#quick sketch before i disappear again to the void

[kimeoshi]

docked tor

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Spolia (VI)

Parings: Malleus/(Light Fae) MC // Slight Rook/Vil // Trein/MC (Parental)

Summary: You wondered why you ever got accepted into NRC but never bothered to look back when the infamous black carriage whisked you away from a place you could never call home. Having been handed an opportunity of freedom, of solitude, of hope- how come you're paralyzed with fear rather than excitement? Your sunny plein air sessions and nightly walks contemplating this has attracted a certain dragon fae with an affinity for your nimble gargoyle sketches and magnificent paintings.

Notes: I hope you hurt the way I did :) sharing is caring

CW: Verbal/Physical Abuse and Neglect, dissociation, depressive state

AO3 Link Here.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 (Here) // Part 7

Masterlist

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Malleus desperately swam against the motion of the crowd to reach a hand out to you. But when he looked through your eyes, he could feel the phantom thread that he used to trace back your ghostly presence splinter when you gazed back with wild eyes, and ran from him. Ah, right. A realization he had buried deep within himself arose to the surface.

They all run eventually, he thought.

“Ooh. Malleus, look, (Name)’s painting is spreading like wildfire over Magicam.” Lilia tilted his device so Malleus could see the page filled with pictures of your paintings, along with some photos of your own face. He silently gazed back to where you had ran off to in slight concern, mingling with the utter emptiness he felt without you. Though no matter how many times he looked back at the painting and felt like he was going to be swallowed into it, he couldn’t help but to physically clutch his heart in order to prevent that. While the ringing ache he felt in his chest from your quick departure locked his feet into the ground in deep longing, he also resisted movement from the gravitational pull of your creation. For one of the first times in his life, Malleus felt like there was an unforgiving force even he could not subdue, planting his feet into the ground in still paralysis. He felt a chill in his arms and legs, despite a few moments before being ignited by your painting. When he flickered his gaze down to his clenched hands, he found frost forming at the bottom of his legs, snaking their frigid branches up and up towards his heart. He quickly returned his gaze upwards.

“Malleus.” He did not move his head, fearing that if he did not trail your ghostly presence, you would completely disappear from this world. Lilia gave a small pat on his back. “Give them time. We can check on them tomorrow before we leave, alright?”

“Malleus. Malleus. It’s time to go.” Lilia shook his shoulders a bit, his warm touch against the frost raveling itself around his body calling him back to the present. With little effort, he broke apart the ice around his legs, silently stepping towards the door.

Time. Malleus had always had plenty of it, and it was all he had in the end. But with you, it was never enough. Time, something that had always left him empty when those who filled it left, was not nearly enough to contain how tremendously you filled his heart and life. He remained frozen in that empty time, feeling the turbulent waves of time wash over him. People, age, and life seemed too fast, too unkind without you. He felt himself being weathered by it, becoming so brittle he would break apart and fall to pieces. The fragments of his heart would just fall to the spiraling void of time. But oh how he wished you were there to pick them up and embrace them all at once to make him feel whole again.

“Lilia?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think…” The question felt like a curse on his lips. “Do you think we will be able to see them before they go?”

Lilia nodded. “Of course. I’ll even have Sebek wake us all up early in the morning to ensure that.” Malleus was silent, knowing he would not need the early wake up call. He didn’t feel that he could sleep tonight. The moon was too bright, too beautiful, too far, gone too soon. It reminded him too much of you.

——————————————————

“Be here by 5 o’clock in the morning. Do not be late, otherwise I will come and get you.”

Your mother’s voice rattled in your skull, which held an ache that spread through your entire body. Maybe it was because you had crawled into your closet last night and slept in it. You had hoped you wouldn’t even be awake in this moment to know that. You wished for sleep, you wished for rest‒ you wished for peace but it never came, it never does.

Sitting your body in front of the mirror, you groomed your own hair and face until it was an acceptable form for your mother. When you were done, you stilled yourself in front of the mirror, looking far into your eyes for anything. Any scathing anger, deep remorse, heart shattering despair that was left inside of you to crystallize into tears, sweat, blood‒ anything that could pour out of you to cleanse your poisonous body. But empty hues stared back, no matter how much you pulled your eyelids open to catch a glimpse of humanity left. But again, nothing, nothing, nothing.

You did not feel your body walk through the cool school grounds, to the mirror chamber where you would be transported back to that home. The chill from the snow outside seeped into the chamber, and you felt your body grow even colder, and numbed from it.

Whose performance were you watching? How many people were you? Your eyes felt like they were far above your body, a voyeur to your own body and its movements. This space between you and yourself came in waves as you lived life with your family, but today, it felt like that sea of distance washed over you, sinking you to the depths of its stomach.

“(Name)!”

You turned your body to face the voice, and you felt yourself being slammed into your body once more, the scathing pain returning to your chest, thrashing like a rabid animal. Malleus stood at the door frame, hair disheveled and quickened breath. You felt that prayer, that curse bellow in your body once more.

Find me, find me, find me

There was too much you wanted to say. How sorry you were, how much anger possessed your soul, how nothingness was threatening to swallow your entirety, how desperate you wanted him to devour you whole before the poison within you did. How much you wanted him to find you‒ the real you‒ buried deep below tattered flesh. But you could not find your voice, find your anger, find your pain, find your hope under the numbed silence that imprisoned you. You let out a few pathetic raspy breaths, as if to heave out any sort of sound from inside your body.

Malleus stepped towards you as if to approach a wild beast‒ surrendering his open hands into yours, cradling gently against his warmth despite the sharpness held in your icy fingers. Though in his eyes, pain and betrayal were ripe, the golden green within them still held onto the softness that gently opened its mouth to envelop you whole. Your hands began to tremble.

"Malleus I‒"

“(Name).”

Your lungs pricked at the iciness of that voice. The words that had just been threatening to boil over in your chest died in your throat, as a howling numbness rushed through your body like wildfire. You attempted to grasp the fleeting fragments of anything, anything resembling yourself to thaw your frozen tongue and pour out your heart to Malleus, but before you could even move, you felt your mother’s fury radiating onto your back, entangling itself in your lungs and throat like smog. You felt your body turn to cold, cold poison.

“(Name). Now. You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

You didn’t register your body moving with surgical precision, the dullness in your eyes muting your vision into a senseless blur. Though you felt Malleus’ eyes on your back, you feared that if you turned to look once more, you would long for it so much it would shatter you. The thin thread that Malleus could follow to your ghostly presence snapped‒ leaving in his outreached hand, the last remaining piece of you that remained “here”. Like a sputtering vein, the warmth from the thread left as quickly as it came. Malleus watched in terror as your body was slowly swallowed into the darkness of the mirror, before it disappeared completely.

The sky wailed a somber song, bellowing thunder with a heat so ferocious it could boil the roaring sea. Malleus clenched that fire, devouring it through the gaping cavity your absence left in him, painfully deciding to nurse it until he found you once more.

——————————————————

“What in savior’s name were you doing with that wretched creature?! You better repent for poisoning yourself with such filthy animals‒ otherwise you’re going to return with them to your disgusting origins.”

You “felt” your body being thrown into the prayer room, the darkness pouring into every crevice as usual. The scalp on your head was being stretched, pulled from the tuffs of hair clutched in your mother’s grasp. However, you did not truly feel any of it, you were a mere spectator to the abuse being taken out onto your body, far away from the moment of pain.

“You wretched child. You brought this onto yourself. Now pray. Repent. Atone for your disguising body and spirit. Cleanse yourself in this darkness.” She forced your hands into an empty prayer, shoving your face onto the ground in front of your knees. When you complied, your body soft as a rag doll against her talons, she seemed satisfied, throwing your head out of her grasp and slamming the door shut to envelop you in complete darkness. You held your hands together, feeling the heat writhing under your skin slowly gushing from your body, replaced with chilled poison that ran like an icy river through your veins.

Once the warmth left your body, you felt the darkness melting into your body, devouring it. You could not imagine what body parts were attached to what, or how your body was oriented. Like the people in your lives, it ruptured pieces of you off, before consuming every fiber, every nerve, every cell of your body, taking it into its own. The darkness held no smells, no feeling, no color, no sound‒ nothing to tether your body onto, so you thawed, liquid smooth, vanishing into nothingness. You begged for anything to hold you, touch you, love you, color you‒ even if it was through the sharp jaws of eternal, unyielding darkness. To be held, to be touched, to be loved, to be colored, to be devoured‒ you would willingly cleave your body into a million pieces to make it easier to swallow, and digest the toxins within. But before you could fully break yourself apart‒ a weight in your pocket made your body snap back into one. Unfolding your hands, you felt around the cloth on your body to see what it was.

Cold metal, delicate grooves, plastic. You held your nose up to it, pressing it into your cheek to huddle against its warmth. It reminds you of smoldering fire, honeyed sunlight, the smell of spring rain. The little heat left transferring into the cold metal, melting into your hands. It reminds you of him, his warmth, his kindness, the softness beating underneath his flesh, his open hands‒ hands that do not hurt you, hands that clasp your shattering body to press it together again, letting you mold against his touch. You miss that. You miss him. The longing was more pointed this time, and instead of an ache that blistered your entire body, you felt a thorn thrust itself into the center of your heart, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Yearning no longer for something you could not recognize, and instead hungry for what you have touched but could not hold. If you could carve your chest open like livestock, reaching inside the meat to grasp that infants wail, you would. If you could roar freely, sinking this entire earth into the ground, and melting it within your raging core‒ you would. But all that could escape from your lips was a trembling, simmering cry, as quiet as the darkness that devoured.

——————————————————

“Malleus, you need to eat. Your eyes are starting to sink into your skull.” Lilia scrapped a cold plate of food with a flick of his wrist, before bringing in a new steaming tray.

“I’m fine.”

“Malleus.”

Malleus did not lift his head from his lap, rubbing hisfinger continuously over the detailed metal hanging from the plastic device. Though the smell of rumbling thunder and earthy rain permeated the walls of the castle from the weeks it had remained, he could still smell the metallic twinge from the charm, and the ghostly whiff of turpentine and old books he always smelled on you. The door creaked open again, and he felt the vibration of Lilia’s heels clacking away from him, out the door. He let out a sigh a relief, enveloping himself in the darkness created in his embrace, holding the warmed metal close to his face.

“Malleus, my dear.”

He looked up at the sound of his grandmother’s voice. She stood at the foot of his bed, smiling.

“I can’t say I'm pleased with you abandoning your duties, even if it is your winter break. What has gotten you so low?” She conjured a cup of warm spiced cider, cupping Mallus’ palms around it with her hands.

Above the shame he felt from disregarding his responsibilities as heir, he felt the beating ache in his heart grow once more. He struggled to find the words, to explain his tremendous loss, swelling anger, the bitter yearning. He swore you had taken part of his heart, because the throbbing he felt was too extensive, too cosmic for his heart that seemed to grow smaller and smaller the more he caught the scent of sunlight and old words.

“Someone precious was taken from me.” He finally said.

His grandmother rubbed his shoulder. “They are still precious to you?”

“Of course, I could not forget that even in the face of eternity.”

She flashed a knowing smile. “Then, are you willing to find them again? Even if it may consume you?”

He paused. Find you, again? Could he, after how far, how distant you felt from him? He looked at the moon. Though it had been shrouded in a seething storm, it stretched its brilliant glow through the window, onto his ski, warming it. What ecstasy it would be to be utterly devoured in it. He pressed the fluttering pulse of his thumb against the metal, melting it the warmth that twitched under his tender flesh.

“I will find them again, and again. Even if it may consume me, they’ll find me too.”

“Then you do what it takes to do that, my dear. Love is finding eachother over and over again, expanding eachother in yourselves. You will feel this pain again, no matter your power and what you control. So keep it precious near your heart. It guides you towards love, always."

"Thank you, grandmother, thank you." He sipped the spiced cider, feeling its warmth that spread through his body like the moonlight.

"Of course my dear. Now, rest. Love is no easy journey."

——————————————————

Notes:

Heyo sorry again for the short chapter. I will be making it up in the next chapter I think, which might be the last? Or I’ll divide it into two. EIther way I apologize in advance for the time it will take because I am bad at happy endings/don’t consume happy media but if I don’t make this a happy ending I will literally fucking explode and I will take you all down with me

Also have a sneak peak for the next work I will be coming out soon :)

Also not sure if Malleus was OOC in this‒ but I do feel like if and when he experiences his first heartbreak he would sort of act like an angsty teenage girl lol. Mostly because he puts distance between those who are able to leave him too quickly since his concept of time is a lot different than humans as well as his status as this sort of “untouchable monster”. His relationships with people follow an all or nothing nature, in that if he isn’t able to see them to their death, he isn’t really satisfied‒ perhaps because that is the one thing that he thinks is more powerful than he is. But when people willingly, or because of extraneous circumstances, leave his life‒ he’s a bit baffled, because that’s usually not how things end. I think partially it is because he always has the upper hand (control) due to the powers he has, but he’s also been protected and protects himself from endings like these by maintaining distance from people through his constructed image of control and power, because he knows deep inside it is unavoidable. But when he’s actually contented with it, he kinda stops functioning (which is why I think a lot of people are theorizing of his overblot in this new chapter where Lilia is getting ready to leave NRC) and throws a tantrum lol.

Also kinda funny to imagine Lilia going up to the queen like "please take care of this. He's so emo."

I know the "love is no easy journey" thing is sooooo cheesy but idk I feel like it fits Malleus' arc

[lambourngb]

For the first sentence meme: “I didn’t have the words then.”

TITLE: there’s too much smoke to see it

PAIRING: Michael/Alex

TAGS: hurt/comfort, temporary character death, getting back together, lots of talking, lots of sex, brief forlex, malex is endgame, canon typical friendships between everyone

SUMMARY: He had run out of time in making things right with Alex, which honestly was the worst part of dying in Michael’s opinion. It would have been good to die without leaving behind regrets and things unsaid. But then he survived and nothing changed, or did it?

This is finished, 15,858 words.

****. 

“I didn’t have the words then.”

Michael glanced down at the fading bar of his cell phone battery in his hands, before turning to muffle the rib-shaking cough of dirt and grit from his throat into the bend of his arm. In their long history of loving one another, hurting one another, pushing each other, dragging each other back in, this was probably the cruelest thing he has done to Alex, leaving a goodbye message recorded on his phone.

The air was getting thinner in the cavern, the mix of carbon dioxide slowly taking over the available oxygen. Michael wasn’t sure if Mr. Jones wanted him to die from lack of water and food, or suffocate in the sealed space, only that he wanted Michael to suffer. That much had been made clear to Michael as he laid on the rocky ground with the depowering serum coursing through his veins. This was meant to be both his prison cell and grave, sentenced and executed for the crime of being his mother’s son. “I read up on these overly intelligent beasts you’ve surrounded yourself with, and I know they had your mother for a long time, tortured her for years, but it wasn’t by my hand, which lacks a certain emotional closure for me, I’m sure you understand.”

Collapsing the mouth of the abandoned mine with telekinesis, Michael’s last view was the self-satisfied expression of his brother but-not Jones, backing away with a sketched-salute.

After the dust settled and the walls stopped rattling, Michael had taken a quick accounting of the situation. A quick pat down of his pockets had revealed his multi tool, his truck keys and his cell phone, which was half-charged but with zero signal from the insulating barren rock walls of the mine. He had swept the meager flashlight over everything, hoping that he would find a place where there was water seeping in, or evidence that there was a forgotten shaft, only to be met with disappointment. What was even more concerning was that the mineral composition of the mine was unfamiliar to Michael, different from the patterns of strip-mined turquoise he recognized from the caverns that sheltered their pods. 

He wasn’t in Roswell. It was possible he wasn’t in New Mexico at all. The black void from his last memory of leaving his bunker for the night and waking up on the unforgiving ground with Mr. Jones smirking above him could have stretched anywhere from hours to days. 

Michael had paced around the small confines and had traced each crevice with his fingertips for some sign of give to attempt to dig himself out only to realize Jones had brought down the side of the mountain on him. Without access to his powers there was little hope of moving the rock debris on his own. The last time he had been dosed by Helena Ortecho, the effects had lasted for several days, including those frustrating moments when Jesse Manes had held a gun on Alex and then him at the Crashcon. Lucky for all of them that Gregory Manes had been there, and even more so for Maria’s quick thinking with the other bomb.

Luck took a faraway vacation from Michael after that night between getting unceremoniously dumped by Maria, to watching Alex move on easily with Forrest Long, to now. 

When the feeling of his old friend, hunger, began to gnaw at his stomach, he had some hope that the serum would wear off in time to save himself, but then slowly that hope faded from his body when the desire to eat grew quiet, sleeping inside with the burrow his missing powers had made in him.

He was trapped and the executioner’s axe, swinging down on him inescapable, was time. 

Thinking about time, like usual, sent Michael’s thoughts turning down the familiar roads in his mind and heart to Alex. At first, as he pillowed his head on his arms and stared up at the endless black of his prison, he had pretended there were stars above him and Alex was next to him. The rocky ground was just as unforgiving as the metal bed of his pickup truck. He was used to that fantasy, pretending Alex was there with him but just far enough away Michael couldn’t feel his breath or touch his skin. 

It had kept him going during those years when Alex was serving overseas under a whole different starlit sky. It had fueled him during the surprisingly harder times, when Alex was serving in the next state over, one timezone, two at most, but the separation was wider than the Atlantic Ocean under Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. It had kept him hopeful as well, waiting during the in-between times of those scarce visits on leave. And then finally, Alex was serving in Roswell, but by then it was Michael who was out of reach, pulled down so deep in grief and pain he couldn’t see a way forward at all, let alone picture Alex nearby in his mind's eye. 

Now he was out of time to wait and see if maybe the fates would be kind enough to grant them one more chance at being together. 

The screen on his phone went black during his too-long pause. That was happening more and more, thirst was not enough to keep his thoughts sharp and his mind on the task. He kept drifting off on tangents, and time slipped with them as he worked to find the words to say goodbye to Alex. The battery life of his cell phone was dying under every pause, goddamn it, he needed to focus.

“I didn’t have the words then, to tell you how bad things were that summer. You know the one. I know I was too much for you, for anyone, hell even for myself. But… I didn’t mean to do it though, to make you the only good thing in my life back then- that was too much to put on you, when you were just a kid too, trying to survive.” 

His skin was tight and dry, he couldn’t spare the moisture to cry, but his eyes burned with the need. “I blame myself, you know, for you leaving that first time to join up. Going to war. I know you what you said, about wanting to learn how to fight battles and win, but I’m not dumb, Alex. I know your dad catching us together was the real reason. You were trying to fly under his radar, to get out of the house and disappear to California or New York once you turned 18, and I ruined it. And I’m sorry-”

Another rib shaking cough seized Michael’s body, ripping through his throat like a wildfire, leaving ash in its wake as he tried to close his lips around it and hold it in uselessly. It was futile, trying to protect Alex, but he hoped that Alex would hear this goodbye, hear how slow and sleepy the words were and perhaps picture Michael’s death as being a peaceful slip into oblivion. Not the true state of affairs, that he was fighting for air as the walls of the mine seemed to creep closer and closer with every inhalation.

Like the rest of his previous attempts to protect Alex in his life, he was failing again.

 “So, that apology was twelve years overdue. It wasn’t your fault I was a mess back then. And, the shitty part is Alex, if I had to relive that summer again, I can’t promise I would do anything different… except, maybe I would have been there to say goodbye to you.” 

The bar on the phone was slipping closer to the critical red line. 

“Guess that’s what this is. This recording. My poor attempt to make amends and give you a proper goodbye. I don’t have enough room on my phone or battery life to apologize for everything I’ve done, and honestly, what good are apologies? They don’t change the past. I think we did the best we could at the time. It is just- I lied before when I said I used to think we’d end up together.”

That bittersweet morning of watching Alex walk away one last time had changed something inside of Michael though he didn’t know at the time. He had thought he could close the book on their sad story and move on, trying as hard as he had with Maria, only to have that same damn book hurled at his head after Crashcon by Maria when she had ended things. He had spent so much time holding his and Alex’s story open in his heart, that the book didn’t close anymore. The spine was cracked, the binding bent in all the places where they had loved each other and hurt each other, that it made it impossible to shelve again and move on. All it took was the softest breeze of memory; the cover would flip open, and then Michael was right back in the middle of their story again, knowing that he would love Alex forever. 

His thoughts were wandering again, bounding down hallways of melodrama. He almost laughed at the metaphor he had crafted for Alex; that their love was a roughly handled book. Forrest would appreciate it, being a researcher and lover of libraries. Forrest seemed to appreciate everything that Michael hadn’t. 

Michael forced his eyes open, struggling to make sense between the black that circled his vision and the black of the mine. “I tried to stop thinking about it, picturing it, you and me, making a life together. I might have succeeded for a little bit, probably long enough for you to think I got over you. But I didn’t. It never really took. So yeah. I really thought we were going to have more time together. Time to try again. Or like, really try for the first time. I was ready now, to be good to you.” His lips cracked as he smiled in thought, the taste of blood sharpening his attention. “I had these big future plans. I was just waiting for- for the right time.

“Now I’m out of time- fuck, is it cruel to tell you this? I don’t want to be cruel to you. I love you. So much. So, I’m sitting here in the dark, and I’m trying to think good thoughts. God, Alex, you’re every good thought in my head, and I was planning on showing that to you, if you still wanted me.”

If. Michael forced himself not to linger on that. It was a huge ‘if’, considering how happy Alex was at the moment with someone else. Amazing what sharing hobbies but not trauma could do for a relationship. Well, Michael could admit it, that he was selfish enough at this moment not to care. He had held all these thoughts inside for so long, their only company his lost opportunities and dead dreams about finding his family. If he was going to die here, so be it, he didn’t want to leave anything unsaid.

“Maybe you don’t, maybe all you have for me is love in the past tense and that’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve stood there before myself, when my tank was dead-empty, and I couldn’t trust that another go-around would take me anywhere but back to heartbreak. Just, if you could indulge me one last time? I want you to know how I saw us.”

His lips stung, the cut breaking open again as he uselessly tried to wet them one more time. Michael curled around his phone holding it close to his mouth, his head was too dizzy to hold up anymore, but he pushed on, this was the important part of his message. “So, the plan was this. It is the same plan I had when we were 17. We’ve both taken some detours, almost got lost even, but I think this was where we were heading. A house, a yard, kids. We were going to have it all. I was going to play the guitar, you would play the keyboard, our daughter would play the drums, our son the flute because fuck gender stereotypes, am I right? Of course, you would have to sing, my voice only sounds good when I’m backing you up.”

The battery hit the final red bar of warning. There was a splash on the phone screen. Carefully Michael brought it to his lips to lick the precious tear away for moisture. His body had surprised him one more time, with tears. 

“And yeah, that’s the gist. I would back you up on everything in our dad band, but you have to let me be the disciplinarian about homework, okay? Also, you don’t know this about me, but I make the best breakfasts ever. That was going to be what I led with by the way, if you were ever single again. I was going to make you breakfast and woo you. Every day for the rest of your life if you wanted. Whatever you wanted. I just want you to be happy… I love you.” 

He closed the recording, saving it as the phone shut down on the exhausted battery. It wasn’t perfect, his last message to Alex, but then, when had he ever managed to tell Alex everything and get it right? He never had, and would never get a chance again. Never. 

Michael tucked the phone into the pocket of his shirt, resting it over his heart and shut his eyes. He was aware that he was breathing harder, his lungs were looking for more non-existent oxygen in the closed off mine. Hopefully, he would slip into unconsciousness soon and feel the weight of grief that had taken up lodging in his chest sometime after the age of 7, finally check out. Evict that pain at last, and he could be free. 

It was the bitterest irony of his current imprisonment.  

***

continued on AO3 -

[7-wonders]

Some Kind of Drug

Summary: Michael deals with his rejection in a much different way than most other people.

Word Count: 2548

A/N: Welcome back to Mad Love, friends! Sorry it’s taken so long, but life happens. Hopefully I’ll be able to post this now. As always, feedback is very much appreciated, and if you enjoyed I would love if you would like, comment and reblog. Shoot me an ask about this, my other works, or just anything!

(p.s....cw for blood ritual)

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE | Read Pour One Out (part five) HERE | Read Where Angels Fear to Tread (part six) HERE | Read Naked & Afraid (part seven) HERE | Read Ironically Alive (part eight) HERE | Read Blame It On My Youth (part nine) HERE | Read Everything All At Once (part ten) HERE | Read Try (Just a Little Bit Harder) (part eleven) HERE

Flickering candles cast long shadows on the walls of the chamber as Michael moves around, making sure that everything’s in the exact position he needs it to be in order to conduct his ritual. Communicating with his father in this way is not new to him, but it is something that he’s neglected since you came into his life. Now, however, Michael’s done playing your games. He’s been patient with you, allowing you to determine the speed of the relationship. Sooner or later, he figured, you would stop fighting what your soul knows to be true and give into him. Obviously, he had vastly underestimated you.

He hardly flinches as he makes deep cuts down the length of his arms, watching with silent concentration as the thick blood quickly starts to pool on the ground beneath him. Falling to his knees, he starts to use the blood to paint an upside-down pentagram. The movements are almost robotic-like now, becoming second nature after so many years. The Latin that Michael’s chanting falls off of his lips with ease, the words echoing through the empty air.

“May you rise from the void, Father,” Michael says, switching to plain English as he begins to complete the summoning. “May your darkness guide me, power in Satan to overcome my weaknesses. Power in your name, strong within.”

A humming, high-pitched and ceaseless, sounds in Michael’s ears as his vision dances with spots. Every single sense is being assaulted as his demonic, Satanic nature takes the wheel. The candles begin to roar with each second that passes, the fervor building in Michael’s veins as he waits with bated breath for Satan to arrive. The bloody pentagram bubbles underneath him as the height of the flames reaches to the ceiling, unchanged by the sudden wind that whips through the room. When the wind stops just as unexpectedly as it started, the air growing stiflingly still, Michael looks up with pitch black eyes.

“Ave Satanas.”

To the normal human eye, nothing is in the chamber with Michael. To the son of Satan, however, his father stands just behind him, a ghost-like touch on his shoulder as he whispers into the ear of his son, the same ear that’s burned with the Mark of the Beast. The humming starts up again, but to Michael it registers as words.

“Father,” he calls, “I request your guidance! You’ve...tortured me with these images, visions of a future that I will have.”

He’s been plagued with these visions for months now, long before Ms. Mead stuck that needle into your neck. They often come to Michael in the form of dreams, but he has been known to collapse to the floor as he’s taken over by a premonition. They’re always vivid, and they’re always of you and Michael. Michael, holding you as a husband should hold his wife. 

Kissing you.

Making love to you.

In his visions, you rule alongside him. The new world has been ushered in, with Michael as its king and you as its queen. You love each other unconditionally, just as it should be. You belong to him, and he belongs to you.

(Usually, he’s holding onto at least one curly-haired blonde cherub, and you’re almost always pregnant with another. That desperate need for a family, however, can wait. First, he needs to win over your mind.)

“Her will is strong, stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. Our souls were created for one another, yet she continues to deny what is inevitable. The bonding ritual from the night of our wedding was a failure, and she continues to spurn any of my advances. I’m lost, Father. How am I supposed to complete your plans if I do not wholly have the one person who is supposed to be at my side during all of this?”

“Perhaps something more...permanent?” Satan’s voice sounds preternaturally deep in Michael’s ear, and he has to hide a shiver.

“I promised (Y/N) that I wouldn’t use magic on her without her permission.”

“And you won’t.” Michael’s arm is raised by an invisible force, palm facing upwards as his hand is outstretched. An apple, bright red and almost perfectly shaped, appears in his grip.

“I don’t understand what this will help with.”

Satan remains silent, allowing a vision to play out in front of Michael’s eyes as a response. Michael watches as you appear in front of him, silently asking for the apple with a familiar tilt of your head. He hands it to you, your shimmering mirage-like form holding it as if you’re actually there. You take a large bite out of the apple, Michael nearly moaning as he watches the juice dribble past your full lips and down your chin in a near-erotic scene.

There’s no sound coming from you as you gasp, the apple landing heavily on the ground. Your expression changes, and you blink rapidly, as if trying to see through a thick fog. When your eyes meet Michael’s, you smile softly. Michael’s frozen, enraptured as you approach him and sit in his lap, not at all bothered by his lack of clothes. Your arms loop around his neck, and Michael can almost feel the heat of your breath as you begin to lean in. Right as your lips are about to connect with his, you disappear as suddenly as you appeared.

“So it’s--” Michael’s chest is heaving, and he has to remind himself to breathe.

“Nothing that will harm her. One bite of this apple and she will be yours, my son. Body, mind, and soul.”

Michael could almost just take the apple and run, but something is stopping him. “That’s still using magic on her, whether or not it’s mine.”

“I bring a gift for you, and this is how you repay me? With ignorant questions and flippant reactions?”

“No Father, I’m extremely grateful.”

“Then take the gift. If anything, do not think of this as magic. Think of it--”

The dream (or maybe a nightmare) is the kind that’s forgotten as soon as you shoot up in bed with a gasp. You know that it was extremely vivid, your heart still pounding as you grab your phone to turn your alarm off, but you can’t remember the specifics. Lots of candles and Michael are the only things you’re sure were a part of your dream, but those could be used in any setting. Michael knocking over a candle and setting the house on fire? Celebrating Michael’s birthday? Lighting fireworks with Michael?

You shake your head, hoping maybe that will clear the fuzzy feeling in your brain like it clears an Etch-a-Sketch. You’re disoriented, like you slept for twenty hours instead of the eight or so that you normally do. Intense dreams tend to do that to you, so you’re careful with yourself as you crawl out of bed and head for the shower.

Even after you’ve washed the remnants of a restless sleep off of you, you still feel...off. You’re not sure if it’s related to the dream that you can’t remember, but you just feel weird today, like the world’s just slightly tilted on its axis and you’re the only one who notices it. Staring at your face in the steamed-over mirror as you comb through your hair, you frown slightly at yourself.

“Get it together, (Y/N),” you mutter to your reflection, watching as she says the words back to you at the same time. Swiping a towel over the mirror to clear it up, you shoot a couple of half-hearted finger guns at yourself before deciding that you need to stop procrastinating before you’re late. 

Michael, surprisingly, is leaning against the counter when you make your way into the kitchen. Normally he’s already in his office by this time, so to see him eating a bagel while scrolling through his phone is jarring. 

“Um, good morning?” you say, thrown off by this change in his ever-strict schedule. He must not have heard you come in, because he jumps when you greet him.

“(Y/N)!” He straightens up, trying to act like you didn’t just scare him. “You really are getting better at sneaking up on me.”

“Damn, and I wasn’t even trying.” You jokingly shoulder check him as you pass by, hearing him snicker under his breath.

“Do you nanny the two girls today?”

“No, I have to meet with my advisor on campus.”

“I thought class didn’t start for another couple of weeks?”

“It doesn’t, and please don’t remind me,” you groan, looking forlornly into the fridge. “This summer went by way too fast, I feel like I didn’t even get to do anything!”

“You would have been able to enjoy your summer if you had heeded my advice and not taken a job,” Michael points out, falling silent when you shoot him a withering glance.

“You may be the Antichrist, but I’ll still kick your ass if given the chance.” There’s nothing that appeals to you in the fridge, so you begrudgingly shut the door and look around for something that you can eat quick before running off to campus. “What are you up to today? Meeting with Putin?”

“The ghost of Josef Stalin, actually.” Michael smiles when you laugh loudly.

“Ah, well, be sure to break the bad news of the fall of Communism gently.”

“I’ll try, but my Russian’s pretty basic, at best.” 

Nodding as if you understand the downfalls of only being passing in the Russian language, your eyes fall on the fruit bowl sitting on the counter. Although all of the fruit looks pretty appetizing, the particular apple sitting at the top is practically calling your name. It’s shiny and bright red, and looks as if it was just picked out of a tree. The feeling that something’s off returns with a full force, making you pause right as you’re about to grab the apple. Figuring that you’re just hungry, you shake it off and take the fruit from the bowl.

Running it under some water, you look at Michael with a questioning glance when you feel him staring at you. “Do you have a problem with me eating this apple?”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” he says quickly. “Just lost in my thoughts, I guess.”

“O...kay?” He still watches you as you turn the water off, shaking the apple dry and grabbing a towel to wipe your hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, absolutely. Why?”

“You just seem off today. Then again, maybe it’s the moon or something, because I’ve felt weird all morning, too.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, I had a really vivid dream last night, and I still haven’t been able to get over it.”

“Hmm, what was it about?” Michael’s mind is fighting a battle with his nature as he anxiously watches you toss the apple in the air before setting it down on the counter to grab a glass of water. 

“That’s the thing, I don’t remember. All I remember is that it involved you and some candles.” Michael’s pretty sure his heart stops, automatically knowing that you somehow inadvertently had a front-row seat to the ritual with his father. “I don’t know, maybe it involved you setting the house on fire?”

“Why would I ever set the house on fire?”

“Hey, I never said you did it on purpose! You could’ve dropped a candle? Can’t you light things on fire with your magic? Maybe you just got too excited.”

“Okay, you’re making me nervous talking about the different ways I could burn the house down.” He’s nervous for a few reasons right now, but you don’t need to know that. 

“And here I thought you couldn’t get nervous,” you tease.

For Michael, the next two seconds happen slow enough to make it feel like two minutes. He watches as you raise the apple to your mouth, heart jumping in his chest with a mix of glee and horror. Finally, it’s happening. He should be happy about this; he is happy about this, but he can’t deny how he guilty he feels. Still, he attempts to argue with himself, it’s not like you’re forcing her to love you. You’re just helping her to see what her soul knows.

But I’m making her feel that before she’s ready to acknowledge it, he fires back.

She’s had months now to acknowledge it! It’s time to speed things along.

The time that Michael spends debating with himself, he finds, is precious time lost. Instead of coming to a decision, you make the decision for him by biting into the apple. He stifles a gasp, feigning a cough instead as he waits for the inevitable to occur. The inevitable, however, occurs much slower than he was led to believe. One, two, and three bites are taken before Michael remembers how to speak. 

“(Y/N)?” he asks cautiously.

“Yeah?” He’ll forgive the fact that you talked with food in your mouth this time, since there are bigger worries at hand.

“Are you...feeling alright?” You eyes widen, and Michael’s sure that the magic’s taken effect. 

Then, you roll your eyes. “Perfectly fine, unless you poisoned the apples a la Snow White?”

“I was just curious.” You shake your head slowly, obviously not believing him.

“And I thought I was going to be the weird one today,” you mutter under your breath, checking the time and grabbing your bag like you would any other morning. “I gotta go. Don’t light the house on fire while I’m gone, okay?”

“I’m not planning on it,” Michael says, still in disbelief that you’re acting completely normal.

With a cheeky smile and a sarcastic wave, you’re out the door with a “bye, Mikey!” He doesn’t even bother to correct you on the nickname, standing in the kitchen in a frozen stupor as he tries to figure out what just happened.

Michael rushes over to the fruit bowl, unsure of if you grabbed the wrong piece of fruit or if you’re just impervious to any sort of mind-affecting magic. Flipping the bowl over, the various apples and oranges scatter across the counter. He allows the tendrils of his magic to extend out like extra limbs, hands grasping for each apple that he can find. Finally he feels it, the magic that fully coats the apple as if it’s caramel being drizzled on top. Michael cries out in relief, examining the apple to make sure it really is the one that was given to him by his father. 

With one look, the apple’s incinerated until there’s nothing but a small pile of ashes in Michael’s hand. He turns on the faucet, washing his hands of the ashes and keeping the water running until he’s sure that any trace of the rotten plan is down the drain, both figuratively and literally. Leaning against the counter, Michael flicks his wrist to put the bowl back on the counter like nothing ever happened.

He got lucky this time. Satan influences Michael, injecting himself into his son’s veins and manipulating him until he’s something he doesn’t recognize, something villainous and evil. He almost let the Devil do it again, only this time it involved you. “Never again,” Michael mutters, determined to escape the clutches of his father. 

Evil, however, comes in many different forms.

//

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[ohgoddard]

Truth, Justice, and the Symbol of Peace.2.

Musutafu, Japan

“...its unknown where he has gone to, however all heroes are searching for any remainder..”

“...Endeavor made a statement that he would do anything to find All-Might again, however with the new position as #1 Hero, it would take time…”

“... outpost raided, found several vats of strange creatures soon destroyed by on-scene heroes. Even stranger were the numerous hands found, cut off at the..”

A small *click* sounded behind Izuku’s head, turning the t.v. off. He sits on the couch, head in his hands, weeping. His shirt is wrinkled, his hair unkempt, he looks a mess. On the table in front of him are several snot-filled tissues, half drank bottles of water, and his notebooks. Inko walked around the couch and sat down, putting her arm around him. Izuku didn’t even look up. “Izuku,” she said as he put the remote on the table, being careful not to spill anything. “I know this is a hard time for you, but you can’t stay in all day.”

It has been two days since the disappearance of All-Might. The world is forever changed at his absence, but with him he took the ultimate evil as well. However, a void is felt on both sides by their leaving. But the absence in Izuku’s soul was far larger than any geopolitical one.

“I know you looked up to him but Izuku, you don’t have a quirk. It was always going to be a dream. I guess.. I guess it just happened sooner rather than later.”

He still cried.

Inko hugged her son close, burying her face in his fuzzy green hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t imagine how this feels. Just,” she pulled away, rubbing his back, “ please take a walk. It’ll help more than you think.” She stands up, kissing him on his forehead, before walking back into her room. A few minutes later, the crying stopped. Izuku looked up from his hands and wipe them off his pants. His eyes were red, but he could cry no more. Maybe his mom was right. He had no powers. He couldn’t be a real hero anyway. His one inspiration to keep going just disappeared. No one else said anyone can be a hero. Just him. And if he’s gone?

Then the dream goes with him too.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Izuku was going to go on that walk his mom told him to do. It was rather late, but he needed to cool his head. As he was walking out the door, he spied the notebook on his table still. He stood there, just looking. After a while, he picked up one and walked out the door. A hobby never hurt anyone, and hero watching was a common enough hobby. 

It was late evening in the city, and the walk was working wonders. The lamplights had the small moths nipping at its light. A calm but crisp wind wrapped it’s way around the streets, brushing Izuku’s hair.  I needed this, he thought, Mom was right. I should focus on normal kid things I guess. He pulled out his notebook and flipped through a few pages, updating the drawings with the correct designs and tweaking the stats as he walked. The sounds of fighting made him stop.

Izuku had passed by an alleyway, and from within the sounds of conflict echoed. Being the never-smart child he is and will forever be, he turned to immediately investigate. The alley was dark and dingy, as they usually are. Under the fire escapes and lights of barred windows wrestled three figures. Izuku saw among them some underground street villains he recognized from his studies. Hothead the fire villain and Freezmont the ice villain! Together they were fighting someone, but Izuku could not see who. He moved so fast, and threw such powerful punches. Hothead shot a blast of flame at the man, missing but showing his body. He was huge, but beyond his outline he was still obscured by shadow. His fist connected into Hothead’s chest and the flame villain went into the ground, knocked out. Freezmont spent no time in trying to run away, but it was no use. The shadowy giant merely extended his hand and otu shot a cord, it wrapped around Freezmont’s legs and tripped him. He hit his head on a trashcan on the way down, sending him to sleep.

At this point, some rain had started to pour. But Izuku didn’t care. He was enraptured with this new figure. He had never seen him before! A new hero perhaps? He instantly took out his notebook and started to write down everything he saw, his predictions of the person’s quirk, even a quick sketch. When he looked up again, the figure was gone. Huh..guess he must have left. He turned around, only to bump into someone.

Looking up, he saw only darkness and two bright lights of eyes stare down at him.

“You have it wrong in your book.”

Izuku was speechless. He could not even move. The figure before him was towering, huge. His voice felt like a subwoofer benign dragged through a gravel factory. A dark blackness was around his entire body, wrapping him. All Izuku saw was his strong chin underneath his mask.

“I--I.. who-” “Let me ask a few questions of my own.” The rain started to pick up, the sound of thunder moving over them.

“One : why were you recording my movements and description. Two: where am I? And three: Where is the rest of the Justice League?”

Izuku stared at him and shook, the cold of the rain getting to him. The giant did not move an inch. “Uhh...I’m Izuku Midoryia, and I like recording heroes in my book. You’re in Japan..uhh.. What's the Justice League? And why was my book wrong? It's not going to be completely accurate I know because it's just an eyewitness and you're a new hero and all so-”

“Stop.” The voice cut Izuku instantly. The giant looked up, as if thinking. “I am going to ask you questions, and I need you to answer correctly.” The giant leaned in. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Izuku gulped and nodded his head. “Do you know who Superman is?” Izuku shook his head.

“That's all I needed.” The shadow turned from him, and began to walk away. Izuku stepped forward and shouted, “WAIT!” It stopped. “Why was my book wrong?” The shadow turned to face Izuku and raised one of its mighty arms into the air.

“I don’t have powers.”

At that moment, a lightning flash lit up the alley. Before Izuku was a grey suited man. He wore a yellow belt and held in his hand a grappling gun. Around his shoulders and leading into his mask was a cape and cowl. And on his chest, an insignia of a bat. He shot his hook and flew into the city, swinging on rope to swinging rope until he was out of sight. But that didn’t matter. The sight of him was burned into Izuku’s mind, along with his words.

He doesn’t have powers...Does that mean? Is there still a chance that I..?

He turned and ran home. His mind racing a mile a minute. 

There’s still a chance!

Washington D.C., United States

The Hall of Justice was swarmed with reporters. The police had to install a perimeter to keep them all at bay, but that didn’t stop the helicopters from flying overhead. However, the chaos outside was nothing like the chaos within. While the hall was quiet, there was no less tension.

In the meeting chamber, around a giant table emblazoned with the symbol of the JLA sat its key members, save for one empty seat. Each member was staring at the matter of discussion, the giant muscle man at the end of the table, standing next to Superman.

“Thank you all for coming here today, I know it takes a lot to make it happen.” 

“Cut the chatter Supes, we know what we’re here for,” said the Flash.  “Indeed,” echoed the Martian Manhunter. “Let us dispense with the pleasantries and get to the matter at hand”

Superman sighed. “Alright, i’ll let our.. Guest tell you what happened.” Superman gestured for All-Might to step forward. He took one step, and was instantly wrapped in a bubble of green energy. “Now excuse me for being rude here, “ said the Green Lantern as he floated out of his seat, power ring out. “But why should we believe him, Superman? I’m all for trust, but the coincidence is too uncanny!” Wonder Woman rose from seat as well. “I agree with the Lantern. First Batman goes missing, then he shows up in the same amount of time? It is unusual.”

“Hear hear,” spoke Hawkman comfortably from his seat. All-Might just looked around, puzzled at the reception. He thought they would be more welcoming of him, this is an entirely separate emotion. He didn’t often see animosity from other heroes. Different world, I suppose.

“Hey!” Superman shouted, shooting Green Lantern a look. The green energy around All-Might reluctantly left him, and the members took their seats again. “Look, I know it seems fishy. But that is exactly why he is here. And I talked to him before I brought him here. He at least seems trustworthy enough that I give him my go ahead. Please let him speak.”

Wonder Woman huffed. “Fine. He gets one chance.”

Superman turned to All-Might again, giving a nod of his head to continue. “Well, uh” All Might began with confidence. “I am All Might, and this is not my world. I come from a world where everyone has what you call superpowers. I was fighting one that would seek to control all of it , and has done so before. His name is All For One. During my fight with him, before I could land a finishing blow, he must have somehow activated a portal. It sucked him in and I followed soon after. Next thing I know, i’m fighting him in a different city. Then your Superman here helped me dispatch All For One. He then politely, but firmly, asked that I come with him for questioning. That is why I am here. I do not know of your ‘Bat Man’, though I imagine he is a terrifying presence.”

The Flash snorted, earning him a dirty look from Wonder Woman and Green Lantern. 

“Thank you, All Might,” said Superman as All Might stepped back. “So you see, we seem to be part of an impromptu transfer program as it were. We traded Batman for All Might and All For One.”

“What an exchange,” grumbled Green Lantern.

Superman ignored his comment, continuing on. “We don’t know how Batman could have gotten in a portal, as we don’t know where he was before he disappeared.” 

“How do we even know Batman is in this world,” spoke the Martian Manhunter, “Or even transported by a portal at all? This is hardly the first time he has gone without communication for extended periods of time.” A murmuring of agreements fluttered the table. 

“Because he was supposed to meet me and didn’t. And we know how he is never late.” Superman’s comment seemed to chill the table, which was strange to All Might. Scary and on time? I shudder at his power, not even I can do both. 

“We can at least guess with a good amount of certainty that he is in this new world. And from what All-Might has told us, he will not last long. With even the common street thugs being superpowered, it will be tough even for him. As such, I will be researching with Star Labs on how to track where Batman last was.”

Wonder Woman stood up. “And what do we do with him?” She pointed at All Might, who while used to the public spotlight never felt so singled out before. Superman smiled. “Well, I thought you and I could take turns. Keeping an eye on him. Since we both seem to be the only ones capable of being on-par with his power, we stand the best chance of stopping him.” Superman turned his head to look at All Might again. “No offense.”

All Might just nodded his head. “No, I understand. I am a foreign entity at the removal of your comrade. I too would be suspicious if the same were done to me. However, I am not a child. I do not need to be looked over. I fight for peace and justice, just like you all.”

“If it's all the same,” Wonder Woman said, ”we’d like to be cautious.”  All Might nodded, though his feelings were hurt. Usually when I make speeches, people like me. This world is harsh and cruel. 

“Meeting adjourned.”

[vcg73]

Witch!Kurt #42: The Calm Before the Storm

As promised, I got back to work on this.  :)

~*~*~*~*~*~

Adam hummed as he moved through the kitchen, fetching plates, cups, and cutlery from their cabinets and drawers before dishing up the two servings of eggs and sausage links he’d just finished cooking.

He pulled a large orange from the refrigerator and cut it into halves, placing one on each plate. He really preferred grapefruit, but Kurt hated even the scent of them, so he compromised by purchasing a large bag of Mandarins on his last shopping trip. It made him feel better, since Kurt had ceased purchasing his own former staple of strawberries once he had discovered that Adam was allergic. Adam had insisted that there was no need for Kurt to give up a favorite food, and Kurt had made a noise of agreement but Adam had noticed soon afterward that their grocery list never had that particular fruit on it anymore. The bottle of strawberry pancake syrup that had formerly graced their little condiment shelf had also mysteriously vanished. It was the sort of sweet gesture that his husband tended to make without thought, and Adam was determined to show that he appreciated it in just as subtle a fashion. He refused to be another one of those people in Kurt’s life who took his generous nature for granted.

Pouring a steaming cup of tea for himself and coffee for Kurt, he smiled at how delightfully domestic this was. Other than company, the thing he had missed most during his seemingly endless span in the emptiness of the Void was simply having something to do. Getting his hands on some small chore and keeping busy with it. Adam had never been an idler, never one to just sit quietly with his hands folded and wait for something to come along. From earliest childhood, he had been a doer, taking satisfaction from playing games, cooking meals, scribbling notes, inventing choreography, learning some new skill, or sorting out an activity for others. He and Kurt had that in common, along with having work and living spaces that tended to stay tidy and well organized, though neither took it to neat-freak levels. Adam had missed being able to set his hand to a thing and see it completed, and a small part of him thrilled at the mundane little task.

It bothered him more than he liked to admit that he was still slightly off his game when it came to getting his nerve up for comings and goings beyond the loft, even after six months back in the real world, but having a full time stay-at-home job now helped immensely. Most of his daylight hours were kept busy making calls, booking online appointments, and sorting out talent for various casting calls about town. It made him feel useful again, and after only two months on the job, he was already earning praise from his employers and glowing reviews from their clients. That little boost to his self-esteem was making him bolder about going outdoors and meeting people again. Now that winter was over, greenery was beginning to pop up everywhere and the days were becoming mild and pleasant, beckoning him to take a nice walk through the park, or down to Bui’s for a spot of tea on his lunch hour. He no longer worked for Mrs. Bui, having given up his position as stock-boy to an eager young high schooler once his schedule with H&B had been set, but he still liked to pop round for a hot cup, two or three delicious chocolate biccies, and a nice gossip.

And then there was Kurt. How lucky he felt each day to wake up to the sight of that beautiful face on the pillow next to his, to phone him at lunchtime to say ‘how are you’, ‘what would you like for dinner’, and ‘I love you’. Such simple words, but so full of delight to them both. And he liked to be here, finishing up his work for the day, or bustling about getting the evening meal when it was his turn to cook, having it ready when Kurt came home from work or school, and seeing his face light up with joy at the sight of him.

“Hello, husband,” Kurt would say, with that loving look in his beautiful eyes as he came forward for a kiss and a fond embrace. “How was your day?”  

Kurt took positive delight in that greeting, and Adam enjoyed hearing it just as much. He supposed over time the shiny newness of being married would wear off, but for now it was still great fun.

Adam buttered four newly popped slices of toast and once again divided them between the waiting plates, adding a quick smear of marmalade to his own half and a dribble of honey to Kurt’s. He added a bit of honey to his tea as well, then used the spoon he’d stirred it with to mix a helping of nonfat creamer and a packet of sweetener into the coffee. He took a small sip of the latter to test the level of sweetness, and then grimaced, wondering what he’d been thinking as he took a quick swig of tea to banish the taste. Kurt had grown up drinking Burt Hummel’s noxious brew, and he still preferred his coffee strong enough to degrease an engine or melt the spines off a cactus.

“Breakfast is ready, husband of mine,” he said, setting a plate and the coffee on Kurt’s side of the breakfast table just in time to greet him with a kiss as he wandered out from the bathroom, wearing a towel about his waist, skin fresh and still ever so slightly damp after showering.

Kurt kissed him back with a smile and immediately went for the cup, taking an experimental sip followed by a large happy slurp. “Mmm, this is great!” he said. “You used hazelnut creamer, didn’t you?”

Vaguely amused at his enthusiasm, Adam said, “I did. I used that cocoa infused espresso you bought last trip, and I thought hazelnut would be a nice complement to it.”

“Nutella in a cup,” he sighed blissfully, belting back another swallow. He kissed Adam again, on the cheek this time and said, “Be right back.”

Kurt disappeared into the bedroom, and Adam had just enough time to top up his cup and add another good dollop of creamer before Kurt emerged again wearing a smart new outfit of gray checked trousers, black shoes and belt, and a shimmery green, patterned button down. Now that he had truly got the hang of using his assorted magics, Kurt could get himself dressed for the day in the literal blink of an eye. The only delay would be in choosing which outfit to wear. It was the one power that Adam envied him, though he doubted that even being able to instantly don and discard clothing would give him the impeccably chic and polished look that Kurt always had.

After all, even his own power to whisk his hair into order with a thought did not give him the ability to look sexily tumbled when rising from his pillow of a morning the way Kurt typically did. Adam usually looked as though he’d received electric shock until he got himself under a hot shower, and he knew he could potter around in his closet for a good half hour trying on assorted items and still look like he’d just escaped from a harrowing ride through a clothes dryer. Lucky for him that Kurt found the rumpled look attractive.

“What’s funny?” Kurt asked, sitting down to breakfast. He hadn’t been gone long enough for the food to grow cold and he tucked in with an appreciative appetite.

Adam just waved a hand. “Oh nothing. Just musing about how unfairly gorgeous you are for first thing in the morning.”

Flattered, he blushed a bit, his eyes sparkling at the compliment. “You look nice too.”  

And he did. Adam had a video call with a producer this morning, someone his agency had landed for casting of a big-budget film. Adam’s job was simply to take down the particulars of cast size, shooting schedule, and what sort of roles they were looking to fill, and then he would take down their availability and set up a second meeting with one of H&B’s more senior casting agents. But even that required a bit more spit and polish than usual.

He told Kurt as much. “I must let them see that Hanover & Bradley is a posh firm, even down to the lowliest of booking clerks.” He straightened his black and gold striped tie before lifting his nose in the air and sticking his pinky out with extreme dignity as he took a sip from his teacup.

As he had expected, Kurt laughed. “Well, I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. I wish it wasn’t considered unprofessional to suggest casting yourself. I glanced at the script spec you were reading last night and that movie sounds right up your alley.”

Adam smiled. “Appreciated, but I don’t think I’m quite ready for the chaos of a film set yet. Though I must admit that I have been growing bolder of late. I’ve been considering scraping the rust off of my acting skills and joining the Lightning Circle for one or two evenings a week.”

For a moment Kurt looked blank, but then he brightened as the name clicked. “That’s the Improv group that your friend Joey runs, isn’t it?” At Adam’s nod, he clasped his hands. “Adam, that would be amazing! It’s a perfect way to stick a toe in the water and find out whether or not you’d be comfortable on stage again. Joey was an Apple, so he’ll totally get it if you’re not quite ready to get out in public yet. You two were really close during my freshman year, so I imagine it would be like slipping into a favorite pair of shoes to work with him again. It won’t even matter if you’re rusty, because figuring your way around an awkward moment is the whole idea of Improv.”  

Adam beamed at his support. “Exactly right. I had a talk with Janice during my last session about wanting to take baby steps back toward my aborted career. She suggested testing the waters in some small way, then reporting back on how it went. I was thinking Community Theater, or joining the Lexington retirees for one of their in-house productions, or a sketch comedy night somewhere. Then I recalled Joe telling us at the last Apples get-together that he’s renting a space in the Village. His troupe rehearses a few nights a week and performs on Sunday evenings. They write sketches, work out the framing, and then sort of fill in the blanks before an audience. I know for certain that I’m welcome to join.”

Kurt was grinning. “Then you should totally do it. Maybe we could start by attending a performance on the weekend, just to see what it’s like. That way you can make an informed decision about whether or not it’s something you want to do. I think it would be so good for you, honey. I know how refreshing it can be to put your problems aside and just be someone else for a little while. Plus it sounds like a lot of fun!”

Pleased at how easily Kurt had not only accepted the plan but dove straight in with his support, Adam said, “So, it’s a date then?” 

Privately he was thinking that if this worked out, it might be a bit of fun they could do together. The others always asked after Kurt, and seemed quite interested in his progress at NYADA, so they would be glad to have him.

“It’s a date,” Kurt confirmed. Munching the last bite of his breakfast, he glanced at his phone on the table beside him and made a startled sound. “Oh, gosh! Is that the time already? Isabelle asked me to help choose the summer dress selections for the website today and I don’t want to be late.”

Adam nodded. He needed to get himself ready for the meeting soon as well. “Have fun and I’ll see you this afternoon. Is it your turn for dinner tonight?”

“It was, but I’ll do it tomorrow. Brittany called earlier and asked if she, Santana, and Tubbington could join us. They’ll pick up something from the Golden Lotus on the way here.”

He was used to this. Members of their witch family dropped by at odd hours all the time and usually brought food with them, so Adam nodded. “I’ll text and ask them for an order of sweet and sour, or maybe some General Tso. That pineapple and green pepper concoction they picked out the last time was revolting. I was belching peppers for two days straight.”

Kurt laughed. “I already asked. Santana likes that stuff, but Brittany agrees with you, and of course Tubbington would probably stage a revolt if they didn’t get his beloved Kung Pao Chicken, so nobody balked at my request to add Pork Fried Rice and General Tsao.”

Taking one last swig of coffee, Kurt took his dishes to the kitchen, then hurried to the bathroom to quickly brush his teeth. Giving his husband a minty kiss goodbye, Kurt grabbed his bag and a light jacket and was out the door.

Adam stared fondly after him for a moment, then willed the magical ward back into place and went to his own work.

~*~*~*~*~

“What’s happened?” Adam asked when Kurt came through the door without his usual cheerful greeting. 

The buoyant mood Kurt had left home with this morning had transformed throughout the day into a feeling of tense foreboding that had been palpable the moment he walked in the door. Before that, actually. A more tamped-down version had been singing along their emotional bond for the past couple of hours. 

Adam found himself wondering if their idyllic breakfast this morning had just been the calm before some great storm. Whatever it was, he suspected that their Sunday theater plans had just been cancelled. “Is something wrong in Ohio?”

“No,” Kurt said, speaking the word with a hint of hesitation. He made an impatient gesture with his hands as he amended it to, “Not exactly. Nothing’s really wrong, but I had a text from Sue Sylvester today and I suspect it’s no coincidence that she sent it to me on the same day Brittany and Santana suddenly decided to drop by for dinner.”

Adam agreed that this was unlikely. Sue had kept her promise to keep tabs on the Blaine situation for them, but she wasn’t the ‘just dropping a friendly line’ sort of person. “What did it say?”

Pulling out his phone, Kurt showed him the message. ‘Red Alert. Paddington has taken a flea dip.’ “What on earth?”

“Sue always codes her messages,” Kurt explained. “She thinks satellites are sharing them with the C.I.A. or something. Paddington is the nickname she gave to Dave Karofsky after he came out as gay. Y’know, as in a baby bear.”

Adam snorted, picturing the hulking young man he had briefly glimpsed on his aborted surveillance trip to Lima dressed in a duffel coat, red hat and wellies. “So in her own peculiar way, she’s telling you that Dave has rid himself of a certain pest?”

“That’s how I read it,” Kurt agreed. “He must have broken up with Blaine. Either he shook off Blaine’s persuasive influence somehow, or he just wasn’t as taken in by it as we assumed. I’d be interested to find out what happened. The important thing for now is that if Dave is gone, then Blaine doesn’t have anyone handy to power-dump his stolen magic into. That might make Blaine vulnerable.”

“Or it might make him more of a problem,” Adam reminded him, willing away the shiver of apprehension that skittered down his spine at Kurt’s words. “If Blaine has suddenly found himself alone and forced to return to what Santana colorfully calls the ‘snatch and splooge’ technique of transferring power, he could be extremely dangerous.”

Kurt shook his head. “That’s assuming he hasn’t stored power in half the innocent Standards in Lima. He was always unnaturally good at swaying a crowd to his side, long before the soul-polluting began. He’s a lot easier to deal with one on one than with a pack of supporters behind him. Especially ones who are convinced against all logic and evidence that he can do no wrong.”

Reading his meaning in that, Adam said flatly, “You are not going to face him alone, Kurt.”

“Well, I’m not sending you to spy on him again,” Kurt countered with a trace of heat. “I don’t want you going anywhere near him.”

“Nor I you, so if you think I’m going to just sit here safely on the sidelines while that nasty blighter attacks you, then …”

“Adam, I’ll be at twice as much risk if I’m worrying about what might happen to you,” Kurt interrupted. “I’m not an idiot. I know how dangerous he can be, and that you both want and deserve to be with me when I face him, but he nearly killed you once, and then just seeing him for an instant all but paralyzed you! The last time you two were face to face, you were at full strength and he still nearly destroyed you. What if he finds out that you’re not only still alive, but that I’ve married you, and once and for all torpedoed his plans for me? He’ll go berserk and I don’t want to risk him taking that out on you. If I put you in his line of sight, I might as well be pulling the trigger on you myself.”

Adam wanted to argue back that he would be equally devastated if Kurt were to face their enemy alone and be killed or sent to the Void. Which might well be the same thing, since none of their group might be able to find and rescue him if he were to be banished to that place without an anchor. But Kurt would resist such reasoning. For all his instinctive mother-henning of loved ones, he could be remarkably blind when it came to his own well-being.

“Darling, what with all the Lima people who came to our reception, I highly doubt that Blaine has remained oblivious to my miraculous return from the great beyond. I’m safer with you, and the members of our coven, than I ever would be alone.” He struggled to keep his voice calm, even though he suspected that his emotions were broadcasting loud and clear anyway. “I may not be as physically strong as I was the first time I encountered him, but magically I’ve grown stronger. One of the upsides to being part of a good coven. Since Joining with you, I’ve gained new levels of control. But what you’re forgetting is that neither one of us is in this alone. We have a group of excellent witches and Familiars at our back, as well as friends and family. It may turn out that Blaine has put together an army of brain-washed sycophants, but if the Intelligence we’ve received thus far is true, then we also have Coach Sylvester’s magically-inclined Cheerio squad to counter them.”

As he had hoped, Kurt responded to the logic of this statement. “That’s true,” he said slowly. “I hate the idea of putting kids at risk, but I’d put my money on the Cheerios over Blaine’s personal Fight Club any day of the week.”

“I wouldn’t discount Sebastian’s influence over his former prep-school peers either,” Adam pressed. “Or for that matter Finn and Sam’s influence over your old Glee Club, which might even have countered Blaine’s a bit. Just because you’ve been left with that self-enamored tosser as your sole responsibility in the past, doesn’t mean you still are. You were a lone ship on a stormy ocean once upon a time, Kurt, but now you’re the captain of a veritable armada, and the rest of us are just waiting for an order to fire a shot across Blaine’s bow.”

Kurt’s mouth, which had fallen open during Adam’s impassioned speech, clicked shut and he gave him a wan smile. “I’m not sure you aren’t being just a little too optimistic here, but you have a good point.” The smile widened. “You like to claim that you’re not much of an orator, but you give a darned good rallying speech.”

“I think so too,” Santana said by way of greeting, making the two of them jump in surprise as she opened the door and walked casually into their discussion. Kurt had dropped the ward as he came inside, and left it down knowing his friends would be arriving right on his heels. “And he’s right, oh Captain my Captain. If you go back to Lima and cut us out of all the fun after keeping us waiting for months to kick Anderson’s bubble butt, we’ll disown you and elect a new coven leader. I hear Drumsticks has his eye on the spot.”

“Johnny? But he never…oh,” Kurt said in chagrin, laughing a little when he realized she was teasing. “I guess I’m being kind of stupid.”

“Never bothered us before,” she replied, a wicked twinkle in her eye. “I take it you heard from Sue?”

Brittany and Tubbington, who had come in behind her, put their sacks of food down on the kitchen island and Brittany said, “She sent us a message this morning before I called. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything then.”

“Paddington?” Adam queried, wondering if they’d got the same text Kurt had.

Tubbington gave him a frown and said, “Dawn Patrol”.

Not as familiar with Coach Sylvester’s unique personal code as the rest of them, Adam said, “What does that mean?”

“Be on alert because it might be time to come to Lima and get Blaine out of everybody’s way,” Santana translated casually.

Seeing his confusion, Kurt said, “Dawn. You know, as in the dish-washing soap that’s supposed to be extra good at clearing away greasy messes? It … never mind. The point is that Blaine has been dumped, and Coach thinks it might have him off balance enough for us to make our move.” He looked at their guests and said, “Adam was reminding me that we’re a team and that Blaine is no longer just my problem.”

“He’s right, Junior,” Tubbington garbled as he pulled a steaming box and a pair of chopsticks out of the nearest bag and stuffed a large bite of food into his mouth while he spoke. “I been keeping tabs on your family through Sebastian and he tells me that Blaine has already started sniffing around your house now that Sam is living there again.”

“What?” Kurt said in alarm, jumping up from the chair he had just taken.

Brittany patted his arm. “Don’t worry, nobody is in danger. That’s part of what we wanted to tell you tonight. Your dad has Fam, that’s what Sam and Finn call themselves when they’re not being individuals, did you know that? Anyway, Burt has made them wear that cologne Adam made for him at Christmas, just to be safe. He offered some to Sebastian too, but a Familiar can’t be influenced by Wild Magics so he didn’t need it.”

“I should mix them up a fresh batch if Burt is sharing,” Adam mused, already considering ways he might beef up the recipe while still keeping the cologne smelling pleasant. Having been victim to Blaine’s venomous influence once, Sam and Finn might be more than usually vulnerable, and that wasn’t a risk he wanted to take. “Perhaps I could mix it into a deodorant, so there would be no danger of anyone forgetting to wear the potion. ‘Magical Musk for Men’, or some such.”

“You should do it,” Santana agreed, shrugging when she saw that nobody was bothering with food except for the always voracious Lord Tubbington, and going for plates and forks, which she spread around the table before helping herself to a serving of fried rice. “The old stuff does its job, though. Sebastian reported to L.T. that Blaine showed up at the house last night, God only knows why, and Burt met him at the door with a wicked set of hedge-clippers in hand.”

She cackled at the thought and everyone else had to grin at the picture it painted when Brittany added, “Your dad told him he’d had a feeling that it was time to prune away the obnoxious weeds that were in his yard. Then he clacked the blades just a couple of inches from Blaine’s crotch and stared him down until he ran off.”

“Didn’t stop moving until he hit the Lima Bean, from what I hear,” L.T. said with satisfaction, treating them all to a window-shaking belch as he picked a stray vegetable from his beard and popped it into his mouth. “Damn, that’s great. The Lotus must have a new chef.”

Kurt, no longer surprised that his father hadn’t reported the visit, sighed and sad down, taking a spoonful of rice and another of steaming beef & broccoli. Adam and Brittany likewise sat down and helped themselves to a serving of mouthwatering entrees. Adam happily sailed into the box of spicy chicken, also accepting a spoonful of beef & broccoli when Kurt shook the box with an inquiring look. Santana pulled out a second container of Kung Pao, having known from experience that nobody else would have a chance at the initial serving of Tubbington’s favorite, and passed it around.

“If Blaine is already trying to get in good with Sam again,” Kurt mused after a moment, “then it really does support the idea that losing Dave must have come as an unpleasant shock. To his ego if not his magic-stealing. There’s no way he could know that Sam isn’t alone anymore, right?”

“No,” Adam said, “I’m sure he doesn’t know. After all, he believes that he murdered Finn, just as he thinks he did to me. But if he’s seen him around Lima, then even without Sight he must realize that Sam is suddenly a good bit healthier than he was when their friendship was broken off. I could see so clearly, and I don’t even know the poor fellow well.”

Brittany nodded. “We went to visit my folks a couple of weeks ago and I looked in on Fam. Sam’s almost back to his old self again. You did a really good thing for him when you joined him with Finn.”

“Technically that was Sebastian’s idea,” Kurt said, giving credit where it was due. “And all of you helped.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who actually did the heavy lifting,” Santana countered, having no patience for self-effacement. Not when it came to an act of combined delicacy and power, not to mention personal risk, that had left even her cynical self in awe. Sounding baffled by her next words, she added, “And Finn is happy riding around in the back of Sam’s brain. I thought sure he’d be going crazy by now, given how much he liked being the center of attention back in high school. Instead he seems to think he’s some kind of secret agent. As long as Sam lets him take the wheel and do what he wants a couple of times a day, he doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck that nobody else knows they’re taking to Finn Hudson, ex Lima superstar.”

“I suspect without the influence of power-hungry girlfriends, he’s actually happier out of the spotlight,” Kurt said dryly. “He liked being part of the Quarterback-Head Cheerleader power couple, until it became more pressure than fun. Then he hooked up with Rachel and she was a cattle prod in the backside as far as the craving for fame and popularity went. It wasn’t until they went long-distance and Finn didn’t have anyone to give him orders, or any independent direction of his own, that he kind of crashed.”

Brittany nodded. “And Sam always felt more comfortable having an image to hide behind, so he probably likes being able to sit back and let Finn take over some of the time.” She smiled gently. “I think the people who used to know them both are a little confused, though. People never seem to see things clearly without a map.”

Remembering some of the mind-bending leaps of logic this woman had taken in the years he had known her, Kurt had to agree. Brittany always saw things clearly, it was one reason she had the most powerful gifts of Sight and magical intuition he had yet encountered, but unfortunately her idea of clarity rarely matched up with anyone else’s. At least not without a lot of practice in translating her thoughts. He had become far better at ‘speaking Brit’ over this past year than he had ever done when they were schoolmates.

“Makes sense,” he said. “Okay, so assuming my family is safe, Fam’s secret is still intact, and Blaine is beginning to lose control, how much time do you think we have to deal with this?”

“Not long, I would say,” Adam said, brow furrowing in thought. “When I confronted him two years ago, he panicked and went into immediate attack mode. Same with your brother. If he’s reeling from the insult of being dumped, and possibly from the withdrawal of whatever power he’d stored up in your friend Dave … well, I fear we’ve left this kettle boiling too long as it is.”

Tubbington cut in, “Oh, he’ll be feeling it, I’m sure of that. I don’t know if that other kid is still in town or not, but if he broke off their relationship it’s a cinch Dave’s not willing to let Blaine cozy up for a nice easy power withdrawal. Whatever magic had been stored in him would have started draining away almost immediately once he was at a safe distance.” 

At Kurt’s querying noise, Adam said, “As you know, magic has a shelf-life. We can only do so much before we’re either starving or exhausted from having used up our reserves. Storing magic in a prepared object allows it to stay viable for a while, like storing perishables in the freezer. But storing it in a person would mean using their physical reserves. Like storing those perishables in a hot garage. The power would begin to ‘go bad’ in a very short amount of time, and while the vessel could be damaged in the long term, they could also be helped by it in the short.”

“In what way?” Kurt asked, resting his elbows on the table and pressing his lips to steepled fingers as he unconsciously adopted a studying pose.

Santana answered, “Like, if Sam had been critically injured and Blaine had siphoned a portion of his own power, his own life-force, into him to keep him alive until they could get medical help, that would be okay. Noble, even. Not that something that selfless would ever occur to him.”

Tubbington agreed, “I’ve been around long enough to see that happen a couple of times, but before the human litter-box came along, I’d never even heard of a witch, regular or Wild, stealing magic from other witches without their knowledge and power-dumping it into some poor unwitting Standard. Only to steal that power back for their own personal use with no thought as to how much damage they were causing. That he did it to supposed loved ones?” He made a sound that suggested he was about to reject the box of Chinese food he had just inhaled.

“The sorts of things we can do as witches gives us an advantage over the majority of society,” Adam resumed. “And it is widely accepted throughout the community that that sort of privilege gives us a firm ethical responsibility to not misuse our power, nor go mucking about in the lives of Standards. I have wondered from time to time if the general bias against the weak, uncontrolled power of most Wild witches hasn’t led to the rest of us dropping the ball there. After all, if one never knows they’re a witch, how is one to develop the ethical foundation that is, quite frankly, expected of us? Blaine Anderson is an extreme case of self-aggrandizing moral decay, but I doubt he’s alone in it.”

“Well, there’s a cheerful thought,” Santana said sourly. “You’re saying all this is somehow our fault?”

Surprising them all, Kurt who said, “No. I spent months, years even, blaming myself for all the crap Blaine pulled when we were together. I’ve finally accepted that I wasn’t responsible for his actions or responses, only for my own. I’m not going back to thinking otherwise. Blaine was hypocritical, oblivious to other people’s feelings, and painfully self-absorbed long before he and I first started having problems. I was just too infatuated at first, and too emotionally beaten down later, to actually see it. I suspect from certain things he’s told me about his childhood that he always has been that way.”

Adam nodded. “True, and we’re speaking of Blaine as though he were a child, with no ability to recognize how destructive his behavior has been. He’s not.”

Brittany nodded. “There are a lot of bad people out in the world who got there without any help from magic. People who commit terrible crimes every day. Blaine is just doing his the easy way.”

Making a frustrated motion with his hands, Kurt said, “If the magical community is at fault in any way, it’s in not actually behaving as a community. NYADA is as much a school for witches as a school for performing artists, but you’d never know it until something goes wrong.”

“Do you know they actually had the nerve to send us a sternly worded letter after our wedding, admonishing us for performing a Major Working without a senior coven official present?” Adam said to Santana, Brittany, and Tubbington in response to his husband’s disgusted tone. “Basically they scolded us for not asking permission. Kurt was ready to go down to NYADA on the spot, likely leaving a few scorch marks in his wake, but I convinced him to not ruin a promising academic career, and to take a different approach.”

Smiling slightly, having come to appreciate Adam’s occasionally twisted sense of humor, Santana said, “What did you do to them?”

He blinked at her with calculated innocence in his too-wide blue eyes. “I merely passed the letter over to Gran, with a gentle hint that she wasn’t being properly respected for her status as a Senior level witch, and reminding her that Carmen and her crew never did apologize for their laxity in my own rescue.”

She laughed, “Oh, you are evil!”

Kurt laughed as well. “We got another letter that same week advising us to ‘please disregard the former missive’ and congratulating us on our wedding and a ‘difficult job well done’.”

“Honestly it was as close to groveling as I ever expect to see from the Almighty Carmen,” Adam chuckled. “Gran must have given them a tongue-lashing they’ll never forget.”

A sigh came from Kurt. “That’s what’s so frustrating, though! If powerful coven leaders like Madame Tibideaux, whose business is supposed to be education, would only make it their mission to trade information, help those who need it and make sure nobody falls through the cracks the way Finn and I almost did, and assessing and training those with power without treating those with unusual types of magic as second-class or unimportant, the world would be a much better place. They have the power, and they could make sure that cases like Blaine’s wouldn’t happen, because someone would always have their eyes open to step in and redirect someone who’s going the wrong way before they turn into a complete disaster.”

A swift interested chain reaction of glances and nods passed between his companions. Every good coven eventually developed a higher purpose, something beyond mere friendship and the occasional Major Working. Kurt had, without quite realizing it, just hit upon theirs. Their peculiar mixture of powers and creative problem-solving, Adam’s interest in the history of witchcraft, Johnny’s fascination with the mechanics of spell crafting, the unexpected co-mingling of Animagus and Purebred Familiars, Kurt’s own seeming magnetism toward all manner of people, both magical and Standard, drawing even Wild witches and the extremely rare Magic Dampers into his sphere; all spoke to the blending of a wider, more open overall community.

Oblivious to their silent communication, Kurt went on, “I guess that’s why I still feel like confronting Blaine is up to me. Or rather, to us.”

“Well, you know you can count me in,” Lord Tubbington said. “I’ve wanted to flex my claws on that ugly little scratching post since the first time I saw him.”

“Mine too,” Brittany said with no trace of irony. “I knew he was up to something bad the first time he came to Glee Club dressed like male Rachel.”

Still smirking a bit, Santana said, “I’ve been waiting to kick his ass since last Thanksgiving. What do you say, Kurt?”

He nodded. "Let’s get Dani, Johnny, Monica, and Elliott over here. I think it’s time we put together a plan.”

THE END

[imnotdoneyet-forreal]

Deals with the Devil- 11

Author: Amanda Preston

Summary: A need to fill a void and an encounter to start something new, Elijah and Katya never knew that a simple one night stand would wind up into a love affair filled with family drama and side deals gone wrong.

Deals with the Devil Masterlist        

        “Where’s the fire and how do I put it out?” Marcel greets as he enters the conference room. He was dressed as handsomely as ever and caught a few admiring looks from a few editors as he walked by the cubicles.         

       Katya couldn’t help but laugh at him having grown accustomed to his dramatic entrances and the lingering stares in his wake. 

        “I really need to destroy that knight-in-shining-armor mentality you have when it comes to me,” Katya responds. “I think it’s going to your head.” 

        Marcel just shrugs as he settles down into his seat. 

        “Where’s D?” he asks as he looks around the vacant room. “Thought she’ll be here.” 

        “She’s getting her sketchbook,” Katya answers. “I told her she’ll need it.” 

        “You’re finally getting her off the bench,” Marcel notes with a grin. “That’s good.” 

        “The girl deserves it,” Katya tells him. “Plan on hiring her the moment she graduates.” 

        The conversation comes to stop as Davina enters the conference with her tablet and sketchpad. The excitement of the unknown task ahead very evident on her face. 

        “Ok let’s get started,” Katya states as Davina takes the seat next to Marcel. “I’ve gathered all of you here today because Vikings Co. has decided to dump a very big and important project on MoonStone: Online Publishing.” 

        “Understood,” Marcel responds. “But why am I here for it?” 

        “Because I need your networking skills to get me the best of the best when it comes to Web Design,” Katya answers. “I need a web guy.” 

        “You already have one of those.” 

        “I have an IT guy which is a completely different playing field,” Katya clarifies. “I need a web expert that has experience from design to coding.” 

        “Alright,” Marcel acknowledges as he pulls out his blackberry and starts to scroll through it. “I can put out some feelers and see who reaches back.” 

        “Oh, I… I think I know of someone,” Davina speaks up. 

        “Who?” Katya asks. 

        “He’s a friend,” Davina answers gaining a bit more confidence. “His name is Josh and he used to be the TA in one of my classes.” 

        “Used to be?” 

        Davina’s nerves come back at the question and shrugs. 

        “I mean… he hacked into our school system and got asked to depart on his own account,” Davina explains. “But I swear, it was for a good reason.” 

        Katya couldn’t help but share a look with Marcel who just shared her amusement. 

        “And what was this reason?” 

        “A student identified as non-binary but the school refused to change the gender specification on their transcript. Josh did so easily but he got caught.” 

        “And what is this Josh up to right now?” 

        “He’s bartending,” Davina states. “But he was just shy away from graduating, at the top of his class too, and I promise he’ll be on his best behavior. That is… if you give him a chance.” 

        Katya can’t help but share a look with Marcel again. They were both enamored with the headstrong girl and it was hard to resist her request. 

        “Alright,” Katya gives in. “Let me meet him for myself and if he fits the MoonStone mentality then we’ll go on a week trial to see if he can keep up to our standards.” 

        Davina tries to calm her excitement but it was evident through her smile. 

        “Ok, I’ll reach out to him,” Davina answers. “I promise he won’t let you down.” 

        Katya chuckles at the girl’s promise and nods. 

        “Onto the next order of business,” Katya states. “I have no idea what the next step for this is so I was hoping someone might clue me in?” 

        Marcel chuckles and nods. 

        “I can do some research on the legal side of online publishing but that’s about it,” Marcel offers. “I could probably start on some patents for the name MoonStone and it’s affiliation with Viking Co. but it seems to me that as long as you don’t have your web engineer, then you’re stuck.” 

        Katya sighs and nods. 

        “Yeah… that was what I was afraid of.” 

        “I can start making some mock-up designs for the website?” Davina offers up. “I just need some insight as to what direction you want me to take.” 

        Katya nods at Davina’s offer as her drive returns once more. 

        “Alright, well… I was thinking we keep to our origins,” Katya states. “Our colors, our logos, our language. This is still MoonStone so we have to represent ourselves online as we are in person.” 

        Davina takes in the notes and is quick to start sketching out ideas. Katya’s mind roams free as her creativity flows endlessly. Marcel remained silent as he watched two of his close friends glow beautifully as their passions took over them. 

*

        The business day was already done but Elijah remained in his office working. Gia had bid him goodbye a while ago but he couldn’t recall how long ago that was. Elijah ignored the glaring clock on his desk and continued to read through his paperwork allowing that to fill up his time and mind. 

        A soft knock breaks him from his concentration and he looks up to find an unexpected guest. 

        “Mother?” 

        “Hello, son,” she answers as she steps into his office. She looks around the space analyzing the decor and ambiance before her focus returns to Elijah. “Like what you’ve done with the office.” 

        Elijah finds himself fixing his tie as his mother’s stare landed upon him. 

        “Thank you,” he answers. “How did you find me here?” 

        “Oh, I called your assistant,” she states as she takes her seat across from him. “She told me you were still at the office.” 

        Esther removes her gloves and tucks them into her designer purse. She doesn’t smile nor does she frown as she picks her next words. 

        “Nice girl, your assistant,” she comments. “Wonder why such a thing would put me on hold all day when I’ve been trying to reach you?” 

        Elijah refrains from sighing knowing the hidden accusation from his mother’s words. 

        “Mother, I…” 

        “No, need to explain,” Esther cuts him off. “Children grow up. They don’t need their mother’s looking over them.” 

        Elijah knew there was no excuse he could use to appease her. She would hold this betrayal over his head before she found another source of power. 

        “What can I do for you?” 

        Esther takes her time to respond even though Elijah already knew what she was here for. Her eyes stray to the window behind Elijah that illuminated the other buildings around Viking Co. She hums pensively before looking back at him. 

        Even though they were both seated at equal height, Elijah couldn’t help but feel like he was being looked down upon. 

        “I assume Niklaus came to speak to you on my behalf,” Esther states. “He came by the house for a quick moment before disappearing again.” 

        “Yes,” Elijah answers. “He paid me a visit. Told me that something was going on with Kol.” 

        “That boy,” Esther sighs out. “I’ve done everything I can for him and he remains ungrateful. He’s gotten kicked out of Stanford for selling answer sheets. He did the same thing at UCLA and now he refuses to go to Yale after I made a very impressive donation. I told him I could get him into whatever school he wants but he refuses to go back. I’m at my last wits which is why I need your help.” 

        “I can try to speak to him…” Elijah starts to offer but his mother is quick to interrupt him. 

        “Oh, dear, noble Elijah,” his mother responds. “Speaking to him won’t help him much. Kol needs structure. The kind of structure you gained when you came to work with your father when he ran the company. I need you to give him that and perhaps that will stick.” 

        Elijah was at a loss of words. 

        Kol was a hurricane of a person. He created disorder wherever he went. There was no stopping him. 

        A characteristic that came from their very stubborn mother. 

        “He needs this, Elijah,” his mother pleads. 

        Those words were the final nails to his coffin as Elijah had no other choice but to agree. 

        “I’ll take him under my wing,” Elijah reluctantly states. 

        “Good, I thought you would,” Esther praises as she starts to pick up her things to depart. Now that she had achieved her goal there was no reason for her to stay any longer. She slides her gloves back on and stares down at her son as she rises from her seat. 

        He looked tired. A little worn out. Too much work and not enough life could do that to you. 

        A soft gaze crosses her face at the thought but she’s quick to diminish it. 

        “You work too much,” she comments with a scowl. “Perhaps that’s why Katerina left you. Such a good girl, that one. Very well connected, good genes… Should have tied her down when you had the chance.” 

        Elijah doesn’t respond not knowing that the truth would only serve as ammunition to his mother to shift or change him into what she wants him to be. 

        “We weren’t a good match.” 

        “Hmm,” Esther hums as she turns to leave. She stops by the door and lets out a sigh. “Gia, your assistant, she’s a pretty one. It’s cliche to marry the secretary, I know, but the girl’s got potential.”

        “Mother…” Elijah sighs out. 

        “Alright,” she mutters. “I’ll stop… for now.” 

        The threat lingered in the air as she left leaving Elijah drained at the potential future meddling fro his mother. It didn’t help that his mind was soon occupied to the incoming presence of his brother Kol. 

        The workday had certainly grown longer in the span of five minutes.

[mastrechef]

I finally finished one of my other writing projects, so I came back to this early. So here’s the next installment of my Kingdom Hearts fic that I still have yet to come up with a name for.

If you haven’t read the previous parts, here are links:

Part 1: https://mastrechef.tumblr.com/post/610880203769757696/this-idea-has-been-stewing-in-my-mind-for-a-while

Part 2: https://mastrechef.tumblr.com/post/611540563650609152/more-kingdom-hearts-stuff-just-because-i-feel-like

The scene was familiar, and yet at the same time not. She looked like no more than a doll, motionless and absent of any sign of  life aside from the faint rise and fall of her chest. Looking on, Namine felt the usual stirring of remorse as a different image superimposed itself over Kairi. She had already spent far too much time standing by the wayside, watching while others slept away, unaware of the world moving on without them. To be in that situation again, even if—or perhaps, especially if—her involvement was minimal, left her feeling unsettled.

“How are things looking?” And there was Riku, checking in for updates like clockwork.

“Still nothing I’m afraid. Ienzo and the others were thinking it might be time to wake her up.” Riku nodded distractedly. Namine contemplated him for a moment. He had been running himself ragged lately, although he tried his best not to show it, his misplaced guilt over Sora’s disappearance driving him to extremes. Idly, she wondered when he’d last had a decent night’s sleep.

Speaking of sleep… “I heard you’ve started looking into your dreams for leads.”

“That’s right.” He huffed in discontent. “I feel like there’s something there, but I don’t really know what it is I’m looking for.”

Namine pursed her lips together, debating to herself. There had been something on her mind for a while now, something she hadn’t really known how to address. If anyone should know about it, it was Riku; yet, she still found herself hesitating. Her powers had caused nothing but pain, and if she could live the rest of her life without using them again she would be happy. More than anything, she wanted them to be gone. But in this case, her lingering connection to Sora might be their best lead. As much as she disliked it, she owed him this much.

“There’s something I need to show you,” she said eventually, flipping through the sketchbook she carried with her everywhere. She skipped past all the old drawings of Sora and of Roxas, past the newer sketches of Radiant Garden, finally coming to a halt on an image that stood out from the rest in its monochrome coloration. “The place in your dream...does it look like this?”

He took the offered sketchbook from her to examine the drawing in detail. “The buildings themselves look different, but something tells me they’re the same place. How did you know?”

“I suspected as much,” she said mostly to herself. “It was so strange, I wasn’t sure what to make of it at first. It seems my ability to influence Sora’s memories still works. I pulled this from some of his newest memories.”

“You mean you can tell what Sora’s been up to? What he’s doing right now?”

“Sort of. The memories are distorted, and they’ve only been getting worse.”

“Still, it’s another avenue we can pursue.” He took Namine’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for sharing this with me.” Riku understood what it was that she was offering; he also understood just what it would cost her. Already she felt anxious. For Sora, she reminded herself.

...

He’s like a stray cat, Sora couldn’t help but think when Vanitas inevitably hunted him down again, this time aimlessly wandering the winding city streets. About as prickly as one too. He made a mental note never to mention that out loud. He had a feeling Vanitas would take issue with the comparison. Deciding to let the other start the conversation this time, Sora kept his silence. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Who is that guy you’re always fighting?”

“His name’s Yozora, although I don’t think that’s really him.” Sora didn’t bother to elaborate further. He had the barest inkling of what was really going on, though Yozora’s role in it was the one thing he was certain of.

Nevertheless, Vanitas obviously understood anyway. “He’s the reason you’re stuck here.” It wasn’t a question; rather it was a confident assertion.

“Yeah.” Sora took a moment to scrutinize the other boy. There were deep bags under his eyes and weariness hung over him like a cloak. While physically they looked to be about the same age, Vanitas looked to be much more weighed down, like every instant just existing was felt as a physical burden. An ache of a different kind bloomed in his chest. “Why don’t you stay with me for a while?” he offered on impulse. “My heart has always been a sanctuary for others. I was able to help Ventus become whole again; I could do the same for you.”

Vanitas shot him a flat stare. “You don’t get it.”

“I’m not dumb. I don’t know all the details, but I know that everything you’ve been through must have been painful.” He had enough vague impressions from Roxas and Xion to understand that much. And he himself knew intimately the pain of not being enough; not strong enough, not fast enough, not worthy enough. More gently, he said, “At least if you stay with me you won’t ever be alone. And if you want to sleep and ignore the world for a while, that’s fine too.”

The sound of Vanitas’ footsteps halted, and Sora stopped as well to look back at him.

“Why are you trying so hard to save me?” If he was trying for aggressive, all he achieved was sounding mildly annoyed. Above all else, he just sounded tired. It made Sora incredibly sad to see someone in such a state.

“Because you deserve a chance. All you’ve known is darkness, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have something else.” He put as much sincerity into both his words and his expression as he could. He wanted—no, needed Vanitas to believe him.

In the face of Sora’s earnest desire to help, Vanitas was unable to refuse. Sora could read it in his eyes. He beamed. Vanitas stubbornly avoided looking at him directly, seeming to already be regretting his decision, but all the same, he didn’t call up a dark corridor to get away.

“So how does this work?”

“I have no clue. I don’t really remember how it happened before. Maybe—if it’s anything like the power of waking, it’ll come to me when I need it.”

Without warning, Sora grabbed Vanitas by the wrist to pull him close, simultaneously placing a hand on his chest, digging blunt nails in slightly when he tried to flinch away. He closed his eyes in concentration. He had opened his heart to Ventus once, and later to Kairi, Roxas, and presumably Xion, even if he hadn’t been conscious of it at the time. Now, he just needed to replicate that. His heart would lead the way.

There was a slight shift in energy, and a tingle went down his spine. Sora could sense it now, the flickering pinprick of light coated in darkness that was Vanitas’ heart. He focused on it, drawing it out. Vanitas exhaled in a woosh, but Sora didn’t acknowledge it, focused as he was. Come to me, he willed. There was a sudden pulse and Sora nearly lost his balance as Vanitas disappeared in a shower of light. In his mind’s eye, he could see Vanitas descending gently onto his station of awakening.

“Oh,” he whispered breathlessly. The void that had opened up when Ventus woke was shrinking, the cracks in his heart filling in. The old, persistent ache was gone. In its place he felt...surprisingly warm, like a flame had ignited within his chest. It was a little strange, but not unwelcome. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who had forgotten what being whole was like.

You cozy in there? He was only a little startled to actually receive a reply.

Just peachy. Now shut the fuck up and let me sleep. But don’t think I won’t take over if you start doing stupid shit.

Got it.

Sora lifted his gaze to the stars overhead, renewed resolve flowing into him. He had a feeling that his next meeting with Yozora would go very differently.

Dodging immediately to the side had become so routine as to be pure muscle memory. He brought his keyblade up to block the swift alternating succession of laser beams and sword strikes. Feeling faster than he had in all their previous battles, Sora took the initiative to charge Yozora, landing a couple solid strikes to his midsection. Yozora backflipped away, and Sora held back, knowing he would be readying his next attack.

Phantom sword slashes flew through the air as Sora danced around them. Narrowly twisting away from another one, he threw a firaga his opponent’s way, distracting him enough to allow Sora to close the distance once more. A surge of exhilaration flooded his body. After what felt like an entire lifetime fighting heartless or nobodies or any resident big bad that was up to no good, battle was in his blood. As much as he’d like nothing better than to return to Destiny Islands with Riku and Kairi, he doubted he could settle into a peaceful life. A restless part of him would always seek out adventure or the adrenaline rush of a good fight.

When Yozora retreated from his assault again, Sora tensed his muscles in preparation. He rolled away before the glowing red pyramid could trap him. As soon as he got to his feet, he instantly spun around, bracing his keyblade against Yozora’s lightning quick onslaught. He evaded a second pyramid, then cast thundaga to interrupt the other’s rhythm.

The battle continued, becoming more of a competition of stamina. The fatigue that had plagued Sora before was non-existent. He felt so energized that he could go on like this for ages. Yozora showed no signs of slowing either.

An idea formed as he recalled the fight at the Keyblade Graveyard. Pouring all his magic into it, he summoned forth the ultimate keyblade transformation. Surrounded by a swarm of blades, he had but to direct them towards Yozora. He was quickly overwhelmed.

Yozora collapsed to his knees, panting in exertion. He lifted a hand as it began dispersing into blue light. “I guess...that my powers aren’t needed yet.”

“What do you mean?” Sora was confused. What powers? Was Yozora not the one who trapped him here?

Yozora’s expression turned strangely melancholy. “Nevermind.” He gave Sora one last tiny, barely there smile before everything burst into light.

Sora uncovered his eyes, blinking away the spots burned into his vision, to see the cloud filled sky and mirror-like watery landscape of the Final World. The last specks of light drifted off into the air like puffs of dandelions blown by the wind.

[dylan-hague]

Chapter 2

“You’re a pilot, right?”

Van glanced up from his drink at a girl in a rather drab beige robe cinched tight around her body that covered most of her face. The robe was immaculate, without spot or wrinkle despite the squalor of their surroundings. He couldn’t help cocking a brow; if she was attempting to go unnoticed, she wasn’t doing it very well. She carried herself far too proudly, kept her shoulders too square, held her head too high. But there was a craze behind her eyes, one that spoke desperation, He scratched at his chin for a moment as he looked around the cantina. Nobody seemed to be paying attention. Seemed nobody had noticed her. This sort of hire had a tendency to get him into trouble… but having spent the last of his credits on that fill-up, Van wasn’t exactly in any position to turn her down.

“Uh, yeah.” He smiled. “Van Taris, pilot-for-hire. You got somewhere to be?”

The girl nodded, frantically it seemed to Van’s eyes. “An orbital station, above Bonumaan.”

In the back of his head, Van felt a twinge of excitement spark. Bonumaan was a ways out. That kind of a trip.... that would be the ticket right there. But he wasn’t fool enough to say as much aloud, instead feigning a half-sneer. “Ick… Never liked Bonumaan,” Van replied. “So muggy everywhere you go… least, where I’ve been. Big planet, all that.”

“But you can get me there, yes?”

“Of course, yeah, but uhhh, y’know... not free.” Van pulled his sleeve back and began punching in a few quick calculations on his wrist console. It was a simple little gadget, mainly just used for this exact purpose. “Lemme see… We’re on Natoth, and Bonumaan is about… 2400 parsecs Rimwards... rounding down, anyway, to save you money.” Van winked at the girl. People usually liked that bit. “That’s gonna be a couple days’ travel… maybe we can stop over on Takodana--”

“No! Please, we have to be as fast as possible.”

“Alright, alright! No stops…” Van continued, changing his calculations. “So accounting for fuel cost these days, food and water for the road, plus my extra twenty percent…” A moment of further calculation, then a quiet ping from the console. “That’ll run you 1680 NRC.”

“Can you take Imperial?”

Van frowned. “Sorry, I… people still do Imperial? That was… that was kinda before my time. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright, nevermind…” The girl dipped a hand into her robe and pulled out a stack of 500-NRC chips. Four, to be exact. Van licked his lips; that was a big fat tip.

“Now, I can’t make exact change, you gotta understand…”

“It’s fine,” the girl urged. “Just… please. I have to hurry.”

Van nodded, turning back and draining the rest of his drink. It was an effort to hide his excitement. 2000 credits… back in the day, that would have been enough for a pretty decent used speeder bike. Nowadays… well, Van would put it to good use. Maybe get the Bird shopped up, see if he couldn’t improve her fuel-rate so that his current situation didn’t happen again. Between the creds, and his tank filled up now… Van liked his odds of making it home.

“Alrighty, you got yourself a pilot. If you’ll follow m-ohhh…” The pilot shook his head as he stood up from his stool. He never drank anything too strong, but perhaps that had been a bit of a chug. He cleared his throat and got his feet back under him. “Okay, okay. Follow me, Bluebird’s this way!”

Van led the girl on a quick jaunt out of the bar and across town, in the chilly Natoth air. This particular hemisphere was hitting the middle of winter, and things on this system got particularly cold, cold enough to build up ice on the windows of any structure without proper heating. He liked Natoth well enough, but he didn’t have the blood for it. He blamed Naboo for that one.

Rinng met him outside his ship, covered in grease. Van produced his last 5-credit chip and dropped it into the mechanic’s hand. He would have tipped more, but he was going to need every credit of that 2000.

“Hey, hold on before you take off,” Rinng called after the pair. Van turned curiously back to the tendril-headed fellow. “I noticed a bit of buildup around the base of your cannon, so I went ahead and cleaned it off for ya.”

“Oh, thanks man! You really didn’t have to do that.”

The Nautolan waved the comment aside. “I’d go ahead and fire up the bioshields, get started warming those windscreens up. You know how bad the ice gets these days.”

“Thanks again, Rinng. See ya soon.” Van offered a sloppy salute as he opened the Bluebird’s hatch and led his passenger inside. As he eased himself back into his seat at the helm, he heard the klik-ssssssssssssss of the station’s fuel line disconnecting. As he began firing up the ship, the fuel tank showed at full capacity. While that was always a good sight, Van still couldn’t shake an odd feeling about this gig. Last time he was on Natoth, he picked up a shady character… admittedly he’d been more obviously sketch than this lady, but he’d picked him up in the Cantina just like her. Cheap scum didn’t even leave a tip, and Van was pretty sure he saw the creep try to swipe his blaster on the way out the door. All said creep got away with was a holster… which Van had to replace, since the creep apparently just up and disappeared a day after he left the Bird and couldn’t be hunted down. Either way, this gig still seemed on the verge of being sketchy, but these days… again, 2000 is 2000.

Van grinned as the engines roared to life, and the Bluebird began to lift up out of the station. He quickly pulled up his astrogation chart, plotting a course for Bonumaan, past Takodana--avoiding open space, for Rinng’s sake--as the ship lifted itself up through the atmosphere.

“So!” Van called, turning to see the girl strapping herself in. Nearly swallowing his words, the pilot hurriedly secured his own safety belt as well. “Once we make the jump, that’ll put us just past Takodana, at which point we’ll swing around the planet and make a second jump to hit Bonumaan. Normally I’d just shoot straight there, but I’ve heard about some, uhh… well, some unsavory activity goin’ on right in that sector. Do hope you don’t mind.”

“What sort of unsavory activity?”

“Fighter Jockies,” Van replied with just a hint of a sneer. “Pirates. Like to blast apart good honest travelers, then pick at whatever’s left of their ships like animals.”

“Sounds like you’ve encountered them before.”

“I have,” Van said grimly. “I was lucky I’d just hooked my cannon controls up to the helm, because I didn’t have a gunner with me. If I hadn’t sprung for the upgrade, they prob’ly woulda blown me right outta lightspeed, scattered what was left of me across the whole parsec.”

“How would they fire on you at lightspeed? No weapon can fire that quickly.”

“Not a cannon. Some of ‘em have these big ol’ blades strapped to the flanks of their fighters. So long as they can swing in beside you, they’ll carve your ship wide open.”

“That’s horrid!”

“You’re absolutely right,” said Van, “which is why it’s such skiff that the Senate can’t decide on what to do about it.” He paused for a moment. “Uhh, pardon my language.”

“It’s fine.”

Van turned back to the helm. “Anyway, I’m gonna take us around the other end of Tako just to be on the safe side, alright? If it helps, I can offer you back 20 credits.”

“Don’t worry about the money, I just need to get to that station soon…”

“Don’t suppose you have any reasons for the express treatment you’d like to share?”

The girl frowned. “I’m sorry, but I can’t say.”

Van held up a hand. “Totally cool, pretend I didn’t even ask.”

They had just passed into the void of space, pinpoints of starlight shining through the blackness stretched out forever before them. Van wrapped his fingers around the warp switch and turned back to his passenger. The girl pushed back into her seat and offered a single nod of confirmation. The pilot whipped back forward and slowly pushed the switch forward. The stars stretched and shone brighter and brighter, until the blackness of space gave way to a swirling vortex of shimmering blue hyperspace.

“Beenine. Stabilize, please.”

“Of course, love,” came a voice from overhead.

The girl jumped. “What was that?”

“Oh, that’s Beenine. She useta be a droid, but then we got into a scuffle with an ex-Imp cell. One of ‘em had one of those riot batons, Beenine took a hit. Lucky me, I was flying into Nar Shaddaa at the time, so I swung by a chop shop, got her patched up as best I could. Beenine, say hi!”

Van pointed up over the console, where built into the ship itself was installed the round head of a protocol droid. The girl let out a little gasp as the droid’s illuminated eyes.

“Nice to meet you, love. Designation B9-V at your service. Welcome to Taris Travels, ready to do all we can to make your travels as smooth and swift as possible.”

The girl blinked profusely for a moment, but she nodded. “Pl-uhh, pleasure to meet you.”

After a moment longer, the Bluebird’s pressure-stabilizers kicked in, alleviating the force pressing the ship’s occupants into their seats. Van heaved himself up from his chair and stretched. “So!” he started, “lemme show you where everything is. Don’t worry, she’s a real small ship… sure you noticed on the way in.”

The tour was brief. Van had two sleeping quarters on opposite ends of the Bluebird, one for himself and one for his passenger, or two for his passengers if he was flying for more than one. The pilot’s seat was a perfectly fine napping spot… usually. Foodstores and a very, very rudimentary kitchen took up most of the lower deck, and the rest of the ship was either working parts or storage. Van made a point to keep things cozy. Sure, it was a source of occasional complaints, but what did it matter? This ship wasn’t a home to anyone but Van, and Van liked things the way he had them.

“I believe I’ll retire for a bit, if it’s all the same to you,” said the girl. “Forgive me, but it’s been…”

“Hey, I get it,” said Van. “That’s what the beds are for. Take a load off. I’ll be up here keepin’ an eye on things.”

The girl bowed, and disappeared into the hallway. Van turned back to the swirling hyperspace before him.

Beenine’s head swiveled down to look at her pilot. “So what do we know about her?” her voice came from a smaller speaker on the console now, rather than the overhead speakers.

“Not a thing,” Van replied. “Picked her up in Sen-Trill.”

“Sen-tr--” Beenine sighed, an exaggerated sort of sound. “Captain, we’ve discussed this, nothing good comes out of Sen-Trill.”

“Well that doesn’t change the fact that we’re out of work,” Van shot back. “She gave us 2000 creds, we can’t afford to turn that kind of money down!”

“Is this about Life Day?” Beenine groaned. “We’ve had this conversation a thousand times! Just Comm your mother, she can take care of it!”

“And I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m not doing that! I’m a grown man, I don’t need a handout from my mother.”

“Your credit account says differently.”

“Bee! We literally just got 2000!”

“And before that, you had six.”

“Oh, shut up and plot us a course!”

Both pilot and droid let out exasperated half-shouts as they went back to their respective duties. Van would never think about wiping Beenine’s memory, but times like this she just tested his patience so much…

Just keep flying, Van thought to himself as he gazed out the windscreen. His eyelids grew heavy, and he felt weariness settling on his shoulders like a great weight. Everything will work out fine if… if you just keep… keep... flying...

[leonardvindel]

[ChloDine] Tippy Toes

Caramel coloured hands reached down and picked up a floret of broccoli from the temperature controlled fridge in front of her. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to study the branches of each floret through the transparent plastic sheet that housed the green vegetable. A memory from a few months ago replayed in her mind as she had had the unfortunate luck of finding a dead worm attached to one of the cooked branches half way through her meal. Of course her girlfriend found that hilarious and even went as far as to point out that it was extra protein to aid the muscle repair from that day’s work out. Her girlfriend then went on to ask if had ever experienced having to eat insects during her time fighting in wars. Thankfully Nadine and her men didn’t have to resort to such desperate measures. Someone always had a stash of MREs available. Having carefully studied as much of the broccoli as she could, Nadine placed the packet into the shopping basket with a sigh, silently hoping that this batch would be void of any dead worms. After picking up a few more items, she found herself taking a small jar of Vegemite off the shelf. Chloe would always antagonize her with it by kissing her after eating a spoon full of it. Vegemite was just as bad a Marmite. Reserved for truly unique individuals, like the ones who put pineapple on a pizza. Her left hand dipped into her pants pocket and pulled out her army green covered smartphone with a pop socket of a flamingo on the back cover. “Okay, we still need to get toothpaste, still water, kola tonic, lamb chops, basmati rice, chips, long life fat free milk and -“ she paused a took in a deep breath as she read an item that was she certain she hadn’t put onto the list “Chips...” That’s where her Chloe must have been since she disappeared ten minutes to go and “decrease the time they spent in the grocery store” by picking up their toiletries.

A few steps past those dangerous “middle aisles” brought her to an empty “chips, nuts, dried fruit and popcorn” aisle. Somewhere towards the middle she located her girlfriend, staring at the empty spot in front of her then shifting her gaze above her then to the side and then back to the empty space before her. “And now?” Nadine asked as she made her approach towards Chloe Grey eyes turned to face her “Ah! There you are love. I knew you’d find me eventually” Nadine turned her phone to face Chloe “Ja, the ‘chips’ gave it away. How did you unlock my phone again?” The mischievous thief smirked “oh it was so easy this time, 24563. The letters on the number pad spell out my name and I’m the only person you love so much as to use my name as your password” Nadine scoffed at Chloe for figuring out her cellphone password again. Chloe then pointed to a blue box at the top of the shelf, quickly changing the subject “I need help getting a packet out of that box” Nadine’s eyes followed the direction of the pointed finger towards the blue box of chips that Chloe was referring to “Ask a store attendant” Chloe nodded and pursed her lips “I did and he said he’d be back but that was about” she glanced at the clock on the far end of the aisle “plus, minus twelve minutes ago. He’s not coming back.” An excited smile became evident on her face “But now that you’re here-“ “I can’t reach up there” Nadine shrugged as she cut Chloe off. Chloe motioned for Nadine to put the basket down “Yeah I know. I was thinking that I could get up on your shoulders and I could quickly get one. It’ll be easy peasy” Nadine nervously looked around the aisle and was happy to see that it was just the two of them “Eish okay. But make it quick” She put the shopping basket down and put her head through Chloe’s legs and let her sit comfortably on her shoulders before standing up straight. Chloe reached up with a grunt and tried to open up the box. She struggled a little bit but got it open. An impatient groan came from below her “Well? Have you got one yet?” Being on Nadine’s strong shoulders tempted Chloe to tease “Nearly got it.” She let out a fake groan “Maybe if you stand on your tippy toes” “I AM ON MY...tippy toes” came the response from her lover below her. Chloe could tell that her girlfriend’s patience was wearing thin, she smirked. Oh how she enjoyed teasing her girlfriend. A hand came across her vision startling Nadine a bit as a man in grabbed the chocolate covered popcorn packet in front of her. She turned her head and gave him a nervous smile, she had wanted to get this done before anyone saw them but it was evident that it was too late for that now. Better than having the store manager come over she thought. Feeling the head in between her legs shift slightly to the side, Chloe glanced down to see what had pulled at her girlfriend’s attention. A man below her had grabbed a bag of something, exchanging what looked like a smile with Nadine and at that, a thought crept into Chloe’s mind. “Have I told you how much I love it when your head is in between my legs?” She felt Nadine’s shoulders twitch, but she was just getting started “I’d be so much better if your head was facing the other way so you-” Chloe didn’t get to finish her naughty sentence before she was pulled away from the box of chips as Nadine tried to silence her from finishing her sentence. In order to regain her balance on Nadine’s shoulders, her hands immediately went to grab onto Nadine’s head which in turn made the packet of chips hit her girlfriend’s face, blinding her from view. “Wai-wait a minute! Just stay calm Nadine.” “Yissus!!” Nadine was swaying from side to side, she couldn’t see and her face was burning from being hit with a packet of chips. If she lost her footing and fell it could spell trouble for Chloe, even from this height. A pair of hands stabilised her from behind to keep her from falling backwards “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Nadine could hear sighs of relief from the body above her. She in turn, took a moment to gather herself before bending down to let Chloe off her burning shoulders. “Are you okay Chloe?” Nadine asked her girlfriend even with annoyance evident on her face. Chloe nodded then giggled “sorry love.” Chloe gently rubbed Nadine’s reddish cheek before swinging her arm over Nadine’s shoulder. A chuckle turned the ladies’ attention to the man behind Nadine who had helped stabilise her “Oh man! That’s the best thing I’ve seen and heard all day” Nadine blushed that the man had heard and figured out what Chloe meant earlier. He waved off the anxious look on Nadine’s face as the laughter died down “You know, my only son came out to me a few months ago and it was a very difficult thing to adjust to. I did and said something’s that at I’m not proud of but after seeing the two of you from the moment I walked into the store half an hour ago to this little mishap now, if my son can find what the two of you seem to have then I’ll be a peace with his choice.” Chloe smiled and put her hand out to shake his hand “Thanks for the assist mate.” He reciprocated and let out another short laugh “You’re welcome. Now you two try and stay out of trouble.” They watched as he continued on his shopping, pushing his trolley along. Nadine wanted to tell the man how difficult ‘staying out of trouble’ was when you had a girlfriend like Chloe Frazer. A shiny packet of chips lying on the floor caught Nadine’s eye as she bent down to pick it up. She looked at Chloe in confusion as she had another packet of chips in her hand “Two packets? Really?” Chloe pulled on each side of the packet in her hand to open it up “Well this one is for now and the other if for pad-pad” pronunciation not forming correctly on her lips “what do you call it again?” “Padkos!” Nadine finished the word for her while rolling her eyes. Chloe clicked her thumb and middle finger together with a wink “Yeah, that’s the one.” Nadine looked around for a second before kissing Chloe on the cheek. She didn’t want travel snacks but it helped keep Chloe quiet for a bit sometimes. The other packet was added to their shopping basket as Nadine picked it up “Come on. Let’s finish up and leave.” A crunch could be heard beside her as she unlocked her phone to look at the list again, a golden chip obscured her vision and she then opened her mouth for Chloe to feed it to her.

-END-

Thank you @bri-nothecheese for giving me the extra push to get this written.

Artwork related to this one-shot HERE

Translations:  Yissus = Jesus Eish = very common word to hear in South Africa. An exclamation expressive of surprise, agreement, disapproval Ja = Yes Vegemite  Marmite Kola Tonic

Please excuse all grammar and spelling mistakes.

Other ChloDine fan fiction I’ve written Haematophilia (fan fiction) I’ve Got You (fan fiction)

My ChloDine artwork: MerMay 2018 Chloe and Praful Some Mornings Where My Heart Is (Valentines 2018) Ask: Chloe, Protective mama Nadine & Thando Break time Haematophilia (artwork) Listen to your wife Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 I’ve Got You (artwork) I’ll Kiss It Better Find Your Target Goeie More Liefie (semi-colour chibi) Too Heavy (full colour) Trip to Iceland (sketch-ish)

[kitsoa]

Lyric Comic Q&A

So it turns out when you work on a project for half a year, you get a lot of Thoughts and want to express them whether people are actually curious or not. Without further ado, your un-requested Birdmen Lyric Comic Q&A

(Warning: I’m long winded)

*Why a Lyric Comic?

Dude, lyric comics are cool. I’ve always been fascinated by the beautiful, multifaceted artistic experience they provide, because of my love for music and art. Furthermore, I am often plagued by cinematic trapped in my head, spurred by the movement and lyrics of my favorite songs. Since I have no means or experience in the animation category (which would free these phantoms from my head) the lyric comic was a godsend of a medium for this inspired idea of mine. Kiki-kit of the Gravity Falls fandom and Tides-miraculous’ lyric comic in the Miraculous Ladybug are my main inspirations, I’ve adored their sense of motion and emotional savviness. It’s quite the powerful medium.

It’s also a good medium for me personally. I am a ‘looper’ with my music, allowing me to listen to something over and over without tiring. This is useful in the drafting stages! I loved the challenge (though I definitely didn’t anticipate it’d take this long).

*Why this song?

“Out of Mind” was one of those songs that spoke to me, in an overly cathartic, heart-yearning-- almost funnily sardonic ways. Birdmen being on the brain, I started to easily see how much the singers voice reflected that bombastic frustration our Eishi is so known for. The Pre-Chorus “Are you kidding me?” speaks to me the most, reminding me of his cry of frustration during his first blackout, screaming against his fate as he fell from the sky (this exact image did not make the final cut in the end, but I certainly vied for it until other themes overtook it-- let’s face it, there are many screaming Eishi’s to choose from).

This period of time between Takayama’s disappearance and the inevitable reunion is super intriguing to me. Eishi’s in the role of the heartbroken singer, hopelessly betrayed and unable to get over the good thing they had.

*Breakdown the story:

The progression goes like this:

Eishi’s loneliness consumes the first verse, Takayama’s empty seat, Eishi standing alone… all the while peppered with Takayama’s broken promise, which culminates with Eishi’s defiant Death Tweet. The Refrain then serves as these hallmark moments that define them. This is what they had. Every rescue, every proclamation or venomous defying of fate-- it’s what made them. And you’d have to be out of your mind to think that these moments could be forgotten.

Verse 2 is all about that shift in Eishi to follow him. Wistful memories drive Eishi as he chooses to leave and depart from everything he knows, just to get him back. Meanwhile, that opinion of Takayama is still weighed down by that grating irritation (like hell he’s in touch reality, how could he do this?) culminating to his call for him in the Himalayas. The Refrain fires again with the same point as the last but this time I tried to go for a more fervent angle, some of the scenes actually focus on Takayama’s feelings for Eishi and ultimately the pull they have towards each other.

The Bridge is where things get desperate. The moments in the manga where Eishi is in physical pain because of the Whiteout shake me so much. It reminds me of a straight up panic attack. I let this crescendo with the music, making the black void swallow the chaos in a quick snap. Building to the final chorus.

The whiteout is special because Eishi both yearns after this figment emotionally (his friendship with Takayama) and intellectually (what the hell is it and what does it mean?). It represents his unique position in the realm of the story being able to see it, but it ultimately captures the almost divine force behind the relationship of Eishi and Takayama. The outro then brings us back to Eishi failed call at the Himalaya’s, the whiteout ripping him up and forcing Takayama to save him. All the while calling back to that first interaction between them. A mysterious moment that obviously held more weight than any world shaking rescue. And I cap it off with a warmer depiction of their reunion.

*Are you shipping in this comic?

Despite the romantic song, my affections for the pairing, and any other subtext I’ve provided, I went in with the project with a platonic angle. Like I’m not lying. I’m on the ace spectrum or whatever so I kind of interpret every strong bond in the same realm. So that means, if you think it’s a romantic interpretation-- then you’re right. If you think it’s not, you’re also right. Love comes in many forms. Have fun kids.

*What was your process?

Storyboarding

Listen over and over and figure out where to phrase the panels. I then divided the lyrics up accordingly in a draft and reviewed the pacing over and over again. Does it flow? How many words would comfortably fit with each panel?

Determined the thematic arc. At this point I already had a few anchoring moments so I wrote a description of the panel in the draft. I went with the formula of Verses= move the ideas, Refrain= emotional accents, and the Bridge is like… the climax with an epilogue of an outro. This was tricky step. I debated a lot of ideas and some lyrics didn’t feel like a good fit until I really sat on it for a while.

Fill in the draft. This is where I sketch the general shape of panels. This is also where I look at the gestalt of the thing and make sure the composition is easy on the eyes. I tried to make it dynamic and zig-zaggy so as not to be boring. This is the step where one gets really excited about the project. Cause it’s no longer trapped in your head.

Sketching

Gathered references. Surfed the web, made some myself.

Made time to sketch, I did a lot of them at my summer job, made sure to draw about 2 or 3 a day. I had the time then because it was before I took on my day job. I was very surprised to find that I rarely went back to edit a picture or dispose of a draft. I went through with the mantra that I was going to finish the picture no matter what.

Stayed disciplined with said time. I would not let myself take a break from drawing because half the success came from the fact that I was on a roll.

When I finished them I then went through the process of scanning them (my scanner broke between the first 20 panels so RIP)

Coloring Stage

...Good lord. This is where I probably went the most wrong. Make sure you have a good process in place before starting out this stage.  I was not one to digital art much as of late so my familiarity with my program was lackluster (and it also is literally the worst program  in the world), and my laptop couldn’t handle more than 10 panels. So hurray for a very desperate fix. I did everything from my brothers computer, in his room. Sometimes at terrible hours because that's the only time I’m home.

Color planning. I rushed this process but I pulled up the textures and color pallets and reference images from internet searches and stock piled them. While planning I approximated the overall ‘tone’ of each pane; (is it a dark shade, a light shade, blue, or red in hue…) and then I adjusted that so the colors didn’t repeat or blend unless the panels where connected in the same scene. There was a lot of problem solving in the actual coloring so some of this was not as smooth and I paid for it later.

Sketch Editing. I was able to go back in, move around things and edit certain aspects of the sketch without compromising the entire work. This was a life saver.

Actually coloring. Because I color sketches it’s actually a painstaking process where I can’t use a wand or a fill. I’m not familiar with certain masking and coloring methods that would have sped the process up and I wanted to be consistent. This would take 3 to 5 hours a panel which I would do in small bursts.

Type-setting

Deciding font. I was hunting around for a good font for ages until I just decided… to use my own handwriting. This meant that I had to makes sure my tablet pressure specs were up to date and I had to practice my style. It’s not perfect but its cool.

Apply font to panel. There were moments when I literally said ‘screw it’ and left my handwriting a little more sloppy than standard.

Consultation. I worked with my graphic designer friend on improving the placement of text and the color choices. This was an interesting step she is a saint.

Finalize

Every single panel is extremely large. I had to resize each one. Before this I had many tests in the drafts to see how certain sizes would load or format.

*Will you make another?

Probably. Like, there is nothing more satisfying than getting something stuck in your head out of it. I have a lot of tunes I am fond of but barely any qualify for lyric comics (need to have a good pace, easy to latch on musical phrases, thematic content that works etc.) The fandom is important too. Now that I think about it I have storyboards for an old DCMK ‘lyric comic’ idea to Imogen Heap’s “A-ha” (it was like some hidden dark side!au shit I still come back to it). I can’t let my interest wan or it straight up dies. Birdmen is a really unique series for me because its held on for a remarkable amount of time and strongly at that.

Fun Facts:

I colored a total 77 panels, 11 of which were scraped versions of the core 66 because perfectionist tendencies.

It took me 3 months to sketch all the panels out, sometimes drawing 3 a day. I would often cradle my sleeping kitten while I drew.

Panel 54-- the final chorus, whiteout splash page-- took three days to draw. At first it was two pages taped together, then it was three. I had my friend mend the images together into a massive pic for me to color, then break it apart for blog distribution. The full version is used in her video edit of the lyric comic.

I didn’t use pressure sensitivity on my tablet until I got to the last chunk. RIP

It usually took me over a day to do one picture.

I do not have a computer in my room that utilizes the art program I need. I literally did every panel after #10 in my brothers room. Sometimes hella late at night too. Props to my generous brother, he tells me he likes the company.

I took a few notable breaks. All of Inktober was used on the art challenge. The weeks leading up to Birdmen Week. And at least half of the Christmas season was spent on coloring hiatus.

I like adding a ring around the pupils of the seraph eyes. This is not canon, but an error that I really liked. You can see it as a sort of glow.

I am having my friend edit the panels into a video for your convenience. I have no idea how long it will take but I’m tired.

[agl03]

Finding My Way Back To You

For the @aosrewatch Reunion prompt.  I was going for fluff…not sure I succeeded…but enjoy.  

Leopold Fitz Radcliffe had always felt like something was missing from his life.   Ever since he could remember there had been a hole, an ache in his chest he just couldn’t shake.   Though every so often he would get a flash, most triggered by every day things.  

The scent of Lavender and someone curled into his chest.

The sound of a kettle boiling and a warmth that could only be described as home filled him.

The sight of the stars shimmering at night telling him something Magnificent was out there.  

He had once told his adoptive parents of this, Holden and Agnes Radcliffe. They pair had smiled adoringly at each other and assured him that one day he would find a love and child as they had to fill the void.   They even tried to help him with a nearly constant stream of carefully vetted pretty faces.   Each and every one unable to hold a candle to the unknown Fitz was waiting for.  

Today he was expected to meet yet another one of those Radcliffe approved choices at a party they were putting on to celebrate their most recent breakthrough in prosthetics.  A English Garden Party of all things.  Agnes loving time honored tradition in counter to the future that their tech represented.  

Fitz hadn’t wanted to come at all as he preferred to stay out of the public eye as much as possible. Not liking the spot light or attention. Radcliffe had fostered and encouraged this when he was younger and kept him sheltered since taking him in when he was ten.  Worried that Fitz would be the target of rival corporations, Shield, and the occasional ransom junkie out to make a quick buck.  However, the older and more successful Fitz became the more he felt like a show pony being trotted out for a photo op.  

“Ten minutes Sir,” The voice called from the other side of the door and Fitz heaved a heavy sigh.  Perhaps he could slip away after cocktails.  The event was mercifully at an old Victorian Cottage Radcliffe had purchased years ago and meant that Fitz had his own space to slip away too once it got too much.   Until then he put the simple grey suit and Lavender tie Agnes had sent for him.

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The party was just as bad as all the others.   Fitz stood dutifully at Radciffe’s side, shook hands or answered the occasional question.   Finally getting a moment to himself when Radcliffe was pulled away to speak with Melinda May.   He used the opportunity to slip away to an unused portion of the deck and sit on the weathered swing.   He had always loved this swing, spending countless hours on it growing up simply reading books or sketching designs that had long since come to life.

“Its not Perthshire but it is quite lovely,” a voice said and caused Fitz to jump.    

He turned to see a beautiful brunette tentatively approach with tears in her eyes.  Something about seeing tears in those eyes made him want to go to her immediately and take her into his arms to kiss them away.   She had dressed like the other guests, a long white tea length dress with blue flowers bursting across the fabric.  A matching jeweled comb in her hair.  Forget me Nots he noted.  Odd as most of the ladies dresses he’d seen had more traditional flowers such as roses and peonies on them.  

“I beg your pardon?” he asked when he found his voice.

She offered a sad smile and one of the tears leaked free to streak down her cheek.   “You are like the others you don’t remember,” she said as she carefully approached.  

“Remember what?” Fitz asked, amazed she had gotten this close. Normally someone from his protection detail would show up by now and take out anyone who got this close.  

As if he had heard his thoughts Radcliffe’s slightly panicked voice could be heard from the lawn.  “Fitz! Where are you?”

The girl cursed and rushed forward and grabbed Fitz’s hands, her thumb tracing circles over his knuckle in a surprisingly comforting gesture.   “Fitz, I need you to listen to me,” she said quickly.

Fitz knew he should pull away or call for help.   But he somehow knew she would never hurt him.  Her name on the tip of his tongue.  “You’ve been kidnapped by Radcliffe and AIDA.  You are in the Framework and your memories were wiped. This, none of this is real!  I need you to remember so we can find where they are holding you and the oth—“

“Get away from him!  Get away from my son!” Radcliffe yelled as he rounded the corner. “Security!”

Fitz looked between Radcliffe and the girl and tried to shake the feeling he was in the middle of a tug of war.   Only to let out a cry of surprise when she grabbed him by his perfectly pressed suit jacket and pulled his lips to hers.   Her tears wet his cheeks while her hands were so cold they gave him goose bumps despite the warm summer afternoon.  “You dove through a hole in the Universe for me Fitz and I will tear apart this world if that is what it takes to get you back.”  

Before Fitz could respond she had moved and shoved him right into a charging Grant Ward who had come to Radcliffe’s aid.   The action of catching Fitz forced him to lower his weapon just long enough for Jemma to leap over the railing and disappear into the crowd.  

Ward handed Fitz off to his father before taking off in what would be a fruitless pursuit.  

Radcliffe eased Fitz to the ground while he kept a protective hand on his arm.   Even as more security personal ran by and others positioned themselves in  protective ring around the pair.  “Are you okay?” Radcliffe asked as his hands took Fitz’s face to properly look him over. “She didn’t hurt you or inject you with anything?”

Fitz shook his head too stunned to speak while his lips still tingled from her touch.  As if it had been one of hundreds before.   Satisfied there were no physical injuries Radcliffe helped him up and ushered Fitz into the house.  “Go to your suite and lock the door.  I’m going to help clear our our guests and will be up with some tea….and perhaps a shot of whiskey as soon as I can.  Alright?”

Fitz merely nodded and quickly ran into his room bolting the door before he sank onto his bed.   He kept getting flashes of what he thought had been dreams, but now seemed like more.   That same girl at his side countless times.   With a shaky hand he shrugged off his jacket and heard a soft thud on the wood floor.  

The item sparkled in the sun that streamed through his windows.  Fitz picked it up and recognized it in and instant. It was the jeweled comb of Forget Me Nots the girl had worn in her hair, she must have slipped it into his pocked during their embrace.   He turned the delicate piece over and found something etched into the silver, for some reason the simple phrase took his breath away.

Come back to me, Love Jemma.

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Fitz spent the next week in a haze.   The flashes of memories continued to grow stronger and more frequent.   While Radcliffe became more determined than ever to make sure it never happened again.   He’d moved Fitz that night to the Penthouse in the heart of the city, arguably the most secure property in his portfolio.  And rather that Fitz go into their lab, they stayed and worked in the lab there.   Any an all outings under the heavy guard.

Fitz felt it was a drastic over reaction.  The girl had intended him no harm but Radcliffe had become obsessed with the idea she was there to take Fitz from him.  

By the time Friday had come around Fitz was about to go out of his mind from being cooped up all week.  And he did something he had never done before, he snuck out.  He had faked a headache in order to retire to his room.   Waiting until Radcliffe got caught up in his work and the guards changed shifts to slip out.   Gone was his normal suit, rather a simple jeans, t shirt, hoodie, ball cap, and sunglasses to conceal his identity as he strolled into a nearby park.  Intent on soaking up a bit of sun and fresh air before he was missed.

There he sat on a bench overlooking a pond with the comb from Jemma in his hands as he read the phrase over and over.  

Come back to me.

He could hear her saying it now, her voice pleading with him.  Even more he could almost see it in his minds eye.   A darkened room and an overwhelming fear for her safety that nearly made him ill.   

Fitz was started from his thoughts when he suddenly had company on his bench. The man was dressed similarly to him, though his T Shirt brought a small smile to Fitz’s face, Damn the Yanks. Fitz was about to comment when the man moved closer to him and Fitz felt the cold barrel of a gun pressing into his side.  

“You’re a hard man to find Doctor Fitz.  The boss has been beside herself since daddy dear locked you away in his ivory tower,” the man said.  His accent distinctly British.

Fitz tried to pull away but the mans free arm latched onto his.  “Now Mate, you don’t need to make this hard. Believe it or not I’m saving you.”

“Says the man with a gun to me,” Fitz snapped.  “I won’t work for whoever has—“

“As much as you want to play defiant little hostage now is not the time. Now up, we’re going for a ride. There is someone who is more than anxious to see you and for the sake of everyone on the base’s sanity its high time we got you back to her.”   Fitz felt himself being pulled up and to anyone passing by it looked as if they were simply taking a stroll side by side.  

“Jemma,” Fitz breathed without even thinking.  

The man smiled, “The one and only.  And I thought the demonic hell beast I married was scary when she was after something.  I’m Hunter by the way.”

Fitz stumbled at the name as more flashed assaulted him.  

Beers

High Fives

Documentaries…what the bloody hell did documentaries have to do with all this?

“My father,” Fitz said seeing a black van waiting for them as they came to the exit.  “He’ll—“

Hunter snorted “Last time I checked abducting someone and wiping their memories to fill some sort of twisted fantasy does not make one a father.”  

Fitz wanted to press further but they had arrived at the van.  If he was going to run now was the time.  And just as he was about to execute one of the moves Ward had showed him should he ever find himself in such a position he felt something bite into his arm.  

Shocked he looked to see Hunter pulling out a syringe.  The darkness came quickly and he collapsed into the other mans arms.  

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The darkness had started to ebb.  

Fitz first becoming aware of just how warm and comfortable he was. The smell of lavender was just right and the fingers in his hair were gentle, soothing even.  

Jemma’s voice broke through next.  “Come on Fitz, open your eyes.  Its just you and me now, we can fix this together, just like we always do—“

More flashes assaulted him, this time it was almost painful with the furiosity in which they hit.  A lifetime of memories he had thought was just a dream.  

“If you wake up I’ve made you your favorite sandwich—“

His yes flew open and bore into hers.  Tears welling as his memories battled.   It was as if Radcliffe and Jemma were fighting for control of his mind and who he was. “With your homemade pesto ailoi,” he asked, not sure where the question had come from.  

Tears steamed down her cheek, “Just a hint.”

Those three words broke the dam and he shuddered at the onslaught of memories.  His fingers gripping his head and he was unable to contain the cry of pain.  Jemma was there as she cradled him in her arms.  “I know,” she said through tears of her own.  This wasn’t the first time she’d seen the process.   Already watching Coulson, May, Mack and Mace fight their way back.  Fitz had been last simply because they couldn’t get to him thanks to Radcliffe.  “I’m right here, it will be over soon, just let them come.”

Fitz didn’t fight them, rather embraced them, because despite the pain, the hole in his heart was filling.  Jemma, it was Jemma he had been missing.   “Jemma, how could I forget you…us” he cried as she held him.  

She didn’t answer, unable or unwilling to say what all AIDA and Radcliffe had done to him.  Instead she simply kissed the top of his head until it had passed.

Never again she vowed.  She wouldn’t come this close to losing him ever again.

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After what felt like an eternity he was finally there, before her in flesh in and blood.   Solid and whole in her arms in a way ones and zeros could never hope to replicate.  

It had taken them nearly a day to get to them once Radcliffe had finally given up their location.   Nearly a day to get Talbots help to attack the base.  And hours to battle their way through the snake pit AIDA had created to protect the Framework.  

But it was all worth it now.  Fitz was once again in her arms slowly but surely coming out of the Framework with the others.  

Jemma knew she should be monitoring the others but she couldn’t bear to pull herself from his side.  Besides they weren’t alone.  Elena was with Mack, Davis with Mace, Piper with May, and Daisy with Coulson.   Each one ready to ease them from their captivity and make sure their bodies adjusted to waking up.  

“Come on Fitz,” Jemma coaxed seeing his eyes move rapidly beneath his eyelids and his heart rate escalate.   When she had been forced to leave him in the Framework he was safely hidden away in the Playground.  But time was of the essence as Hydra was had been searching for all of them.  There was no way to tell if they had been too late until they woke up.

Fitz groaned, his fingers working to grasp her own as he began to fight the drugs hold in earnest.  “That’s it, come back to me.” Jemma encouraged and let out a sob as his eyes finally fluttered open.

“Jemma,” he moaned and Jemma eased him out of the cradle to the floor, intent on checking every inch of him over to make sure he hasn’t been harmed in his initial abduction.  

Fitz however had other ideas.  He pulled her into his arms and sobbed against her neck.  Jemma catching only snippets of “I’m so sorrys, I love you, and we can’t do this anymore,” between his gasps.  Jemma herself had said each and every one of those things to his sleeping form in the Framework after Hunter had brought him in.  And again as they’d arrived at their sides here.  

Jemma allowed tears of her own to fall and she pulled him tighter. No matter how close he was it didn’t feel like it would be enough.   She feared if she let go he would disappear once more and she would wake up alone in her bed in the Framework once more.  

“Fitz,” She said between her tears pulling him back enough to take his face in her hands.  Her fingers scraping though his now too long stubble in a gesture that mirrored their first kiss.  “My answer is yes,” she said before she captured his lips with her own.  “Whenever you are ready, my answer is yes.  I can’t, I won’t lose you ever again.”  

Fitz finally had a small smile play on his lips with his forehead resting against hers.   “No here, not now, but soon, I promise.  For now, I just want to hold you, I need to know this is real.”  

Jemma smiled and kissed him again.  “My dear Fitz, what we have is real no matter the universe we are in.  And I will wait.  Be it ten minutes, ten hours, ten days, or another ten years.  No matter when you ask my answer will be, yes.”

End

[aromatickindling-blog]

Hmm, I’ll sort this out into the Stardew Valley Farmer as villager prompt with visuals and less words one day...

Green

Appearance:

    Green's an average sized young woman with minty hair tied up into a messy ponytail, part of her side swept bangs awning her sharp aquamarine eyes. If you're observant, you can see slight bags under eyes, covered with foundation powder to avoid questions from people. Her wardrobe's quite functional, filled with different boots for all occasions, thick working gloves, shade hats, winter fur caps, and cargo pants in different neutral colors, working well with her cotton button jackets. Her favorite happens to be the dark green formal jacket with a popped collar. The equipment she carries on her hip belt is well-taken care of, polished to the nines before being covered in all sorts of filth. She does have a strong liking for long scarves, goggles, and small, subtle hair pins, though.

    For some reason, her freckles tend to appear in curves and triangles; she has one that looks similar to Orion's Belt that she brings up as a conversation piece if she has to do small talk. Of course, she does take pains to cover up the scars she's gotten from her spelunking adventures in the mines and the Skull Dungeon. A Serpent pack left a particularly nasty one stretching down her left calf to her ankle. She prays to Yoba no one notices.

Summary:

    An ambivert erring on the side of introverted behavior, Green's the one of the twin grandchildren of Stardew Valley's previous farmer, come to take over Smaug farm. Thanks to years of neglect and her grandfather's 'brilliant' idea of staking land in a wilderness full of monsters, she's got her work cut out for her. Worse yet, with the Gotoran-Ferngill Republic conflict in full swing, she's especially reluctant to open up to anyone in the Valley. However, with the Adventurer's Guild and the Museum in town, she'll be able to settle in. Yet if anyone bothers getting to know her well enough, they might detect a hint of loneliness in her eyes.

At her Grandfather's grave, Green has planted an orange tree and told him:

    "If I can't see myself becoming part of the community here, Grandpa, I'll at least keep my part of the deal. I'll make sure the farm is up and running smoothly by the end of the second year. If the war continues...if Sage isn't back home here at that time, and I'm still unable to find someone I can trust here...I'll come after him. I'm sorry Grandpa, but I hope you can understand me on this. Mayor Lewis can take over the farm; it'll be a great source of revenue for Pelican Town...they'll need it more than I do. But thank you...for giving me an out from my former job. It was suffocating."

...For some reason, every Friday and Sunday Green never fails to greet the traveling cart merchant. Apparently, the two exchange letters; strangely, the writing doesn't match the merchant's personal chicken-scratch. After the bus has been repaired, you might even catch a glimpse of her with a strange bodyguard speaking about a "Mr. Qi." Who is this Mr. Qi, anyway?

Love: coffee, hazelnuts, goat cheese, poppy, fairy rose, dinosaur egg, all fossils and bone artifacts, duck feather, thunder egg, all soups, bone flute, mead

Likes: all flowers, all fruit, dried starfish, ornamental fan, ancient sword, fiddlehead fern, all dwarf scrolls, iron bar, copper bar, maple bar, lava eel, void salmon, honey, garlic, hot pepper, cloth, arrowhead, wine

 Dislikes: truffles, truffle oil (don't ask), super cucumber (once again, don't ask), beer, pale ale, morel mushroom (she's reminded of that one frog with all the holes in its back. And bot flies, the spawn of the underworld)

Hated: wicked statue, skull brazier, elvish jewelry, prehistoric hand axe, golden mask, Robin's axe

Personality:

    Green's the quiet observer of the twins, almost akin to a shade behind her brother's bombastic front. She's not the type to normally initiate conversation either, so only when she is required to, when she wants to give advice, or when she needs information will she, reluctantly, start one with a person. She's very polite about it too. But, you may have found her committing a social faux pas during the first year when she climbed on everyone's houses for a bird feather or little critter. Mayor Lewis chewed her out harshly for it. From then on out, it was only natural cliffs, rock faces, and trees she would climb onto, if not her own farm buildings.

    She is often found doing work on the farm, at the museum with Gunther, or training with Marlon at the Adventurer's Guild during the day, almost always with a cup of coffee and the occasional maple bar. Once Smaug farm is up and running, she does build a small training arena in front of the greenhouse. Don't ask why. When evening arrives, she disappears into the mountains and doesn't return home until 1:00 am in the morning. Some days may involve her leaving for Calico Desert early in the morning until 1:00 am. Shane often swears he would see blood leaking out of her when she was returning home at night. No one believes him thanks to how well Green dresses her wounds. This can only last so long with how she's burning the candle on both ends. On the weekends, no one is capable of tracking her down while she's out on her foraging hikes, much to her relief. Even better is during those evenings when everyone is at Gus's Saloon, when she can sneak into the Community Center to repair it with the Junimos before going home to refine sketches, put away gathered inventory, and generally wind down for the night with a tune from her harp, a nice hot soak, and a quick gaming session. Only on Sundays does she dare oversleep to offset the lack of it during the weekdays.

      Once more comfortable with people, she becomes more straightforward with her answers, although any questions regarding her family or her spelunking episodes are deflected or redirected to another topic. Outgoing villagers are more likely to get to this point. Snarky jokes will be made about the topic at hand, light teasing may occur if she is addressed directly, and, if it pops into her head, a few puns. Don't ask about her hikes or finds, she will become quite detailed with the scientific basis for everything she came across.

    Yoba help her if any of the single townsfolk become interested in her. Poor Green won't know what to do with herself, all her secrets might be spilled into the public square with that kind of relationship. What should she do now, how much of her activities should she cut back to spend time with them, what will they think of her once they find out what she's been trying to hide from the villagers, will their relatives approve of her, how long before they find out about her hiding her wounds from plain sight, do they like mint breath or coffee breath, are they allergic to poppies and fairy roses, will they mind her fossil collection, should she pick up cooking again, video game nights or movie nights, are they up for hiking, are they not okay with PDA, do they like cuddling, will they not mind her wrapping her arms around them as a greeting, do they like nuzzles, nape kisses, why her, and why are they even interested at all?! THESE ARE ALL IMPORTANT QUESTIONS...at least in her mind, they are. This is why she comes off as aloof, not only as a deterrent for anyone interested, but also as a result of her trying to strangle any feelings of affection that might develop for anyone else. Also, Yoba help the poor sap that does start to develop a crush on her; her lack of self-care and time during the weekdays is sure to wear on them.

    But, she is more than willing to make adjustments for them should they accept her, all of her. Green's probably going to ask them to come out to the beach at night near the solitary rock to spill her heritage as a half-Gotoran, half-Fergillan to them, mental escape routes calculating in her head but another part of her pleading this will be okay and she's just paranoid. From there, if accepted, she will tell about her brother and her parents, how Sage left for the army after a nasty spat with her regarding the Gotoran conflict, how her Gotoran Father died for helping the Ferngillan side, and how her Ferngillan Mother's MIA, probably in an underground resistance movement against the Gotoran government. She's only had her brother as a social crutch before he left, and it's the main reason why she bottled herself up. Why bother with people if all they're going to do is break your heart once you're close with them? But, she'll admit she was wrong, and then apologize for unloading all of this onto to them, and for not trusting them as much before. From there, she'll become more and more honest to them about her activities.

    The letters she was swapping with the merchant happened to be correspondences with her brother, usually curt and to the point. She makes it a priority to leave out any bitterness from his leaving her since he's in danger and needs all the help he can get. As for Mr. Qi...money is great and so is spelunking. That's all I'm going to say, other than it's a dangerous profession that has left her with a number of gashes...all of which she's refused to go to Harvey's for, much to her partner's dismay. As for the music drifting near the railroad tracks at night, it was her playing a couple tunes her father taught her on her mini-harp. She might even offer to serenade them from time to time.

    Despite her insecurities about herself, Green's quite the affectionate lover, offering sweet words in their ear, leaving small gifts for them after she visits their house, engaging in conversations more often with them, and giving out subtle public displays of affection, whether it be the joining of their hands, brushing their shoulders clean, a lingering look, or a soft caress on the back of their hand if they're slightly agitated. It's still quite confusing to her what to do and she'll hesitate early on about it, but she'll slowly ease into it...and wonder how the hell did this happen??? Then not care and nestle in close to them at night after pressing a kiss to their neck. Grandpa works wonders in keeping his grandchild in Stardew Valley. What a magnificent bastard he is.

Inventory:

·         Mini-harp

(You can hear the notes of a melody off near the mountaintops during the night, drifting down onto the railroad tracks...)

·         Obsidian knife

(A memento of her brother, before he left for Gotoro. Held closely to the hip, sometimes the chest whenever she thinks of him. It's as though the essence of the sea has imprinted onto this knife.)

·         Lava katana

(Can't go wrong with cauterizing deliberate wounds on monsters. Makes it less messy! Smells horrific...)

·         Herb satchel

(Most remedies have plant-based compounds to thank for their use. After trips to the mines or the Skull Dungeon, its strangely lighter. Smells strongly of mint.)

·         Pack

(Contains most essentials, from food to water to tools and, of course, a loaded first-aid kit. Got to be prepared for all sorts of insanity the spirits bring about when they're angry. For some reason, the pack smells of pine needles.)

·         Sketchbook

(Contains all sorts of colored sketches of landscapes, plants, monsters, rocks, animals, and even pressed flowers...wait...some of the villagers are sketched in here too? Has a light floral scent.)