peter. The name was right there, second from the top. He pressed the screen quickly and went back to dry-heaving.

Tony Stark picked up on the second ring.

“Pete, aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Tony’s voice rang out from the other end of the phone, easily audible with Peter’s heightened senses. The woman had the phone pressed to her ear with one hand, the other rubbing gently on Peter’s back.

“Hello, this is Angie at the Hayden Planetarium. Is this Peter’s father?”

“N--.. no—h- he’s,” Peter started, but Tony was already talking.

“Something like that,” Tony replied without skipping a beat, “what’s going on?”

“Sir, Peter isn’t feeling very well. I think it would be best if you could come down here and take him home.”

“Is he okay?” Tony asked, fear creeping into his voice.

“Yes, he’s in one piece, but sometimes the exhibit can leave people feeling nauseous. I’ve got him here in the bathroom, but if you could come down here I think that would really help him.”  

“Okay, stay there with him, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Angie called back four minutes later.

“Sir, Peter’s breathing is really erratic and he says he’s having chest pains. I called an ambulance to be safe, it should be here—“ Tony didn’t hear the rest, because he was already sprinting through the doors of the planetarium.

He could vaguely hear sirens down the street as he spotted Peter and Angie. She’d lifted him toward the front doors, preparing for the EMTs.

“You must be Tony,” she said to the frantic looking man standing in front of her, “the ambulance should be pulling up any second.”

He wasn’t listening to her, because his eyes were trained on Peter, whose face was drained to a ghastly white, chest rising and falling at a rate that was way too fast.

“I don’t wanna go, Tony, I don’t wanna go... please, please I don’t wanna go.”

It took everything in Tony to not drop to his knees at the sounds of the Peter’s cries, but he needed to be here, fully present, if he was going to make sure the kid was going to be okay.

Peter could feel the blood pumping from his heart, could feel it in his ears and head and toes. His forehead was slick with sweat, brown hair matted down, as damp patches were beginning to show through his gray NASA T-shirt.  

The EMTs arrived thirty seconds later, carefully placing Peter on a stretcher and hooking him up to a heart monitor.

One of the paramedics stepped aside to speak with Tony.

“Sir, are you this child’s father?”

“Yes,” he said, unblinking, knowing it was the only way to get into the back of that ambulance with Peter, and the boy was too dazed to object.

“Okay, we’ll have you ride along with us then.”

They got the young boy situated and then in a little under two minutes they were racing toward the nearest hospital.

Several nurses pulled the stretcher away as soon as they entered the building, and Tony tried to follow but was held back by a scrubs-clad man who calmly explained, “We’re just going to run a few tests, sir, and then you’ll be able to see him again.”

Peter was only partially conscious as the doctors ran an CT scan to check for internal bleeding and then an EKG to monitor his heart.

About thirty minutes later, Peter’s breathing had returned to a normal rate, and the pain in his chest had mostly subsided. He was no longer painfully aware of the pounding of his heart and for the most part, he felt normal again.

He glanced around the room, finally aware of his surroundings.

“Mr. Parker, how are you feeling?” He asked, placing a reassuring hand on the boy’s arm.

“Better, I think,” he paused, “what happened?”

The nurse sat down next to the bed Peter was lying in and explained, “we believe you suffered a panic attack Peter. Do you know if you have any history of panic disorder or anxiety?”

Peter shook his head.

“Well, the causes for a panic attack can range from nothing specific at all to a particular trigger, as in the case of some forms of post-traumatic stress disorder. And while they are harmless in and of themselves, if you’ve never experienced one before, it can easily be mistaken for symptoms of a heart attack or a clot in the lungs. We ran all of the routine diagnostic tests, and everything seems to be working properly.”

The man seemed to pick up on the embarrassment in Peter’s eyes, because he continued, “panic attacks are very traumatic, Peter. And we’re always happy to err on the side of safety, so it’s really good you came in. We’d like to monitor you for another hour or so, just as a precaution, and then we’ll set up an appointment with a psychiatrist before you leave to determine the best course of action from here on out. Does that sound okay?”

Peter just nodded, still a bit overwhelmed at the blood pressure machine attached to his arm and the oxygen monitor on his finger and the bright white walls surrounding him.

“Do you feel up to having your father come in here?”

He looked confused for a moment before he realized the man meant Tony.

“Oh, he’s not... he’s not my dad.” The nurse looked a bit surprised but quickly masked it.

“But um, yea, he can come in. He’s probably freaking out out there.”

When the doctors explained that Peter had had a panic attack, all Tony could think was, God, not the kid.

After three years of nightmares and near constant anxiety, the last thing Tony wanted was one more thing standing between Peter Parker being a stress-free teenager.

He had just gotten off the phone with May when one of the nurses gave him the green light to visit Peter.

“Hey kid,” he said, stepping into the doorframe, closing the door gently behind himself.

“Hi, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied sheepishly. “I’m sorry for getting everyone so worked up over nothing.”

“No, Pete,” he shook his head, “not nothing.”  

Peter looked nervously to the ceiling.

“It really felt like I was dying,” his said, his voice so incredibly small, and Tony moved to sit on the end of the bed.

“I know. They’re a tricky beast.”

It took a second, but then a look of understanding flashed across Peter’s face.

“I’m not going to lie to you and tell you they’ll make them go away, but we can get you in to see some people, and it will help you cope. I can work with you, show you some of the things that help me,” he says, and his voice is so gentle and so reassuring that it almost feels foreign, and Peter swallows thickly.

“But for right now, let’s get you home, okay? If you’re alright with it, you can stay with me. I already talked to your terrifying Aunt and told her that the situation is under control, but we can call her back if you’d rather have her come home early.”

Peter shook his head vigorously.

“No, she’s been looking forward to this trip for months. Besides, I heard you lied and told the doctors you’re my dad now.”

Tony rolled his eyes and said, “Yea, well, desperate times kid.”

Peter laughed a genuine laugh—a far cry from the ghost of Peter that Tony had seen at the museum—and says, “Oh, God, can you even imagine?”

Tony snorts. “Yea, not really my type. I’d like to thank my old man for that. I think I’ll stick with being like the aloof, distantly related rich-uncle.”

Tony set Peter up with one of the best psychiatrists in the state—the same one he visited himself—before they leave the hospital, and they spent the rest of the night watching Peter’s practically vintage Star Wars VHS tapes and tinkering with the collection of Legos he kept at Tony’s.

And while he sat and helped Peter learn to cope, Tony didn’t mention the fact that he could imagine it. That the thought of being a father figure for Peter didn’t make him break out in hives like he thought it would. Because it certainly should be making him break out in hives.

When he looked over, Peter’s head was resting in his hands at the table, and Tony gently nudged him awake.

“Alright, kid, bed time. I’ll see you in the morning.”

No, definitely not the father type.

[rosesisupposes]

Destined, part 22

aka The Missing Prints

Character Tags: Virgil/Anixety ; Patton/Creativity ; Patton/Morality ; Logan/Logic ; Remy/Sleep ; Dante/Deceit

Chapter Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality, mention of Anxceit

Chapter Warnings: Graphic description of violence, Visions of Major Character Death, Swearing

Specific content warning note: Graphic descriptions of violence and depicted MCD from "The world twists upon itself..." to "Hands grabbed him and shook him..."

Reader Tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice   @nightmarebeforevirgil​ @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt

Summary: After centuries of acting as an oracle to heroes, quest-seekers, and villains alike, Virgil just wants to live as a normal, modern human. For someone who can see infinite probabilities, you’d think he’d know better.

<<Chapter 21 | Masterlist | Chapter 23>>

read on ao3

Virgil was used to being nervous. Kind of par for the course, when you’ve spent thousands of years watching single decisions transform the course of lives and centuries. That nervousness was the kind that paralyzed him, sent him into weeks- or years-long stupors of contemplating the butterfly effects of human life. He was also getting happily used to this new type of nervousness that spawned in Roman’s presence, this fluttery feeling that made him want to babble out all his feelings, float away in champagne bubbles, or just run into the sunset with Roman’s hand in his.

Roman hadn’t responded to any of his texts since last night, including the “Let me know when you’re home safe” text. He wasn’t sure which type of nervous he should be feeling, but he was probably going to err on the side of overwhelming terror.

He went to How You Brewin’ as normal, but couldn’t suppress his jitters.

“Remy, is it a bad sign that Roman isn’t texting me back?”

“Girl, chill. You just started dating, don’t even worry about it.”

Fat chance of that, Virgil thought to himself. But Remy hadn’t been caught up in the drama of the past few days. He wasn’t on edge, and had no reason to be.

Virgil tried not to ruminate too much through the morning rush. Any moment now, Roman would blow in, all red and white and glamorous smile, and he’d ask for something ridiculous, like a jumbo latte with 13 pumps of vanilla syrup.

Any moment now.

Any moment.

The morning crowds left, as did Remy. Logan came in as normal, and lingered in the bakery, waiting for Patton to emerge from the back. When the baker did so, Virgil could have sworn the sun had risen again right there across the bakery counter, a solar flare of smiles reunited. Logan’s lost glasses were replaced by seldom-used contacts which only served to make it easier to see just how delighted he was to see Patton again.

Virgil, meanwhile, was checking his phone obsessively.

Okay, let’s assess the situation. I’ve sent a lot of texts. And he hasn’t responded once. So what should I do now??

I should send just one more text anndddd sent.

Nostradamus, what am I DOING?

Okay, he clearly could not handle this on his own. It was time to bring in backup. He checked quickly for customers then scuttled over to the bakery. Logan and Patton looked up at him from where they’d been holding hands as Logan leaned on the counter. Something in his face clearly told them both that this was important enough to warrant the interruption. Logan steered Virgil to an easy chair while Patton brought him an apple turnover, still warm. They both sat as close together as possible on a small couch next to Virgil’s chair and waited expectantly for him to explain.

“It’s Roman,” he blurted out. “He’s not responding. Normally I would think that you know, we just spent a whole day together and he needs a break from me but I can’t shake the feeling that something is very, very wrong. And… it might be my fault.”

Patton leaned across Logan to pat Virgil’s knee. “Kiddo, I’m sure it’s not your fault - what could you have possibly done to cause him pain?”

“It’s not what I could have done, but what someone else could have done because of how I got him involved…” Virgil put his head in his hands. This was no good. He was going to have to explain everything for this to make any sense. “I asked you both for advice before, and you helped me make the right choice. At least, I think it was the right choice. And I don’t know who else to trust. Plus… you’ve both already lived through the effects.” His eyes flicked sadly to the bruise on Logan’s temple. Someone had clearly helped cover it with makeup - Virgil suspected it had been Talyn, but even their skill wasn’t quite enough to hide the swelling.

He swallowed nervously.  “I’m about to tell you both something that is going to sound incredibly weird and possibly delusional, but I swear it is all true.” Logan looked cautiously skeptical already, but Patton wasn’t showing any emotion except calm acceptance.

Virgil took a deep breath and said, “I am not human. I am an immortal being called a Sage. I can touch people’s hands and see the possible paths their life will take. As part of that power, I am obligated not to share specific details, but give only hints towards that person’s pivotal choice through riddles- the way I’ve been taught since I came into being at the Oracle of Delphi approximately 3400 years ago.”

Virgil stopped and looked up at his friends. Both were staring with wide eyes, Patton’s mouth hanging open. Neither seemed able to form a verbal response just yet, so Virgil plowed forward.

“Just over 500 years ago, I read the destiny of a sorcerer who wanted to rule the world and was willing to destroy anything or anyone who got in his way. Luckily, back then, he was defeated. Six days ago, however, I ran into him here, not too far from my apartment, and saw that he was back to try again. This man, Dante, was your kidnapper. He wanted your research to find people like me, magical beings who are still left in the world. That’s what those genetic anomalies were, Lo. They were me, and him, and all the other remaining magic folk left in the world. I thought at the lab that Roman had killed Dante in his shape-shifted snake form… but now, I’m not so sure. He’s cheated death so many times, and he will blame us - well, blame me - for being the common thread in his defeats. And I… I am so nervous that he’s gone after Roman for revenge. Or maybe just as bait. But even if it is a trap, it will work, because I cannot let anything happen to Roman, not if there is anything I can do to stop it. But I don’t know what to do.”

He stopped talking and forced himself to breathe. His heart was pounding and he felt slightly delirious.

After several minutes of stunned silence in which Virgil imagined he could practically hear the bullshit alarms going off in his listeners’ minds, Logan recovered first. “Well. That is quite a lot of… new... information. Thank you for clarifying that my attacker - Dante, you said his name was? - actually did turn into a snake. I thought I’d seen a snake in the lab but was worried it was just the concussion speaking.”

“I also saw that, I thought I’d taken a blow to the copperhead ,” Patton added. The pun didn’t have quite the baker’s normal level of delight, but Virgil appreciated his attempt at lightening the mood. From the twitch at the side of his mouth, Virgil could tell that Logan did too.

Logan steered back to the matter at hand. “So, let me get this straight-”

“Good luck with that,” Virgil muttered.

“You can see possible futures. And the string of events that lead to them. When you asked us for advice before, that’s what it was about? Whether or not to share what you knew.”

“I already had seen Dante’s futures, and Roman was included in them,” Virgil said, nodding.  “I was trying to decide if I should offer to look through all of Roman’s futures too, try to give him as much preparation as possible, but was worried about how once you know, you’re locked in. It makes choices a little less free because of the very fact of knowing the nature of the future you could be working towards. The question of free choice versus determinism becomes a lot less hypothetical when you see the future the way I do. I don’t know that I thanked you enough. You both helped a lot - I was so worried about Roman’s ability to make free choices in the future that I lost sight of the freedom of choice I was preventing him from having in that moment.”

Logan chewed on this information. “Your… ability, this, uh, magic .” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I can’t believe I’ve spent my whole life researching the natural world and am just suddenly finding out ‘oh hey, magic exists and also your wingman is an immortal magic being.’ But, well, we can discuss this more later. Can you see where Roman is now? Or Dante, who is a sorcerer , you said?”

Virgil shook his head, shame-faced. “I wish I could see him. It only works if I have direct contact, both hands on their skin. And yes, he’s a sorcerer or wizard. One of those, I’m not positive which. A human with the ability to do magic without a wand.”

“Well, if you can’t see Roman or Evil Snakey Man,” Patton offered, “why don’t you try looking for yourself? If there’s a possibility that Roman is in danger and you rescue him, you’d be able to see that in your own future, right?”

Virgil was stunned. The idea had never even occurred to him. “I… that’s… I don’t even know if that’s possible . It’s definitely not allowed by the Sage’s Law, which are the rules that we have sworn to follow.”

“Patton’s right,” Logan said, an approving hand on the baker’s knee. “It seems the only logical option - seek the information that is available to you before you make a decision. What would be the consequences if such an act of seeking indeed breaks this ‘Law’ but you are able to do so?”

Virgil could feel his breath coming faster, his heart rate increasing. Outright breaking the Law? The one constant that he’d kept as a guide for over three millennia? “My brethren would punish me, somehow. I don’t know what they’d do. But,” he admitted, “it would likely take them a while to get to it. Their sense of time is a little off.”

“If Roman is really in danger, are you willing to risk it?” Patton asked softly.

Virgil looked straight into Patton’s blue-grey eyes and saw nothing but understanding and affection. His jitters were nowhere near gone, but the uncertainty vanished. “I… yes. Yes, I am. If it means keeping him safe, I’ll do anything.”

Logan placed hand on the violet-haired man’s shoulder. “Then I think it is indeed worth a try. Can we help or support you in any way?”

“I just… I need to think,” Virgil whispered, closing his eyes.

Virgil was terrified. Not for himself, but for Roman. His friend and newly-minted boyfriend. Was this a punishment for pulling an innocent man into a destiny he hadn’t sought out? Did he bring this upon them all from his foolish attempt to be a human rather than a Sage?

His brethren might be merciless. They might cut him off from the ether, turning him mortal. They might forcibly bring him back into the ether, ending his human life and ensuring that he remain a spirit for the rest of eternity. They could even do both, if they were feeling particularly displeased: kill his current form and cut him off from his connection. He’d be truly dead then, with absolutely no chance of returning. There was no way of knowing what action they’d take, or if what Virgil was about to attempt was a heinous enough offense to warrant any punishment at all.

All he knew was that he was willing to risk both eternal life and this finite one if it meant Roman would be safe. He took a deep breath, summoning his power, and linked his own arms, forearm to forearm.

He sees a world like the current one. Humans thrive. Magic is invisible to the point of nonexistence. He sees Roman, alive, happy, safe . His heart is soothed until he realizes - he can’t see himself in this future.

The world twists upon itself. He sees natural disasters and apocalypses, the world spinning too fast, the sun collapsing and exploding in a brilliant supernova that stretches to infinity and leaves behind vast nothingness.

He sees himself as Supreme Ruler over humankind and magic folk alike, dragons returning and fairies dancing.

He sees himself at Dante’s side, the man’s former beauty fully restored. He is clinging to his lovers’ arm, doted upon by the sorcerer-king and tended to by the humans that labor in servitude to their magical overlords.

He sees Dante die, himself die, Roman die. And Patton die. And Logan, and Remy, and Virgil’s landlady, and Remy’s boyfriend Antony, and Joan and Talyn and the bakafé’s regulars, Heather and her daughter and Emile and and and...

He sees Roman’s death over and over in hundreds of futures. Now, Dante transforms into a massive adder and tears a chunk out of his shoulder. Now, Roman’s theatre burns in dragonfire, the princely man trapped inside by a falling set as he desperately pushes the last of his cast to safety. Now Virgil himself sends Roman to a labor camp, Dante grinning smugly at his elbow. Roman leaps in front of a witch’s curse in the last fight of the Human Rebellion, keeping Logan and Patton alive for just a few more minutes. Dante chokes Roman to death, holding him up by a vice-like grip on his neck, legs flailing desperately in midair until they go still. Roman, gaunt and hollow-cheeked, dies of starvation in an unknown ruin. Dante breaks Roman’s ribs in his serpentine coils. Roman dies of old age, alone in a dark retirement home. Roman’s blood drips sluggishly down his chest as he is forced to watch Dante kiss Virgil’s neck, and the sorcerer’s casual gesture sends another iron spike through his body- enough to continue killing him, never enough to let him die outright. Roman is in a hospital as a heart monitor slowly blips to flatline. Roman kisses Virgil desperately as an unavoidable blast of magical energy hurtles towards them both. Patton and Roman both watch in horror as Patton thrusts a sword directly through the Roman’s heart, compelled to act against his will by a vindictive fairy’s spell. Roman dies falling from a tower. Roman dies at a furious sprite’s hands, crushed under falling stone. Roman dies. Roman dies. Roman dies.

Tears pour down Virgil’s cheeks. He can’t find the crux. Where is the one choice? What is the future decision that will put the world on the correct path? Who can save the only person he’s ever loved?

Hands grabbed him and shook him to wakefulness. Logan held both his shoulders, pale and visibly shaken, but forcing himself to remain calm. Patton was turned away, glasses on the table beside him, weeping silently. Virgil stared at them both through red-rimmed eyes. He’d broken the Law, risked his powers, and what did he have to show for it? He hadn’t seen anyone whose choice would shape these futures.

But… perhaps that didn’t mean it had been useless. All these years, he’d been sought out by those who didn’t know better, hoping to make the best out of uncertainty. What had he given them? Guidance? That guidance had been a road map to an untimely death as often as not. Following the Law of Sages hadn’t changed that. He’d followed every rule with Kat and she’d died as surely as Colan had. Yes, she’d had a fuller lifetime, but the end result was the same. She’d died, as surely as Baxter had, and Vorel, and Pasithee. What value did his gift add, compared to the pain it had caused, and the tradeoffs he’d made?

His long, long life had been temples, grottos, and mountain caves. Isolation or captivity. His Seekers has been young and old, brave and cowardly, good and evil. And in all his thousands of years on this earth, he’d felt more alive in these last few weeks than ever before. He’d been watching humanity skitter to and fro for eons and only just now understood how wonderful and wonderfully imperfect they could be. And never, in all these years, had his own choices been a part of any future.

All these lives he’d lived. All those false choices he’d presented- were they ever really different? They all lead to death. The ersatz hopes had stacked on each other into a tottering tower that was his present, and there was only one thing keeping it all from collapsing with an impact that would reverberate through his entire past and future. 

These men. These friends . He’d never felt such easy and sudden connection before, had never felt able to trust anyone so completely- Patton, Roman, even Remy. Even Logan, despite it feeling less direct with the scientist. Each of them echoed with familiarity, a thin and whispered melody as old as his power and just as intimate. Why did he feel as if he’d known them before? Why could he picture each of them alive and surrounding him in each one of his past lives?

It couldn’t be magic. He would have been able to sense if any of them were a magical creature. But then why did he feel like these friends of his had weathered and waited through the ages just as surely as he had? As surely as Dante had?

He believed necessarily in the power of choice and free will, but he was not such a fool to stop believing in meaningful coincidence. These men, all of them, meant something to him. And he’d be fucked (sorry, Patton) if he wouldn’t do all he could to protect them. And when he’d looked for a decision-maker in all those possible futures, he hadn’t seen anyone… except himself. 

“Dear Cassandra, forgive me. I can’t just stand by any longer,” he whispered. He grabbed his backpack from beyond the bar and started throwing in anything and everything that his own futures had shown to be useful. “Patton, Logan,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m sorry I can’t explain more right now, but I know where Roman is, and I’m going to save him. If you want to risk it and help, I’ll be at the corner of Canterbury and Laurel. Bring flashlights, and be on your guard. Tell Remy I’m sorry for ditching my shift.” The bell over the door clanged urgently, and he was gone.

Patton watched him go, still in shock. He’d never seen so much pain on one person’s face. Not even in the foster homes he’d lived in before his forever family found him. He wasn’t sure if Virgil knew he’d been continuing to cry as he’d whirled out of the cafe. It hurt his heart to see his young - well, not so young, apparently - friend grieve and suffer right in front of him, his eyes glowing a painfully bright white as tears flowed without stopping. Patton hadn’t been able to bear it, and had had to look away as he begged Logan to “Wake him up, please, God, wake him up!”

Logan turned to him now, and without a word embraced him tightly. Patton hugged back, tears seeping into the other man’s black polo.

“Patton… I’m sorry you had to see that. You’re so gentle and good and…” Logan shuddered, and took a deep breath. “And that was painful to watch.” The blonde head laying on his shoulder nodded. “I don’t want to pretend we’re not both scared, but… I want to help Roman. I want to help Virgil, no matter who he is. Or what he is. After you all saved me… I owe them both that much. But if you can’t or don’t want to, I won’t think any less of you. It’s a scary, uncertain situation, and we’re walking in blind. The sensible option is to avoid it.”

Patton lifted his head, eyes puffy. “Who ever said I’m sensible? They’re our friends, and they’re in trouble.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, and picked up his glasses from where they’d fallen on his lap. “We have other options, but there’s only one right choice. I have flashlights under the bakery counter,  next to the first aid kit. You go grab them, and I’ll lock up the store. Remy will understand.”

author’s note: welp, that happened, did it not

(Now is a GREAT time to tell you this: Dante’s prophecy was inspired by, I kid you not, the movie ‘Pokemon 2000’. “Though the water's Great Guardian shall arise to quell the fighting, alone its song will fail. Thus the Earth shall turn to ash.” As in, Ash Ketchum. ‘The world will turn to flame,’ as in Flame the fire sprite. Did you think this was some deep shit? Nah, man, I am a dork)

[neo---blue]

These Sheets, Those Shelves, and This Shitty Place (—and Shion)

Shion's warmth is fading from the mattress. Nezumi feels disarmed.

Shion has just finished the Iliad and is going off to look for the Odyssey after Nezumi told him they were related works. What of it?

A loaded exchange between Shion and Nezumi in the library vault on a night before the Manhunt

hello. i finished this after my birthday so of course i wanted to update the shion/nezumi birthday fic, but this finished itself first so... hehe. >:) anyway, here it is. in the manga and novel, they said that the manhunt came "one day, out of the blue" so i just supposed it didn't immediately happen after that chapter nezumi had an episode and danced with shion to make him stop worrying about him, and i supposed that that didn't immediately happen after they ambushed fura. yes. super wordy and introspective, but i really enjoyed writing this. i hope you enjoy reading it as well!

6.6k+ words on ao3 or Keep Reading!

            Nezumi whistles, not looking up from his book, not even when he feels Shion stirring beside him. "You sure about that?"

            "Yeah," Shion answers from the other side of their bed, "I'm sure there was a copy when I organized all our books."

            ‘Our books?’ Nezumi twists himself towards the wall on his side of their bed, away from the rest of their room, having to raise his book slightly to keep his shadow from covering words he hasn't been registering. "Good luck," he mutters as courtesy, not meaning it but earning a response from Shion anyway,

            "I'll go check right now."

            Shion sits up. It's with much effort that he lifts the blanket off of himself, body quick to protest the loss of direct warmth from Nezumi. It's for this sole reason that Shion considers not leaving anymore. But shortly he's able to reason that he already has half of all the books over there in his mental catalog, and he already knows how to maneuver around this general area, knows it like the back of his hand; he won't take too long.

            Shion dangles his legs off the bed, with less effort now, peering down at the floor. He reaches for each of Nezumi's slippers by stretching his legs, using his toes to turn one over and using his heel to drag the other closer. He shifts all of his weight forward and stands, every movement careful not to disturb the mattress nor Nezumi.

            Nezumi doesn't mind it. He just eyes the same line on the same page for the nth time. He comes close to giving up altogether; on top of not having been able to read in silence all evening, Nezumi is becoming thoroughly distracted now that Shion is continuing,

            "I'm just not sure where I categorized it under." Shion's padded towards the shelves, looking through the sections, blinking slowly to connect his rote memory to this overwhelming reality. He has an urge that he holds: the urge to comment, again, for the nth time, on how amazing this place is, by the sheer number of books housed within it; he feels the same immense sense of curiosity now as he did the first time he'd entered here, books piled up high on the bed and the couch and the floor and every other surface in the room. That they're organized now doesn't change how his heart beats with excitement every time he thinks of how many stories there must be here to read and learn about, how much of all of it makes up the boy he saved four years ago. He only goes on now, "Besides, Nezumi..."

            "What?"

            "You wouldn't help me," Shion mumbles, content with skimming his fingers along rough, old spines, each hiding yellowed pages that held words and worlds he's yet to explore. "It's why organizing all the books took longer than I wanted."

            "Don't complain," Nezumi complains, chides, switching his book over to his other hand, "you're the one who volunteered to do it." He's positive they both remember clearly, even if it was several months ago:

            'It'll take a hundred years—' 'I'll do it in a week!’

            "I did," Shion agrees instantly, though it took a week and a day. He shakes the thought off, crouching down to look from the bottom shelf up. "But it would have been nice if you helped me decide whether to catalog them by author, year published, title, or genre—"

            "And? Where would you have put it if I told you I wanted them arranged by author?" Nezumi challenges, "You didn't even know who Homer was yet at that point."

            "Well," Shion replies, still scanning the titles. "I do now—"

            "No you don't," Nezumi cuts in. "I don't even know who Homer is. Actually, no one knows who Homer is."

            "...What’s that mean?"

            "The problem with all these epics is that they're so old no one even knows who the hell actually wrote them or where the hell they actually came from anymore. Was Homer a bard who ran around singing epics for money and fun? Was Homer a bunch of poets coming up with stories off the top of their heads at a symposium? Was Homer an entire country that wanted to decide on an origin story once and for all? And did Homer even exist to begin with? In reality, there's a huge possibility that Homer's epics have been edited a handful of times by different people from different times. And remember, this was ancient, a point in history when they'd just started actually writing stuff down, and by then the story's already been no less than a hundred years old..."

            Shion didn't seem to notice when exactly his gaze drifted away from the books, to fix itself on Nezumi's figure: his untied hair, his steady back, the fingers poised gracefully to hold his book to the wall. All Shion knew was that he was hanging on to every one of Nezumi's words with wonder. See, when Nezumi spoke, nothing else in this room mattered to Shion except him.

            When Nezumi's trailed off for a moment, a thought— several thoughts— wedge themselves in the back of Shion's mind. As he processes the cognitive overload from ideas he's never once imagined in his life, especially having never been exposed to the topic at hand, heavily discouraged from pursuing the arts and humanities in No.6, he's led to a related feeling: annoyance...? or something akin to it.

            Any memory Shion has of anyone talking this much was of the students in his grade of elites— err, the one he was kicked out off for 'poor decision-making skills.' The kids in that class always talked about their own specialties like they knew it all.

            And with No.6's education system, really, it wasn't unlikely that they did know it all. But more than that, they talked like they were the only ones that mattered. Of course they would feel that way as citizens born into a special status that promised them lofty quarters to rest and relax in, endless electronic resources for elaborate self-study, and overall sophisticated houses that fit their lifestyle perfectly. This education, providing for the maximum ideal conditions for growth and development, ensured that students will know it all.

            Shion recollects that even Safu found ways to fit her specific neuroscientific register and vocabulary in everyday conversations. But to him she was never annoying, he never felt spoken over. She was slightly, slightly awkward, a little rough around the edges towards those who made fun of the way she dressed, and she didn't know how to pause for breath when she lectured Shion on hormones and their consequent bodily reactions— but she only ever sounded passionate, never like a know-it-all; she didn't speak just to gloat about how much she knew or boast her special status as the high-class citizen she was.

            Additionally, Safu was actually talented. Shion has been turning it over in his head for a while now since the time he was evicted from Chronos, because it hadn't felt all that different: had he actually been talented himself or did he just luck out getting top scores in his early assessment? Developmental cognitive studies is as far from his own ecology major as emergency medical procedures, but if he were able to perform an impromptu suture-surgery on a bullet wound by memory of one video at age 12, he guessed there was a high chance that he wouldn't be wrong to assume that an aptitude exam taken at age 2 could hardly be reliable especially the older a subject gets.

            In the least, even if Shion weren't talented— and by no means does he have any misgivings coming to terms with this— he was never at risk of flunking out from the special course. Maintaining grades in the special classes wasn't exactly easy, and he saw a handful of other classmates leave for unsatisfactory performance, but if he focused enough it was a breeze. Still not as talented as Safu, though. And besides, he flunked out of the special course regardless, just for his own reasons.

            As he helped his mother pack up their things from Chronos to prepare for the tedious move to Lost Town, Nezumi's words made carved deeper impressions in Shion's mind and gave his feelings a tact that helped him realize how out of place he'd felt all along at the very top with the smartest kids in his grade. His plain, humble times with Karan at Lost Town didn't make him feel any less dignified or any less real.

            And even as he jumped out of the Security Bureau's remote-controlled car and tossed his official citizen ID to keep moving, keep running (and swimming) to find himself here in an underground library vault in West Block, Nezumi's words materialized and Shion could finally fully grasp them:

            'Petri dish elites' was on-point, is exactly what they are, what Shion used to be— brought up and pampered in artificially perfect environments to be reared and controlled exactly as they should.

            But in Lost Town and West Block alike, especially here in this room— in a place that experiences the real impacts of fickle weather and he has to either turn the heater up or scoot closer to Nezumi to make it through the night without his teeth chattering the entire time, in a place where he's free to pursue any book he wants to read on any topic, whether scientific or literary (but mostly literary) and learn about heroes and dramas and tragedies— a place he can call his starting point, Shion realized that human beings needed much less than the luxuries in Chronos and in No.6 in order to live a content life.

            With little to nothing but the clothes on his back, with Nezumi and the library and this bunk they share, Shion feels like he has everything he could ever need.

            Shion wonders how Safu would react if he said that to her.

            It's because I left No.6... He comes up with the words in his mind, as if addressing them to Safu, that I discovered what kind of person he really is, the very reason I didn't get to push through with the special course. That I discovered what kind of person I really am. It's not a walk in the park, but... I don't regret meeting him, or following him, or staying with him. In fact... he's just like you, in a way.

            He could almost hear Safu's voice, pretend-condescending but undeniably sweet, What are you talking about, Shion?

            Shion closes his eyes. What was he talking about?

            Safu and Nezumi may speak on relatively similar levels of enthusiasm when it came to things they're knowledgeable about— whether it's neuroscience or literature— but there's no way Safu and Nezumi are alike, not even at the base level however he cut it.

            Nezumi never spoke warmly, or cheerfully, or looked at Shion like he was the most wonderful part of his life. Nezumi's words were always cold, edged, and quite frankly he looked down on Shion more than anything.

            Shion treasures them both, though. That's about all they may ever have in common. He would do anything to keep them both in his life, protect them at any cost.

            Shion recalls vividly the sensation of Nezumi's fingers interlocked with his, and he's able to calm down the extreme anxiety that rises in his chest with every thought he gets of Safu these days.

            The only way he's able to stand his ground knowing Safu is currently in danger is by Nezumi, the faith he has in the plans they have to go save her themselves. The waiting is just part of the plan. And it's a huge part of the plan— if he breaks by utter tension now, it's all going to be for naught.

            So Shion takes a deep breath for the time being, lends himself to the soothing feeling of being here, falling for Nezumi. He's able to smile as he opens his eyes to look through the old books again, listening not to his haphazard, discomforting, annoying thoughts, but to Nezumi.

            "What I'm trying to say is, authorship for the really old stuff is quite the controversial thing. And from the start, it was a no-go for you to arrange them by year published either. I would suppose that even the greatest libraries still have no clue about everything to this day," Nezumi is explaining. "Hear me, Shion? Get what I mean?"

            "I get it," Shion hums, "somehow. And there's no appeal to having just arranged everything alphabetically, right?"

            "Right, exactly."

            "Right," Shion nods to himself, "exactly."

            "So?" Nezumi prompts again, "Where do you think you would have put the Odyssey?"

            "Well, if I knew everything I know now," Shion starts, sounding a tad bit dramatic as he gets back on his feet, stretching away the strain in his legs from bending his knees for a second too long. "I might've just put it under classics with the Iliad. How would I have known the Odyssey was a sequel?"

            "A spin-off, technically— but fair enough. I don't think there was any way you could've known better before anyhow."

            "Yup," Shion concedes, casually, unafraid to admit he didn't know; he likes to believe that he's entirely past the shame of knowing less than he ought to when it comes to things like this. "Even now, I still hardly know anything about literature. Can you cut me some slack?"

            Nezumi shrugs his shoulders. He folds the page he's been stuck on and sets his book down. He rolls over away from the wall, arm unconsciously falling forward to feel Shion's residual warmth on his side of the bed. He glances at the copy of the Iliad Shion's left behind before finding that Shion's disappeared into the space between the other bookcases. "Since I'm feeling generous," Nezumi simpers into the pillow, "fine."

            While it's a topic close to Nezumi's heart for various reasons, he can't fault Shion for his naivety if it's not about the hideous workings of this world or the nihilistic cruelty of reality. Tonight, there's no need for hostility; he wouldn't let Shion make excuses for anything else.

            "I will cut you some slack."

            "Thanks," Shion answers from a far corner of the library, voice muffled from being absorbed by the volume and volumes of books.

            "I gotta say though, Shion," Nezumi calls, raising his voice if only slightly to reach Shion from the bed and beyond the first shelves across the room, "You finished the Iliad in three days. I'm surprised."

            "I don't know," Shion chuckles sheepishly, voice automatically adjusting as well, "Once I was past all the language in Shakespeare, other things seemed a little easier to digest."

            "Ooh," Nezumi moves onto his back, looking up at the ceiling and picking up Shion's book instead of his own. He raises it above him, makes a show of fanning through the pages elegantly, to no one in particular, perhaps to himself. With his arms outstretched and dust catching in his shirt sleeves, he idly muses that there was always something so calming about flipping through these pages this way. His eyes fall closed in relaxation, lips curling in satisfaction. "I'm impressed. So Your Majesty truly is a fast learner."

            "Why," Shion sings, from another corner of the library, "my most trusted liege Nezumi, was that praise?"

            Nezumi's eyes shoot open at the comment, he freezes— had he really just praised Shion? His fingers are clutching at the book now, and he has to physically stop himself from using it, open and dusty, to cover his face.

            Instead, he feigns plaintiveness despite knowing Shion hadn't seen his reaction, doesn't even turn his head. He closes Shion's book carefully and puts it down beside him, shifting to sit by propping himself up on an arm.

            Shion's warmth is fading from the mattress. Nezumi feels disarmed.

            Several thoughts occupy his mind, faster than any of the words he's given up repeatedly trying to take in all evening, and they're all about Shion.

            Easily, effortlessly, expectedly, all he can think about again is Shion.

            Nezumi licks his lips, trying to decide what to quip about first, which to scoff at and make a snide remark on, to save himself from this disarmed feeling that he absolutely hates: that Shion just sang-song an obvious attempt at a comeback, that the book by his hand lay perfectly flat and even, or that these sheets, those shelves, and this shitty place will never be the same again—

            Shion, his voice, it has a specific quality: genuine-sounding and engaging, modulations mice and children alike have grown fond of listening to for a reason or another. If he just learned to project and animate that pathetic monotone Macbeth wouldn't have to roll over in his grave— that's what Nezumi used to think. But just now, Shion's response, it was sanguine, true to character: a one-liner that undoubtedly matched Nezumi's well-rehearsed effort to play with him this king-vassal ruse.

            Nezumi lets his mind wander in that direction— when did Shion learn to act so well? It was probably a fluke and nothing more, but a part of Nezumi wouldn't put it past Shion to just learn how to do it even if they'd both agreed that he wasn't cut out to play roles he's not suited for in the least. He contemplates what kind of person Shion is, and arrives to some conclusion that if there were any book on theatrics laying around here— not unlikely, by the way— Shion could just practice as soon as he knew the theory, and he could probably do it that way with technically anything.

            Along with Nezumi's mind, his hand wandered, too, seeking more of Shion's warmth before it fled the sheets completely. Finding not nearly enough anymore, his hand settles back on Shion's book, pads of his finger flipping through the corner of the pages. Nezumi's mind settles here, too.

            Shion has tons of quirks but among those that intrigued Nezumi most was how, as he read along, Shion would unfold any dog ears Nezumi's left in the book from whenever long ago he'd read it. Nezumi adored these books but that didn't keep him from vandalizing them, folding pages to mark where he left off, or underlining or encircling or boxing lines he liked to revisit, writing his own footnotes wherever there was space. Shion, though, did none of that— he would turn these pages so gently that even the dust wouldn't shuffle. He wouldn't even use a bookmark, that boy, he would only memorize which page number he was last on, then pick it up from there next time.

            If Shion had extra time, which he always seemed to have on top of meticulously washing Inukashi's rental dogs or shopping for bargains for low-tier groceries for him and Nezumi, he would sit down with his book and read, smooth out the old folds, fix up any tears with some clear tape, and remove those pencil markings while he was at it.

            'I mark those for reference, you know,' Nezumi had confronted him once, recently, when he caught him fiddling gently with a worn copy of Tristan using an eraser. 'Well, if you ever need a line for anything,' Shion returned, airily tapping his temple with his pointer finger, 'It's in here now. You can just ask me.'

            Nezumi remembers snorting to ask if he was showing off, so this is the brain of an elite, huh? But Shion only chalked it up to mental exercise, said that if he had the Correctional Facility floor plan with its numbers of steps and angles of exposure and vulnerability crammed on its own in his head, he would lose it. And besides, he's done all this since coming here to begin with, earnest in his quest to learn about Nezumi and take him in through these books. So it happened, that every book Shion touched, though visibly aged and still dust-laden, sat nearly as flat and bound to its spine as it was the day it was printed.

            Nezumi straightens his back now.

            He vaguely recounts his grandmother's words, 'Never sigh for anyone.' She also used to tell him all the time, that this chamber had everything he would ever need.

            It was only after she was gone and he'd barely managed to get back here alive that he started to learn that they were loaded words— words that seemed to mean more than they did the last time he thought of them, each time he thought of them.

            Not sighing for others meant fighting for himself and himself alone. It meant doing anything it took to keep himself alive, coming in and out of every ordeal with new ways to survive if only for another week longer, another day. Nezumi was to sink his teeth into his lip and silently prowl anywhere he can fit, steal from the unguarded but never take more than he needed.

            And on days there was absolutely nothing to take from anywhere, places even his mice couldn't loot for the barest minimum, because that's just the kind of place the West Block is, he could retreat into this room.

            This room, dark, quiet, and underground, was secure, a safe haven.

            Not sighing for others meant crying for himself and himself alone. It meant doing anything it took to keep himself sane, and Nezumi, half-delirious from hunger and a fever, would reflect and realize that they were true, his grandmother's words: this place really did have everything he needed.

            Here, he could pick a book, a story, a line to lose himself in, keep starvation at bay by occupying himself with all kinds of tales told on paper. Here, he could practice sighing and soughing, for those characters and their tragedies, but never still for anything or anyone else. Here, he would learn about the simplistic tendencies of the human, their sensibilities, their desires; Nezumi was to smirk and whisper, grant the weak-willed's wishes with choreographed sweet nothings.

            And here, he would learn that which was his sure salvation from cold, hard poverty— Nezumi was to learn how to sing. How to let lyrics flow from his mouth and ride the wind that steals away suffering souls, and how to let scripts live through him to thieve the hearts of other humans by enchantment.

            Nezumi was to never sigh again.

            The thought came over him as he caught himself sitting motionless with baited breath— he was about to sigh again. He's lost count of how many times he's sighed in the last few months, lost count of how many times he's fought and cried but never just for himself or these stories.

            Nezumi can't even remember the last book he finished. He had an extensive, unorganized reading list, and on his off-days from the playhouse he would lay in bed the entire time and bury himself in his mountains of books to read to his mice.

            But now, distracting him from ever finishing another book, someone has stolen his attention— someone who took this place over by reading to the mice, organizing all the bookcases, making this bed every morning, keeping him warm.

            Shion has been like the sun, full of light and life and warmth, and when Nezumi is with him he feels real, and alive— Living people sure are warm.

            When they conversed, even when Nezumi had little to no idea where on earth Shion got what he's saying or how the hell he has the guts to be saying them at all— naive ideals, bare confessions, words of irrefutable hope and love— Nezumi felt real, and alive, so alive, that for the first time in his life he had more than himself and fiction to cling to.

            Whether harsh debates or playful banter, it was accompanied by stale and moldy bread, meat a day away from rotting, water heated in an old kettle— and Macbeth soup, on relatively better days, like either of their paydays from giving dogs baths and putting on shows in the theater— and they've never quite felt like luxuries before, just the bare requirement not to starve to death or completely go insane. But that he had Shion's company over shamefully cheap dinner made him ignore orders from his grandmother never to sigh, and instead Nezumi would agree with her other words, with all his hesitant heart, that this chamber—

            —these sheets, those shelves, this shitty place—

          �� (—and those ignorant, innocent words, and that light that stubbornly, incessantly shone through— and Shion—)

            —is all Nezumi would ever need.

            And while during these days Nezumi experienced several episodes of emotional unrest, somehow he couldn't help thinking that these have been the most peaceful days of his life. Even if there were less air to breathe in this cramped vault, less room to move on this single-size bed, less surface area of this cheap blanket to put over his scrawny body, there was also less fuel and tinder used up to keep the kerosene heater lit, less nightmares or sleepless nights to be had, and less cold mornings to wake up to.

            Life like this is comfortable.

            That Shion would come back and slip under these sheets after fiddling and twiddling around those shelves to retire with him in this room— as has become routine— is comforting to Nezumi. Life like this, with Shion,  is all Nezumi would ever need.

            But the warmth that spreads through Nezumi's chest at the thought freezes over instantaneously, unnaturally; it becomes a sharp sensation stabbing at his lungs and his heart— these peaceful, comfortable days can't last.

            These sheets, those shelves, and this shitty place—

            —and Shion—

            Nezumi suddenly feels uncertain if he's willing to wager all of this; it's the same feeling he got when he decided by himself to gather information how-many monthly paychecks' worth to get as far as he can without involving Shion and his reckless tendencies, the same feeling of grudge against salty tears forcing their way out of his eyes after clueless, inexperienced lips touched his for the very first time only to kiss him farewell, the same feeling when he held the trembling hand that struck his cheek and he had to swallow any doubts he had and keep them down, for his own sake and Shion's.

            The Manhunt is going to happen soon, so soon Nezumi can feel it in his bones, and however much he wishes to deny that these past few day have felt like he was desperately living out the remainder of this peaceful, comfortable life, it doesn't matter. The reality of the situation is that this waiting it out is part of a plan.

            Nezumi had come up with this plan— a plan with a chance at success so low that this risk shouldn't even be worth considering, even if they've maxed every factor on their side— but he had to continue keeping those doubts down, believe in his own plan, promise they would make things work out, to preserve Shion's sanity, keep his spirit alive, protect his smile.

            Now isn't the time to waver.

            Now isn't the time to waver, Nezumi knows, but even at present, on a nice, friendly night, he's beginning to yearn for these sheets, those shelves, this shitty place, and Shion—

            "Sorry, it's not a tragedy this time. But did you hear that? Nezumi praised me."

            It's hearing this gentle exchange that jolts Nezumi right out of his thoughts and back to reality; he's so startled by Hamlet's chirp and shuffling and Shion's voice that his heart feels like it's on the verge of bursting.

            His hand comes up automatically to soothe his chest but when he sees Shion approaching with a copy of the Odyssey clasped tightly in his fingers, a victorious grin on his face, and the flickering orange tint of the heater in his translucent hair, Nezumi slides his hand further upward to hold his nape in an attempt at nonchalance, poorer than before all of these thoughts.

            Shion glances at him and in his ears Nezumi can hear his heart drumming loudly and erratically to the sensation of his chest tightening, clenching, wrenching— unsoothed, because his palm has gone elsewhere, covering his vitals to make up for the fact that he'd been so disarmed he's left himself exposed again. He could swear Shion must have seen right through him.

            But Shion is only cheerfully treading back towards the bed, and when he's seated on the edge of the mattress toeing off Nezumi's slippers, happily and jokingly mumbling "Even Hamlet couldn't believe that you were praising me," the fickle warmth within Nezumi's chest, or the loss of it, puts the thorns back in his next words:

            "—Praise?" Nezumi just might have; following all the sentiment off the top of his mind just now up to this point, it felt safe to say that tonight was one of those nights that he, full from Macbeth soup, felt gracious enough to take the thorns out of his words to give Shion a real compliment. But when he thought about how this night could probably be their last together, even Nezumi can't fight the bitterness that makes him make haste of taking the praise back: "As if." He means to glare at Shion and his profile, but when he sees Shion turning to him he just rolls his eyes and they land on the flat, dusty copy of the Iliad by his hands. "You're just as good as Paris."

            Shion is blindly pushing the slippers with his heels, fixing them in an orderly fashion against the edge of the bed next to his own shoes. He tilts his head, unfamiliar with the look he caught in Nezumi's gaze before he broke eye contact to click his tongue.

            Shion revisits the words in his short-term memory, unsure of what to make of what Nezumi's just said. But, the tone of his comment was low like his usual scoffs, and the way Nezumi is averting his eyes makes Shion guess the words were meant to offend him, provoke him— yet he finds himself calm and unfazed, neither by Nezumi's words nor by his demeanor.

            It would be a grave insult to Nezumi and his praise, whether he meant it or not, if Shion hasn't learned by now how to react, if he hasn't realized that Nezumi's words are never empty. And if he didn't understand them, Shion didn't have to pry or demand or throw some kind of tantrum— he just had to figure it out on his own. He's used to it.

            Shion's learned as much in this room as Nezumi has. Perhaps even more.

            Less a serious response to what Nezumi said than an offhand answer, he tilts his head, and speaks up amidst the strange tension hanging in the air, "Then you must be Helen?"

            "The face that launched a thousand ships?" The delay in Shion's reply allowed Nezumi to regain his composure, and he's able to bring his hand away from his nape and to his chest, no longer aching, only the tips of his fingers touching the cloth of his shirt in a mock-timid gesture. He even manages a smile, sensual and pretty. "What a great compliment. That's so generous of you to say, your Majesty—"

            "You know it, Nezumi," Shion interjects, eyes lowering for a moment to imagine touching those sensual lips with his, fleetingly, before looking right at Nezumi, "You could easily be the most beautiful—"

            "Shion." Nezumi says this in a tone that warns Shion not to finish that sentence, not to finish that thought. This smile, one he reserved for seduction, worked to derail Shion, but all too well. It's no secret that Nezumi is attractive and that Shion is attracted to him, but if this carries on, Nezumi's not sure he can stay composed. His smile fades along with any emotion in his face and he continues, "Calling you as good as Paris wasn't a compliment."

            Shion gets it. Nezumi doesn't want to hear it. He drops the need to tell Nezumi he's beautiful altogether, despite believing it to be the honest truth. He settles for a noncommittal reply instead, throwing in a shrug. "Didn't think much of it, so it's fine—"

            "I'm telling you to think about it now, Shion." Nezumi picks up the book and hands it to him, lifting his facade to explain, "Paris could get the power to rule over a huge chunk of the world or the intelligence to fight and conquer any other place he wanted— but he chose a girl."

            Shion takes the book and looks to the shelves, deciding by the cold floor and the slippers tucked under the bed that he'll put it back tomorrow. He tosses it gently to the bottom of the bed before pursing his lips as he looks Nezumi over again. "You... You're so cynical."

            Nezumi snorts, "Great, what else is new—?"

            "Paris didn't choose a girl over power and intelligence," Shion continues without missing a beat. "Simply put, wasn't he just not interested in what Athena and Hera had to offer? Aphrodite, on the other hand, didn't promise just a girl—"

            "—the heck are you saying—"

            "—Aphrodite promised him the love of the most beautiful mortal in the world."

            Nezumi's eyebrows draw together and he finds himself scowling, "What did you say?"

            "Paris chose love," Shion repeats, sounding like he had all the confidence in the world to be concluding such a cheesy speech. "Over power or intelligence, Paris chose love—"

            "—And ended up waging war on all of Greece? Over such a pointless thing?" Nezumi could say a thousand things about how rotten and obsolete some values portrayed in literature are, especially in the classics, but he only scoffs: "Pretty dumb if you ask me—"

            "It's not dumb—!" Shion starts to retort, but Nezumi snides,

            "It is!"

            Literature held tens and thousands of stories about humans making dumb decisions, and what good was literature if one didn't look past the entertainment it brought to learn from it? Especially in Nezumi's experience, from being smoked out like a literal rat out of his first home by greed-ridden intelligence and merciless power, to having to live in a literal dumpsite where people struggle everyday to make ends meet— Nezumi knew that it was human nature to just take and take and take, graciously receive anything offered to them that would benefit themselves, or seize that which isn't theirs by force if they were rapacious enough— at the very least No.6 was a prime example of this.

            And then it hits Nezumi, the realization— it's right in front of him. In front of him is Shion, candid, altruistic, simple-minded Shion, who's barely made a dent in learning about the true, hideous nature of No.6— but for sure, for sure, Shion knows that if he had stayed on the other side of the wall, no, if he had never opened that window and taken Nezumi in, he would be well on his way to becoming the elite he was destined to be, apathetic and oblivious and uncaring but ultimately well-off, sleeping in a luxurious bed complete with plush pillows and duvets, reading and writing theses on ecology as his expertise without having to even lift a finger, and living in a completely technologically equipped mansion designed to give him the best life.

            Despite all of that, Shion is right here, in front of him. On these thin, dirty, secondhand sheets, among those dusty, dilapidated, old-fashioned shelves, in this shoddy, dingy excuse of a room. Shion is right here because of him, because Shion was drawn— mind, body, and soul— to Nezumi.

            "Sounds familiar, doesn't it? Someone who had immense power and intelligence for the taking..." The words steadily come forth from Nezumi's mouth lacking bite or any trace of derision. He just sounds like what he's stating is matter-of-fact, "...but he chose to run after love."

            "Ah." Shion understands this fully well.

            He always thinks about the what-if's of having never met Nezumi— when he can't sleep after Nezumi kicks him out of bed or hogs the blanket, when he zones out trying to pick something new to read from hundreds of choices without Nezumi's explicit review and recommendation, or when he's watching the kettle to keep the water warm while he waits for Nezumi to come home. This train of thought always goes through No.6 and living his successful and sheltered and boring life— but it eventually finds its way back to the West Block, living his inconvenient, danger-filled, heart-stopping life with Nezumi.

            "So that's what you meant..."

            "...That's how it is, isn't it." Nezumi lays back down, hair sprawling all over their pillow.

            "Yeah." Shion feels like this should have hurt, like it always does when he has to question everything he ever thought he knew— But there's no questioning here, only a feeling in his core that he can't name, something reassuring.

            Shion feels like Nezumi had finally acknowledged his feelings: yes, like Paris, Shion was ready to wage war against all of No.6, because over intelligence and power in that artificial paradise, that greedy parasite, Shion felt real and alive here, too. Shion had chosen these sheets, those shelves, and this shitty place; Shion had chosen Nezumi, and he had chosen love.

            Oddly fully satisfied by what's just transpired, Shion takes a deep breath that thins out into a smile as he lays back down beside Nezumi, not before Nezumi can grab his own, unread book out of the way. "Well, sorry. I guess I'm just not as cynical as you. It can't be helped. Besides, at least for me, I know it'll all be worth it in the end."

            Can it really not be helped? Nezumi could hear the self-assured smile in Shion's voice, and his first instinct is to attack him for saying such a naive thing— Shion doesn't know enough, he hasn't seen enough, hasn't read enough of this world to be saying he isn't a cynic. He doesn't have enough an idea of what's going to happen from here on out to be saying it was all worth it. In what end?

            If the manhunt really happened tomorrow... would you still be able to smile and say that? Shion?

            But Nezumi only returns to his earlier position when Shion had gone off to look for the Odyssey right after finishing the Iliad, facing the wall. He unconsciously sighs at the relief— Shion's warmth is reaching him again.

            He thinks to tell Shion not to start another book when he hears him open to the first page of the Odyssey. If the Manhunt really happened tomorrow, he might never be able to come back to it.

            Nezumi opens his book. The lines still don't register. He might never be able to come back to it, either. He wills himself not to think of it. He wills himself to say nothing more.

            Tomorrow, Nezumi is going to have hogged the sheets again but Shion will make the bed nevertheless. Nezumi is going to ask about another title to try to read and Shion will guide him through the shelves using his mental catalog. They'll take turns reading their books to the mice, maybe dance again in this room before going out.

            They won't know that it will be the last of these sheets, those shelves, and this shitty place that they'll ever see.

[fandom-necromancer]

I would love you

This was prompted by the wonderful @smolandangry001! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Chloe/Tina

‘Hello? How may I help you?’ Chloe looked at the woman sitting in front of her. The lobby of the DPD was filled with people and she wasn’t really used to being around so many persons after spending nearly her whole life with Kamski in labs and on stages. It helped that the person she was speaking to was an android, a ST300. ‘Hello, my name is Chloe. Elijah Kamski send me in his place to speak with one of your officers in the Rosedale case.’ ‘Oh, I see! I’ll contact Officer Chen, she is on that case since Officer Miller is on vacation at the moment. She is in the gym at the moment, just go inside and I’ll let her know you are there.’ ‘Kamski doesn’t have the time to spare me for too long. I know where the gym is, can I go meet Officer Chen there?’ ‘Sure. Thank you for your cooperation, Chloe.’

Chloe was happy to get into the bullpen and out of the lobby. Sure, there were people too and she wasn’t really supposed to be there, but she had an excuse and the calm working atmosphere helped her find her grip again. She walked down the hallway, looking more confident than she really was to ward off any lingering eyes. She went to the back past the breakroom and the interrogation rooms until she came to a small stairway. She stepped down to the basement and was confronted with a locker room. She scanned the room for Officer Chen but couldn’t find her and continued walking to the next room.

It was an open hall with several weightlifting equipment, treadmills and exercise machines. But what captured Chloe’s attention was a boxing bag in the far back, more specifically the person hitting it. Chloe could only see her back, but that was enough to captivate her: She was very muscular, her shoulder and upper back muscles tensing and unleashing her strength with her every blow. The line of her spine contrasted neatly with the defined rest. The hair of her short ponytail swung back and forth and didn’t quite stick to the sweat she was building up. She wore only a sports bra and yoga pants and Chloe blushed hard as her eyes wandered deeper down to her legs. She listened to her fists colliding with the bag over and over again, until her programming reminded her, she had to make herself known and give her statement. Kamski needed her back home as soon as possible and she shouldn’t waste time staring at a beautiful lady’s back. But how could that be wasted time?

But she had to obey her programming and cleared her throat to get the Officer’s attention. ‘Err… Officer Chen?’ The woman flinched and turned around, before she walked over to a shelf and took a towel. She was saying something, but Chloe had a hard time understanding it as her programming was trying to patch up all the software instabilities. Her face was so… beautiful… ‘Hey, everything alright?’, Officer Chen asked, stepping closer. Apparently, Chloe’s LED had spun red and the woman tried to calm her down. But her soft smile made things even worse, with her programming reminding her of her mission. ‘Y-yes!’, she stammered. ‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your last sentence?’ ‘That’s okay. I just asked if you are the android of Mr. Kamski?’ ‘Yes. My name is Chloe and… He sent me here to give a statement.’ ‘Perfect! I’m Tina’, she smiled and Chloe felt like she was melting. ‘I’ll just clean myself up a bit and get a shirt, then we can talk.’

Chloe had wanted to say no to that, but her programming as well as common decency didn’t allow it. But covering up that… body- It was a crime in itself in her opinion. The woman emerged from the showers a little more than twenty minutes later and they walked back up to the bullpen to discuss her case. Chloe gave her statement, having calmed down enough not to go blind and deaf whenever she smiled at her. ‘Alright, thank you very much!’, Tina nodded after she had told her everything she needed to know. ‘That will help us greatly.’ She stood up and held out her hand for Chloe to shake. The android stood up too and took the hand, hesitating afterwards. She should just go back home, everything told her to and the red walls pressed down barring her from what she wanted to do.

But if she stepped away now and got back to Kamski, her chances of ever seeing her again were near zero. She swallowed, then pushed against it. She had to take this, and she had to take it now. The walls shattered around her hands and without any further thought she blurted out: ‘Would you like to drink a coffee later?’ Tina looked at her in surprise and on top of Chloe’s stress from deviation her heart sank. But when her face softened into a small laugh and she nodded, it was heaven for her. ‘Sure’, Tina chuckled. ‘That the reason you “missed my last sentence”?’ Chloe blushed a deep blue and looked away. ‘It might be…’, she admitted. ‘You look very… beautiful.’ ‘Looking fine yourself’, the Officer laughed and elbowed her in the side. ‘My shift ends at four, how about we meet at the coffee shop around the corner? Let’s say at six?’ ‘I would love you- to! I would love to! Damnit, Chloe!’ Tina laughed loudly at that and squeezed her shoulder. ‘Then I’ll see you at six!’

[ben243s-transformation-stories]

Be Careful What You Buy on the Internet

My name is Sam, and I am a dog. A yellow lab to be exact. I haven't always been this way. When I got up this morning, I was human. My boyfriend Kevin invited me over to his house to see this new charm he had ordered over the Internet. It came with instructions on how to turn a person into an animal; I figured it would never work, so I let him try it. Big mistake. Now he can't seem to figure out how to turn me back. Kevin was always ordering weird things from the Internet, and wanting me to help him try them out. When he called this Morning, I figured it might be fun to see what he had gotten this time since I was bored and had nothing better to do. I threw on some clothes and walked the block or so to his house. Kevin was waiting for me with a gleam in his eye. "Wait until you see what I got this time" he said. I grinned and shook my head. "Can't wait" I replied, only a little sarcastically. He led me into his living room, and showed me a beautifully carved charm, about the size of a half dollar. It looked surprisingly authentic. "It is the Canis charm from the lost culture of Dogistan, or something" Kevin tried to explain. I half tuned him out because each “relic” he purchased was sillier than the last., "uh huh, so what's it do?" I asked. Kevin looked at me as if I had just rained on his parade. With a serious expression on his face, he said, " it lets me turn anyone I want into any type of dog I want." I looked at him as if he were crazy. " What do you think this is, some type of fantasy story? There's no such thing as transformations. People can't become animals." I think I hurt his feelings because he looked a little deflated. It only lasted for a moment though. " Oh ye of little faith. This is the real deal. " He finally replied. "Okay then, let's see what the charm of yours will do." I said as he led me into his living room. I stood in the center of the room, while Kevin fumbled with the instructions that had come with the package. He held the charm over his head, and read some words that sounded like gibberish to me. When nothing happened, Kevin looked dejected, and started to lower his arm. "Sorry man, I thought...." He started to say just as the dog on the charm lit up, and a red beam of light hit me squarely on the chest and knocked me into the wall. It must have knocked the wind out of me because I passed out for a minute. When I came to, Kevin was standing over me worried, asking, "My God, are you alright?" I tried to answer but couldn't get the words out. After a few seconds I felt more normal and tried to stand up. I made it to my feet, but I could tell something was wrong. My entire body felt funny, almost numb. That kind of feeling you get when your foot falls asleep. I looked down at myself and saw a huge hole in my shirt with singed edges. Man, I really liked that shirt. Without thinking I ripped the shirt off to make sure my chest didn’t have a similar hole in it. Lucky everything looked okay, but I sure wasn’t feeling the same way. As the tingling intensified, I found my clothing becoming more and more uncomfortable against my skin. Without thinking I kicked off my shoes and socks, and pants tossing them aside. I hesitated some when I started to take of my boxer briefs, but it what ever was going on definitely wanted me naked as the itching and tingling picked that moment to spike. I couldn’t take the feeling any longer and practically tore my underwear from body. I was now totally naked in my friend’s living room, but at least the tingling had subsided for now. The relief only lasted for a few seconds as a new wave quickly overcame me. I looked at my body in horror as hair started growing out all over my body. I soon felt cramps in my hands and feet, and was afraid to look at them. After a few moments, I built up enough courage to look at my hands, and saw that they now resembled paws. The hair continued to grow, and was fully covering my body. Once my paws were completely formed, something forced me down onto all fours. My arms and legs went through what looked like painful changes, and I was glad that I was basically numb. My mind was having trouble with what was going on. Clearly I was changing into an animal, but that wasn’t possible. I must be hallucinating I tried to rationalize. Soon I was standing on four equal length legs. I felt a pressure at the base of my spine, and looked around just in time to see what could only be a tail burst forth. It quickly reached its full length and was covered in a coat of blond fur. If not for the calming and numbing effects I was experiencing I surly would have passed out or started to panic. As it was I couldn’t help but watch with a certain terrified fascination. Before I could fully take in my previous changes, I could feel my face starting to push out. My nose turned black and flattened out, and my ears started moving and getting longer. Soon I had a full muzzle and my head had changed shape to that of the dog I was becoming. It wasn’t long before a few final changes happened in the shape of my body to support my new for legged stance, and the hair finished growing in to give me a complete coat of fur. The tingling started to subside, and exhausted I collapsed to the floor. It felt like the transformation had taken ages, but I could tell from the fact that Kevin had hardly moved it had only taken seconds. Kevin rushed to my side, and was clearly scared. He was hesitant to touch me, and kept apologizing. “Don’t worry, I’ll find some way to turn you back.” He tried to reassure me. Kevin rushed off to find the directions and find a way to reverse the process. All I could do for the next half hour was lie on my side and rest. When Kevin didn’t come back right away, I decided to try and find him. After a few tries, I finally managed to pull myself up onto my feet, err paws, and go looking. As I passed a mirror in the hall, I couldn’t help but stare. Gone were all semblances of my human self, and in their place was a dog. I watched in fascination as the dog in the mirror mimicked my movements, not quite letting myself believe that this was really happening. Kevin’s cursing drew me out of my tunnel vision, and brought me back to reality. I trotted over to him, and tried to ask what was wrong, but all that came out were barks. Some how he still managed to get my meaning, and told me, “ I’m sorry, I didn’t really expect this to work, so I only got the base version. The reversal directions were extra. There is a warning that if the spell is not reversed within 72 hours It will become permanent. I’m so sorry”. With that he broke down crying. I tried to reassure him, but wasn’t quite sure how. Kevin finally pulled himself together, and tried to call the customer service number printed on the instructions. All he got was a phone tree that had options for shipping or reordering, but nothing specific about the products themselves, and no way to actually talk to a live person. Frustrated he hung up, and went through his bookmarks looking for the web site he had ordered from. Finding the link he was sure was the one, he clicked on it and waited as the page reloaded. We both stared at the screen and were greeted with a notice that the site was down for maintenance, and wouldn’t be available until Monday afternoon. As it was Friday morning, that was too long to wait. We looked at each other not sure what to do next. I wasn’t much help as I couldn’t communicate my thoughts well, and I was still trying to get used to my new body. I wasn’t sure what Kevin was feeling, but I could tell he wasn’t taking this well. He spent the next several hours trying to search for help on the web, but wasn’t coming up with anything useful. I was left alone to wonder the house, and as I did so I could feel the pull of the animal instincts. I could easily resist them now, but somehow I could tell that they would be come stronger and stronger. I knew that by the time the 3 days had passed the dogs mind will have completely taken over and I would become nothing more than a normal dog. I found that thought to be very unsettling and set my mind to finding some way out of this predicament. After searching for hours, Kevin was clearly getting burned out. I finally took his hand lightly in my mouth and pulled him away from the computer. “Good Idea Sam. Lets Go for a walk and clear out heads.” Kevin got up and pulled on his jacket, and I followed after him. It was early fall, and the air was crisp and cool, and it was an odd sensation against my skin. My fur coat kept me plenty warm. I was worried however, because I didn’t have a collar or leash. All the time we walked, I kept a careful eye out for authority figures that might hassle us. I couldn’t afford to spend the weekend in the pound. The walk felt good, and helped me to get used to my new form. I tried to think of solutions to get me back to normal, but it was hard as I kept getting distracted by squirrels and smells other dogs had left behind. It took a lot out of me to keep from letting the animal in me take over. It pushed as hard as it could, but I was able to hold it at bay for now. After the walk, Kevin commented that he needed to use the bathroom, and I realized I did too. As we got back to his house, he led me to his back yard and locked me in. At first I was a little put out, but I quickly realized that I couldn’t use the toilet anymore, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted anyone to watch me relieve myself. Fortunately the neighbors couldn’t see much, and even if they could, I doubt they would have paid much attention. All they would see was a dumb dog doing its business. I found the traditional leg lift position to be the most effective, and quickly did what I needed to do. Once I was done, Kevin popped his head out the window and told me he was going out to get something for lunch. Just hearing the word made my stomach rumble. I hoped he wouldn’t take too long. While he was gone, I decided to explore the yard. I had a great time sniffing everything and barking at the occasional squirrel that got too close. The new scents my nose could pick up were amazing. I could also hear all kinds of new sounds I didn’t even know existed. I started to think being a dog wouldn’t be so bad. Realizing what I was thinking I shook my head, and tried to push that thought as far away as I could. After what seemed like an eternity Kevin returned. He was carrying several bags when he came around to let me back in. I could smell the food. It was wonderful. Probably the best thing I had ever smelled. Kevin set the bags down on the table, and said “Let’s take care of a few things before we eat”. I looked at him quizzically, as he pulled out a bag from the local pet store. He drew out a blue collar with a tag that he had engraved with my name and his contact information on the back. He fastened the collar around my neck. I wasn’t sure I liked where this was going. I didn’t want him to start treating me like a pet, but I knew the collar would circumvent a lot of potential problems. He also pulled out a matching leash, some toys and a couple of bowls. I hadn’t thought about eating, but knew that I wouldn’t be able to sit at the table. Kevin rinsed out the bowls, and filled one with water, and placed my lunch in the other. After he set them down in front of me, I took a tentative lap at the water, and after a few tries got the hang of drinking from the bowl. The smell of the burger was almost too much to resist. Without realizing it, I practically wolfed it down, sending crumbs and bits of condiments everywhere. Kevin got a laugh out of that as he ate his burger in a more traditional manner. I found myself sitting in front of him staring at his food with a sad look on my face until he couldn’t take it anymore and gave me the rest of his burger. I was quite pleased with myself, and ate it as quickly as I could. Kevin cleaned up and threw the trash out, and we went back to the living room. Once we were there, he pulled out one last package. He pulled out a scrabble set, and opened it up, pouring the letters onto the floor. “You can use these to spell out words and we can communicate.” He said. I had to admit that was a pretty smart idea. We also decided that one bark for yes and two for no would be easiest for simple questions. The rest of the afternoon proved just a fruitless as the morning, and we were no closer to finding a way to reverse the spell than when we started. It was starting to look hopeless. I would be trapped as a dog forever. Kevin got up and went outside. I followed after him, and we found our self in the back yard. Kevin picked up a stick, and idly threw it. I know he was just trying to let off a little steam, but I couldn’t help myself from chasing after it and bringing it back. I think it surprised Kevin, but he took it from me and threw it again. We played this way for almost an hour. I think he was really getting into the idea of having a dog, and I could feel more and more of myself slipping away the longer we played, but I just couldn’t resist. By the time we went back inside, I was having a hard time coming back to my human ways of thinking. I would have to be careful or I would lose myself all together. Kevin made dinner, and it was some of the best food I had ever had. Everything tasted so much better as a dog, and I finished my meal in under a minute. After I was done eating, Kevin let me out to do my business while he finished and cleaned up the dishes. Before we went to bed, we chatted for a while, or as best as I could trying to spell out everything. I let Kevin know that I didn’t blame him for what happened. I know he was taking it hard and didn’t want to totally destroy him. He told me again how sorry he was, and thanked me for forgiving him, and we headed off to bed. As we slept, I started to dream about events from my childhood. Only this time, they were from the point of view of a puppy. I could feel my mind changing as I slept, and large chunks of my past were changing into the memories of a dog. I dreamt about Kevin adopting me as a puppy, and all the good times we had playing fetch and other typical dog games. When I awoke the next morning, it took me a moment to realize where I was. I could smell the food Kevin was cooking in the kitchen, and made my way there. It was almost ready, and he greeted me with a  “Hello boy!”. I wagged my tail and gave him a big lick. I was disgusted with myself, but couldn’t resist. Kevin happily scooped some food into my bowls and I happily ate it all and licked the bowl clean. Kevin tried to talk to me after breakfast, and I had to work hard to understand what he was saying. My thoughts kept becoming scattered and it was harder to concentrate on what he was saying. Most of the memories of my schooling and childhood had become those of a dog, making it harder for me to remember how to spell words and communicate my feelings. As the day went on it became harder and harder and the words woof and bark appeared more and more frequently in my sentences. I wasn’t sure how much longer I would be able to form any coherent sentences. I was starting to get scared. Luckily Kevin had found some leads and we decided to follow them up. Kevin hooked the leash to my collar, and it felt weird and right at the same time. The dog instincts were definitely slipping farther and farther into my mind, strongly effecting how I was behaving. As we walked down to the address Kevin had found, I noticed that unless I concentrated on it, I would feel myself drifting away, and letting myself think and act as a dog would. It felt so good and natural and was harder and harder to come back from each time. I could tell that time was running out. Even If I could become human again, I wasn’t sure how much of my original self would remain. The address was in the seedier part of town, and was hard to find through all the dilapidated buildings. Neither Kevin nor I felt safe on the streets, but we knew we had to press forward. Eventually we came to a building that looked like it had been bombed out years ago. The numbers matched, so we carefully made our way inside. We walked carefully through the building until we found the right suite number. I held my breath as we pushed the door open, hoping to find what we needed inside. The room was dark, and Kevin shined his flashlight over the interior. I felt a feeling not unlike a punch in the gut. The place had been ransacked years ago. The window had been broken open, and the elements had come through. Everything was water damage, and I could smell the presence of mice and rats that had been chewing on things. We spent hours trying to sift through the debris trying to find anything that could help us. Either the cure, or someone we could contact, or another place to look. We found a few things that looked promising, but most of them were too badly damaged to easily make any use of. We stuffed what we could into Kevin’s backpack, and got out of the building before it collapsed on us. The walk home was uneventful, and the prospect of finding a way to reverse this spell kept me grounded and helped me resist the lure of giving in to the dog. Kevin grabbed us some lunch on the way, which we ate quickly, and we moved into the living room to sift through what we brought home. There were some artifacts like the charm Kevin had used on me, but they were all different and broken in some way. None of them seemed even remotely useful. We placed them to the side and focused on the documents. Most of them were invoices and such, but there were a good number of more promising ones. As we sifted through them, I found it more and more difficult to read what they said, and not just because they were damaged. I could feel my knowledge of the words slipping from my mind. Before long they were almost unintelligible to me. I tried to let Kevin know the problems I was having, but it was difficult to get the ideas out. I think he finally understood, and I was relegated to watching while he tried to make sense of the documents. It was late in the evening after we had gone through the stacks, and gotten nowhere. Some of them might have had the information we needed, but it was far too damaged and degraded to make use of. Kevin let me out to take care of business while he cooked dinner. I was feeling far too depressed to put up much of a fight, and soon found myself running around the yard and playing with the toys Kevin had brought without a care in the world. I was almost having too much fun to come in when it was time for dinner. I was panting like crazy when I came in, and dashed over and drained the water bowl in seconds. I ate the food so quickly I don’t even know what it was. It could have been a bowl of dog food for all I knew. I stared at Kevin as he ate with a vacant look on my face. It was a while that he was talking to me before I was able to snap out of it and pull myself out of the dog mindset. I had given up on trying to form any complex thoughts or use the tiles to spell anything out, so I had to make do with simple barking. It wasn’t perfect, but we did manage to have a reasonably productive conversation. We formulated a plan. We had one last lead that was an antique shop that wouldn’t open until tomorrow afternoon. That was cutting it kind of close in getting what we needed, and figuring out how to use it, but we couldn’t think of another choice.  We went to bed that night exhausted from the search, and emotionally drained. Hopefully tomorrow would bring the answers we need, and there would still be enough human of me left to bring back. As I slept, I dreamt of my teenage years. As the dreams progressed, they were changing. I was now a dog in them, and many started to revolve around Kevin as if I had always been his pet. All memory of my former family drifted away, to be replaced the dog’s memories. Many of the most prominent events in my life were edited to be from a dog’s point of view, and the lesser ones just vanished all together. By the time I woke up in the morning, most of my past had been completely erased and replaced with the past of the dog I was becoming. I tried as hard as I could to remember any of my past life, but it just wouldn’t come. In some ways it was very scary to me, but that quickly passed, and I couldn’t understand what the big deal was. I was a dog, and that was the way things were supposed to be. It was easy to just relax into the simple life of a dog, but something kept nagging at the back of my mind that this wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. As I made my way to the kitchen for breakfast, I found it hard to remember the names of the things I was seeing. It felt weird to me, but my mind kept insisting that this was normal. I couldn’t miss the smell of the food, and ran straight to my bowl. I gobbled it down as fast as I could. Kevin said something to me, but I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. It was all gibberish to me. Kevin let me out to do my business, and watched me from the window. I could tell he was sad but wasn’t sure why. I found a nice tree to relieve myself against and proceeded to play with my toys. Kevin watched for a little while longer, and was clearly distressed by how much of myself I seemed to have lost. He blamed himself and tried to convince himself, without much success, that it wasn’t to late. He hoped that we could still find a way to fix this. When it was finally time to visit the antique shop, I was hanging on by a thread. I was dog far more than human now, and what was left of my human self could only retain control for a few minutes at a time at most. The store was too far to walk to, so Kevin drove. I spent most of the trip with my head out the window enjoying the wind on my face. We pulled into the parking lot, and the store looked like it was antique itself. I wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but knew we had to go through with it. Kevin pulled the door, and had to use all his strength to pull it open. He finally opened it enough for us to squeeze in, and we jumped when it slammed shut behind us. The store was massive, and we couldn’t see the other side from where we were standing. There was a checkout stand not too far from where we were, and we made our way there. There was a woman manning the checkout, and Kevin approached and explained the situation to her. She eyed him skeptically, but when he produced the charm, she made him put it away. “Wait here” she said, and disappeared somewhere in the back of the shop. Twenty or so minuets later, a strange looking man came out, and Kevin again told him our story. He looked only half interested, but something told me to trust him. He walked around us, and gave me a through examination. “Yes I think I can help you. It will be costly, and there can be no guarantees. Time is growing short and there may not be enough left to fully reverse this.” He said seriously. Kevin pulled out a wad of cash and handed it to the man. He took it and disappeared to collect the things he required. By the time he was done getting things together, it was late in the evening. We had a quick meal of Chinese while he explained what to do. He had cast a spell on the amulet so it would be able to reverse the spell, and he gave us the words to recite. It would take some time to recharge the amulet, and we hoped it would be done in time. Kevin thanked him, and we drove home to attempt the reversal. I fell asleep on the ride home, and I slept I could feel the last of my humanity being revised or erased. The memories of everything that had happened to me over the last few months became memories seen from the dog’s perspective. By the time we pulled up to Kevin’s house, there was nothing human left at all. I was now nothing more than Kevin’s Faithful pet. As Kevin led me into the house, it wasn’t long before he noticed that something was different. Putting two and two together, he knew I had lost the battle to maintain myself. He looked at the charm, but it was still dark. He wondered if he had been taken, but put that thought out of his mind, and decided to play with me until it was time. We went out to the back yard, and Kevin had fun with me despite himself. He had always wanted a pet, but had never been able find the right one. Maybe it was me. I fell asleep with my head on Kevin’s lap in the living room, and I had some of the best dreams possible. Kevin awoke suddenly due to a strange light flashing in the room. It took him a minute to wake up enough to realize that it was the charm. He quickly grabbed it and the directions, and followed them as best he could. He prayed that it wasn’t too late. I was surrounded by a bright light and could feel the tingling feeling again, but nothing happened. I looked down at my body and realized I was still a dog. “Shoot, It didn’t work” I said. It took me a moment to realize that I had actually spoken. Kevin looked shocked. I was still stuck in the body of the dog, but somehow the spell had restored my humanity. I still had all the dog memories, but my human ones were back too. I could choose which ones I wanted, and keep full control. I also seemed to gain the ability to speak again. Not quite sure how that worked with my canine mouth, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to question it. Over the next few weeks we made everything official. I moved in with Kevin, and arranged for a lawyer that would draw up the papers for him to handle my property and possessions. It was a little more expensive to find one that wouldn’t ask too many questions and wouldn’t need to actually see me, but it was worth it. Thanks to the money Kevin got from selling my things, he would be able to support us for a long time without having to worry about anything. The last part was the part I was dreading most. If I was going to stay a dog, then I would need to be licensed, and have my shots. The trip to the vet was scary, but not as bad as I feared. Kevin had me micro chipped and got all of my shots. When the vet asked if he would like to have me neutered, he pretended to consider it. I gave him my fiercest look and thought, “wait till we get home” at him. As Kevin settled up the bill, the tech gave him my new license tag, and the rabies and microchip tags, and affixed them to my collar. I kind of liked the way the jingled as I walked. It took a while, but I finally convince Kevin that I wasn’t mad at him for what he had done to me, and I really was happy. I don’t think he ever gave up looking for a way to change me back fully, but something inside me made me feel like this was the way things were supposed to be. Still, every time a truck came to deliver something Kevin had ordered, I ran and hid under the bed until I was sure it wasn’t another one of his weird toys. I didn’t want to have to go through that ever again. I still loved Kevin with all my heart, and now as his dog I had new ways to show my love for him. We grew old together, and deeper in love. I don’t think there was anyway we could have been happier together. Even if we were both Humans.