#she found ace's powers so visibly stunning

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

update about mom2's one piece watching experience:

she's in the middle of skypiea right now and we were talking earlier today about how she initially wasn't into the story at first and that she predicted she wouldn't like sanji or chopper (because my descriptions were very much ass lmao. reindeer doctor and cook who fights with only his legs were not great descriptors)

but she adores these guys, the dynamics, the political themes of the story (don't ask me who her fav character is so far though, she is too indecisive)

heard her singing hikari e earlier today when she was watching an episode and i am looking very forward to when she finally gets to water 7/enies lobby because she is very intrigued about robin's past and her motivations and i know she is going to go insane when she learns about ohara

plus i just want her to finally meet franky

(i also made her watch a video explaining all of the censorship surrounding the 4kidz dub by red bard on youtube. at the very least mom2 does think the pirate rap was an absolute banger and wishes that funimation bought it too lmaooo)

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Undercover- Throne of Glass AU (2)

Ahh so this was meant to go up yesterday but a gal has gotta work sometimes. Enjoy my loves:) Also I’m not 100% sure everyone was tagged properly in chap 1 so please check that first just incase!

Undercover Masterlist.

Full Masterlist.

Warnings: Swearing, violence and mentions of sex. I’ll update these as the story progresses.

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The dinner had gone nicely, Aelin thought. The newbies had fit in quite well surprisingly and after what seemed to be a game of twenty questions, they were joining in on the chaos. They were all now in the main room, drinking and playing cards while she and Lysandra sat on the floor sharing chocolate cake between them. And of course, because they knew nothing, there was judgment from said newbies.

“Very sorry to interrupt ma’am, but, are you really going to eat all of that?” It was Connall who’d asked, while his twin smacked him over the back of the head.

“Seriously Con, you don’t ask ladies such questions. I apologise for his idiotic mouth ma’am.”

Aelin didn’t want to put on the mask of Celaena tonight, she wanted to relax and they wouldn’t be able to connect the nickname and so she said, “I told you none of that when your giant over there passed the test,” jerking her thumb over her shoulder where she knew Salvaterre to be sat, “please, call me Ace.”

The whole room went quiet as soon as the words had left her mouth, Lys’ fork stopped halfway to her mouth and raised a single dark eyebrow and Aedion’s eyes had gone wide. She knew why it had stunned everyone of course, but tonight she just wanted to be with her family. Manon was the first to speak up from where she was draped across Dorian’s lap, her fingers tangled in his dark hair.

“You never let anyone call you that this early, what gives?” it was a lazy drawl, as if she thought Aelin had some sort of scheme behind it, but for once she wasn’t planning anything.

“I find I quite like this lot, there’s something different about ‘em. And yes, dear Connall, it’s only three slices between us.”

There was a snort somewhere and she turned her head to see Elide staring at her, a single eyebrow raised. “’Only three slices’ she says. The two of you have been sharing most of that cake throughout the day. I expect you to be in the ring tomorrow Ace, maybe you and Manon can go for a round, you haven’t in a while.”

Chaol, Dorian and Aedion all spoke at once then.

“Absolutely fucking not!”

“Not happening Lochan.”

“Elide have you lost your mind?”

Aelin only noticed the outburst was because she and Manon were both giving each other the same feral grin, which the other girl soon turned into a glare when she glared down at Dorian, who visibly gulped. “Is there a problem with Ace and I sparring, love?” Dorian nervously laughed and shook his head.

“No, baby. You’re a delight in the ring.” Manon simply rolled her eyes and leaned in for a chaste and shockingly mild kiss for the couple.

The confusion was evident on Gavriel’s face, speaking up for possibly the fourth time since dinner started- he seemed quite content in watching others enjoy themselves but Aelin noticed his eyes always settled on her cousin after a while. She let a smirk slip free as he asked, “What’s so bad about them sparring together?”

Aedion was the one to answer and the man gave all his attention as if he was the most wonderful person in the world. Interesting.

“They don’t spar like normal people would, they fight rough and dirty. Last time knives were involved and Manon was left with a scar across her shoulder and Aelin ended up with a dislocation.”

Manon chuckled darkly and Aelin scoffed. They were all so dramatic.

“I’ll go a round with you, if you’d like?” It was Rowan who offered and Aelin found herself quite excited at the thought, seeing as Fenrys had said he’d trained the twins on everything they knew, well almost everything as Lorcan had trained them alongside him. His fellow comrades however, didn’t seem as happy, in fact they looked incredibly cautious, Lorcan obviously the most cautious of them all as he was now sat ramrod straight in his chair.

“But you haven’t trained against anyone sinc-” Rowan cut Lorcan off, shoulders tense and a dark glint in those pretty green eyes.

“I know exactly how long it has been.” He relaxed somewhat as he focused back on her once more and Aelin was suddenly curious to know what had happened. “We don’t have to of course but I’d be willing if you’d like a partner.”

“Tomorrow morning, seven sharp. Training room as you know is on this floor, I’ll meet you there.”

He simply lowered his head in a nod before turning to talk to Vaughan but his knuckles were white where he was clenching his glass. Something bad, then.

“Well, now that the fuss is over, can a girl tend to her chocolate cravings without question?”

All nodded except for Lysandra, who Aelin now noticed had eaten most of the cake during that little discussion.

Bitch.

oOoOo

Rowan didn’t sleep that night, bombarded with memories of the past. He’d always remember, always feel the pain, he knew that but it fucking sucked. He didn’t need to be told by Lorcan that he’d not trained with another since that day six years ago. There was no forgetting that day everything went to hell and that he’d nearly killed Lorcan because of it- at sixteen years old he had no idea how strong he was, but they soon found out. It was stupid of him to push himself to do what he was not ready for but then he remembered Celaena, or ‘Ace’ as she’d asked to be called in private, was their mission, their target and so if she was hurt it didn’t matter. It also gave him the chance to figure out weak spots and how good she was at defending herself if in the end it came to a fight rather than surrender.

Now he was sat in the stupid fucking training room with little to no sleep and a simmering rage left over from the awful images he was provided by his brain. It was large room with lots of weights, a few workout machines and what looked to be knife throwing targets. Most likely for the tiny hell beast who Lorcan clearly fancied. He wasn’t the only here and was accompanied by Fen, Gav, Lorcan, Aedion, Manon, Dorian, Elide and finally the bitch princess herself. Celaena, who was dressed in very short, shorts and a goddamn sports bra, was having her hands wrapped in tape by Aedion while Manon braided her hair back while he watched from the other side of the room, hands fully wrapped and doing the usual stretches he did when he would practice alone. Seriously, did she have to spar practically naked? If she was any other girl and he’d seen her like that, it would be incredibly difficult to fight the urge to pin her against the wall and fuck her senseless. He was pulled from the utterly disgusting fantasy by the sound of footsteps to his left. Rowan didn’t need to look up to know that Lorcan and sidled up next him and with an exhausted sigh asked, “Yes, Lorcan?”

“I know you hate it when people ask you if you’re sure about something, but are you sure about this? I can make up some kind of excuse.”

He knew this was coming, had been dreading the bastard conversation since he’d volunteered himself. They were the only two on the opposite side of the room so no one could hear him when he replied, “Yes, I’m fine. The bitch will think I’m weak or some other stupid shit and we need to win her trust, all of their trust and so I am going to do this.”

“Ro, you’ve refused all of us when we offered over the years. You and I have been best friends since we were kids and I don’t want to see you like you were that day ever again, so I’m asking one more time. Are you absolutely sure you can do this?” Lorcan never spoke gently to him and Rowan was grateful, he didn’t want pity.

“I’m sure. This conversation is over.” He pulled himself to stand when he realised everyone was waiting and walked to the middle of the room where the little makeshift sparring square was. Both his people and hers, although they were all considered hers now unfortunately, were spread out around them as he stepped into the square. There was not time to brace himself because all of a sudden she had landed a very powerful left hook and rammed her foot into his abdomen causing him to stumble. He brought his hand up to wipe the back of it across his mouth and found blood there when he pulled it away.

He laughed then and returned the favour full force but instead of a foot to the abdomen he used his fist watching as Celaena allowed herself to drop to one knee, only one. From that advantage point she took his legs out from under him and had him on his back, but he rolled before she could pin him and pushed himself back up. When they were standing again she smirked before running at him and from there it was blow after blow after blow. All that rage that was simmering just below the surface from last night rose up again and made him ruthless. When he finally had her pinned on her back wrists bound, Rowan thought she might give up but he was wrong. She went pliant underneath him and then her leg was around his hip and pulled him down to grind herself against him. He’d not been with anyone in a very, very long time and so the feeling shocked him so much his grip went slack, giving her the opportunity to get him into a headlock and his limbs trapped in awkward angles. With his free hand he tapped repeatedly and Celaena let go of him, walking over to Aedion who handed her a small towel and a bottle of water waiting for her. Fenrys came over, pulling him to his feet and patting his shoulder, muttering in a low voice, “Better luck next time, ey mate?”

It was repulsive to think his hormones betrayed him for that fucking privileged nobody, but he couldn’t show the disgust or the hate and so he simply said, “You really do play dirty woman.”

There was a laugh, a coy laugh like a lover would and then she tossed a cold bottle of water at him.

“I’ve got to say Whitehorn; I didn’t picture you as a man that would let the wrong head make decisions for him.”

Play your part, no matter how horrible it is. You’ve endured worse.

He took a deep breath before he smirked back at her, making a show of running his eyes over the length of her body. “When one is trapped between the thighs of someone of your beauty Ace, such things are hard to control.”

Her cheeks were redder now and it was hard to tell if she was blushing or if it was from exertion. Part of him hoped it was her blushing as that would provide him an opening to get close to her, but wouldn’t have to go so far as actually sleeping with her. He shivered at the thought. Rowan saw that she was clearly about to retort with something snarky when a phone started ringing. Everyone stopped as Elide, who was now at her boss’s side, pulled a phone from her back pocket and began to speak.

“This is Lochan.” There was no emotion on her face and there wasn’t any way of telling what the other person was saying on the other end before she handed the phone over to Celaena. There was a mask in place when he looked back at her and suddenly he felt like he knew the reason for the nickname she was given. Yes everyone throughout London called her little followers “Assassins” but it was she who was given the title of “Assassin Queen”.

“Speak, now.” Everyone in the room was staring at her waiting but she acted like they didn’t even exist.

“Is anyone hurt?” He could only detect a faint sense of worry in her tone but then there was an awful snarl on her face which meant that this was not going to be good at all.

“By the time I get there Chaol,” mystery of the caller solved then “your wife better be safely tucked into bed and resting, and those little fuckers better be secure.” She hung up, if there was a reply from the other man, it was cut off half way through. Dorian was the first to speak up, fear in his voice.

“What happened to Chaol and Yrene boss?”

“Some little fuckwits somehow managed to track them and broke in. Clearly they have someone almost as good as Elide, as they got past her systems but must have done so from somewhere else. Yrene has a few scrapes and bruises but she held her own, took two of them out. Chaol has three unconscious and tied up. Get your shit together, we move out in ten.” No one had a chance to move before Lochan piped up.

“There’s only one person in London that even comes close to my skills boss, and you know that.” Elide spoke smoothly and it felt as if this was a topic that had been brought up before. The tiny spitfire continued, her eyes tracking her friend and boss, and that’s when he noticed Celaena’s fists were clenched, knuckles white. “He was spared once, because I knew what it would do to you but now he’s crossed a line.”

“And when we catch him, no one touches him except for Chaol and myself. Are we clear?”

They all gave an obedient ‘yes boss’ and watched as she left, not speaking to anyone further. Lorcan beat him to the unspoken question, trying to clear up the confusion. Rowan couldn’t think of anything from the files and backgrounds they were all given.

“Who is this mystery man who is complicit in trying to have a pregnant woman killed?” Rowan tried not to flinch at the memories the words triggered and turned to look at Aedion, who gave a sigh before answering;

“Sam Cortland.”

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Oooooo yeah I did that😮 if you wanna be added/removed from the tags just give us a shout!

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @fancyclodpaintercookie @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt @sis-it-dont-add-up @mad-madeline-ace​ @df3ndyr

[onepiecereactions]

One piece Halloween 2020 scenario: Marco, Ace, Thatch, Whitebeard and Garp.

ENGLISH VERSION

Title: Five minutes before midnight

Notes: Family / Friendship / Drama / Funny. Around 3 000 words. SFW.  

(Sorry for the mistakes my main language is French)

Five minutes before midnight

 Three knocks echoed against the door of the sleeping pirate. He growled as he snapped out of his sleep and put on his glasses. Then he rubbed his head as he looked at his clock: five minutes before midnight. He huffed, tired but unfortunately used to being disturbed in the middle of the night. Three knocks sounded again and this time the pirate could hear tiny claws slash through his door. Surprised, he used his haki: two men and a cat were waiting behind his door. But that wasn't what surprised Marco the most: all his brothers were sleeping. Absolutely none were awake, even the man on guard. Which meant that the two men behind his door were not from his crew. His blood stopped for a second. He kept his cool, however, and opened the door, ready to fight if necessary. Behind the door, Marco could see a calm, extremely calm sea. Thick black clouds had taken over the sky and prevented almost all of the moon's rays from passing through. He didn't hear a single sound, not even the sound of waves crashing gently against the Moby Dick. He could only hear the cat purring in front of him. Marco came face to face with the two men his haki had identified. The men, barely taller than a 10-year-olds child, were quite calm. One of them, the one who didn't have the cat on his shoulder, was eating a pumpkin. Marco remained on his guard. They stayed several seconds to look at each other straight in the eyes. The two dwarfs didn't look hostile, but something was wrong.

- Number 8834MF77? Asked the one with the cat in a deep voice that didn't quite match his height ...

Marco was stunned, completely lost. He could not sense any power from the two men, and to tell the truth, he felt no hint of life emanating from them. Yet they stood well in front of him… and his brothers were still sleeping.

- 8834MF77, hurry, we have more people planned. Said the dwarf while consulting a long parchment filled with scribbles. He pointed to the west end of the ship.

Marco tilted his head and was amazed: a small mansion was floating a few yards from the Moby Dick. A few lights made it possible to detect the foundations of the house which must have been three floors and barely three hundred square meters. At the entrance, an elderly woman was leaning against a table where Marco could see pumpkins for sale. No sail, oar, or flotation mechanism seemed to allow the mansion to move. Yet the house was proudly in the middle of the ocean and was moving slowly, without a sound.

The second dwarf put his foot on the ground to show his impatience. Marco refocused on him.

-The new world ... he mumbled to himself. That was the only explanation he could find for understanding all of  these.

-Number 8834MF77, are you coming? Insisted the dwarf. The black cat on his shoulder was staring at Marco with his beautiful green eyes.

-No thank you… The pirate replied simply, not really sure of the answer to give.

The two dwarves shrugged their shoulders and walked back along the Moby Dick to the mansion. Marco came out of his room lightly, to make sure the two men got off the ship. For safety, he used his haki one last time throughout the Moby Dick. No other intruder was present.

The two men jumped over the ramp of the pirate ship and quickly landed on the mansion's terrace. One of them stole a small pumpkin from the old woman who had fallen asleep and the two rushed into the mansion. Immediately, Marco could see the mansion rotate on itself and move slowly. The strange building then passed in front of his eyes. Never, in so many years of piracy, had he seen such a thing. He moved closer to the edge to better see the "ship". The wood creaked in some places and a few rooms were lit, letting shadows be seen. Marco used his haki again: no signs of life emanated from the building. He was about to return to his room as the mansion began to pass the Moby Dick when his blood froze again. Beyond one of the windows, Marco recognized a shadow. He hesitated for a moment. It was not possible ... But yet he had seen it ... This shadow looked like his captain, who died just a few weeks ago in Marine Ford. He remained stoic for a few seconds and began to run down the halls of the Moby Dick in an attempt to reach the mansion, which was moving further and further away. As the "ship" began to face him back, he saw through a second window two other figures. His heart knotted; a wave of sadness washed over him. He easily recognized the bodies of his two deceased brothers: Ace and Thatch. Time seemed to freeze around him. He didn't even try to figure out how, why? He just saw the three most missed beings in the world in front of him, chatting as if the past few months were just bad memories. But still behind him was the grieving Moby Dick and his few brothers who survived the war.

Marco was not an impulsive man. He was thoughtful, mature, master of himself. But when the possibility of reuniting with his family presented itself in front of him, he didn't even hesitate for a second. Even if it means going into a trap, even if it means losing his life, these last minutes will have allowed him to feel alive again.

Blue flames swept over the deck of the Moby Dick, and the magnificent phoenix soared gracefully towards the mansion. With a few flaps of his wings, Marco found himself at the front door. The old woman woke up slowly when she felt the pirate but immediately fell asleep again next to her pumpkins. Marco knocked on the door. No answer. He could hear noises behind the door. He knocked a second time, and at the lack of response, he gently opened the door. He came face to face with a receptionist.

The room was tiny. Only a desk sat in the middle of the room. Behind him was a woman, in her fifties, scribbling on parchment. A huge chandelier swayed above the blond's head, to the rhythm of the sea. Through the window, Marco could see the Moby Dick slowly pulling away. He hold a sigh. He had sworn to protect this ship and its occupants, but the possibility of finding his father, Ace and Thatch had made him lose his mind.

He stood there in front of the receptionist for a few minutes, waiting for her to note his presence. Which she did after a few minutes.

-Number 8834MF77 is that right? She asked in her voice damaged by years of heavy drinking.

-I guess… Marco replied simply.

The woman sighed, grabbed a huge book from the counter, and hurried through the pages.

-Marco the phoenix. Captain of the Moby Dick. You were scheduled for five minutes before midnight, you are late... The woman muttered, looking at him over her glasses.

Marco turned to the huge owl-shaped clock stuck in the wall: five minutes before midnight.

-I'll need your social security number. She said, picking up a pen.

-My number of…? I don’t have one. Marco replied, scratching his head. But where had he fallen? Does this mansion belonged to the world government ?

-You have no social security at all? The woman repeated, clearly showing her impatience.

-No

-Well, little boy, that is very dangerous. You shouldn’t play with your health, you know.

-I'm a phoenix… I heal myself… Marco replied simply, completely surprised by the conversation.

-Yeah, you were less proud during MarineFord... The receptionist whispered as she drew a long line in front of number 8334MF77.

Marco waited a little longer. He was looking around for his brothers, but the hall only led to a room on the left and behind the receptionist were rails.

“Next stop, Vice-Admiral Monkey D Garp's ship, five minutes before midnight,” screamed the escargophone on the wall.

Marco turned around, surprised. By his calculations, the vice-admiral's ship was at least a three-hour drive from Moby Dick and was heading south. How could they have already arrived, when they had left less than ten minutes ago. And why was it still five minutes before midnight when it had been twenty minutes or more after five minutes before midnight?

-Well, you're not going to look like a plant, are you? We have other clients arriving. Hurry to get dressed in the storage room and take the train. We don't have all night. The woman vociferated as she left her desk.

A dwarf suddenly rushed past Marco. It wasn't one of the two he'd seen on the Moby Dick, but this one was at least as small and as big. He rushed into Marco's legs and took him by the waist to take him to the storage room. The pirate found himself thrown into the completely black room. He barely had time to feel the dwarf's hands all over his body when he felt a tissue around his right leg. A red scarf. A few seconds later, the dwarf guided him without delicacy towards the mini train. It was plain, black, but no conductor was visible. Marco sat in the front row of the locomotive, which started off just as hard. The blond was thrown against his seat and immediately filled with darkness as the train passed.

Within seconds, the train slipped out of the tunnel and tumbled into a tiny city. The buildings must have been barely twice Marco's size and were covered with red bricks. Tiny businesses lined up and a few dwarves, women this time, were walking on the streets with their children. Marco felt himself faint. Absolutely none of this situation was normal, logical. How could such a small mansion have an entire city? The train continued through the streets and headed at full speed towards a hill dotted with small hiking trails.

Marco was pulled out of his contemplation by a pat on the shoulder. Behind him was a child, red hair, barely three feet tall. She was smiling at him.

-Good night 8334MF77, who did you come to see? She asked gently.

Marco, still surprised, listed the names of his two brothers and his father.

-Oïïïï driver, stop at door 230B! She yelled at the back of the train. The machine took a sharp turn which pushed Marco against the window. When he saw again, the girl was gone.

Snow began to fall gently from the sky, which he couldn’t see the end. He was sure it wasn't the sky he was seeing from the Moby Dick, and this mansion was supposed to have a roof. The train stopped abruptly. Marco lost his balance again but remained seated. He heard a door slam at the back of the train and a figure, small and fat, ran towards him. Seconds later, the train conductor grabbed his shirt collar and pushed him out of the train. Marco fell heavily on the snow-covered lawn and saw the train leave at high speed. He stood up quickly and scanned the horizon. He was facing a wooden wall lined with numbered doors.

-230C right? He said to himself, trying to remember the little girl's words that had been partially covered by the sound of the train.

He made his way to gate 230C but was quickly stopped by a skeleton bursting from inside the wall.

-Keep off your shoes please, I just washed the floor. He said, his huge glasses pointed at Marco. The pirate didn't dare to ask him why a skeleton needed glass, he just dropped his shoes off at the entrance.

He opened the door and rushed into the room. It was bathed in a comforting golden light. He could see in the corner a young woman sitting on a red sofa, a book in her hands. She was so absorbed in reading that she didn't even notice the pirate's presence. Marco barely had time to examine the features of the woman's face - she was vaguely telling him something - when he heard the train stop again a few feet behind the door he had just passed. Seconds later, the door slammed open, letting someone rush into the room. It only took a few seconds for him to recognize Vice-Admiral Garp's massive body. The vice-admiral stared at him, surprised to see him, but said nothing. Marco realized he wasn’t supposed to be here and left the room, letting the Marine fal into the woman's arms.

He gently closed the door behind him and walked back to the skeleton grumbling at Garp who hadn't taken his shoes off before entering.

- Hurry up, chicken, it's 230B not 230C, it will soon be midnight. The skeleton vociferated while washing the floor.

Marco did so immediately and walked without knocking into room 230B.

He was first blinded by the light. It took him several seconds before he could open his eyes. His heart seemed to come out of his chest.

-Oï? he said in a barely perceptible voice.

The other three men in the room turned to him. They all stared at each other for a few seconds, before the dark-haired man rushed over the blond and hugged him as strong as he could. Tears rolled down Marco's cheeks as he felt the softness of Ace's hair tickling his skin, when he felt his peculiar scent, when he heard his brother laugh in his ear. Ace finally released him and Marco could see his father at the end of the room, sitting at the table, Thatch at his side cutting a turkey with surgical precision. They both gave a warm smile to Marco, completely confused, who joined them directly at the table. He sat down, felt father's hand place a napkin next to the plate Thatch was rushing to fill. Marco couldn't speak anymore, he just admired them. Never in his life had he seen a more beautiful scene. Ace sat down next to Marco, a huge smile on his face before he was took over by a narcolepsy attack and collapsed head first in his plate. Thatch grumbled when he caught turkey splashes in the face but handed his plate to Marco.

- Enjoy it! Said the cook before sitting down and drink his glass of wine.

Marco was about to ask his father the why and how of this surreal situation when the huge owl-shaped clock hanging on the wall rang with a loud melody sweeping through the room. The three awakened men looked at the clock: it was exactly midnight. Edward Newgate turned to the blond and in an almost imperceptible whisper told him, "I love you my son. "

Marco didn’t have the time to answer as the escargophone hanging on the wall screamed again:

“Midnight, midnight, get ready for the fall! ".

Marco's heart raced, something was wrong. All his senses were awake and he look out the window. He then saw, a few meters in front of the manor, an enormous waterfall and the manor which was heading straight for it at high speed. Barely a minute later, Marco couldn’t felt the ground under his feet: the mansion began to fall, carried along by the speed of the waterfall. He was the only one in the room to panic: Ace still slept like a child, Whitebeard continued to eat his turkey and Thatch put his glass of wine back on the table, as Marco was thrown against the wall, dragged down by the fall of the mansion. He turned to Thatch, whom he thought he heard talking. "Don't be in too much in a hurry to join us, pineapple, everything happen at the right time..." Marco could not have said if it was a hallucination or if his brother had actually spoken to him. A second later, Marco closed his eyes, ready to take the shock of the fall.

He jumped up, sweat dripping from his forehead. Reflexively, he tried to swallow deep breaths of air, as if he were battling drowning. He recovered quickly when he realized that he was not at the bottom of the ocean but in his bed, in the cabin of the Moby Dick. He wiped his face and noticed that someone was knocking on the door. He preferred to use his haki and recognized his brother Vista. He sighed. He tried to reassure himself by telling himself that it had all been a bad dream, even though it had seemed very realistic to him. He hurried to get rid of his soaked blankets and quickly got up to open the door to his brother. When he walked over to the door and opened it automatically, he froze, his hands shaking. His gaze scanned his right leg: the red scarf was still around his leg.

 End.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Trade Secrets

While Mr. Baldwin and Captain Foli had their little chat, Dofi, made his way back the way he came, hands in his pockets a smile on his face. His soft footsteps were made softer by his gleaming black patent leather shoes. 

The hall was quiet and empty. The crew was in the middle of a shift change. There were four shifts. Morning, starting at 8 am and lasting until 2 pm. Then 2 pm to 8 pm then 8 pm to 2 am and 2 am to 8 am, called the Red Eye shift.. 

The midnight shifts were the smallest in the crew, and the Red Eye shift was often the slowest to wrest themselves from their beds so for a precious few minutes, Aido-Hwedo fell quiet. There was no one to hear when those leather shoes seemed to shimmer, as if losing focus and converting into stunning heels. The well pressed leather pants turned into a mesh of fishnet stocks wrapped around curving calves and topped with an A-line skirt.

HIs jacket and shirt changed shape as his body converted into an hourglass figure, his facial features softened and his eyelashes lengthened. The only thing that didn’t grow was his short cropped wiry curls. It wasn’t unusual for both men and women on the ship to keep hair clipped short.

Such a disguise couldn’t have been performed even by the most veteran spy, because it was more than just a trick of make up or acting.

Soul Skill: Mirage!

When he approached the women’s dorm area, the cameras fixed on him. Even the cameras couldn’t decode his ability.  It was a trick of the light. Light entered the field of his dragon speech and returned to the eye of the beholder and the lens of the camera, bent and distorted by his will. 

He walked through the halls until he came to the area where the mystery woman was staying. Two guards were posted outside her door armed with two rifles but he didn’t mind it. They were both accomplices to this mission. They opened the door for him without a word and he walked inside.

Two other women were there, seated on the top bunk beds, facing one another. On the left, a woman with bright golden eyes quietly whispered to herself in an endless stream of words. She stared eyes empty towards the other woman, not seeing her. Her whispering intensified and a bead of sweat rolled down her face. She gripped the mattress next to her legs. Her breathing accelerated.

Dofi paused, watching her carefully. This was Maria, and Maria was capable of putting anyone within five hundred feet of her into a coma without breaking a sweat like this. Yet, here she was visibly struggling. Dofi’s brow knitted and he looked down at the woman who was under her spell, sleeping quietly in her pajamas. This was no ordinary Cassell Student.

Captain Foli was warned by the Council of Elders of the likelihood that Cassell would bring in a secret weapon from the College. They never forgot their encounter with Anjou. They said that he was sniffing around like a hyena, smelling blood, but not finding the carcass. The West Africans had a vast bounty and he had picked up on it. He was looking for it. His arrival sent a shiver up all their spines and they couldn’t come out of their covert hiding places for years. Only after the breath of life left that man, could he finally move.

Now Dofi would see this secret. 

He held out his hand and the unoccupied woman gave him a pair of latex gloves. Working quickly, he picked up her hand, found a vein and inserted a needle. Bright red blood jetted into a small glass tube, which he handed to the woman.

He looked down at this strange young girl with her delicate features, smooth skin and almond eyes. Her face was ringed by those shiny dark curls. His fingers traced her hand where a ring should be, but was conspicuously absent.

The woman on the upper bunk topped the vial with a small eye dropper and held it over what appeared to be a copper plate, swirled with gold and green and etched with a five sided symbol. At each of the five sides was an aspect of the draconic elemental wheel. The droplets of blood fell and moved about the plate as though pulled by magnetism. The woman watched the drops of blood wander aimlessly before finally settling in a pool at the center.

“There is no resonance.”

Dofi lifted his head and looked straight at her. Growling low like a lion, despite his female appearance, he said. “Test it again.”

The woman didn’t change expression, but gently tapped the bottom of the plate. The drops of blood wandered a bit before settling again in the center.

“No resonance.”

“Are they accepting humans at Cassell College? Maria, make her talk. Who are her parents?”

Maria gasped, staring at the far wall. “Ch-... Chu… Zihang.  Chu… Meixiu.”

The woman on the bunk put the plate aside and picked up a less esoteric piece of technology, a small laptop. She typed away and while she did, no one spoke or moved.

Dofi sat still as a stone, glowering at this mystery girl. He’d lived too long and fought too hard for Cassell to stab them in the back at the last second. They were a mystery and unknown to the world of Hybrids. Did Mr. Baldwin think he could eliminate them in the middle of the sea with no one to take revenge?

“Chu Zihang was an Ace Commissioner in Cassell College, President of Lionheart, until his retirement. Chu Meixiu was Ace Commissioner in Cassell College, President of Club-S until her retirement. Her name is Chu Ru'Yi, a first year student. Born at Cassell College. There are no state records of her existence. There are no state records of her mother’s birth. She was a found child. Her mother was officially adopted at Cassell at age 16. Her father’s state records are thin. Only listing a mother and an adopted son. His father’s information has no state records.”

“Is Cassell a nursery now? Do they have a breeding program? What more can you find out?”

“I will need to take more time.” She looked down at him. “If you’re asking me to hack Norma.”

“How can the daughter of two Ace Commissioners be sterile of Dragonblood? Maria, ask her about her spiritual speech.”

The golden eyed girl gripped the mattress and stared. She panted as though drowning, gasping for air. She grit her teeth and grunted. “Can’t.”

“Can’t what?” He asked slowly, his eyes widening in barely contained fury.

“I can’t… I can’t tell you. I can’t …” The woman’s eyes moved to him. “I can’t push it. If she resists, she might break free of me.”

The amount of power needed to break free from Maria had to have been insane. Dofi began to feel real fear. They had to have a counter to a weapon as dangerous as this, but how could they counter something they had no information on? “Push it!”

Just as he spoke, the phone rang. It wasn’t a cell phone but the room phone. Dofi got up and walked to the phone and picked up. He didn’t have to ask who it was. He knew who was calling this room. “Brother, she has to be an extremely high level hybrid. Maria can hardly keep her down.”

Foli’s voice came over the phone. “Stop the inquiry.”

Dofi was so shocked that his illusory disguise wavered. “Why?” He snarled.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided to trust Mr. Baldwin.”

Dofi was speechless for a moment. “You don’t understand. This woman is powerful.” He hissed into the phone. “We don’t know what she’s capable of! She might kill us all here!”

“I don’t believe that will happen any more.” His brother said. His voice was calm. Unwavering. “Stop the inquiry.”

Dofi’s hand trembled as he hung up the phone. “Pack it up. We’re stopping the inquiry.”

The two women quickly gathered their things and hid them in spaces in the wall. They were supposed to just be her roommates for the night. No one else on the ship knew they would be interrogating her.

Dofi stood a few more moments, staring at the phone. Was his brother brainwashed? Mr. Baldwin went in alone. That man did not have the Soul Skill for brainwashing. This couldn’t be right. He strode quickly out of the room and down the hall, his heels clicking rhythmically against the tile. He slammed his hand against the button to open the door and walked through  when it was just barely wide enough for him to fit through. As soon as he was out of the range of the cameras his disguise dropped and he was just Dofi.

The hall was occupied now with the shift workers and they pressed themselves to the wall upon seeing such a fierce expression on the normally jovial man’s face.

He picked up his own phone. “Where are you. We need to talk about this.”

“I’ll meet you in Ra’s Chamber.”

“Don’t deactivate him until you listen to me brother!” Dofi turned and opened a door to another staircase. This was dark and lined with only emergency lighting, but Dofi didn’t stumble in the dark. The hum and roar of the ship's mechanics drowned out everything here. This should have been only a cramped maintenance area, where piping carried water, waste and air where it needed to go. There wasn’t much room for anything on this ship, not even its own people. But after moving past two fortified bulkhead doors, Dofi entered space, which spanned half the length of the ship itself.

Foli and Dofi stood dwarfed by a gigantic scaly muzzle. The steam from the hot breath that exited its nostrils was vented up through the ceiling while fresh air was piped in. Its black scales were damp with dew from it. It’s body was tightly bound by what appeared to be metal cuffs that pinned its limbs to its body. It lay on its stomach much like a slumbering crocodile, it’s ribs expanding and then contracting every several seconds.

Foli laid one hand on the tip of the creature’s nose.

Dofi approached him and pulled his hand away. “Brother, I need an explanation.”

“I know.” Foli looked at him. “You know I’m your brother, we shared the same womb. So you know how much I care for you. I wouldn’t make a decision like this lightly. What Mr. Baldwin did today, not only showed his care for me, but his respect for our ways, for our secrets. To ignore that, would be a sign of stubbornness on my part, not of wisdom.”

“Is the inquiry into the woman really ignoring whatever good it is he’s done? We can reward his actions some other way.” He took a step closer to him and whispered. “I know what I saw. If you want to trust him, fine. But I do not.”

“Every organization is entitled to their secrets. He respected ours.” He picked up the medallion from his pocket and held it up.

Dofi’s eyes went wide again, experiencing yet another shock. “The Ashanti Medal! Where … where did you find it?”

“He found it. He found it and showed it to no one until he returned it to me.” Foli looked his brother in the face. “Do you understand now?”

Dofi was visibly paler, despite his dark complexion. When he didn’t answer Foli grinned. 

“You’re speechless as well? It took my breath away. All the hand wringing and late night shouting in the Council… when it was all just a misunderstanding.” He returned the medallion to his pocket.”

Dofi sobered and looked over the bound sleeping dragon. “Some wanted to go to war over that thing.”

“It’s back in our possession.” He clapped Dofi on the shoulder. “Get some sleep. Don’t bother keeping one eye open this time.”

“Then are you deactivating Ra?” 

They both looked over the bound creature. “I don’t believe that’s wise. We are facing a Dragon King, we may yet need his support should the Cassell Agents fall in battle.”

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

NSFW #12: Oil and Water

On paper, Hardcore Revolution had been a success. NSFW had walked in as Tag Team champions and even after the challengers fought with everything they had, NSFW had walked out as Tag Team champions. Mike and Bishop shared stoic, defiant expressions as they backed up the entrance ramp - making a hasty exit from the public eye. They retreated to the recesses of the Rupp Arena, witnessed wordlessly the chaos of the following match, dressed into their street clothes, and departed. Ace Heart and an accompanying cameraman caught them for a website exclusive before their departure midshow. Church had just slung both of their bags into Alundra’s trunk as Mike sat in the driver’s seat with the powerful engine idling. The experienced interviewer tried his luck - hoping that months of radio silence between them had mended previously bad exchanges. “NSFW.” Church closed the trunk and looked up blankly at him - then strode over to the passenger’s side. “A word about your successful title defense.” He opened the door. “What’s next?” The big man dipped down under the frame of the door as he stepped into the car. He slammed the car door shut emphatically. Ace moved to the driver’s side and tapped on the glass. “Lots of speculation on your change of behavior as of late. Any comment?” The window came down. Not a lot. Just a little bit. Ace was met with an emerald death glare that he was probably incredibly familiar with by now. “It’d be obvious to anybody who didn’t eat fucking paint chips as a child. If I ran you over right now, you’d probably be pretty goddamn leery around cars for a while after, wouldn’t you? … Nevermind, fucking metaphorical shit is probably lost on you. As for tonight? We told them. We told them not to goof off. We told them to take us seriously and they didn’t fucking do it. Excuse us for being a tad insulted.” John interjected. “Not to say that our opponents didn’t put on a valiant effort. I commend them. And maybe...” He paused. “This is an ugly business.” His gaze was direct at this man. A fellow employee who he could never get on the same page with despite being amicable with most everyone else. “And maybe beyond all of this...” Another pause. “Mike. Let’s just go.” “Before you go. There are some that say that you two have changed for the worse since winning those titles. Anything to say to that?” Mike’s return glare somehow grew icier, harsher. Her voice sounded not only annoyed, but exhausted. “Heart. I don’t know if you’ve been watching the fucking news, but there’s more important things going on than continuing to lose fucking brain cells talking to you. Church’s right. We’re going home.” The window was rolled back up, and Ace Heart gave a startled jump backwards as Alundra sped off without any further warning. Their community had been grievously wounded that weekend. That with the rampant speculation about the two’s temperament had waned interest in the business and everything that encompassed it. They drove back home and that Tuesday morning - they stood with their neighbors in a vigil to mourn the losses of eleven innocent souls. But after that, there was Japan. Sixteen hours - cross country and then across the Pacific ocean. International travel had not been uncommon for them but with what was slated for them in Tokyo the following Monday, there was a trepidation for just what they were walking into. They would be visiting the island country for two weeks and there was plenty to do, and Mike had amassed quite a list of extracurriculars- cute and sugary and fun things, but also, and perhaps a little out of character for them, quiet and spiritual sorts of things as well. To that end, they decided when looking over places to stay to choose a beautiful ryokan, or hot spring inn, about an hour and a half outside of the city of Tokyo proper. The ryokan was just as stunning as advertised- their room was a very appealing blend of modern and traditional Japanese decorating, and there was a private balcony with a table, two chairs, and their own private onsen- a traditional open air hot spring bath that steamed invitingly in the cool evening air. Beyond the balcony was a view of Mt. Fuji that they both found absolutely breathtaking. Their trusty camera clicked on to the sight of two of them standing out on that balcony, leaning with their backs against the wooden railing, the awe-inspiring mountain clearly visible behind them. They appeared well rested, having slept off any jet lag, and perhaps a bit more at ease than in past weeks. Their title belts rested comfortably in their rightful places over their shoulders. “Context.” John stepped aside - allowing the camera to take in more of the long dormant volcano. “In World War II, this mountain was used as a symbol to evoke nationalism for the Japanese war effort. Meanwhile, the United States used the very same mountain to demoralize those very same soldiers via propaganda. The mountain never changed. It has always stood just behind us. A symbol of this country’s spiritualism. Mike and I. We are that mountain. People will use and twist who we are into whatever they wish. Always ignoring the context. Never asking why. Forgetting that we've never changed.” “Some of the old folklore around here even paints the mountain as a god. Are we gods? Nah. Not far’s I know anyway. We ain’t gods or devils or any other extreme fuckin’ stereotype. What we are is something way more… nuanced?” She glanced up at her partner, who gave her a smile and a nod. Mike held back the urge to give herself a congratulatory small fistpump. “Nuanced. Or in another word, human. I said what feels like a billion fuckin’ years ago, we don’t fit into anybody’s boxes. So if people think we should be acting one way, and we act another, is the problem ours? Or theirs?” John shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to us. Let’s pick up an old thread. We successfully defended our tag team championships against two people that we do consider to be our friends. However. We’ve considered a lot of people to be our friends lately. Including one of our upcoming opponents. Mike and I spoke a lot about it. I think there are some misunderstandings. And maybe we read into things that just weren’t there. But we saw what we saw. And even with that, we fought with honor. And so did they. One day, those two will come back and be ready for another try and maybe they’ll think back to all of this as a learning experience.” “I hope so. They could really be something awesome if they just took some shit seriously. But that was Monday. And now we get to fight a great foe and a rotten fucking friend. Now, we’re not gonna spend a lot of time crying over the obvious. Everybody who wasn’t hiding under a goddamn rock knows what Sanders did. Shouldn't take a Psych major to guess how we feel about it. As for Garcia, this isn’t the first time we’ve gone around the rosey with him.” Mike leaned forward, one brow raising in what could almost be some minute degree of concern. “Hey Cherrypie, you sure you wanna trust this guy? I’d advise against it if I were you, because shit, even you are a better fucking caliber of person than he is. I mean he’s flopping in the raw sewage with the likes of the blonde walking fungus, you sure you want that splattered all over your nice fucking suit? You’ll never get the stench out.” “Why bother?” He looked at Mike and shook his head. “Why bother to rationalize with someone who has closed their eyes to the world? Incapable of grasping any sense of reality. These are the sort of people that Dominic Sanders surrounds himself with. Because except for that shining accomplishment in New York, Dominic’s time here has been wrought with …” John steadied his hand in front of him and tipped it back and forth as if it balanced on a fulcrum. “Inconsistencies. For every accomplishment, there were two pitfalls. For every defining victory over long time rivals or championship boons, there were stunning defeats. Falling to Griffin Hawkins shouldn’t have been the catalyst to orchestrate some charade to manipulate his way into his greatest opportunity. And instead of embracing that chance as a way to finally shine, he shows his true face. Callous. Apathetic towards the people who have supported him through his farce. Surrounding himself with like individuals. However - Dominic should ask himself what it means when he and five other people can’t defeat one, albeit very strong, man.” Mike tisked a bit. “Six guys against one biker. Now, I’ve seen some weird shit circling around Happy lately, and I have to come to the conclusion that either Happy is a magical biker- which would be DC Comics level of badass- or your little makeshift militia really fucking sucks. Or maybe it’s a little from column A and a lot from column B. I mean granted one of those guys was Jeff Noon, but still. Come on. If you were trying to make a meaningful impact it went over like a wet fart.” John raised an eyebrow at that statement but continued nonetheless. “But if you really think about it - it makes complete sense. Dominic Sanders surrounds himself with people that share his ideology. The Limit. A tag team that professes that they do not care about winning. Skirting around the fact that their only victories come from cheapshots against opponents who win less than they do. A team that since trying to use NSFW as a statement - has been violently mediocre until they decided to go to the well once more. Didn’t work the first time - so why try again?” Rhetorical. “Draco Lazarus - a wrestling prodigy so consumed with himself that his proclamations of greatness would be funny if he wasn’t dead serious. Used to be a leader of his own gang of misfits until even they had enough and moved on. Now he’s a follower. And despite these new alliances, he failed to live up to his namesake once again.” He looked to Mike. “And what about Rob Garcia?” “What to say about sweet Cherrypie that we haven’t already said? I know. He somehow stumbled into the tag team championships while being the worst tag partner in the whole wide world. I mean, he was kind of the low man in the entire ReVenant outfit, and once they all skipped town without him he wasn’t able to keep a consistent tag partner after everyone realized what a spoiled, stupid goober he was.” “To be fair, Morgan Darkwater wasn’t the paragon of virtue that we all thought he was.” “Disappointing. But what do you expect from a fucking… pirate? Mercenary? Eh, I think you call that a privateer. Either way, it don’t matter, cuz he’s fucking gone-zo. Sailed off into the sunset, left Garcia all alone yet again, without any titles, real or imagined, to keep his poor sad self company.” “Dominic has assembled this motley crew with designs of molding this company into his image. And in their first cumulative outing - they fail. Typical. And now he, mere weeks away from what he hopes to be the greatest night of his career, looks to use us as an example of his mettle. With Rob Garcia as his charge. What could go wrong?” “Dumbinic Sanders…” John stifled a chuckle. “Dominic, you mean.” “Not if this is his fuckin’ plan I don’t. This is like one of those movies that opens in a shocking manner and gets you all on edge and then just drizzles a promising plot down its own leg like baby diarrhea. Still… even though he’s proven really fucking incompetent as a squad leader and is coming at us with a dude who not only has never pinned us but has all the mental sharpness of cream cheese left out on the counter overnight, we’re not going to make the mistake of underestimating you two. After all, one of you is a Rumble winner and the other is actually really decent if and when he gets a fire under his rich-boy ass.” John affirmed that with a slight nod. “But you two are facing the standard bearer of this company’s tag team division. And that doesn’t mean we are infallible. It means that we faced adversity head on and learned from our shortcomings. After NSFW was defeated by two world class competitors representing the Trinity, what did we do? We came back and captured a victory against the tag team champions at the time. Putting the world on notice. And by the way, where is the Trinity now to forsake our claim?” Mike gave a very exaggerated sorrowful look, wiping away an imaginary tear. “Looks like poor Xavier’s become a doorstop baby.” “And when Mucho Grande went through us to claim a shot at these titles, what did we do? We fought through every team we could until we rectified that wrong. And where is Mucho Grande to dispute our credibility?” The redhead stood up ramrod straight, crossing her arms across her chest like a coffin-bound corpse. “Mucho Muerte.” “That’s right. Despite all of that grandstanding, when push came to shove, they didn’t have the fortitude to backup all of that machismo. NSFW is the constant and Dominic Sanders and Rob Garcia are oil and water. Their only commonality is that they neither of them can get it done as a tag team. Rob Garcia’s last venture went belly up after never winning a match. Dominic Sanders idea of partnership is throwing a fit and attacking Kendrick Kross. After losing to Rob Garcia ironically.” “...what a weiner. What did we ever see in that guy?” John stared at Mike blankly. The cog wheels were turning to find one, single, solitary reason. “Gil.” Mike grinned fondly in spite of herself. “Yeah, yeah you’re probably right.” “But it was always there. Just under the surface. That charming smile a mask concealing his sinister motives. My first exposure to Dominic Sanders was him slamming a steel chair into my back repeatedly. Much like our meeting with Rob Garcia. So understand that Mike and I have not forgotten that.” “Everything you’ve done is gonna boomerang right back in your stupid smug face. You’ve hurt a lot of people in a lot of different ways, Dom. The bill’s coming due and it’s payable in blood, bruises, and busted teeth. Now, we aren’t stupid. We know this won’t be a fair fight- the moment things start getting hairy, you’re gonna call in the gilded turd and your rabid animals. And maybe Jeff Noon for some reason. Maybe we’ll have backup if that happens. Maybe…” Mike let a puff of a sigh out. “...maybe we won’t, and if we don’t, I guess that’s alright.” “We’ll deal with what comes. Together. They’ll bring ugliness and hatred. They’ll try to tear us down and Mike? They’ll fail. Afterwards, Rob Garcia can go back to his clueless world of luxury. Dominic Sanders after the realization that he isn’t as good as he thinks he is can go lapse back into his grizzly misogyny - demeaning a woman who has achieved more than he could ever hope to do. Tired tropes. Little girl. Whore.” His eyes narrowed. And for the only time in this video, he addressed Sanders directly. “I only see one of those. You. A man who has debased himself in utter desperation. Relevance fleeting, you turned to cruelty and malice to get what you want. And on that night. That very special night, you’ll fall short. Re-evaluate your expectations. Monday will be a preview of that very outcome.” “You’re not gonna win, cuz we ain’t like the others. We ain’t going away. No Skipping, Faltering, or Washing out. I hope you realize the fucking hornet’s nest you just kicked. Till Monday. Sayonara, chumps.” They both gave a brief wave. Stepping forward, Mike turned the camera off.

[beneath-our-masks]

A Not-So-Chill Mission: Part 3/3

Taglist: @aconstantcrisis @imaghostwriter

As the Professor threw the capsule at Skyler, Skyler staggered back, and suddenly, the capsule was blasted away a few feet. “Escape!” Ace shouted to Skyler, and Skyler started to run. The capsule exploded, in ice cold gas, and Skyler instinctively turned away.

“Hold your breath, heroes!” the Professor shouted. “Unless you’d like a bit of a chill in your lungs!” The small breath Skyler had taken seemed to be enough to make their chest contract painfully. They stumbled away, coughing, their breaths not feeling right. A portal from Agent Jefferson on the ground beneath the capsule, still spewing ice, and on a tree as far away as she could see mitigated some of the damage; the ice wasn’t a continual issue. But Skyler’s breaths still felt wrong, too cold, and too difficult to make come. “I don’t need powers to destroy all of you, I have my mind, after all!” the Professor cackled.

“What’s the plan?!” Dakota yelled to no one in particular. But before anyone could answer, Siham burst out of the farmhouse, running with one of their swords in one hand. It didn’t look normal; it was red-hot.

“Golden! I heated up my sword! Can you touch it and turn into the hot metal?” they shouted.

“How--”

“I saw smoke coming from the farmhouse so I figured there had to be a fire! It took a while but here!” After a deep breath, Skyler closed their hand around the sword. They gasped in pain, but the pain started to abate as their arm turned red-hot. “That’s so cool! You did it! Dakota and I can hit him and then you can, so he can’t freeze!”

“Got it!” Skyler and Siham ran toward the professor, and a single punch from Skyler caused the Professor to cry out. The icy armor cracked away, leaving the Professor exposed. A punch to the head, the side, the leg, all left the Professor too weak and stunned to fight back. With Ace and Imani getting rid of any projectiles, and Haeun contributing with the occasional star, soon the Professor lay on the ground, beaten and bruised. Dakota grabbed his hands and shoved them harshly behind his back.

“You’re not gonna hurt anyone anymore,” he growled.

“Gold, are you okay?” Agent Jefferson asked, running up to them.

“It’s...getting better. Breathing still isn’t right, but it’s not getting worse. It’s getting better.” Their arm slowly turned normal, without so much as a burn mark where they’d touched the sword. “That was really smart, Kiri.”

“Oh, it’s no biggie!” they chirped. “Now let’s get that bad guy!”

-----------

“Keep trying, you can do this!” Hakim encouraged as he did his best to pin Agent Schott to the ground. Riley ran up and tried another round of emotion manipulation, but Schott swatted them away.

“Thanks for the confidence, but this isn’t happening!” Riley shouted back. “He’s too strong! Can’t you like, paralyze him with telekinesis or something?!”

“It only works for what I could physically do, he’s too strong for that. We’ll just have to wear him out!”

“Not gonna happen, have you seen him?!”  

“We’ll figure something out!”

“Hopefully before I get my face bashed in.” Riley ducked out of the way of one of Schott’s strikes, but was quickly grabbed and shoved up against a wall. But just as Riley used the limited contact to begin the emotion manipulation, Schott tossed them out of the way, where Riley hit the ground hard. Hakim darted between Riley and Schott, fully expecting to have to hold him away with telekinesis as best he could. Schott lunged forward, ready to punch Hakim…

A flash of silver dropped down from the ceiling, and Schott suddenly stopped. Bayleigh had dropped out of a portal and held tightly around Schott’s neck. “B--Mirror!” Hakim gasped. “When’d…”

“Just a bit ago. Zeph and Wis are...ugh!..fine,” she groaned as Schott slammed her against a wall. However, she held firm, pressing on his airway. “Little help?” Schott’s movements were getting slow and clumsy, and Hakim used the opportunity to sweep Schott’s legs out from under him with telekinesis.

“Bells!” Hakim yelled. Riley didn’t need to be told twice--they were already up and on top of Schott. Bayleigh held his shoulders down as best she could, and it gave Riley the opportunity they needed to grab Schott’s hand and start calming him. Within a moment, Riley was in control. Schott stopped struggling, and as if a light flicked off inside his head, slumped unconscious.

“Shit! What…” Riley gasped.

“Relax, there’s a pulse. It’s probably just something with the possession,” Bayleigh murmured. Then, she smiled at Riley and Hakim warmly. “We did it. Looks like we make a pretty good team.” Her gaze lingered a bit longer on Hakim, and Riley didn’t fail to notice how both of them blushed as they kept eye contact for a moment too long. It seemed like they would have stared at each other forever if Schott hadn’t chosen that moment to moan lowly, eyes fluttering open.

“Agent Schott! Are you alright?” Hakim asked, looking at him worriedly.

“Ugh...I’m fine, I...don’t remember much. I...did I hurt any of you? Are you all safe? Where’s Wisteria and Zephyr?” Schott looked over each of the heroes with concern, and visibly relaxed when he found nothing more than a few bruises.

“Wisteria and Zephyr detained Darkstorm. They’re in the hallway, last I saw, I believe waiting for police to arrive,” Bayleigh reported.

“And I got the data,” Riley added.

“Good job, kids. Sorry about...what I did.” Hakim shook his head.

“I felt bad hurting you, but practice sparring against you paid off. And Bayleigh came at the perfect time.” Just as Hakim finished speaking, Imani’s voice crackled through their earpieces.

“The Professor’s been detained. You okay over there?”

“All’s good here, Darkstorm’s taken care of,” Schott reported.

“I’m driving the kids back right now. Not much media coverage here, only had to swat off a few reporters. But more are heading your way. Sorry about that.” Schott sighed.

“No worries. We’ve got Tan and Mirror here, they’re both used to it.”

“Good to hear. Meet you back at base. Over and out.” Schott took his hand off his earpiece and looked over the three kids.

“Alright, time to get out of here. You’ll probably be bombarded by reporters. Tan, Mirror, you’re the two who I’m going to mostly have give statements. Bells, you can talk if you want, but if you get uncomfortable, feel free to leave, and we’ll take care of it.”

“I think I’ll enjoy some press coverage,” Riley grinned.

“Just...keep it tactful,” Schott sighed. “Let’s make sure Zephyr and Wis are okay.”

--------

A few minutes later, Kira had handed Darkstorm over to the authorities and immediately shrunk behind Kai, not missing the looks that everyone was giving her. Reporters started to badger her, but before Kai could physically harm someone, Schott made his excuses and ushered Kira and Kai to the van. Meanwhile, Hakim and Bayleigh were fully accosted, with Riley sharing some of the attention.

“Mirror! Mirror! Are you part of a new hero group?!”

“What are your names?”

“Who else is with you?!”

“How did you meet?”

“Who’s your leader?”

“Yes,” Bayleigh began, “I am part of this new hero group. But I’m not leading. Tanin here is, he’s a new, very capable superhero. I’m more of his second in command. Bells here is also part of our group.” Hakim and Riley both nodded and smiled.

“We are a group brought together by a classified organization to help youth superheroes connect with better training and resources rather than work as vigilantes with no support system,” Hakim added.

“Oh, and you can call me Whistles too. Bells or Whistles,” Riley contributed, grinning.

“We have ten members in total, five of which just apprehended the Professor of Ice.” Hakim barely took in a breath before more and more reporters started flooding him.

“Tanin, what powers do you have?”

“Where’d you come from?”

“Do you have a special...relationship with the Mirror?”

“Bells and Whistles? What’s your powers?”

Hakim and Bayleigh exchanged slightly tired glances, but Riley seemed to have no such exhaustion.

“Bells or Whistles. Not both. Ruins the effect, yanno? But I’m a hacker, and I do some things with emotions…” They continued talking to one reporter, and Bayleigh and Hakim turned to another. It was...a lot, but at least they had each other.

And it was worth it to finally be heroes.

[elsies-fiction]

The Mysterious Ace

        “How did you get here?” He questioned, the deep scowl that was plastered on his face showed a rage that was burning within him. His squinted eyes were full of challenge and suspicion. The light of the moon from the open window reflected eerily on his shiny balding head. After the news he had heard today he had had his suspicions...he just prayed that it wasn't what he thought. Standing there in the doorway of his darkened office, he made his best efforts to appear strong in front of the mysterious man leaning against his own desk. His shimmering amber eyes boring into him with a playful arrogance that made his blood boil, his cocky smirk taunting him. This was all the confirmation he needed to confirm his fears. The news he had heard, the girls symptoms... the thing in his office, it was one of them... And it wanted something...

           The wolf casually leaning against his desk with his arms crossed loosely across his chest didn't answer. His smirk only turned into a wide grin, one of mockery and insult. It infuriated the man. He squeezed his fists together and clenched his chubby jaw tightly, desperately trying to keep his fury contained. “What do you want then mutt?” He spat venomously. And the wolf's grin stretched into a huge victorious smile. His eyes shown easily with amusement.

             Child's play. The wolf thought to himself. It was all the same with humans.  Scratch that, it was all the same with human politicians. All bark and no bite. Coward. He chuckled darkly letting his casual stance shift into one of confidence and power. Letting his arms fall casually to his sides he stepped away from the desk stepping toward the man he found was named Neal. Neal Thompson, what a chump he thought examining him from head to toe, sizing up his very...frail opponent. This was going to take no effort at all. He sighed deeply clicking his tongue and shaking his head back and forth with disappointment. Just get over with it then, he thought to himself before meeting Neal's beady black eyes once more. He resembled a rat the wolfman realized. Shallow, angry, but most importantly his eyes showed fear. His whole energy reeked of fear.  Just once he thought it would have been fun to have a challenge, but alas. He was here to do a job.

             “I think you know why i'm here Neal.” He stated, his voice only above  whisper but full of authority. He stepped closer still. With every step he took he could feel the anxiety radiating off of Neal's short stature. He had to admit though, he kept on a strong front. He had to applaud him for his efforts... they weren't enough to intimidate him but still... good for Neal. He took another stepped forward until he was practically chest against chest staring down at him. He cocked his head playfully, grinning easily. “Why don't you tell me why i'm here?” He prompted as if it was an impromptu idea between friends.

             Neal's frown deepened to a scowl. If looks could kill the wolfman would be dead by now...but they both knew that with Neal's power that would be impossible to accomplish. So Neal breathed heavily through his flared nostrils. He had to play along, he knew he did. He hated it. He hated feeling powerless, why else would he have become a man of power if not to avoid this very feeling? Yet here he was. Again, just like his pathetic childhood he was being looked down upon both figuratively and literally. He repeated to himself to keep his cool. Practically begging himself not to lose his temper. His tense muscles ached with the effort it took. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly he sucked in a ragged breath before letting it out slowly. The wolf waited patiently for him to regain his composure. He was so full of ease and that made his blood boil even more. He spoke quietly through gritted teeth. “You want the girl.” He stated firmly. There would be no other reason for the wolfman to be here. He watched closely as the amusement in his eyes grew. Neal felt like prey under his intense gaze.

             “You're so tense Neal” He commented, stepping away from him moving toward the cabinet behind Neal's desk. Reaching  a bottle of whiskey on the middle shelf he pulled it from its place and grabbed to glasses. Setting the glasses down he poured them both a drink. “You don't mind do you?” He questioned with a knowing smirk on his face. Neal simply huffed in annoyance as he stepped away from the door frame and into the room.

             “Would it matter is I said I did?” Neal quipped. The mysterious visitor pursed his full lips nodding in agreement.

             “I like you Neal.” He began. “You get straight to the point, you don't play a lot of useless games.” He grinned sitting back into the seat that was meant for Neal. Neal's spot. Neal's place of dominance. How arrogant of him to enter into his office and sit on his chair and demand things from him. Who did he even think he was? Neal scoffed, any compliment from him was clearly on to make him feel little. Disgusting.

             “Why don't you get to your point hmm? I'm a busy man you know.” Neal argued trying to at least give him some sort of ground to stand on, some authoritative figure in the room. He just wanted something to hold onto in the conversation.

             The Wolfman extended his hand gesturing for Neal to sit in the seat across the desk. Reluctantly Neal sat down having a drink pushed toward him. At least Neal agreed with him on this, the boos were a good idea.

             “I'm so glad you are warming up to me. Honestly, I wasn't gona say anything but you really seem to be lacking in your skills of hospitality.”

             Neal chuckled in annoyance. “Well Mutt I don't really consider the need to be hospitable to dogs.”

             The wolfman clutched his heart in mock hurt, sucking in his breath as if he was in pain. “Ouch Neal. That was cold.” He teased. "But I have a name you know.”

             “You are going to tell me your name?” Neal questioned slightly stunned. Was this guy cocky enough to actually reveal his identity? What a moron. Neal was feeling more relaxed as the moments passed. Finally, he felt as if he was gaining some power in the room.

             The wolf chuckled darkly. “Of course, I'll tell you my name” Sitting up in the chair and resting his elbows on the desk he laid his chin atop his folded hands. “Not my real name obviously, but you can call me Ace.” Ace examined the hopeful expression on Neal's face drain. He sighed. It was getting boring now. Well, he thought to himself, might as well finish the job and go home. Home was a long walk back after all. Sitting straighter into his chair he glanced at the photo beside him. Smiling warmly at it he saw the beautiful display affection of a mother and daughter. Really, it was precious. The laughter and joy radiated easily from the little girl with dirty blond hair and pigtails. The pick bows that were tied neatly showed just how much care her mother must have spent dressing her that morning. Beside the little girl her mother was embracing her tightly. Neal was a lucky man Ace thought.

             Ace sat the photo gently back in its place before looking Neal straight in the eyes. “I'm not an unreasonable man.” He started never breaking eye contact. He could see that Neal was beginning to squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Ace watched his eyes dart to the photo beside him and back to every other corner of the room. Jackpot. “That's a beautiful little girl you have.” Ace said gesturing back to the picture. He watched as Neal's body tensed. Cold sweats were beginning to break out on his chubby face. The stress in his eyes were palpable, he almost felt bad for him. Almost. “You know Neal, the little girl that I want is about the same age isn't she?” He questioned but Neal stayed silent in his seat. Staring daggers at Ace he refused to contribute to the conversation. Ace sighed. “Conversation is so much nicer when it goes both ways don't you think? But just know even if you don't participate I still get the information that I want.” For the first time that conversation started the easy smirks and smiles slipped from his face and replaced with it a stern expression that meant business.

             Neal's blood ran cold. He shrunk father back into his seat as adrenaline began coursing through his veins at an alarming rate. Whatever power he imagined that he had gained was quickly ripped from underneath his feet. Now he simply felt like he was free falling with nothing to break his fall. He gripped the chair tightly as to not collapse or simply bed the wolfman not to hurt his family. But no, he reminded himself that he had to stay strong. For his family he would do his best to keep his composure.

             Clicking his tongue in annoyance Ace began again. “Molly is just a year younger right Neal? Such a vibrant age. So young. So innocent. It would simply be a shame to miss out on seeing her grow up wouldn't it?” He questioned pointedly as Neal gulped anxiously. The tremors were visible to him now the face of true terror. “As I said before, I'm not unreasonable. I simply want to opportunity that you already have with Molly here. No one knows about little miss special case but you, the doctor, and me and I've already taken care of Doc so all that's left is you. Me and mine don't want a war right? We simply want what is ours. I don't care what you do to accomplish it but make sure that she is handed over got it?”

             Shakily, Neal begins to respond. All strength in his voice and demeanor were now gone. “S-she can give a-away information. S-she can't just g-go to you. It can hurt us.”

             Ace scoffed in annoyance. “Really? You are worried about the information a seven year old from the boonies of town can tell us? I know more than she does and I just arrived.”

             “I-I it's not something I can decide on m-my own. To surrender a child to the enemy... it's not something w-we can just do! Please understand my position.” He begged getting desperate.

             A deep sigh escaped Ace's lips as he simply shook his head back and forth. “I'm disappointed in you. That's why I arrived before anyone else became aware of the situation. Silly me, I assumed you would have caught that without me having to tell you. I'm Saying that you need to pull some strings. Fake a death. I don't care what bullshit you come up with. Just make it happen.” He spat standing up from his seat and moving closer toward the window. Stopping in his tracks he slowly turned back to face the trembling man. “And no worries about finding me when you get her Neal, I'll be watching. When you set your plan in motion I'll be in the shadows watching everything carefully. Just get the girl alone and undetected and I'll take it from there. Make sure no one knows about me or what she has to do with any of us right? It'll be a complete mystery Understand?” He questioned.

             Neal simply sat defeated in his chair nodded quickly as to not aggravate his uninvited guest. With that the easy smile was returned to Ace's face. “Great to hear. Thanks for the whiskey, I'll see you again real soon okay? And make sure to remind Molly that the doll she wanted for her birthday will be delivered in a few days just like I promised.” He spoke with a dark look in his eyes. And with that he swiftly leapt out the window and disappeared into the night leaving Neal an emotional wreck. Never before had he felt so hopeless. He stood uneasily  trying to form a plan with the implied threats playing rapidly on repeat in his weary mind. No matter what it took, he would get it done.

[teethdollar47-blog]

My Favorite Books That I Read in 2018

Books! Why would you bother living without them? Even slowed down by life and depression, this turned into one of my favorite reading years thanks to some stunning debuts and absolute gems in my backlog. In the post-Christmas haze I've gathered up some scary stories, a Pulitzer winner, a New York Times favorite, and novellas and a lovable killing machine for you. Let's read.

The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang

This is an Epic Fantasy about the real world destroying your adolescent notions of what matters. For the first chunk of the book, Rin throws herself into life at a military academy, exploring connections between drugs and the gods. The worst things in her world are an unfair teacher and her equivalent of a Draco Malfoy bully. But then she graduates and has to serve alongside her classmates in a brutal war with civilian death tolls and a nightmarish parallel to the Nanjing Massacre. The book lets us take Wizarding School tropes for granted and then rips them in half with reality. Hopefully one one reading this ever has to deal with the horrors of war, but Rin's revelation is an extreme version of the experience of so many people who hide from reality inside education systems and then have to confront the world. From this conceit, Kuang creates one of Fantasy’s greatest origin stories, showing us how Rin grows from desperate, to ambitious, to vengeful, to ruthless. We see all of the social pressures and life events that forge her into one of her world's great villains.

Witchmark by C.L. Polk

I meant to read part of Witchmark on my flight, but the book was too good, and so I finished it before we landed. Miles Singer is a healer in a Fantasy world in the shadow of a war akin to World War I, using his talents to help traumatized veterans when they come home. Something is causing his patients to become dangerously violent, possibly using their PTSD to turn them into weapons, and Miles has to solve the mystery to save them. It’s a deeply compassionate novel about trying to help those harmed by war, bolstered by a supportive romance between Miles and Tristan, another man ensnared into the plot. At one point Miles is exhausted and unkempt, and Tristan gives him a shave. Apparently allosexual read this as ridiculously hot. My ace ass read this as soothing, because the trust between them is so clear. It made me relax on a plane where I had no elbow room. Witchmark is thoroughly charming.

The Outsider by Stephen King

This might be my favorite book into King’s new Bill Hodges Universe, and makes the explicit turn to opening the supernatural there. Without spoiling, it elevates some characters into protagonist roles that will make any sleuthing against monsters way more interesting, while paying homage to the restless retiree who started it all. Here we have an identity mystery: a pillar of the community is witnessed having committed an absurdly grisly crime and have to figure out how it’s possible that evidence puts him in two places at once. We know something supernatural touches this crime, but can’t be sure what since the Hodges Universe began without any of the supernatural. King has created a great uncertainty over how much human behavior explains things, as opposed to Castle Rock where there the shadows always had thoughts. This is covered in one of King’s richest webs of characters, every point of view connecting powerfully to another, until we have a robust appreciation of how feverishly the community reacts to the news. I didn’t think there needed to be a fourth book in this series. Now I’m quite excited for a fifth.

Impostor Syndrome by Mishell Baker

If you haven't read the series so far, just go get Borderline. It's amazing.

If this is the end of the Arcadia Project series, then it's a poignant send-off and also the most fun the characters have been. Most of your favorites from the first two books band together with Millie for something that's half heroic adventure, and half psychedelic heist. My favorite part was seeing Millie's team come together as so supportive and aware of where intervention might be important for helping neurodivergent characters. Respecting the agency of our friends is hard in real life when we know they're at risk, and it's refreshing to see that reflected in something better than the duality of "hands off" or "you have no choice." The scene where Millie might be concussed and not taking her own health seriously is where we start to appreciate how far the characters have come. There are explosive events, but more important are the conversations and developments between people who didn't trust each other a few books ago.

All Systems Red & Artificial Condition by Martha Wells

I haven't read Books 3 and 4 in the Murderbot Diaries series because I'm saving them for bad days. SF&F publishing doesn't give me books like these very often and I need to ration the good vibes. The Murderbot Diaries are warm-hearted and revolve around the emotional growth of a killing machine who just wants to watch TV and be left alone. He's not a slacker hitman; he's rental equipment who longs to understand others and be emancipated. These books have some adventure and risk, but their heart is in weird bonding sequences watching soap operas with a ship's navigation computer. They are warm without avoiding heavy material, and without settling for arcs that ending in gritty choices. The heaviness is in who we want to be. This series is a modern treasure.

Space Unicorn Blues by T.J. Berry

Now this is my kind of worldbuilding. Space Opera where it turns out planets are populated by unicorns, dragons, and faeries? And they need space ships to try to outrun human colonizers? Heck yes. We’re talking about a great found family of disabled people, and queer people, and magical beings, and humans who know they’ve messed up, going on perilous adventures to create a better life for themselves. My favorite trick Berry plays is shuffling the characters, plot, and worldbuilding. Our half-unicorn hero may get stuck in a miserable spot thanks to the plot, but Berry keeps the tone light by explaining that spot through hilarious worldbuilding like the brand of pie that has a density dangerously close to black holes. When the plot gets more dangerous, the characters banter it out. One element is always allowed to be grave, and is lightened by another, turning the novel into something consistently inventive and fun.

The Power by Naomi Alderman

Not a lot of Dystopia novels let you see the Dystopia form. The Power puts its Dystopia into motion, from the start of women developing skeins and gaining the ability to instantly electrocute anyone they like, to boys being segregated from them in schools, all the way to upheavals in culture and political systems. It’s a world where women suddenly have superior capacity for violence than men. This way it easily could have languished as a 1984-like about a downtrodden man chaffing under a system of oppression, but Alderman puts her world into motion. We see the changes and new orders from the perspectives of male journalists, poor women, and aspiring politicians, each of whom give us different angles of satire and angles on the world. I’d love an anthology of short stories covering more parts of this world, and almost wrote one about what would change in disability communities.

The Red Tree by Caitlin R. Kiernan

A Cosmic Horror novel about a very bad tree. Sarah Crowe has wicked writer’s block, and fears that this time she won’t resurface and will lose her contract and career. The novel has Kiernan’s hallmark ability to get deep inside a messy character’s head as their mental health and personal life unravels. But there is a peculiar tree in the woods behind Crowe’s rented house, visible from her upper bedroom window - and that no matter how long she walks, she cannot reach. The pursuit of the tree is both a metaphor for her writer’s block, and intrinsically related, since the fascination leads her to research seemingly similar trees related to horrors that have happened throughout the region. Could they all be the same tree? Has she been attracted to it because she has similar flaws as previous people caught in its web? I bothered so many friends with my theories for weeks after finishing it. The book is a few years old, but certainly one of my favorite Horror things of the year.

Slavery by Another Name: The Re-Enslavement of Black Americans from the Civil War to World War II by Douglas A. Blackmon

Douglas Blackmon went from county to county across the southern U.S., reading court records from almost a century ago to prove how emancipated slaves were treated. What he found was a long trail of people charged for petty crimes or held without an explicit charge, often with no evidence or even oral arguments in court, and sentenced to manual labor that was contracted out to friends of the court. This way saw thousands upon thousands of people trapped in a new slavery that could be extended at the whim of their “employer,” who could charge as much as they wanted for room and board that the convicted people couldn’t refuse. They were sent into the deepest mines and most rundown mills, and when many of them died from conditions or unsafe labor, they were made to disappear. It’s a bitter book, rife with cruelty that more than one president willfully ignored. These parts of our history are ignored at our peril, and the peril of the most vulnerable going forward.

Source: http://johnwiswell.blogspot.com/2018/12/my-favorite-books-that-i-read-in-2018.html