#since well their fur collar is shiny colored...

[quietmew]

Well maybe you should be more polite next time Polly!

@askthetraveller

[catharrington]

Part 9 cat boy house husband Steve and his milk man Billy au!!! Almost finished y’all. I struggled a little with this because I wasn’t sure who to include in this fall out, but I decided I wanted more cat boy whump 🖤🖤 last part will come up Valentine’s Day 😽

tw: domestic abuse

Tag list: @withoneheadlight @spreckle @harringrovetrashh @magellan-88 (meow if you want me to add ya)

Cry me a river

***

The air of that particular night at Niagara Falls was a different sort of cold. A heavy cold that seemed to hold onto every part of Steve’s skin. Every part of his long, brown fur. The water of the falls soaked his fur through. But also made his hair stand on end. He shivered, his ears flattening to try and make their thin skin warm and his tail tucking in cowardance between his legs.

Richard had scoped Steve up into his arms. His warm, secure, safe arms. Steve felt like it was years ago and not just a single year, but he could still remember how they felt.

Now, the air felt about the same. So damn cold and so damn heavy. Every inch of his hybrid self stands on end.

But today, Richard wasn’t the type to reach his arms out. To scoop Steve into safety. It turns out; he never was.

Now, his hand was a weight against his neck. A glinting silver bell. A present of a kitty cat under a Christmas tree. Suffocating under the tightness of its velvet red collar around its throat. Steve opened his mouth to try and breath through the tightness, but he couldn’t. He could only wait breathlessly for his husband's reply.

“You want a what?” He whispered in a soft disbelief.

The hand laxed slightly. Slipping as if untied. The child finally growing bored of his shiny, new play thing.

Steve swallowed thickly. Turning half his body towards his typewriter. The cigarette that was burning between his kissed raw lips tumbled down on the wooden surface. It was kept clean by his well use. The only resting place Steve felt truly his own in this cage of a home.

But now the ash that lingered on the tip of Steve’s cigarette while his husband tried to retain the collar of control spilled out over the clean surface. Smeared black and filthy across the light colored wood. He held his hand out as if to touch the burning ashes, but stopped short. Only laid his arm across the well used desk top. Then he flexed his claws to scrape jagged lines that matched the shivering fear he felt.

“A divorce. I don’t wish to be married to you any longer.” He said to those lines. The snap shot in time of the shaky wounds that should have been ‘happily ever after’.

Mr. Smith’s eyes were heavy on the back of his head. But then the feeling went away with a heavy sigh from the other man. Like he was disappointed. Like he couldn’t even glare at Steve, he was too ashamed to look at him.

For the first time since Steve’s been sitting upright waiting for his husband’s attention, he finds himself content without it.

“You can’t,” his husband starts and then stops. Another large and long sigh. “You can’t just say that to me.”

“Why can’t I?” Steve asks downwards to his claws.

“Because this is more than a damn marriage, this is a deal. A contract—,”

“Contracts can be broken? Can they not, or rewritten?” Steve prods. He knows he’s right but for so long he’s always spoken in a softer questioning tone.

There’s a snarl in his voice, today, breaking though the surface. Twirling and whirling around like freshly poured milk. Overtaking the coffee until it changed the color of the inside of his mug completely.

“This is because of him?” His husband asks disbelievingly.

And Steve wants to bite back the first words in his lips proclaiming ‘yes, it was’. He wants to laugh and claw the wood under his fingers to sawdust. To rip away any broken, molding, boiling pieces of any life that wasn’t with his milk man. But he only smiles weakly to himself.

Thinks of Billy, his simple milk man. Thinks of their fingers touching only for the briefest of seconds. Lingering between the passing of the chilly cold milk glass, or the well loved pages of Steve’s manuscript.

Thinks of all the time he spent working on those pages. How many times he typed the same page until it was good enough. How he’s always been struggling with being good enough. Being the perfect hybrid trophy. First it was for his father to parade around, and now his husband.

Thinks about how the ears on top of his head have a price sticker like a butcher's cut of meat. And how his husband paid that sticker price, without even knowing him at all.

He’s never read a page of his words. Never even asked to. Just rolled his eyes when the machine Steve had ordered from a Trendy Homes Monthly catalogue arrived right after they moved in. His husband couldn’t care less what Steve prattled on about. As long as he was pretty, and he was his.

Yet Billy, Billy’s soft eyes lingered on his words. His expression. Read those inked pages until they crunkled at the sides. And they radiated warm to the touch under Steve’s frozen cold hands.

It wasn’t fair that such a little thing could mean so much. But Steve got a taste. He poured the milk in his coffee until it was sweet, and now he wanted more.

“Yes, it’s because of him.” Steve replied. His voice is steady. And his hybrid part of him is growing happy. And fond. “But not in the way you mean. It’s because of him I’ve realized I deserve better than this.”

Steve turned to face his husband. His captor. He lifted his hands so his silky robe fell open to reveal his heaving chest. He lifts his hand to motion to the silver bars of their home— his cage all around him.

Mr. Smith doesn’t follow his flourish towards their living room. He’s glaring at Steve right down to his core. To the white bones under his skin. To the places he cannot, could not, would never be able to touch with just his hands. To the places Steve’s still himself. Not just this bastard’s hybrid trophy husband.

“He,” Steve repeated the word with a force behind it that was stronger than any gold band on his finger, “made me realize I deserve to be treated like a person, a human. Not your pet.”

Mr. Smith was close enough to smell his anger. It coiled around his body like sulfur. Like rotten things. Expired things.

He took a step forwards in the way he does, heavy footed across their shiny new floors. The sides of Steve’s robe get yanked up into furious hands. The chair under him tumbles onto its side, making a sickening hollow slap against their floor. And the type writer shifts loudly against the table top as Steve struggles to grab for purchase and knocks into the table.

Steve’s hands find his husband's arms, clawing at the thicker forearms to keep steady in the storm of his anger.

He swallowed thickly. Then, he turned his big brown eyes forward to meet Mr. Smith's head on. To take the punishment one last time.

“You are mine!” The other man roars, his lips baring his human teeth. “My husband! You agreed to this, to be my pet. Or don’t you remember?”

He gave a shake to Steve’s whole body. It made him wince and let out a shameful whimper of pain.

“I offered you money, a home, and you agreed to that. Or has this affair with a goddamn milk man made you as forgetful as you are naive?” Mr. Smiths hands on his robe hurt. It dug the fabric into his arms. And his legs felt like they were dangling off a cliff. Shaking loose like a dead tree as a tornado spins around and around.

Steve’s long taken shelter in the places that don’t seem safe. Curled into himself. Laid his ears flat on his head. And used his tail as his own pillow when he had nothing else.

Kept himself warm with a blanket in the trunk of his car when his father would kick him out and lock the door. And now, in their home, Steve’s got a blanket folded neatly in the kitchen pantry for when his husband kicks him out of their bedroom. Locking the door behind him. And Steve’s got to keep himself warm on the butcher’s hook cold of their couch.

It’s been like this so long he didn’t know it could be any other way. He didn’t know love could be sweet tasting instead of bitter.

He never enjoyed coffee until he poured milk into it.

“I didn’t agree to this,” Steve whispered. “This isn’t love.”

Mr. Smith let one hand go from Steve’s robe and lifted it into the air. He sounded like a hybrid in pain as he brought his hand down. But today, Steve wasn’t the one shivering in fear.

[thosebrookfieldgirls]

Yeah part of me is wondering if there will be in overblot in this event too, also what do you think the girls masks would look like if they had ones? (Also part of me randomly thought of one of them just wearing like,a Halloween mask and being like “you said we had to wear masks for this” lol)

I'm sorry for the theater kid in me you just awakened

I feel like for the masks most of the girls would wear the same kind of vienna-inspired/phantom of the opera masquerade masks the guys are. I also imagine they manage to find themes to that fit their own dorm as well as the respected dorms they are associated with.

For example, I see Valentina playing into more a harlequin style with a stiff collar, black/white/and red pallet, with an almost porcelain looking mask across her face.

Anne I see playing into more the merchant wife that is elegant but also rich looking with fur accents and shiny embellishments with a more subdued mask. She's also definitely geeking out about a masked ball since Christine Diae was definitely a dream soprano roll for her.

Judith would have likely gone for something more subtle since parties like this were a dime a dozen for her, but she would tolerate it if it meant getting to explore somewhere new. So she sticks with a standard shape, probably some sleeve attachments, and lots of lace detailing in reds and golds. Probably a lace or crystal mask on top.

Kim is going all out to enjoy herself. I'm taking full hoop skirt and fancy eboidery. She looks like she just walked out of French aristocracy even if she doesn't have the hair. Softer pastel colors for her with a mask on a stick.

Eva would be the one to pick a full mask if she could. Darker and more gothic color pallet of mostly blacks with some navy and purple as well. Tries to give a more vampiric and don't talk to her vibe.

Fiona is another one that goes light, even if she goes more floral then stylish like Kim. The one most fairy tale like with her poofy but not too poofy skirt and simple mask yo cover her face. She almost seems under dressed compared to the others.

[boogiewrites]

Never Break the Chain Pt. 2

Part 2 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary:  Javier and Esme's first time seeing each other in almost twenty years. A photograph leads to an obsessive hunt for the woman he thought was dead. They both find they got where they wanted. But is it what they want now?

Warnings/Tags: Tension. Big reunited kiss. 

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Time passes, as it always has and always will. It stopped for no man, not even Javier. Seeing his first love fade into nothing had left him a different man. Walls came up, barriers were built that his enemies would even be impressed by. She’d done him a favor, snapping him out of the young man’s dream, but he felt he had nothing left but trying to help once she was gone. So he threw himself into his work.

Sure there were other women. He thought he loved some, but would always leave them. He always hurt them and that wasn’t his intention precisely but they would thank him years later. He was what they would refer to in close company as “a dodged bullet”. He’d been called far worse.

He despised his cliche reactions to his trauma sometimes. Drinking, smoking, being a general pain in the ass, renowned and proud asshole was easier. Burying yourself in prostitutes and let them take away the thoughts for a little while was the easiest. He would fantasize he could help them, even save some of them. He surely wasn’t getting his hero complex stroked when it came to his work. He had a soft spot for women, he had learned the hard way the shit deal they’d landed when they were born. He couldn’t do much...but he could try to help. So he did. Loss after loss he kept trying. This was that bit of good Esme had always believed in. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would have it so he made the best of it while he could.

The night before was nothing knew, an old habit at this point for him. He went out and got a woman, he’d pour every bit of good in him into her, convincing himself he still had it. He’d make them feel good, listen to them, things that were in short supply in their lives from men. He could be that good guy exception, if only for a short while. It felt nice to not be looked at with disgust or fear. The slivers of affection kept him going after dark. He’d leave them breathless, moans turning to laughs as they dressed, joking they might not make him pay. But they always took the money. And he offered it with no judgment, pulling his jeans on and halfway through a highball glass as his lean outstretched arm offer up their compensation for making him feel something good and push out the bad thoughts for a short while. He could be making worse decisions.

He rubs his temple, suppressing a groan as he slid his way into the uncomfortable chair at the beaten-up metal table. The chatter of his coworkers all making their way into the room was grating but nothing he couldn’t ignore. Morning debriefing, something he gave a shit about. Well, work was the one thing he gave a shit about right now, hyper-focused on the clock and trying to drown out the obsession off the clock. It was a dynamic that he was still trying to perfect. He downs the hot black coffee in his hand and nods at the secretary just outside the doorway, “Get me another, sugar. No sugar.” he winks and sends her off. She side-eyed him and went on her way, that was just Pena to her, horny but harmless. He cracks his back, a grunt before landing his elbows on the table to focus, the overblown commander coming in with a handful of photos, spreading them on the table as they talked about what they always did, the cartel.

Pena tries to approach everything individually, but there was only so much range these guys had, and not seeing them all as one giant collection of piss ants with assault rifles was something getting harder and harder to do. So as new and old names were said, he watched the board fill out, the line attaching known connections and new ones. There had been a new wave of intel, something Pena and his partner Murphy were used to being the ones doing, but he wouldn’t complain if someone else finally wanted to sack up and their fucking job like they were supposed to.

“So we have our old friends,” a slap of photos to the board. “Then there’s a new round of boys coming in.” he taps the newest addition to the board. “Seems we’re getting inbred with the other families, the jewel smugglers, the miners...seems we’re trying to venture out and expand our already impressive portfolio.” he snorts.

“They can never just be fucking satisfied with their millions.” someone groans and complains.

“It’s a good chance try to take them down too.” Murphy shrugs.

“Eyes on the prize, kiss ass,” Pena says quietly, accepting his coffee without a second glance. “Do we know these women?” he asks with a nod in the direction.

“Typical.” Murphy rolls his eyes.

“No. Our assumption is prostitutes. Nothing new there.” the commander goes on, but he quickly becomes background noise as Pena stands and moves toward the board. He stood, hips jutted forward, eyes scanning, hand over his mouth in thought. Once he saw the new pictures he hadn’t heard another word the men had said. “PENA!” barked his way grabs his attention as he casually shifts his attention.

“Mmmph. Yeah.” he mutters, eyes moving back to the board.

“I was informing you, you’d be doing street intel on these newcomers.”

“Yeah,” he says disinterested, thumbing his lip before placing his hands on his hips. “Do we have these photos in color?”

The question catches the room off guard. “Why?” he’s met with annoyed opposition.

“This woman…” he taps the photo of a woman with a sly smile on the arm of a very powerful man. Dark waves teased and a heart-shaped face buried in a fur coat collar worth more than he made in a year. He clears his throat. “I’ve seen her before…”

“They’re whores Javi, of course, you have.” Murphy leads the room in a wave of amused hums and chuckles.

“No I’m serious,” he says with no inflection, catching his partner’s attention. “Do we have a location on them if there’s no color?”

“Why’s color important?”

He’s quiet for a moment, jaw tense and eyes blinking, baffled at what he was allowing himself to think. “Her eyes… were green.” MUrphy readjusts himself in his seat, watching Pena’s eyes carefully. He could swear they looked sad.

“What information we’ve got is here.” the commander points at the table with its thick manilla envelopes.

Javier nods with no spoken response, staying in place until the room is empty except for a hesitant Murphy who approaches him. “Who is she?” he asks quietly.

He shakes his head in response. “It can’t be her,” there’s a heavy pause, “But it...fuck it looks like her…” his voice trails off and Murphy is left with more questions.

“Well, are you gonna answer me or just write poetry about her Javi?”

“She’s…” he sighs and sucks his teeth. “She’s supposed to be dead.”

“Did you-?”

“No… no… nothing like that.” his voice still quiet. “I knew her… fuck...over a decade ago now.”

“So we can add hunting ghosts to our agenda now too. Great.” Murphy takes it lightly and presses his lips together. He stares at Javi, his eyes dark and focused. He was left with more questions than answers. His money was still on it being a hooker. It’s not as if Pena had even talked about Esme since the investigation when he was young. His partner may have his back in life or death situations, and they may have been close, but no one knew about her. Pena had hoped to keep it that way. He hoped he was wrong. He hoped it wasn’t her. Because if it was… well he didn’t know what he’d do.

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

Esme didn’t know it but with every minute that passed, she was being proven right about her belief in her first love, that if he knew she was alive, that he would find her.

Esme had ran, a bug out bag down the river and no trace left behind. She made her way south over the years, learning her craft and making friends in the right places. She’d started with rich men, especially rich white men trying to make a living off exploiting her fellow man in Mexico. It had been almost too easy. They thought nothing of her and wore her as if she were a watch; on their arm and shiny and proof of their wealth. She would gain access, gather intel and then sweep in and take the goods and ghost out.

Esme had been legally declared dead and was now living as Estelle. She had so many names over the years but her current incarnation was Estelle. And she was a star. She’d become what she wanted, she was rich and self-reliant. She needed no one and had her fun as she craved it. There were men and women and drugs and jewels and for so long it had been a pleasant hazy dream. But the novelty of it wore off, she grew bored,  a witness to her hypocrisy, growing soft and lazy with her indulgence. When she emerged from her haze and saw the state of the world around her she knew things had changed. Narcos now ruled the world. The government bowed to them, the poor worshipped them. She saw they were the future, the new leaders. And for her, that meant that’s where she had to be.

She found herself once again sharp and full of adrenaline. Her new role took real savvy and cunning. Otherwise, she’d end up dead for real. She cozied up, working for Narcos to steal for them. It wasn’t hard in skill, but it was in the amount of sexist shit she had to deal with. She’d killed men for laying hands on her, and worse. She’d pulled knives and guns and made frown men piss themselves as she threatened them with words they’d never heard women utter up to that point. Most of the leaders would laugh until they cried after the fact, seeing a woman act in such away. She entertained them. They underestimated her, saw her as some novelty pet that fetched things and entertained them. She could handle that. As long as she got paid.

Following the groups, making her way around it made sense she found herself in Columbia. She knew it was dangerous, but she was addicted to it. It filled the void of sex and drugs for her for the most part, although she did partake among her peers from time to time. She thought it made her admirable, independent, and a shining example of what a woman could be if she had the nerve to do it. She was, to a degree, but she was also wrong. She lacked the softness in her life anyone, not just a woman needed. A void where no love or trust or intimacy was in her life she filled with material things and lists of her accomplishments. if she kept busy and looking ahead she wouldn’t be still king enough to face her demons.

Except she was about to come face to face with her biggest one.

—

As was his way, Javier had become a bit obsessed. He had to know if this woman was Esme. He’d been tracking her and was able to have DEA level observation to do it. It was a personal mission he’d been able to spin to look like a cartel one. There was a connection, she was seen with them, but little was known outside of that. After he’d put the word out for the beautiful woman with green eyes it hadn't taken long before someone scorned by her leaked information on her next job. The informant knew what his boss wanted to be stolen and when she’d be there. Normally no agent or cop would care to pay attention to her, or some jewels being stolen,  she was just some woman to them. But serendipitous timing made sure she became THE woman for one of them.

She practically waltzed into the store. She scaled a fence, a wall and came through a window but for her, that was practically begging her to steal from them. The rooms were dark, silent except for the sounds of her feet as she made her way into the back, unseen and unbothered. It wasn’t until she’d stopped to admire her score before snatching it they the clicking of a gun behind her caught her attention.

He’d waited in the shadows, and none too patiently. With the aim set to intimidate, not kill, he Easter no more time. “Who are you?” It came out as an order.

Her head snapped up, back still to the faceless voice she felt was all too familiar. She blinks, the former goal now removed and replaced with a flood of emotion. She remains silent, her turn to be shocked like he was when he saw her face in the photos.

“Turn around.” Another order. The voice was deeper, darker now but still made her feel the same way.

She turns, and painfully slow. She doesn’t meet his intense gaze immediately, reading his body language first and calming her racing mind. There’s no way it was him.

There’s no way it’s her, his mind reassures him. But as soon as her eyes raise to meet his his stomach drops. He was right.

“Javi?” It was almost a whisper, for the first time in she couldn’t remember when she didn’t hide her emotions in her face.

The gun falls first, his sense falling to the wayside as it slipped into its place in the back waist of his jeans. His frame was broader, still lean moves towards her with an earned confidence now. He doesn’t speak, staring at her as if she might not be real. She gives him his time. He’d earned it. “It really is you.” It was his turn to let the veil fall, dark eyes shining in the low, cool light.

She nods. “Javi I can explain.” She begins, prepared to apologize and ask forgiveness before asking him why the hell he was there at all. They were a long way from home.

“You’re alive.” A rather obvious statement that made her smile. It was all he could handle.

“I can explai-“ a quick burst of words before they’re cut off by his mouth landing against hers. She hadn’t expected this. She was prepared for many things last but not this, at least not for him to be kissing her. “Javi my-“ she tries to get out but his hands are already on her cheeks, hot and damp and certain. She lets her concern fade for a moment, it would all be fine. She gives in to it, lets him take the lead, and pull her against him roughly. The anger and hurt coming through in his grip on her back and face as they kissed breathlessly. He stole her focus without trying, there was the signature huff from his nose, the nuzzle into her between separating to catch his breath but he felt different. But so did she.

Where they once held differences in certainty they now held the opposite. He kissed her like he just found out his first love was alive after decades of vices to cover the loss. Because he had. Every woman and experience he’d had between her and now, every skill and thus gained confidence was clear and apparent. This was not a boy handling a girl. He was a man handling his woman.

And there she was, blindsided and touch starved, passion and intimacy starved being devoured by the only man she’d ever truly loved. The only man she’d ever let in and see her for what she was. The only man that knew Esmeralda. It was a raw and painful ache that emanated from her chest as she clutched her hand around his wrist and the other gripped his shirt in her hand. She gave in because she knew it wouldn’t last long, and after it was over she’d miss it.

With eyes squeezed shut, his forehead pressed to hers, his statuesque nose gently rubbing against hers he exhales hot against her face. “Esme…” he pulls back and holds her face, demanding her focus.

“It’s been so very long since someone’s called me that.” she sighs and puts her hands on his forearms.

“Since I called you that?”

She nods and smiles, face pressed into his hand.

“Maybe it’s about time people called you that again.” he pauses and looks her over with a hard brow, he couldn't hide his simmering anger underneath the confusion, relief, and affection. “Where the fuck have you been?” She sighs in response. “Why the hell are you HERE?”

“Same as you. Work.”

“Why are you with those men? Don’t you know who they are? What they do?”

“Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?”

“Why Esme?” his eyes water and his hands squeeze her face a bit too tightly before a wave of dizziness hit him.

“Same reason now as then,” she whispers, his grip loosening and not hearing her response, she slicks his dark hair back as his eyes start to roll around in their sockets. “You're fine, Javi. Seems you fell for my defense mechanism.” she smiles and he looks at her, starting to slump. “To be fair I didn’t know to expect you. You’ll wake up soon enough. It’s only temporary.” she wipes the culprit of the sudden wave of forced unconsciousness he was going through, her lipstick off his mouth. He was out quickly, and she spent some long moments exploring the now aged face of her once wide-eyed companion. “You are even more handsome than I thought you’d be.” she coos and kisses him after dragging him into a chair and pushing it into a corner so he wouldn’t fall. “It now inevitable we’ll meet again. My old hound dog.” She chuckles, a kiss to take in the scent of his hair before she parted ways. “See you later, mi amor.”

-----------

Peña awoke to a boot knocking against his knee and an odd headache. It was pitch black outside by now, people on the streets outside none the wiser to the life-altering experience he’d just had.

“Are we blacking out in stores now?” Murphy snarks and shakes his head, leaning against a door frame.

“That’s not...I’m not…” Javier shakes his head, rubbing and tapping at the pulse in his skull.

“Then what the hell is it?” He can hear the judgment in his partner's voice.

“If I told you you would think I was crazy.” he groans and sits up with his back straight in the chair, one cocked brow looking over to the man staring him down.

“And I don’t now?”

Peña huffs out a laugh. That was a fair assessment. He’d think the same thing. He looked across the room, the glass case he’d found her standing in front of now empty. “She took the jewels.” he switches the subject, an arm raised lazily and collapsing against his lap after.

“Were they made of cocaine? Why do we give a shit?”

“It’s not the jewels that are important. It’s the woman that did it.”

“A woman? Huh. That’s something you don’t see every day. That is… a little bit crazy I guess.”

“That’s not what’s crazy.”

“Am I gonna have to fuckin’ waterboard you man, just tell me.” he groans.

“That woman I told you about... that stole those... she's been declared legally dead for almost twenty years.” he finally says with a defensive tone and a face that said don’t fucking try me to the man still assessing his sanity with no attempt at hiding his negative prognosis.

“Oh.” Murphy contemplates looking away to the empty case. “That... yeah okay that is crazy.”

@jaegeeeeer​ @likedovesinthewnd​ @inkededucatednnerdy​  @biharryjames @ladamari68​ @past-romantic​ @weliketomoveit

[animalistic-anomalies]

The red panda lets out a low hum of understanding, tilting her head a tad bit. It is good? Even with selfish reasons? That was kind of odd in a way but, not something impossible for people to do, probably more when that something or someone belonged to someone they knew and were close to them. “I suppose you are right.. People wouldn’t protect others without reasons or not knowing them, Right? Or- well..most people?? And thanks to him, we could meet! Maybe, we would be able to spend more time with no problems happening?” She said first, soon being taken aback by the fact that she doesn’t have to repay him. “But..don’t wanna be helpless nor ungrateful..” She said kind of mumbling with a low tone. “Don’t worry, won’t stress about it! I will find something shiny you might like, and give to show gratefulness, but also being a gift!” She said cheerfully and confident enough, and as soon as he patted her on her head, the red panda nuzzled her head against his hand after melting at the touch, fur eventually going back to normal while she enjoyed the moment of the affection. The red panda kept herself quiet when he went back to those actions and once she was free from that collar, she rubbed her neck carefully and gently after he brushed the few tiny flecks of metal off of her fur, then she shook herself a bit for a moment. After that, the red panda gazed up at Rivet as her tail swayed gently, giving him a genuine smile before she lifted her arms up like if she were asking him if she can hug him. When the collar was fully removed, said spell would be there, but as some kind of mark/decoration with the color of dark grey now. “Thank you! You didn’t get hurt, Right?” She thanked him then asked him that question, wishing to check on her possible new friend.

“Mmhm! Most people need a little push to do good, even if that push is just feeling nice for helping!” It wasn’t bad really, they still did good after all! John’s motivation was just a little more extreme than other’s. “I think we could, yeah! When John has to do something out of the house, and if I’m not busy, I don’t see any reason for you not to say hi! And even if I am you could still be in the same room and chat a bit!” He was a computer after all, running multiple processes at the same time was a piece of cake! “Awh, that would be sweet!” It would definitely appreciate the gift, especially since it wasn’t necessary to repay it. “Just make sure you don’t get into any trouble getting it, ok? Wouldn’t want my new friend to get hurt because of me!” They knew she probably wasn’t planning to, but they felt like they had to make sure. Just as a precaution. His eyes had tiny stars in them as she lifted up her paws, and he picked her up and gave her a gentle hug. Adorable! “Oh no, I’m fine! Little sparks wouldn’t have hurt me anyways. I’m made of something much too heat-resistant for that!” Still, it was sweet that she cared enough to ask!

[elderling-magic]

Character Descriptions: Liveship Traders Trilogy

Once again, I might have missed some descriptions and any addition will be welcome. I might have especially missed descriptions on “Ship of Destiny” since I listened to the audiobook for that one.

Kennit: Tall, muscled porportionately, wide shoulders, long-fingered hands, tanned, high brow, firm jaw, straight nose, finely-drawn lips, beard fashionably pointed and ends of his moustache waxed and curled, has black ringlets of hair and pale blue eyes. He has a double thong of black leather with a small wooden face like his pierced at the brow and lower jaw  against his wrist, initially painted black. 

Kennit tattoos an Other on the nape of his neck in “Ship of Magic” (Kennit does tattoos and burns them after). He had a sevent pointed star tattoo on his hip that was seared after.

At the start of the trilogy on Others’ Island:  He wears boots, linen trousers, a brocated waistcoat, an indigo jacket with pockets, a white silk shirt with lacy cuffs, has a ring on his finger and wears a hat.

When Etta met him the first time: Wore a dark green broadcloth jacket with ivory buttons and a spill of white lace down his chest and at his cuffs. 

Mad Ship page 611: Wears a hat with black plumes and a jacket with silver buttons on the cuff.

Usually wears lace in cuffs and collar, high black boots, blue breeches, waistcoat and jacket. Has a crutch and peg after losing his leg.

Etta: She is straight (no roundness or softness) and very thin, near as tall as Kennit, long-limbed, has dark eyes, narrow hands, long flat flanks, slight roundness of belly, modest breasts, black hair cut off short ot reaching her shoulders (cut of square like a boy’s) and the planes of her face are long and flat. She has a tiny white skull, small as an apple pip, atached to a fine silver wire that pierced her navel. Kennit offers her a earring with a ruby.

First outfit on the ship: She wears lavender perfume, an emerald silk loose-sleeved blouse tucked into brocaded trousers, a cloth-of-gold sash around her waist, a tiny ruby earring and a lush fur-lined cloak. 

2nd outfit on the ship: Azure cotton shirt, dark woollen trousers and a short matching woollen jacket, black knee-boots, gaudy scarf confining her hair leaving only the tips free to brush across her cheeks.

3rd outfit (seen by Wintrow): Silk blouse, brocaded vest and trousers. 

4th outfit: Red lips, scarlet blouse, black silk skirts that shifted with her hips.

Wore gold fabric in “Ship of Destiny” (chapter 18). End of SOD: Simple black dress and the only jewelry was the miniature of Kennit strapped to her wrist and earrings he had given her, sleek black hair pinned up with jewel pins.

Wintrow Vestrit: 13 years old at the start of the book and turns 14 during the trilogy. Thin, shorter than Malta, has big dark brown eyes, fine black hair, long dark lashes, warm colored skin, cheeks and jaw lost most of a child’s roundness, white teeth. Gets a tattoo with the Satrap’s sigil beside his nose and next to that a larger tattoo of Vivacia in his face. Only 4 fingers in the right hand, index (forefinger) finger missing.

Wears a novice brown robe and no shoes. Wears shirt and trousers on the ship. Wears his black hair in a plait queue. Has two suits of canvas shirts and trousers for crew work. Sailor on shore clothes: Loudly-striped woven shirt and coarse black trousers that did not fit him well, shirt hung long and full on him. Wears loose white shirt a bit large for him tucked into dark blue trousers. Chapter 18 in SOD: Wide-sleeved shirt of dark blue silk embroidered with ravens. End of SOD: wore black to match Etta.

Althea Vestrit: 19 years old. Small like her mother, thin, has a long waist, round hips, small breasts, black wiry hair, black eyes, is tanned. 

When a child: Hair cut to no more than a brush, was barefoot and bare-armed, hair queued down her back, wore trousers and a jacket. 

When she arrives in Bingtown: Petticoat , overskirts, blouse, vest, lacy shawl, lace snood to confine her hair, straw hat addorned with feathers, dove-grey and pale blue trim. 

To see Ronica at night: Wears a striped shirt and black trousers of a sailor on shore, long dark queue of hair down her back. 

When she runs away:  Simple dark dress, modest jacket and laced sandals. Wears 2 simple silver hoop earrings and a wooden egg bead of warm brown with the grain around it rather than from end to end that Amber gave her. 

On the Reaper: Wears an oilskin, pigtail, shirt and trousers. She has a wooden egg in a single strand of leather about her neck. Flat cap pulled low on her brow and boy’s clothes.  Wears felted stockings and heavy boots and a knitted cap on the Reaper.

Split in her scalp as long as Brashen’s little finger and gape open from the pull of her queue on SOM.

Council meeting: Magenta robe, hair pinned up, touch of colour to her lips, garnet earrings swinging from her ears given by Grag.

Work on Paragon: Hair sweated to her skull, loose white trousers and roomy tunic of the same fabric. Wears ship’s tag from Ophelia at her belt.

When Paragon sails: white blouse, split skirt with matching vest, shoes. Althea is wearing the same outfit to meet Vivacia again in SOD, with plaited and pinned hair.

Brashen gives Althea a brightly colored scarf that she binds her hair with, hoop earrings embelished with jade and garnet beads and a necklace in Davytown (SOD).

Ronica Vestrit: Small and dark woman with silver in her hair and high cheekbones. Usually wears her hair pinned up in a similar way as Keffria’s and wears a loose household robe. For reyn’s visit she had a dress of pale green linen with skirts sashes about her waist and over-blouse laced up from behind, pearl necklace and earrings. When althea comes back home: wearing a simple day-gown of creamy linen, hair coiled and perfumed, silver chain in her throat. Has a parasol on the day Paragon set sail.

Keffria Vestrit: Olive skin, dark long hair. Wears a simple blue woolen robe and usually uses long pins to fix her hair. For Reyn’s visit Malta plaited her hair into coils. Has a parasol on the day Paragon set sail.

Malta Vestrit: 12 years old at the start of the book and turns 13 during the trilogy. Warm-toned skin, long straight shiny black hair, taller than Wintrow, developed early. Has one greyish blue fingertip mark on the back of her neck after meeting Amber on Paragon. She gains a scarlet crown that extends back into her hairline one full finger lenght, has scales on brows, lips and arms on SOD.

Harvest ball: The outer edges of her ears and ear-lobes are traced the same color of her eyelids, wears a necklace and a dress of pale green silk with lace that frothed in her bosom and accessible panels of the skirts.

Cerwin and Dello’s visit: Simple woollen shift, embroidered at the throat and hem, sashed tight to show her waist, painted lips, brushed hair. 

Council meeting: Hair swept from her face, braided and secured to the crown of her head, artless tendrils danced on her forehead and brushed the top of her cheeks, tiny roses deep red. Very simple trader’s robe deep magenta (Vestrit color), round neckline, ankle-lenght, belted at the waist like a monk’s robe by a black leather wide belt with stylized initial that formed the buckle.

Reyn’s visit: Hair in gleaming coils, white dress with red flower pinned to the shoulder, another flower fastened into her upswept hair. 

Meet cerwin in the night and 2nd dream box: White nightdress. 

Reunion with Amber: Wrapper of thick blue wool over her white nightgown.

Summer ball: Stockings, bright panels of fabric set into the lavish sleeves of her dress had once been skirts of another dress, lace at her cuffs.

Rescuing Cosgo and Kekki: robe on rags, only one shoe on. Later she cuts the hems of the robe and fashions them into a head wrap to cover her head on the Chalcedean ship.

SOD ball: Slippers, white laced gloves that came to her elbows and cleverly fashioned to show glints of her scaling through the lace. Gown was a confection of white with hidden panels of scarlet fabric that would flash when Reyn whirled her.

Selden Vestrit: 7 years old at the start of the book. He has silver scales across his cheeks near the middle of SOD and a blue shimmer to his lips. Day Paragon sails: Wears blue trousers and a white shirt. 

Brashen Trell: 24 years old. Brown eyes, heavy brows, bristle beard, long moustache to hide corners of the mouth, muscled and shorter than Kyle, has a thick patch of curly hair in the centre of his chest and black stubble elsewhere on his chest and belly. 1st Outfit: He wears battered shoes and the edges of his rough cotton trousers are tattering. 2nd Outfit: Striped shirt, stockings, woolen trousers. 3rd Outfit: Yellow silk shirt, scarf at his throat, dark blue trousers, short jacket with some mending, hat (visit to the Vestrits). Day Paragon sails: White shirt and dark blue trousers and jacket. He has gaps in his brows in SOD after the serpent’s attack.

Amber: Gold skin, hair and eyes (tawny), bones of her cheeks and line of her nose too sharp to be feminine, flat chested and narrow hipped. Wears 4 swaying mismatched earrings:  twisted wooden serpent in the left ear and a shining dragon in her right (each as long as a man’s thumb), freedom earring of silver net with a blue gem. (Later is dragon earring on the left ear and serpent swinging on the right...) She changes her skin during SOD and has skin and hair a bit darker.

When Althea first sees her: Wearing a long brown gown that hungs simply from her shoulders and has bare feet. When Althea encounters her again: Dressed in a long simple robe the color of a ripe acorn and has her hair down her back in a single shining plait. The fabric of her robe fells in pleats from her shoulders to the hem, concealing every line of her body. Her hands are gloved and she wears a necklace of simple wooden beds in every tone of brown that wood can be..

Slave Outfit: Smudge-faced, tattoo across one wind-reddened cheek, crusty sore encompassed half her upper lip and left nostril. Dirty hair pulling free from a scruffy braid, shirt of rough cotton, bare feet peeped out from her patched skirts, dirty bandage bound one of her ankles, rough canvas work gloves replaced the lacy ones Amber habitually wore, dirty canvas tote concealed inside a marked basket. Ragged scarf tied about her head and over her ears. She tucked her earrings up, out of sight.

Traders’ meeting: Wearing a simple golden-brown robe almost the same shade as the many plaited hair that hung over her shoulders.

On Paragon before sailing: Loose pantaloons, blouse and a vest, freed hair floated in the wind. Day Paragon sails: Togs of an ordinary sailor but buttons on trousers and shirt were carved beads, snuggly laced vest with fanciful butterflies embroidered in it, pale honey-.wood skin and hair, eyes almost the same shade, long hair back, braided and pinned to her head, mismatched earrings. 

After serpent’s attack in SOD: Tawny hair hang from a peeling red scalp, the left side of her face and neck was scarlet, she walked with a limp and her hold her left arm close to her body.

Reyn Khuprus: Close to 20 years old at the start and turns 20 during the trilogy. Bronze skin, thick black curly hair, copper eyes with blue shine, blue highlight scales, scaled brow and scales around mouth and eyes. 

First appearance: Blue gown with a jewel fastened at the throat (on the scarf - wears it life a muffler), heavily cloaked, face veiled, gloved hands, two small blue flame-jewels on his cuff. Veil that covered his face was split. 

Visit to Malta: Dressed all in blue, discarded cloak of dark blue on a chair, traditional rain wild garb of loose trousers and long-sleeved shirt. Lean waist sashed with a wide silk belt of a darker hue than his other clothes, black boots peeped out from the loose cuffs of his trousers, fine black gloves studded with azure flame-gems, plain hoodmade of the same silk as the sash, face veil with black lace.

Summer ball: Veil of black lace, hood that covered his hair and back of his neck secured with an elaborated folded cravat of white silk, soft white shirt and black trousers, slim waist and narrow hips, wide shoulders, light dancing boots were filigreed with silver and gilt to match his veil.

End of SOD: Close-fitted indigo jacket, white cuffs, collar and trousers, black knee boots and small gold hoops in his ears.

Jani Khuprus: Smooth-faced for a rain wild trader, markings are subtle, pebbly outline traced the edge of her lips and eyelids. the white of her eyes and hair teeth and nails flow bluish. First appearance: Heavy outer cloak and hood. Scarlet flame jewels, lighter mantle of ivory also hooded and the lace veil was part of it. 15 flame jewels the size of shelled almonds. First Vestrit Visit: Scattering of flame jewels red on her face-veil. Reyn’s presentation to Malta: Face veil white lace shimmering with pearls, loose hood that covere her head decorated with braided and coiled silken tassels in many shades of blue. she wore an extravagantly beribboned blouse and loose pantaloons that were gathered at her ankles with yet more ribbons. Fanciful embroidery almost obscured the white linen that backed it.  

Serilla: She is a head taller than Cosgo, has green eyes, brown hair, wears the ring of the companions of the heart and sandals. She was 19 when she met Cosgo. After cosgo calls her back (page 538 on "Mad Ship”): Loose pair of white pantaloons and red silk shirt, trousers belted with a finely woven black scarf, embroidered vest covered her breasts, hair braided back from her face, earrings and a throatpiece, fingers decked with rings, heavy chain of gold about her ankle. Summer ball: wears a cream gown. Council in SOD: long soft white robe decorated with crossing ropes of cloth of gold, long sleeves and cloak.

Satrap Cosgo: Taller than Malta, lean, no muscle, white skin, dark hair and eyes and has a tiny thin mustache. He was 15 when he met Serilla. Summer ball: Clothing soft and flowing in pastel hues, pale blue trousers cuffed tight to his ankles above his low soft shoes, loose folds of his saffron shirt shawled about his throat and shoulders. SOD: heavy scarlet cloak (too big for him) trimmed with jet beads and with a hood lined with fur given on Vivacia and used when he is taken by the Jamaillian ship.

Kekki: She has dark hair. Summer ball: Wears a gown of feathers and lace.

Jek: Long blonde hair caught in a tail, white teeth, long-boned and well muscled. On first appearance she wears a leather doublet, boots and a light cloak. On Paragon she wears sailor’s trousers that reach no farther than her knee, she did not bind her breasts and her hair was in a long braid.

Grag Tenira: Blue eyes, bronze skin, handsome, has work-scarred fingers and well muscled legs. In Bingtown: Dark coat and trousers and a white shirt. Traders’ Council: Dark blue traders robe seafarer style that show his legs and sandalled feet. Hiding: Dark shirt open at the throat and loose white trousers, golden earring.

Kyle Haven: Big man with broad hands, blue eyes and unruly blond hair. Wears tight-fitting breeches of blue and a blue jacket over a shirt of soft cream. Hair plaited with oil (first talk with Wintrown on the ship when tries to give him a earring). (Sailors wear something that marks them as a crew from Vivacia. An earring, a scarf, a pin or a tattoo. Kyle offers Wintrow a small gold earring with Vivacia’s figurehead - that he refuses.)

Ephron Vestrit: Black eyes, smooth black queue hair, beard.

Cerwin Trell: Slender, milky-skinned and has black hair. Harvest ball: blue trousers and coat, black boots, single gold earring in one ear, hair curled into long locks. 

Delo Trell: She has brown eyes. Harvest ball: Wears a deep blue dress, hair plaited into a crown decked with fresh flowers, flounce of lace on her short skirts that went almost to mid calf and matching lace trimmed the high collar and cuffs. No jewellery. Summer ball: She wears blue stones at her throat and wrists and on the fine silver chains that secured her unswept hair, eyes and mouth are painted and has a fan.

Sorcor: Large well-muscled man with thick chest and a beard, tanned, has dark eyes and a scarred cheek where once was a slave tattoo. Oils his hair sleeked back from his bow for formal look. Wears a shirt of red and white striped silk and mermaid earrings with tiny pearls in her navels and green eyes. Dresses in a wide array of fine clothes in colors that bedazzled the eye. Silk scarf on his waist, jewelled dagger stuck in it, yellow silk shirt. Has a vest with gilt buttons, unruly hair caught back in a queue and further confined in a bright gold kerchief. In Chapter 18 of SOD: Emeralds in his ears and broad belt of leather worked with silver held two matching swords.

Davad Restart: Immaculately groomed, leggings bagged slightly at the knees, embroidered doublet laced too tight, modest belly looked like a bulging pot, dark ringlets on oiled hair but almost no curl so it fell in greasy locks. Small hands.

Caolwn Festrew: Leather gloves, cowl hiding face and hair, sagging growths on her face bobbed with movement of head, violet/lavender eyes, scaly growths that threatened her eyesight, lumpy flesh visible at the parting of her thick bronze hair, lumps and wattles of flesh depended from her fingers and knobbed the back of it were rubbery. Veil of lace in the hood tro cover the face.

Sparse Kelter: Wide man, red beard and red hair down his arms but not much on the crown of his head, has a chest as big as a barrel.

Ekke: Tall woman with freckles, big boned and has a red tint in her sandy tousled hair.

Cleff: About 11 years old, blue eyes, light hair and has a spidery tattoo by the side of his nose. He wears a ragged tunic scarcely longer than a shirt while working for Davad.

Dedge: Sea-grey eyes, hair no more than a fringe above his ears, muscled, tattoos on his face, sash of silk about his waist.

Gankis: An old sailor shorter than Kennit, has brown eyes, wears low shoes and a worn coat with big pockets.

Torg: Brawny man, not tall, has short blond hair, pale grey eyes and white eyebrows, skin underneath his round chin began to sag into a pouch. Wears a kerchief around his neck anciengly soiled, the collar of his blue and white striped shirt shows an interior band of brown.

Sa’Adar: Big priest, mark of shackles on wrists and ankles. unkempt hair spills onto his forehead, clothes have not been washed in days, dark eyes.

Mild: Around Wintrow’s age and a full head taller than him, hard-muscled, grey eyes and the hair on his cheeks is starting to dark into proper whiskers.

Comfrey: Has an elaborated tattoo on his arm and is missing a tooth. Wears a ragged red cap adorned with cheap brass charms.

Gantry: Tanned.

Ankle: Dark eyes (slave girl that crippled herself and limps).

Kennit’s mom: Thick woman with grey hair pinned up, blue eyes, barefoot, dressed in cotton tunic and trousers and has her tongue cut out.

Berandol: Young priest with more than 20 years old.

Bettel: Black locks into ringlets, wears layers of powder, wears lots of jewels, breasts showing volume on dress.

Avoretta: Small pale woman with an heart-shaped face and large blue eyes. Has painted pink chees, a plump little mouth painted red, short golden hair in tight curls all over her head. Dressed in pale blue with nipples visible beneath the pale gauze of her dress, wears gilted jewellery. 

Faldin: Wears brilliant colors and extravagant embroidery. Expanse of fabric round his girth. Earrings were an elaborate twining of gold and silver. Wears a vest.

Daughters: Pale skin and honey hair (typical in Durja), almond-shaped hazel eyes, plump with bare arms round and white. One no more than 15 and the other at most 17. Alyssum and Lily.

Road Caern: Young trader, tall, lean, has dark eyes and black hair (usually in a tail), a sharp nose and narrow lips. Harvest ball: Hair flowed down his back in a black stream and his shoulders strained the seams of his tailored coat.

Krion Trentor: Harvest ball: Dressed in grey with a golden scarf at his throat. White gloves. Always wears gloves to cover the scars where he stumbled into a fire as a child. Aurburn hair, freckles, green eyes.

Fayla Cart - Old woman with a hair growing out of a warty looking mole on her chin. (first dress maker recommended by Delo to Malta)

Territel: Wears her skirts as if they were silk scarves, clinging and revealing her legs.  (seamstress Malta chooses)

Devon: Gray eyes and handsome. (Althea’s first crush and a jerk)

Dujia: Heavy boned woman with tattoos across her cheek and down to her neck. Ragged trousers and patched tunic, bare feet dirty, bandage upon her upper arm (lider of the tattooed).

Guards in Cress: Kentel - Bearded veteran with a white stripe tracing an old scar through his dark hair and down his cheek; Flav - Younger and brawny. Both tall.

Clava: Slave Wintrow meets in Jamaillia. Blue eyes, yellow hair choped into a short brush, wide shoulders, very pale, wore shift patched and stained, shirt over her shoulders, face overwritten with tattoos.

Pag’s daughter: blue eyes (woman serving drinks in Nook - Crimpers scene).

Captain Finney: Brawny, whiskery-faced man, bright eyes, red-veined nose.

Brig: No more than 25 yo. Chestnut hair confined by a yellow kerchief marked with the raven insignia, grey eyes, old slave tattoo on his face over-needled with a dark blue raven that almost obscured it.

Lop: Skinny man of middle years on board of Paragon.

Haf: Larger than Althea, well muscled, youngster on board of Paragon.

Other in SOM: Nearly as tall as Kennit, webbed fingers and toes, flexible limbs, flat fish eyes, cartilaginous sockets, supple scaled skin, blunt bald head misshapen (not human or fish), hinge of jaw under his ear holes, large mouth that could engulf a man’s head, thin lips that cannot conceal rows of tiny sharp teeth, shoulders slumped forward, greyish tongue, neckless body. Wears a garment like a cloak of pale azure that moved like the fluidity of water.

Other in SOD: heavy slug like body, flexible limbs on upper body, long fingered hands, webbed fingers, grey-green body, yellow cloak, flat eyes.

LIVESHIPS:

Paragon: Warrior with a beard, hairy chest and muscled arms usually crossed on his muscled chest. He has hatchet bites between brow and nose and a peculiar star with 7 points livid as a burn scar on his chest. The chopped part is grey despite the figurehead being painted. Amber gives him a necklace with five wooden beds on a cord: a dolphin made of willow knee, a gull, a oak seastar, a crab of pine knot and a fish of halibut. 

In “Ship of Destiny” Amber gives him Fitz’s face with the broken nose and gives him a freedom earring like hers, a wooden bracelet and a axe. He has blue eyes. Amber carves charging bucks on his axe handle and battle harness at the end of SOD.

Vivacia: Silver wood, black hair, sanded flesh flushed pink, green eyes, ample bared breasts, perfect teeth, red lips, golden maple wood figurehead. Kennit gives her a long red piece of fabric that she ties to her head like a pirate scarf.

Slaves bought by Kyle and on board the Vivacia had a clenched fist tattoo.

Bolt: She has golden eyes like a whirpool with black at the center, jet black hair shot with silver greens like a nest of serpents, lips are redder than Vivacia’s and her teeth are too white and smaller than before.

Ophelia: A cog ship. Like many figureheads of her day, she is arrayed upon the beakhead of the ship rather than positioned on the stern below the bowsprit. She has lips painted scarlet, very white teeth, long loose curls, patrician hands and eyelashes. She got blackened/scorched hands after meeting the chalcedean ship. Amber fixed her hands after.

Kendry: Handsome young man figurehead with blue eyes.

SERPENTS:

Maulkin: Male serpent with copper eyes and golden false eyes in his body.

Shreever: Scarlet female serpent.

Sessurea: Male blue serpent with orange mane and great green eyes.

Tellur: Male green serpent (dead).

Kelaro: Male blue serpent with silver eyes.

Sylic: Male scarlet serpent, has a scar (dead).

She Who Remembers: head the size of a pony, pale yellow-green body, plump and soft, thick layers of callus where she rubbed against the rocky walls of her prison, has golden eyes and a faint pattern on the body in colors that remind of the eyes in a peacock’s tail. When freed her body is green-gold (dead).

Carrion: White male serpent with red eyes (dead).

Tintaglia (dragon): Silver blue, bigger than a ship, sharp silver claws, silver/copper eyes (it changes... but usually is silver) the size of cartwheels with eliptical pupils.

[alexboehm55144]

Alex Final Wars 2: Dark Alex, Chapter 33 - Midway

The Typhoon had been zipping all over the pacific throughout the US-Chinese war. This was possible because the ship had cloaking technology and could fly. But a large portion of the US navy was still relegated to the eastern half of the ocean, unable to move west due to Chinese forces.

However, with recent US gains, the offensive had started. Naval forces were now planning a significant strike back against the Chinese Navy and Air Force at the island of Midway.

A US armada, including the Typhoon, aircraft carriers, and numerous smaller escort vessels, was already making haste to meet with an equally sized Chinese fleet.

"I expected more airships," Laval said from the bridge of the Typhoon while JayJay sat nearby and filed her claws. "But we're the only one here."

"Airships are still an experimental technology, Laval," Toothdee noted, sitting in the captain's chair and piloting the ship. "Aquatic vessels are still the mainstay for the world's nations."

"Oh great, your telling me our home and HQ is an experimental vessel?"

"Don't worry, Laval, it's perfectly safe."

"Say, have you guys seen Fabienne?" JayJay asked.

"Oh, the reporter. She's probably filming something." Laval said, "I just hope she stays safe when the fighting breaks out."

"She's worked as a war correspondent before," Toothdee said. "She told me she was getting some shots of the ships from one of the outside decks. Speaking of which...."

The Heroes commander turned the radio on again.

"Fabienne, do you read? Are you alright?"

The snow leopard had set up some recording equipment on one of the outside platforms on the Typhoon's exterior. The ocean breeze blew through her fur, and the beautiful blue sea and sky were visible all around her.

"Do you read?"

The reporter's ears perked up, and she grabbed the radio she had been given since her first day on the Heroes ship.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm ok. Just about to film a quick shot of the fleet."

"Ok, finish up quickly and get back inside."

"Will do."

The snow leopard turned off the radio and took one last look to make sure her tripod-mounted camera was lined up properly before clicking the record button. Afterward, she quickly tested the audio and the microphone on her collar and stood in position. She was a meter from the camera, off to the side. Enough so that the device could see the fleet of US warships in the background, along with the reporter. She was careful not to step too close to the edge of the platform. Because while there was a railing, she did not want to risk falling overboard.

"Hello, this is Fabienne Growley, coming to you from aboard the Typhoon in the pacific. US naval forces are moving to secure the region around Midway island. They are being led by Heroes, and their airship, the Typhoon. A Chinese fleet is in the area, hoping to defend their territory from the encroaching US forces. At this time, it is impossible to say what will occur during this battle, but this could be a turning point for the war in the Pacific."

The snow leopard moved over to the camera and stopped the recording before packing up all her equipment. As she entered back into the vessel, Fabienne contacted Toothdee on her radio.

"I'm heading back inside Toothdee. I'll get to my battle station."

"Ok, you'll be safe there."

"I guess she got her shot," Laval said as Toothdee disconnected the call.

"Let's check in with everyone else while we're at it. Our forces are spread out all around the area, so we should be able to cover the entire field of battle." She said, switching the channel on her radio. "Heroes, this is the Typhoon. What's your status?"

"This is captain Boehm. Eris and I are flying the deadly skies."

The 2 young pilots zipped through the air above the fleet in their jets. Eris was flying her blue and white eagle interceptor, one that she had modified to her specifications.

Alex flew a custom F-35, one of the standard jets of the US Air Force.

"Nice flying," Eris said, the pair of jets turning and circling the US fleet.

"Thanks, your pretty good yourself. But your reputation precedes you." Alex said, looking at the tally marks on the jet's hull.

"I like your plane's color scheme," Eris said, drawing attention to the aircraft's metallic exterior, which was dark gray in color. A few shiny red, white and blue lines ran along the wings and near the cockpit as a patriotic gesture.

"Thanks! Lately, I've been wondering if I should paint it with some other pattern or color scheme. But that's not the only thing that's different about this plane. It's been modified with upgrades including stronger weapons and armor."

"Alright, you two, don't you keep your heads in the clouds for too long," Toothdee said, be forcing changing the channel on her radio. "Kion, Jasiri, what's your status."

"Kion here. I'm just taking a look at the cannon on this destroyer. This thing looks like it will pack a serious punch."

The lion touched and inspected the barrel of a forward-mounted turret on a US destroyer. Jasiri was nearby, leaning against a railing and enjoying the sea breeze.

"I'm here as well, Toothdee, just enjoying the calm before the storm."

"Alright, keep your heads on the swivel. Your job is to provide support to other US forces. That's why your stationed where you are. Toothdee out. Nick, Judy, you two better not be making out or something."

"Hey!" Judy said, jumping up from where she was lying on the beach.

"Unfortunately, no." Nick said, "we're just sitting here, relaxing- I mean, guarding, this wonderful- I mean, important beach on the midway island."

"Well, you two better stay on guard, lest the Chinese land on Midway, and it's an atoll, Nick."

"Don't worry, no matter what it is, we'll keep it safe."

Judy was still blushing a bit from embarrassment as Toothdee switched the radio channel over to someone else.

"Well, carrots, that was a rude interruption to our make-out session."

"Haida, Retsuko, are you there?" Toothdee said.

"Oh hey, Toothdee," Retsuko said. She was standing in the cargo bay on the Typhoon, stocked with equipment and whose walls were made of hardened metal. "Haida's in the bathroom, but we're right here on the ship, ready to help however we can."

"Glad to hear it. I know your job isn't the flashiest, your not racing into combat, but your job is no less important. It's because of you two that we get our supplies, and all the paperwork gets sorted."

Retsuko blushed and smiled to herself. Her last job didn't appreciate her at all, so it was nice to hear that she mattered.

"Thank you, you don't know how much that means to me. Oh, and that reminds me...."

The red panda clambered on top of a large crate. It was a crate designed for lion-sized mammals, so it was difficult to scale, but Retsuko managed. She compared the label on the container to the writing on a notepad in her hand.

"....we should be fully stocked. We've got plenty of ammo. I checked twice."

The red panda jumped down from the crate and brushed some dust from the blue pants of her uniform. It wasn't required by regulation, but it made her feel a lot more formal when working, which helped her focus.

"Again, thank you." Toothdee said, "always know that you're a part of the team."

The Heroes leader switched the radio channel for the last time and spoke again.

"Jack and Skye, do you read?"

"We hear you, Toothdee."

The fox and bunny couple were in a small rubber-hulled military boat, speeding through the waves. Skye maneuvered the rubber craft around warships and larger vessels. At the same time, Jack stood ready at the boat's mounted minigun, which was a bit large for a rabbit, but he was up to the task of operating it.

"We're ready and waiting," Jack said, holding on tight as the boat hit a wave.

"Lovely day for a battle," Skye said.

"Keep your heads on the swivel. I'm glad we have the support of 2 ZIA agents during this engagement."

Toothdee turned off the radio and returned her focus to the Typhoon's controls.

"Why do you think the Chinese are even here anyway? We keep stopping their assaults."

"I can only speculate, but they probably just can't stop fighting. China has to demonstrate its strength and that it is the world's foremost superpower. Basically, the Chinese need to prove that they, and their way of thinking, are right. Not to mention victory would put them in a very favorable position on the world stage."

The radio came to life again as the voice of a US sailor came through.

"Enemy vessels spotted!"

On the horizon, black shapes appeared and started to grow closer and closer. Chinese warships of the People's Liberation Army Navy. Accompanying them were planes of the Chinese People's Liberation Army Air Force.

"LAVAL! JAYJAY! BATTLE STATIONS!" Toothdee said, prompting the lion and wolf to hop into their weapon positions as armored panels slid up to cover the Typhoon's bridge window.

There was a brief respite of calm, yet the tension was palpable as the two fleets drew closer and closer before entering weapon range.

Missiles and cannons opened fire, projectiles cutting through the sky and either splashing into the sea or impacting enemy warships.

JayJay, Laval, and Toothdee operated the Typhoon and its weapons systems, sending a flurry of shots towards enemy ships and planes. A dark black PLAAF fighter jet that looked heavily modified was leading the charge. Still, it weaved and launched flares to avoid incoming fire.

"that lead aircraft is giving off a unique signature on our sensor equipment," Toothdee noted.

The pair of gunners targeted a formation of hostile bombers with missiles and machine gunfire. Shots were tearing through the wings and into the fuselage while missiles filled the planes with shrapnel. The large airplanes either crashed into the ocean or exploded violently in a massive fireball.

"You know, this is cool and all, but somehow I'd rather be on the ground fighting," JayJay said.

"I get that," Laval said. "We all have our preferred style of combat."

"Agreed." Toothdee said, "It's just sometimes someone has to be around to operate the ship and its weapons. Thankfully you guys are trained for that."

The Typhoon then moved to engage a Chinese destroyer, battering the side of the vessel with cannon shots.

Explosions ripped through the metal of the ship, with the hull starting to fracture and break. After a few moments of sustained bombardment, the boat sank beneath the waves with a loud gurgling noise.

The Typhoon then focused its weapons on a group of smaller watercraft, with PLAN soldiers on the sides of the vessel, firing machine guns missile launchers.

"Damnit, they keep moving too fast!" Laval said, the small vessels zipping at high speed around the typhoon and opening fire.

However, despite this, the Typhoon eventually was able to appropriately target the smaller craft and shred them with weapons fire.

One escort vessel was torn apart with machine guns. While another was utterly obliterated by large cannon shells.

"We're really mopping the floor with them Heroes, but that's going to be a problem," Toothdee said, looking straight ahead towards a hostile aircraft carrier that was launching fighters. "We're going to need some support for that."

The Heroes leader looked out the port side of the ship and saw a US destroyer nearby and quickly radioed for backup.

"Destroyer, USS Gridley, this is the Typhoon. We're heading towards that Chinese carrier and would appreciate the support."

"Affirmative Typhoon, moving to support."

Along with a few other escort vessels and aircraft, the pair of warships made haste towards the PLAN aircraft carrier, accompanied by escort craft.

The vessels closed in on each other, and once the Typhoon was close enough, it opened fire on the carrier with its weapons. The Gridley followed suit, both ships pummeling the carrier with weapons as the escort vessels of both sides battled it out.

The Gridley and Typhoon pulled close, able to wreak massive damage at this close range. Shells ripped through the vessel's hull, and missiles pummeled the bridge.

Kion was operating a mounted machine gun on the outside deck of the Gridley and was spraying the aircraft carrier deck with machine gunfire. Shots tore through equipment, aircraft, and personnel.

"RELOAD!" the lion yelled.

Jasiri was ready to support him, quickly removing the empty magazine and inserting a fresh one, allowing Kion to resume firing. Chinese troops on the carrier deck fired back but were swiftly eliminated.

"Hell yeah!" Kion said, triumphantly raising his fist in the air.

The pair of ships pulled away from the carrier, which was billowing smoke and listing heavily. While the Typhoon moved off to find another target, the Gridley made haste towards an enemy destroyer moving away from the battle zone, having sustained heavy damage.

This hostile ship had been marked as a high-value target, a destroyer that was equipped with a wide range of advanced electronic sensors and weapons. These were used for area denial and electronic warfare operations, along with communications support. Its advanced capabilities were making it a thorn in the side of the American fleet.

"I'm guessing that's our next target," Jasiri said, pointing towards the damaged ship.

Kion laughed, "ha, easy prey."

But the Chinese destroyer was not alone. It was covered by a squadron of planes that moved in to engage the approaching US destroyer. The unit included the jet black PLAAF aircraft that had led the charge earlier. This elite plane was faster and more maneuverable than the others, and its weapons were likely more powerful as well.

The warship's guns opened fire on the incoming aircraft, and even Kion tried engaging them with his mounted machine gun. But the lion and Jasiri needed to duck as explosions went off nearby, missiles hitting and crippling the ship's gun systems.

One fighter was destroyed, and it crashed into the sea nearby with a massive splash. As the jets came around and prepared to make another attack on the destroyer, friendly aircraft arrived and chased the Chinese jets off.

But the Gridley had been left worse for wear, smoke billowing from damaged areas, and alarms blaring all over the ship.

"We better go see what the situation is," Kion said before he and Jasiri entered the warship and moved to the bridge.

The captain of the vessel, a mountain lion, was looking over a computer screen and talking with two other sailors.

"Hey, what's going on?" Kion asked, and the Mountain lion looked up.

"Our weapon systems have been hit. We can't return fire with our main guns. But that enemy vessel we were going after is still active. Its own guns and engines have been knocked out. However, it still has its electronic warfare capabilities."

"So it's been disabled..." Jasiri said, "...but not destroyed."

"Correct. Its systems are wreaking havoc with our own sensors." He pointed to the computer screen, which was partly frozen and full of error messages. "It still poses a serious threat."

"Hmm, then we still need to destroy it. Pull up alongside the vessel, and ready the marines and sailors."

"What? What are you going to do?"

"Something they definitely won't be expecting."

Kion, followed by Jasiri, headed down to the ship's main deck, where friendly troops were preparing themselves. A fox marine opened a weapon container and handed out rifles to other troopers before tossing one to a sailor some distance away.

The two Heroes stood in front of an assembled group of troops ready to receive orders.

The US Navy vessel pulled alongside the Chinese ship as enemy troops swarmed the deck of the hostile craft.

"Follow me!" Kion yelled, raising his sword and roaring, prompting US marines and sailors to raise their weapons and let our battle cries.

Blade in hand, Kion charged towards the PLAN vessel, leaping off the deck of the American ship and landing on the enemy destroyer, cutting down a Chinese sailor as he landed.

The marines and sailors were shocked at what had just transpired. This was a pirate tactic from the age of sail. But with no better options available, the marines followed the lion, jumping onto the deck of the enemy vessel and gunning down hostile sailors.

"Forward!" The young warrior said, sprinting down the length of the ship, cutting down more enemies and deflecting their bullets with his sword.

Jasiri and US troopers were close behind, providing support with gunfire. Some marines even broke out zipline launchers and grappling hooks, using them to board the hostile vessel.

The US troops continued down the deck of the Chinese warship, engaging hostiles and putting them down as they moved. Kion sliced down an enemy trooper that had taken up positions next to a series of different-sized doors. At the same time, Jasiri unloaded her pistols on another enemy standing a few meters away.

The team moved to the series of different-sized doors and prepared to enter. Still, before they could, the doors opened, and enemy personnel of many distinct species came out with their paws or hands raised.

US troops kept their weapons leveled and ordered the PLAN troops down to the ground. But the Chinese wouldn't respond, and they all remained clustered in one big group.

Suddenly one of the enemy sailors, a female panda, yelled out in English.

"imperialist warmongers!"

Two of the surrendered troopers pulled the pins on grenades they had concealed and tossed them at the US sailors.

Jasiri and Kion reacted quickly. Kion swung his sword and hit one of the flying grenades, knocking it into the sea. The other grenade bounced to the deck, and Jasiri bravely kicked it into the water, where both explosives went off with small splashes.

The American troops and Heroes opened fire, gunning down the Chinese sailors, lest they make another attempt at fighting back with more concealed weapons. Kion even cut down one of the sailors who was starting to pull a knife.

"Damnit, what a shame," Jasiri said as the enemy troops dropped to the deck.

"They did it to themselves," Kion said.

"Yeah, your right."

Before the US sailors and marines could move inside the vessel, a small rubber boat passed close by the ship, and the Chinese gunner on board opened fire with the mounted weapon. Two marines and a sailor were taken out as the boat pulled away from the massive warship.

Kion cursed and took cover before Jack came through on the radio.

"We've got you, Kion."

Jack and Skye raced by in their boat, the fox keeping hot on the heels of the PLAN boat. Jack aimed the minigun and fired, bullets ripping through the enemy sailors. The enemy boat stopped, its operators dead, with Jack and Skye racing by, rounding a friendly warship and heading towards Midway Atoll.

"More Chinese!" Jack said, and Skye maneuvered towards a pair of hostile sailors on jet skis, armed with pistols. The sailors opened fire with their weapons, forcing the fox to duck in cover. Jack was able to engage the jet skis, taking them down.

Another jet ski with two troopers on it appeared. The second soldier on board opened fire with an assault rifle. However, he was also quickly eliminated.

"Look! Over there!" Skye said, pointing to a group of watercraft, including landing vehicles, heading towards Midway Atoll.

"Get us over there," Jack said, readying himself. At the same time, Skye maneuvered the boat into a formation of US watercraft and helicopters. Even two troopers were piloting small personal hovercraft.

The US boats and aircraft closed the distance to the hostile vessels, and once it was within firing range, Jack opened upon them with the minigun. A hail of lead took down another jet-ski and another rubber boat.

Suddenly the jet black Chinese fighter dived down towards the US watercraft, launching missiles. The missiles took down a US helicopter, sending it crashing into the sea. Another barrage of rockets destroyed a US patrol boat.

"Whoa! Ok, watch out for that!" Jack said.

Skye pulled alongside a slightly larger enemy escort craft. Jack opened fire as the gunners on board the boat returned fire. The ZIA agent took down one of the gunners, then focused fire on the vessel's hull and bridge.

The vessel soon started to smoke before it stopped moving, dead in the water.

"Landing craft!" Jack said, noticing a group of marine lizard vehicles getting closer and closer to Midway island. These were identical to the vehicles that had deployed troops during the first assault on Zootopia.

Skye pulled alongside one of the vehicles. Jack fired into the troop compartment, killing many of the Chinese soldiers being transported inside the vessel. Jack then focused his fire on the control area of the boat, hoping to kill the driver or destroy the control system.

After filling part of the vehicle with bullets, the landing craft lost control and crashed into another landing craft. Both vessels flipped over, leaving Chinese soldiers treading in the water around the wreckage.

But more landing craft had reached Midway island, and the hostile troopers onboard disembarked and charged towards the American soldiers who were set up in defensive positions in trenches. Nick and Judy were also in place, behind a rocky outcropping. The pair of ZPD officers felt a bit out of their element in the island environment. It was not urban at all, unlike the city of Zootopia, their usual stomping grounds. But they were still determined to give the battle they're all.

"South blade incoming!" An American soldier yelled before being gunned down by the fast and dark black PLAAF fighter jet that was strafing the beach to support advancing troops.

"South blade?" Judy asked as defending troops returned fire.

Nick radioed his human friend, firing arrows at the incoming enemies. "Hey Alex, would you-"

"Give me one sec, Nick."

The human-focused on a Chinese aircraft he was flying towards, flak in the air all around him. He took the shot, a missile streaking through the sky and impacting the ship's bridge, obliterating the glass windows and the mammals on the bridge, before the captain pulled his jet back up into the sky.

"I'm sorry, go ahead."

"Would you happen to know about enemy soldiers called 'South Blade'?"

"South Blade? Those are special forces soldiers capable of air, land, and sea operations. Akin to US navy seals. Eris and I will move to provide you with air support."

"Ok, better switch to something a little more powerful," Nick said, drawing a death arrow from his quiver. He fired a hail of arrows, downing three PLA troopers in quick succession.

Judy used a standard-issue ZPD pistol, supported by a tranquilizer pistol that could down even the largest mammals.

A human commander joined the two ZPD officers behind their rocky outcropping and surveyed the situation on the beach. Two more marine lizard landing craft were incoming, bringing more troops to the battle.

"Demolitions team! Get up here now!" The commander yelled.

A pair of armadillos, who were fantastic with explosives due to their natural armor, ran towards the human commander with rocket launchers. Then the team each got down on one knee and aimed their weapons.

"Fire!"

The rocket launchers fired, their projectiles streaking towards the two incoming Chinese landing craft and hitting them. The vehicles exploded in a bright orange flash and a shower of metal.

"Nice shot," Nick said. "I wish I could do that."

"You should get some arrows with explosives on them," Judy said.

Before Nick could respond, a barrage of gunfire struck nearby.

A PLA bear soldier, armed with heavy armor and an LMG, moved towards Nick and Judy, opening fire with his weapon. Simultaneously, an otter diving team with SMGs moved out of the waves and onto the shore, joining their bear ally in engaging US forces.

"Yeah... I really wish I had some explosive arrows right now!" Nick said as everyone behind the rocky outcropping took cover.

"We've got you!" Eris said over the radio as the roar of jet engines filled the sky.

Eris's eagle interceptor came in low over the beach, opening fire with its front-mounted chi blasters. Bolts of energy peppered the hostile forces on the beach, neutralizing many of the enemy soldiers.

Alex's jet followed behind, strafing the beach with machine gunfire. The planes turned around for another pass on the beach.

The bear heavy weapons soldier angrily turned his LMG towards the sky. Still, he was obliterated by missiles from the American jets.

Explosions tore through Chinese soldiers on the ground, reducing their landing craft to burning husks.

Nick, Judy, and US troops cheered and watched the jets fly above.

"Thanks for the save, guys," Judy said as the jets headed back out to sea.

"Eris, prepare to target remaining Chinese naval vessels," Alex said, pulling alongside his eagle companion.

"Way ahead of you, literally!" Eris said, engaging her afterburners and pulling forward. Captain Boehm laughed and throttled up to chase after her. The aircraft returned to the battle zone, where the United States and China continued to engage. But the scales had been tipped, with the US looking more likely to come out on top.

"Let's target that escort vessel." The captain said, prompting both jets to nosedive towards a PLAN ship. The aircraft fired hails of machine-gun bullets and chi blasts, ripping through the Chinese vessel.

Smoke and fire erupted from the ship as the aircraft pulled around for another attack run.

"Missiles away!" Eris said, the pair of jets firing missiles, streaking low above the water before impacting the hostile escort ship with a massive explosion.

The vessel started to list and soon sank beneath the waves, leaving behind only debris and stranded crew.

"We've got incoming!" Eris said, noticing a group of PLAFF bomber planes moving towards a US aircraft carrier, escorted by some fighter jets.

"This is Hero leader." Captain Boehm said into his radio. "Requesting immediate fighter reinforcements. Hostile bomber squadron moving towards the friendly carrier."

The voice of an airmammal came through the radio.

"Affirmative Hero leader, fighter squadron moving to assist. ETA 2 minutes out."

"It's going to take some time for them to get here, Eris."

"Well then, let's give them something to shoot at!"

The pair of pilots gunned their engines and made haste towards the enemy bomber formation. Pouncing on the enemy aircraft, Eris scored a critical hit on one of the bombers, causing it to lose control and crash into a Chinese fighter nearby.

Alex fired a salvo of missiles that took down one enemy aircraft and heavily damaged another. The escort craft reacted and began to engage the American planes. Bullets whizzed by Eris, the eagle having to fly erratically to avoid them.

An enemy jet fired a missile at Alex, who deployed flares to interfere with the weapon's heat-seeking capability.

The engaging aircraft danced across the sky, turning and maneuvering with immense speed and agility, pushing the machines and their pilots to the limit. Whenever a hostile plane was in their sights, the pilots opened fire with machine guns or missiles.

Eris and Alex gained the upper hand, not sustaining much damage while dishing out plenty of damage to PLAAF planes. But the bombers continued to near the American aircraft carrier.

"Eris, you keep the fighters distracted. I'll go after the bombers!"

"You got it, Alex!" The young warrior said, looping around in her aircraft, getting behind a Chinese jet, and reducing it to scrap metal.

Captain Boehm pulled behind one of the enemy bombers, unloading into it with machine guns and rockets. Flames and smoke came from the plane, which began to rapidly lose altitude.

"Fighter support arrived!" Said a voice through the radio as more US aircraft entered the battlefield, engaging the remaining bombers and fighters.  

The Heroes captain cheered and pulled around to rejoin Eris. The eagle had taken down two Chinese aircraft, but a third plane had gotten behind her and opened fire with its machine guns. Eris flew erratically and tried to shake off her pursuer, but to no avail.

"He's on me!" Eris said.

"I'm on him!" Alex responded, pulling behind the attacking jet.

The captain pressed a button on the control stick, firing the jet's machine guns. Bullets tore through the enemy aircraft, and it dove towards the sea, the pilot ejecting.

"Whew, I owe you one, Alex."

"No problem, don't mention it."

Suddenly, a high-speed jet zoomed by, the object only looking like a black blur as it passed by.

"Ok, that's something new," Eris said.

"It's not showing up on my radar as friendly." Alex said, "Assume it's hostile."

The pair pursued the aircraft into a cloud, with the other American fighters capable of finishing off the remaining Chinese planes.

Alex and Eris passed through the cloud, obscuring their view. In that brief moment of blindness, the enemy struck.

Gunfire suddenly struck both American aircraft, forcing the two pilots to move erratically to throw off the enemy. As the planes swerved, they exited the cloud, and pursuing them were 3 Chinese fighters. There were 2 standard fighters, but also a dark black and extremely customized aircraft leading the charge.

The 2 fighters went after Eris, while the head plane went straight for Alex, a voice coming through the radio.

"Hello, hero leader."

Captain Boehm recognized the voice as his own. It was his dark counterpart.

"You! Guess that explains the unique jet."

"I could say the same of you."

"Eris, where are you?"

"I've got some jets on me! Might be able to handle them, though." Eris said, dodging the incoming fire.

Alex also had to dodge and roll to avoid his counterpart's machine gunfire. The captain pulled around and opened up with machine-gun fire of his own, forcing his adversary to go on the defensive.

The aircraft flew circles around each other, both pilots trying to get the other jet in their sights. When the enemy plane was in the gun-sights, the attacker opened up with machine guns or missiles, forcing the pilot to roll or deploy flares.

As he turned his plane, Captain Boehm's vision went hazy as he felt himself about to blackout due to the immense G-forces, prompting him to slow down.

"Not a bad plane." Dark Alex said. "Engines and weapons on par with my own."

"Well, let's see who's jet is better!" The heroes captain said, firing a barrage of missiles. But the dark counterpart rolled his plane and avoided the projectiles, returning fire with machine guns.

"All US fighter craft in the vicinity!" Came a voice through the radio. "We have another enemy bomber squadron incoming!"

"Shit! Someone get on those bombers!" Alex said into the radio, knowing that those aircraft were headed for a US carrier, a ship with thousands of crew. But in this brief moment where he was focusing on the communications, Dark Alex made his move, hitting the Heroes Captain with a barrage of bullets.

"Your care. Your drive to put others before yourself... it is a weakness." The counterpart said. "It holds you back from what you need to do to achieve true strength. You'll always feel yourself chained to others. I learned that lesson long ago and heeded it."

"So that's it, you just think I'm weak?"

"Yes. You are nothing. Both you and your nation are weak and hopelessly lost. It is time for a new power to rise, which is why both you and the United States must die. So new warriors may take your place."

"Oh, so I'm just a target for you to take down and prove yourself? So you can prove your strength and establish your place in the world?"

"This is nothing more than natural selection in the wild. The strong creature devouring the weak one."

"Last time I checked, Heroes took down more of you and your band than you have done to us."

"And you shall pay dearly for it!"

Dark Alex fired a salvo of missiles. With Captain Boehm's craft already damaged, the missiles struck. The Heroes leader felt his plane shake violently as the deafening sound of an explosion and rupturing metal rang through his ears.

The captain hit the eject button, the canopy breaking away, and the seat blasting out of the damaged aircraft.

As the parachute unfolded, the captain looked around for his counterpart's aircraft. He didn't see anything, so Alex turned his attention to where he was going to land.

Below him was a PLAN aircraft carrier and an American destroyer, both heavily damaged and sitting dead in the water over a dozen meters apart. But in the water between the 2 warships was an assortment of debris. Crates of supplies had fallen off the ships, floating in the water. A variety of random scrap and wreckage littered the area. Made of all sorts of materials and even smaller vehicles that had been wrecked. A Chinese fighter floated in the water nearby, having slid off the deck of the carrier. A damaged US patrol boat sat partially sunk in the water, listing hard to the side.

The captain braced himself as he touched down in the sea, unclipping himself from his ejector seat. The Hero leader started to look around, looking up towards the US destroyer and noticing something on it. A Chinese helicopter had crashed into the vessel. Now it was sitting precariously on the deck of the ship, hanging over the water.

As the captain continued to try and get his bearings, he heard a roaring engine growing closer and closer. Looking up, the captain saw his counterpart's jet incoming, prompting Boehm to quickly swim into a large cargo container partially floating in the sea.

Dark Alex's jet engaged hover mode and started to inspect the area, searching for any sign of captain Boehm.

The captain, however, was cursing under his breath and watching the hostile plane. His plane had been destroyed, and he only had a pistol and knife to defend himself with. But this could be a valuable chance to take out his dark counterpart.

First, the captain used his knife to cut up some cargo inside the container that had been covered in a dark blue cloth. The human draped the dark cloth over his head, which would help camouflage him. Spotting the damaged patrol boat nearby, the captain waited till the hostile jet had turned away before diving into the waves and swimming as fast as possible towards the patrol boat.

Reaching the boat, Alex scrambled inside and examined the weapon controls. The main gun was still operational, and the captain immediately targeted his counterpart's jet.

The weapon fired at the unsuspecting jet, shots slamming into the plane's armor and dealing significant damage. As Alex dove back into the water, the enemy jet turned around and took aim.

Dark Alex's jet fired a missile at the wrecked patrol boat, obliterating it. Shards of debris rained down into the water near captain Boehm as he swam his way through the area.

Although damaged, the jet continued to search the area, forcing Boehm to dive underwater when he couldn't get out of the jet's view fast enough. If he came to the surface at the wrong time, the plane would shred him with its weapons. But stay underwater too long, and the captain would drown. All the while, Dark Alex scanned the water and debris for his counterpart. He could not lose. He had a customized jet, while his enemy was simply flailing around in the water. Nothing more perfectly represented the discontinuity between the pair of warriors. One was weak, and the other was strong.

Coming up to the surface out of view of the enemy plane, captain Boehm spotted another cargo container nearby floating in the water. This container was marked with symbols identifying the contents as explosives.

The young warrior made his way over to the container, hiding behind debris and diving beneath the waves when he had to keep out of sight of his counterpart's view.

Once he reached the container, he opened it up, finding explosive material and detonation equipment. Boehm quickly armed some of the explosives, setting up a timer. Once everything was ready, it was time to get his counterpart's attention.

"HEY, OVER HERE!" Alex said, waving his hands and trying to get noticed. The deception worked, and once the jet turned towards him, the captain dove back beneath the waves as the jet fired its machine guns. The bullets missed the young warrior and hit the damaged aircraft carrier as Alex swam as fast as he could underwater.

Once at a safe distance, the human came to the surface and gasped for air, the constant diving taking a toll. Meanwhile, the hostile jet advanced towards the location where Alex had been, searching for the captain. But then the container of explosives detonated, a massive fireball engulfing Dark Alex's jet. The aircraft nearly lost control, spinning and turning before its pilot could regain control.

As the jet turned towards him again, captain Boehm retreated into the US destroyer. Swimming through a hole that had been blown in the side of the ship by weapons fire. However, the enemy jet must have seen something because it moved closer to investigate.

Swimming around inside the ship, the captain realized he was in some sort of control room. There was equipment for controlling electrical systems, engines, and the ship's ballast tanks. Alex suddenly realized something and immediately swam over to the machinery that controlled the ship's ballast tanks, taking care to avoid any exposed electrical equipment. He listened closely and looked towards the hole in the side of the destroyer. His counterpart was still there. With that, Alex activated the pumps, filling the ballast tanks along one side of the ship with water while removing water from the tanks on the other side of the vessel.

The ship slowly listed more to the side. Eventually, the Chinese helicopter hanging from the destroyer fell off the side of the vessel, hitting Dark Alex's jet as it splashed into the water. The hostile plane was heavily damaged, smoke emitting from its engines. Its villainous pilot was filled with rage. How could his top-of-the-line aircraft be bested by his inferior counterpart, and what could be found amongst wreckage. He angrily fired at the damaged US destroyer but could only get a few shots off before the weapon system stopped working due to the damage. Dark Alex turned his aircraft back towards the sky. With no other offensive measures, he started to limp back towards a still active Chinese aircraft carrier.

Hearing the sounds of aircraft engines fade, captain Boehm emerged from the destroyer, catching a glimpse of his counterpart's black jet flying into the distance. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself. With nothing more than wreckage, the Heroes leader defeated his dark double, who had been piloting an elite aircraft. But his pride suddenly turned to concern as he heard another aircraft approaching. He spun around, wondering how he was going to defeat this second enemy plane. But he breathed a sigh of relief once he saw that it was Eris's dark blue eagle interceptor. The eagle pilot put the aircraft in hover mode and opened the cockpit, flapping her wings and flying over to the human in the water.

"So, how'd your big fancy jet work out?" Eris laughed, hovering just above her friend.

"Just get me out of here," Alex said, reaching his arms up towards the eagle.

Eris flew around behind the human and grabbed him under the arms, rapidly flapping her wings to lift him out of the sea.

"Your all wet!" Eris said, "water is heavy!"

Despite the weight of the water, Eris was able to pick up the human and deposit him into the passenger's seat behind the pilot's chair in the cockpit of her interceptor.

"Try not to get water all over me or my controls." The eagle said, sitting back down, closing the canopy, and flying off back up into the sky.

"Get me back to the Typhoon. I need to get back out there." the captain said.

"Get back out there? Look around you."

The captain looked out the cockpit window at the area around Midway. Wreckage was strewn everywhere as ships sank beneath the waves. But there was a lot more wreckage from PLAN vessels than US naval vessels. The Chinese had suffered a massive defeat, stopped dead in their tracks by the US navy, marines, and air force.

"What about that second squadron of bombers?"

"Don't worry, Alex, I dealt with them. They're nothing but wreckage now."

Eris flew low and slow over Midway island, and the pair could see the smoldering wreckage of PLAAF bombers and fighter planes. They also spotted Nick and Judy capturing some Chinese soldiers, with backup from American troops. Jack and Skye had parked their boat nearby and were helping to oversee the operation.

Eris then turned towards the Chinese vessel Kion and Jasiri had helped capture. The interceptor did a victory lap around the ship as US forces on the deck raised their fists and cheered, including the two Heroes aboard the vessel.

The eagle pilot then moved towards the US fleet, steaming past the wreckage of burning enemy vessels and collecting stranded sailors. At the head of the armada was the Typhoon, the crown jewel of the US fleet. The captain could barely believe it.

"Wow….Looks like we won." He said.

"Heh, you can say that again."

Some Chinese naval vessels and jets had managed to flee. But most of their fleet had sunk to the bottom of the ocean. US ships cut through the waves while American aircraft streaked through the sky. No PLAN forces were left to hold the line. Midway belonged to the United States.

[ghosthouses27]

Hot Damn

Summary: George fucking dies and Phil takes him to Hell Court™

(i had so many options for puns for the title-)

(warning: swearing, mentions of death)

  ~*~

George jolted awake, eyes wide with panic and shaking slightly. A black void surrounded him and whatever flooring was beneath felt cold, almost like water.

"W-what the hell?!" he stammered, his words echoing and bouncing around the... room? He didn't know where he was, in fact he didn't even remembered how he got here! All he remembered was sitting in his friend's speeding car, the sirens behind, and then-

"Hello." A calm voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked around. A man with pale blond hair and green-and-white striped hat was stood behind him, black robes covering his body. George was quick to notice to gleaming scythe in his hand that was just taller than the man himself.

"H-hi?" George replied, putting on a nervous smile. "Uh, where am I?"

"The afterlife."

George felt dread pool in his stomach. "O-oh... So I did get shot..."

The man nodded, a sad smile on his face. "Yes, you did," he said with a nod. "I understand if you need to mourn but I will also need you to follow me."

George nodded and stood up to follow him, feeling slightly intimidated by the giant scythe hovering its blade over his head. As they walked, George noticed the large black wings on the man's back but decided not to question it.

"Hey uh, actually where are we going?" George asked, the shock of suddenly being in the afterlife finally wearing off. "I thought you said this was the afterlife? Seems pretty boring... Also uh, who are you?"

The man chuckled with a surprisingly warm smile on his face. "I'm usually known amongst mortals as the Grim Reaper, but since you're dead now you can just call me Phil. I'm taking you to the Court of Souls, where you'll be put on trial to see whether you go to heaven or hell."

"Oh, I thought you just automatically go to one or the other?" George asked, tilting his head.

"Well for most it is," Phil explained. "But for some people, like you, it's harder to decide what your moral compass is. Small white crimes usually just go to heaven, terrorists go to hell, but a hacking into and robbing a bank takes some more thought."

George was about to ask how he knew about that when Phil put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from nearly crashing into a ridiculously tall door. He gazed up at what looked like a cream colored palace with gold accents and a red carpet peeking out from under the door.

Phil glanced at him and smirked. "Hope you're ready."

The doors burst open dramatically and George was met with a large throne room and 7 people, all of which seemed to be arguing with each other.

"We really couldn't have done this at Pride's place?" a tan man complained, slumping in his golden throne. "It's so much nicer there, this place is shit."

"Language!" a man with strawberry blond hair yelped, eyeing the raven-haired. "There's children here!"

"For the last time I'M NOT A FUCKING CHILD!" a blond yelled from the other side of the line of seats.

Phil fake-coughed in an attempt to get their attention and the pink-haired one in the middle turned to him. He quickly straightened up and snapped his fingers a few times. The rest of the group looked over and seemed to notice George and Phil standing there.

"Oh, hey there," a man with curly brown hair said, waving at the two from where he was laying down. "Nice to meet ya."

The blond next to him gave him a harsh shove with a disgusted look. "Ew, don't hit on him, you're like a hundred years older than him."

The brunette rolled his eyes. "Who gives a shit, we're dead," he scoffed. "Plus, I'm not gay, I'm just being nice."

"Well you make so many jokes about it I can't tell anymore-!"

"Shut up you two," the pink-haired snapped, giving them both a harsh glare. He glanced back at Phil and George, staring at both of them with a withering glare. "So this is who we have to trial?"

"Yup, George Nolfund," Phil said with a smile that seemed too bright for the situation they were in. "He's come down here because he was out robbing a bank with some friends."

He turned to the brunette next to him who was staring at the rag-tag group with pure bewilderment. "George, this is the 7 Deadly Sins of Hell," he explained, gesturing to them.

"Pride-"

The pink haired one in the middle glared at him with scarlet red eyes. He was sat on a golden throne with ruby colored cushioning, and adorned in a dark red cape with a fur trim. A diamond sword leaned against his throne, gleaming dangerously, and a shining golden crown sat on his head.

"Envy-"

The raven-haired with tan skin was sat in an identical golden throne, one leg propped up on the velvet seat. He wore a bright cyan beanie and matching t-shirt hoodie, black irises glaring at George with a scowl on his face.

"Greed-"

A dirty blond man in a lime-green hoodie was sitting in a similar throne, although his was lavished with even more riches and spoils. A strange white mask covered his eyes and a silver sword was at his hip, shining as brightly as the snarky grin on his face.

"Lust-"

The brunette laying on a victorian-style chaise lounge flashed him a smile, adjusting his black beanie slightly. He had a black jacket over a white collared shirt, the top few buttons undone, and a slick guitar was strapped over his back.

"Wrath-"

The blond in a red and white shirt bared his teeth in a glower, crossing his arms. He was sitting on a generic stool that looked to shiny to be real wood, not to mention the various chunks taken out of it.

"Gluttony-"

The strawberry blond look up from his muffin and waved, sat on a throne that looked to be made of various sweets and deserts. A dark gray cloak covered him and he had on a checkered gray sweater underneath, with little devil horns on the top of his hood that George couldn't tell if they were real or not.

"And Sloth."

A man with black hair was slouched on a beanbag, looking up at George sleepily from under a white headband. He was wearing a black turtleneck with a white t-shirt thrown on top, the flame design on the front crumpled and folded like it'd never seen an iron in its life.

"You will be judged by them to see if you go to Hell or Heaven," Phil said. "So I suggest you be on your best behavior," he added with a smirk.

"So what's the crime?" Greed asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Phil snapped his fingers and a scroll appeared in his hands. "Well, George here is from a rather well-off family but ended up being disowned by his parents and turned to a life of crime, working as a hacker for a group of well-known robbers in the city."

George shifted slightly, feeling uncomfortable at how much the man knew.

"Well G-"

"Well George," Pride interrupted, glaring at Greed. "That certainly doesn't sound like heaven material." He glanced over at his partners then back at George. "I say we just send him down. Greed you can take him, he seems boring."

Greed clapped his hands together happily. "Wonderful!"

"I- whoa, hold on!" Gluttony cut in, nearly choking on his mouthful of muffin. "We need to talk more! He's here on trial for a reaso-"

"I say send him down," Lust said, grinning slyly at the brunette before him. "I'll take him in if he seems like a bother, the more the merrier as they say."

"Guys we need to talk-"

"Actually, I'll be taking him, thank you very much," Envy hissed, shooting a glare at him.

"SHUT UP I WANNA HEAR GLUTTONY!" Wrath yelled, making Lust who was sitting next to him nearly fall off his chair.

Gluttony sighed, taking another bite of his muffin. "As I was saying," he began again, giving a pointed look to Envy who turned away sourly. "Whilst I do agree he doesn't seem like heaven material, we need to actually agree what faction he'll go to. No just calling dibs Greed."

Pride huffed, rolling his eyes. "Well I'm not taking him," he grumbled. "He doesn't even seem proud of his sins, hell he seems remorseful." He made a fake gagging noise which made Lust giggle.

"I don't think he fits Lust either," Lust commented, rolling onto his back to look at George upside down. "Robbing a bank isn't very sexy."

"Not Gluttony either," Gluttony added, voice muffled from a mouthful of muffin. "Least he didn't burn down a house trying to make a cake! Actually, 3 houses," he added with a giggle.

George winced slightly, imagining the flames consuming the building all for the sake of a measly pastry.

"Yup, definitely not Gluttony," the strawberry blond said, seeing his reaction. He glanced over at Sloth who seemed to have fallen asleep. "Got anything to say Sloth?"

The raven-haired jolted awake, spluttering for words and trying to grasp reality for a moment. "Uh- I- yeah, did you say something?" he asked, grinning slightly.

Gluttony huffed in frustration. "We're trying to figure out what faction to put uh..."

"George."

"Right. What faction to put George in. You got anything to say?"

Sloth shrugged, resting his head in his arms. "I dunno. Didn't you say he like, robbed a bank? Probably not fit for Sloth then."

"Geez you actually have something to contribute," Wrath muttered.

"Well do you have anything to add dipshit?" Sloth shot back, smirking.

Wrath bristled, gripping the edge of his stool tightly. "You're the dipshit, dipshit!" he retorted, before glaring over at George and making the brunette flinch. "He's too nice, acts like one of Lust's bitches."

"I don't want him either," Envy quickly added, looking away. "He looks... dumb..."

"Then I do get him!" Greed exclaimed, grinning. "Hell yeah!"

Phil smiled that all-too-friendly smile again. "Alright then! Trial over! You guys can get back to whatever and I'll take this one down on under!"

Sloth was gone before he even finished speaking, and Pride quickly followed in suit. Lust waved goodbye before vanishing as well. Gluttony sent him one last smile before disappearing and Envy sent him a glare before following.

"Bye bitch boy," Wrath sneered before leaving.

Greed gave him a final smile and a wave. "It was great to meet you George!" he exclaimed with a smile that seemed almost fake. "See you in Hell."

[artemisegeria]

Two Kinds of Magic

Title: Two Kinds of Magic

Rating: G

Word count: 5684

Warnings: None

Summary: One year. Wanda was given one year to escape her fate and avoid a marriage she didn’t want. She never expected that attempts to elude her suitors would lead to a life-changing friendship.

 A/N: This is my belated contribution to Scarlet Vision Appreciation Day 2019. Since there was no official theme or event, I debated for a while what I was going to write for the occasion. Then, I came across this prompt on Tumblr:

“Story idea: The most wanted woman in town has announced that she’ll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat’s neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail, the cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them.

 You are the first one to figure out the obvious: Do not chase the cat. The cat is befriendable. Get the cat to trust you, to genuinely enjoy your company, and you can hang out with the cat. You may eventually be allowed to touch the cat. The cat will freely let you take the key.

 Secondary plot twist: The woman is a shapeshifter. She is the cat.”

I diverged somewhat from the initial prompt, but it provided the inspiration I needed. I hope you all enjoy.

 Once upon a time there lived a young woman, who was her father’s pride and joy. Her father was a powerful magician who wished for his daughter to follow in his footsteps, but she and her twin brother were born without magic. So the man spent many years trying to devise a way to imbue them with power. Using ancient forgotten books that he uncovered, he created a stone that would act as a reservoir for ambient magic. After absorbing some of the power that surrounded the land, the stone could be used to give power to anyone the man chose.

He gave the power to both his children. They both took well to it, the boy able to run faster than the eye could see and the girl able to manipulate matter, see people’s thoughts, and alter reality itself. It suited the man that his daughter was the one to receive the greater and subtler abilities. He told no one of what he had done and commanded his children to do the same.

One day tragedy struck. The boy fell ill, his fever ran high, and he was gone within two days. Not even his father’s great magic could save him. His daughter mourned her brother’s loss terribly. The man was sad for a time, but he considered the death of his son a tolerable loss. After all, he still had his daughter, who was the more skilled and a worthier successor.

The man eventually grew tired of his daughter’s grief. He thought it was extravagant, but he held his tongue. Over the years her grief did ease as she grew in stature and her father taught her more about how to use her powers, always reserving his own secrets for himself. When he was not training her, he kept his daughter merely as an ornament in his hall. He was also a cautious man, so he encouraged her to use her gifts only as he saw fit. He always made sure she knew whence her gifts came and that they could be taken away again.

But one day he realized that he could not keep her with him forever. He began to think on how he could best control whom she might marry. Eventually, the solution came to him, and a slow smile spread across his face. He determined that it was time to take advantage of her powers. The only thing that remained was to ensure his daughter’s willing compliance.

One day he gathered all his landed friends and their sons, for he would not see his daughter married to a lesser man. He carefully arranged their seating from largest to smallest plot of land, with himself at the head, to be certain that everyone knew his place. He did not even pay any attention to the workman from the local smithy who was fixing one of the suits of armor that lined his great hall to show what forces he could outfit at need. He commanded his daughter to sit at his side, silent and smiling and wearing her finest dress.

“My friends, you have seen my daughter grow into a beautiful young woman. It is now time for her to be married, but she cannot marry just anyone. I must know that whoever is to wed her is clever and persistent and worthy of her many charms. So I have devised a test. Starting tomorrow, every day for the next year there will be a cat with a key tied to its collar somewhere in the area.” He held up a small box. “Whoever is able to capture the cat, completely unharmed, will receive this box, which contains a treasure far greater than its size, and my daughter’s hand in marriage. If after one year no one succeeds in trapping the cat, my daughter will be free to marry whomever she pleases.” The man only offered that concession because he was confident that one year was sufficient time for one of Wanda’s suitors to catch her.

This suited his daughter, who had equal faith in her wits and her ability to evade capture. She did not like the stares and smiles of the young men on offer. They had all grown up together and she had no desire to wed any of them. But she smiled and smiled to please her father, at least for now. She did start briefly when she met the eyes the workman who was at the edge of the room, but he quickly looked away.

“May the best man win, and remember, no harm is to come to the cat. If a hair on its head is damaged, the deal is forfeit. Now let us eat.” The young men all sought her favor throughout the meal, trying to incline her toward them. They made would-be witty remarks and gave her airy compliments, though none of them had ever tried to get to know her. She bided her time and smiled and smiled. Let them think that she could be won over.

After everyone left, her father told her to rest up for the next day. She complied, excited for the next day. For what her father had not revealed was that the cat he encouraged the young men to capture was Wanda herself. It suited her to obey, for her father never told her where exactly she should wander or for how long. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for to explore beyond the manor’s bounds with her father’s blessing.

The next morning her father reminded Wanda not to let herself be caught too easily, but to allow her suitors to see her cat form from time to time. She nodded, trying to hold back her excitement. She’d never had the luxury of having the whole day to herself. Her father affixed the magical cord that would adjust to her size and a bright silver key to her neck. He spelled it to remain in place for the entire year. When she underwent the familiar shrinking, she allowed herself a moment to adapt to being much lower to the ground. The smells were so much more intense and the colors muted.

Wanda spent the first few days exploring the forest outside the estate. For though she had wanted her freedom for so long, she found that she was shy about going into town. The sight of so many people was terrifying as well as thrilling. The young men had already laid some very obvious traps near her home that she easily avoided. She wondered if any of them had any inkling that the cat they are supposed to trap is the object of their affections. She doubted it.

Every night when she returned, her father seemed both relieved and disappointed, but it was very early. Wanda’s evenings were filled with needlework, music practice, and spinning, for her father would not have her forget her duties as the lady of the house, even though she was occupied during the day.

Over the next few weeks, Wanda began to explore farther afield. Her new vantage point allowed her to easily observe the goings on in the market or the village square from the shadows. She enjoyed the sights and sounds of all manner of people going about their days. When she saw one of her suitors, she backed deeper under an awning or ran the other direction.

On one such day, two of Wanda’s suitors surprised her. They saw her at the same moment and began to run toward her. She cursed the silver key that stood out bright against her dark fur. Fortunately, the men were more concerned with stopping each other from getting to her than apprehending her. She slipped easily between their legs and ran into the first open door she saw, hoping to avoid detection.

Wanda found herself in a small smithy. There was a fire pit built into the wall on one side of the space. The other side held shelves that contained a number of finished dishes, knives, and tools. The room appeared empty, so she let herself breathe for a minute.

Until a figure emerged from a curtain in the back of the shop. Wanda beheld the strangest man that she had ever seen. His skin was a deep red hue, interlaced with shiny silver patterns. She almost forgot that she was still being chased and backed out the door, but the man smiled at her in a friendly fashion. “Hello there.” His voice was slow and measured, just as his footsteps toward her were. Wanda still puffed up her fur and hissed at him, the cat’s instincts sometimes taking over when she was in this form.

The stranger paused. She saw his gaze fall to the key at her throat, but he only said, “I mean you no harm.”

She was still trying to think of what to do next when one of the young men who was hunting her cleared his throat at the door. “You, fellow, have you seen a small black cat come by here. It has a little key around its neck. I’ll see you get a handsome reward.” Wanda had to wonder why her pursuer did not have a more pronounced reaction to the blacksmith.

She prepared to run again when the strange man inevitably gave her away, but he surprised her again. “My apologies, sir, but I have seen no such cat.”

The man’s footsteps had no sooner stomped away before her other would-be suitor was at the door with the same question, also without a notable to reaction to the blacksmith’s strange appearance. The red man gave the same response. The suitor promised to sweeten the reward even more if he kept an eye out for her. “Of course, sir.” He walked away, apparently satisfied, but Wanda could detect the faintest trace of irony in her protector’s voice.

A few minutes later, he stepped outside. When he returned, he said, “Neither of those men are anywhere in sight.”

Wanda considered what to do. She knew that she was taking a risk revealing herself, but she desperately wanted to understand. So she moved deeper into a shadowed alcove at the back of the shop and resumed her usual human shape. The man’s eyes widened as he looked at her, but he was no more surprised than she was. For before her stood a tall man with blond hair and fair skin that she would easily pass over. No sign of red skin or unearthly markings. Though he did look somewhat familiar when she thought about it.

“Why didn’t you give me up to them and collect your reward? Did you know I was human? Why were you talking to me? Who are you really?”

He paused for only a moment before answering, “First, I did not like the look of them, and your mannerisms seemed to indicate that you did not wish to be found.” He ticked off the answers on his fingers. “Second, I did not know that you were human, but animals understand much more than most humans give them credit for. Finally, I am Vision, the blacksmith’s assistant.”

Wanda tried to rephrase her last question. “No, I mean, this is not your true form. Glamours do not work on cats.”

Vision bowed his head. “Ah, I have never had to explain myself to anyone before.” He paused again, raising his head but looking over her shoulder. She tried to catch his eye, for this was something she had experience with, but his gaze remained distant, his body perfectly still and tense.

She cleared her throat until he finally looked her in the eye, his expression set in a tight line. “Neither have I. No one but my father knows what I can do.”

Smiling slightly, Vision said, “I suppose I am in much the same position. My creator is the only one who knows my true identity.”

“Creator?” She did not understand. She knew there was something different about him, but he seemed as much a man as any other.

“Yes,” He paused for a moment, glancing at her before gathering himself, but his explanation flowed smoothly, as if he had practiced the words many times. “I am a construct of elemental magic and metal. Master Stark long wished to create life. His many experiments led to my birth, or creation if you prefer, and I have worked with him ever since.”

“That explains the skin and the disguise.” She was impressed at the seamless appearance of the glamour. He only gave a tight nod.

“Yes.” Vision shifted, just slightly, as if uncertain what she would do next. He glanced toward her and away several times while she tried to absorb what he said. The last time he did so Wanda recognized him.

“Wait! You were there on the day my father made the announcement.”

“Yes.” Guilt clouded his expression. “I suppose I should have told you that when you first transformed.”

She shook her head to deny the need for an apology, but something was bothering her. “Why didn’t you try to catch me yourself? I know the key caught your eye.”

“Well, when I saw you that day, you did not seem enthusiastic about the prospect of your father’s challenge.” His gaze cleared, and his stance relaxed.  “I had no wish to force a woman into marriage. When I saw you as the cat today, I felt even more strongly that such a betrothal was unwanted.”

“Oh.” Wanda had little experience with strangers, but somehow she was inclined to believe him. There was no artifice in his gaze, no hesitation in his words.

They fell silent for a time, and it was only when Wanda looked out the shop window that she realized how low the sun is in the sky. “I have to go.” He nodded. She was about to leave when she turned back abruptly. “May I come back tomorrow?”

Vision only blinked at her for a moment. “If you wish.” She smiled and gave him a little wave.

When she returned home for supper, her father asked why she looked so happy. Wanda merely shrugged and replied that it was a beautiful day. Her father was still suspicious but made no protest as she studiously turned to her chores.

The next day she donned her cat form again and traveled toward the blacksmith shop. She only transformed when Vision greeted her and she saw that the shop was empty. “Good morning, Wanda.”

“Good morning.”

They stared at each other for long moments. The awkwardness began to build so much that Wanda was tempted to leave. Vision finally said, “I’m sorry. I am not used to visitors. May I get you something to drink? Do you need anything else?” He smiled tentatively at her, and the look won her over.

“Don’t do anything special on my account. I’ll just sit here and watch you work if that’s alright.”

“By all means.” He gestured to a chair that was set up in the back of the shop.

And so it went. Over the next weeks Wanda’s visits became more and more regular. Sometimes she arrived early in the morning until they finished their lunch. Vision didn’t need to eat, but he took a midday rest and sat with her. Other days she would come in the afternoon and stay until she had to return home at sunset. She would spend the rest of the time exploring the town and the next town over.

The first time the blacksmith entered the shop while Wanda was present he looked slightly surprised, but only smirked and whispered something in Vision’s ear, which was met with a thin-lipped expression and a brief headshake. Vision introduced her to Anthony with a firm look at the latter. Wanda used all her training as her father’s daughter to maintain her polite expression. At least he did not disturb them for the rest of the day. The next day Vision handed her a dress that he had borrowed from the blacksmith’s wife, for even Wanda’s simplest dress was made of the finest threads and fabrics, marking her as nobility.

When three months had passed, Wanda had finished exploring the limits of both of the nearest towns, and the new sights did not match the attraction of watching Vision work quietly and talking to him about everything under the sun. It was still a novelty to have someone genuinely interested in her feelings and opinions. Most of the people she met were only interested in her as a proxy for her father’s favor or her father’s wealth. And then there was her father who was only interested in carrying on his own name and legacy.

It was fortunate that few people she knew ever ventured into the blacksmith’s shop, having servants to run their errands and considering the simple metals beneath them. But occasionally an overgrown boy who knew nothing of war would come in to see the swords on display and dream of glory in battle. Wanda would hide in the back storage room, waiting for them to pass. When Vision signaled that it was safe to come out, she would always find the shop in disarray. She would help to set everything to rights despite Vision’s protests.

One day a farmer came into the shop to have his plough repaired. Vision told him it would be ready in a day or two. An idea struck her that perhaps she and Vision could combine their magics and put their special skills to use. They experimented with infusing their magic into the metal at various stages of heating. Eventually they came to a result that resisted all their attempts to damage it. When the farmer returned, he was very impressed. He offered to pay twice the agreed upon price of two chickens, but Vision refused with a smile.

Word began to spread of their knives that stayed supernaturally sharp, horseshoes that never rusted, and dishes that cleaned easily. There were some townspeople who recognized Wanda from the few occasions she had been outside under her father’s watchful eye. When they saw how nervous she was at the recognition, they pretended not to notice her. They felt for her, and it helped that she and Vision always saved their best pieces for those who could not afford them. The townspeople in turn adopted them as their own and vowed to protect them.

At the six-month mark, Wanda’s father began to grow more frustrated at her suitors’ failure. He wanted them to have to work to win his daughter’s hand, but he thought the task would be complete by now. He vastly overestimated their competence. The men’s traps continued to be laughably easy to evade. Wanda fulfilled her end of the bargain by spending a little time walking around as a cat before heading to the shop and spending the day there.

One day while she was standing beside Vision waiting to add her magic to the knife he was molding, Vision asked, “What are you humming? It’s lovely.” Wanda flushed, glad that she could blame it on the heat of the fire. She had not realized she was humming out loud.

“It’s a lullaby. My mother used to sing it to me and my brother.” During the lunchbreak that day, Wanda found herself telling Vision all about her lost loved ones and her father’s refusal to recognize their deaths or accept her mourning. Vision listened sympathetically, offering her his full attention without any meaningless reassurances, before discussing his own lack of family in turn. Anthony tried, but he was always busy with his family and his next project. Vision was accepted as a part of the household, but he was still separate from them.

After those admissions, Wanda and Vision became even closer. They had no secrets from each other. Wanda told Vision how she had always wished to explore the world, but when she had the opportunity, she ran from it. Vision told Wanda of how he feared that he would never be fully human, how people would shun him if they knew what he truly was. Wanda assured him that, though she could not guarantee anybody else, he would always have her. Vision assured her that there were many types of courage and that the world would be waiting for her when she was ready.

When nine months had passed since the challenge began, Wanda’s father held a ball for all her suitors and their families. Wanda was finding it more and more difficult to tolerate her suitors. They continued to pay no heed to her thoughts and feelings; they made no attempt to learn who she really was. During the dancing, their hands gripped her too tightly and they trod all over her feet.

Wanda felt guilty for complaining so much to Vision, but he only listened attentively before offering her his hand, saying perhaps he could do better. She accepted his offer with bemusement. Close as they were, they seldom made physical contact. He held her delicately as they twirled around the shop. They were soon laughing when they stumbled over a stray tool, paying more attention to each other’s eyes than their surroundings. They righted themselves and continued. One of Vision’s hands held onto hers and the other rested on her upper back. Wanda leaned into him when he smiled fondly at her. It was already half-dark when she left the shop that day, having to run home to avoid her father’s wrath.

The next three months passed far too quickly for Wanda’s liking. She knew there was a chance that her father would renege on his word, though he did take his promises seriously. She did not know what she would do if her father refused to let her out of the estate. Having had a taste of friendship and freedom, she could not go back to being her father’s perfect statue and protégé. Vision distracted her with proposing new uses for her magic. She allowed herself to forget how time was running out and simply enjoy his company and offer her own new projects.

When Wanda entered the shop on the last day of the bargain with her father, she was exuberant. She could barely contain her excitement at the thought of being on the edge of freedom. Vision picked up on her mood, grasping her hands. “What will you do after today?”

“I will marry whoever I please, on my schedule.” She tried not to look directly at Vision as she said it, but her eyes were drawn inexorably toward his small smile. The rest of the day was spent quickly glancing at each other and way, grinning all the while. It was almost like her first day in the shop, but that day the space between them was filled with exhilaration rather than awkwardness. Wanda felt a warm fluttering in her stomach as they sat side by side at lunch. When their hands brushed as they laid out some newly finished nails, they did not pull away from each other.

When it was time for her to leave, Wanda impulsively kissed Vision on the cheek. She giggled at his utter surprise. “See you tomorrow, Vizh.” She barely heard his reply when she skipped out the door, preparing how to tell her father that she had found the man she wanted to marry.

Unfortunately, on that day, Wanda was paying too little attention to her surroundings. She was almost home when she walked directly into her least favorite suitor’s arms. She twisted in his hands, trying to claw and bite at him, but her father was standing at their front gate. He uttered a spell to immobilize Wanda as he congratulated the man who had captured her. He ushered the man inside, telling him to wait in the main hall while he put Wanda in her room. He allowed her to transform back into a human before locking her away in her room.

Wanda considered her options for some time. She knew that she was at risk of angering her father, but she had been so close to freedom. She refused to give it up. Perhaps if she convinced her father how deeply she felt for another, he would have pity on his only child. Past experience of her father would suggest otherwise, but she had to try. If that failed, she would think of more drastic solutions.

Alas, her father would not listen to her pleas. He got along well with the suitor. He felt that the young man would preserve his wealth and his lands, appreciating that he came from an ancient family and would be a worthy father to his future grandchildren. Chaperoning several meetings between Wanda and her future husband, her father cared not at all that he and Wanda did not have anything to talk about, if Wanda could even get a word in between the man’s listing his accomplishments and assets.

Days passed. Wanda soon realized that there was no hope to change her father’s mind. Her father and her future husband spent all their time planning a grand wedding, complete with a golden carriage and over a hundred guests. After her third escape attempt, her father used the stone that he still carried with him until she was officially married to remove her powers. The loss left her instantly cold and weak, but she continued to make new plans.

Meanwhile, Vision worried. At first, he thought that Wanda regretted the affection she had shown him. He had almost thought that she had been talking about him when she said she would marry someone she chose for herself, but perhaps he had been mistaken. No one could truly want to marry him. But word had spread from the servants in Wanda’s household, to whom she was always kind, to the other townspeople that Wanda’s father was holding her against her will and forcing her to marry. One of their most frequent customers told the whole tale to Vision, who resolved to rescue his friend.

Two days before her wedding was to take place, Wanda was pacing her room, trying to think of a solution to get out of her prison. Her father had reinforced the bars on her window and across her door with his own magic. Without her powers, she had no idea how to get through them.

After a time, she collapsed on her bed, having worn herself out with worry and restless movement. A soft humming at her window caused her to open her eyes and sit up. She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Vision? What are you doing here?”

“When you did not come to the shop, I thought you had changed your mind about our meetings.” His gaze dropped until Wanda approached him and touched his arm briefly. He met her eyes directly, sincerity and hope shining out of him. “But I was told that one of your suitors succeeded and you were trapped here. I had to ensure that you were well.”

“I’m not,” Wanda assured him heartily. “I’ve been trying to run away, but my father stole my powers.”

He winced, knowing how much Wanda valued the powers that helped give her some control over her own life. “I am sorry I cannot do anything to give you them back, but I will run away with you.” Wanda smiled her first true smile in days. “I cannot offer you the life you deserve, but I will share whatever I can call my own with you. I will always stand by your side.”

“I don’t want anything more than that.��� She looked around her room with slight regret. She wished she had a little more time to pack some of her belongings, but time was of the essence. Her dress was not inconspicuous either. She sighed. She supposed she would have to continue borrowing from Pepper before they left. At least she could be sure of him and their bond. “I’m ready when you are.”

He reached for her hands and clasped them briefly. “Wanda, I-.”

A bright burst of light hitting Vision’s chest cut him off mid-sentence. He immediately fell to the floor, skin going cold and gray when his glamour vanished, wide unseeing eyes becoming white. Wanda cried out and sank down next to him. “Vizh?” She shook his shoulder hopelessly before finally turning to her father. “How could you?” The tears falling thick and fast blurred her vision, but she could glimpse his sneer.

“I’m merely making it easier for you to do your duty.” He looked down and nudged Vision with his foot. “What is this thing anyway?”

“This man’s name is Vision. I love him.” Wanda leaned over him, caressing his cheek with the tips of her fingers. Her tears were still flowing freely, but her father remained unmoved.

“I have warned you before about feeling too deeply. You see? It has brought you nothing but pain. Now get up and compose yourself. We will be rehearsing your wedding ceremony in twenty minutes.”

“No!” Wanda draped herself protectively over Vision’s body. She was not ready to let go yet.

“Yes.” Her father’s voice was firm and implacable. “If you continue to act hysterically, I will stop your tongue until it is time to say your vows. If you even think of causing a scene, I will make your life more miserable than you can imagine.”

He started to levitate Vision’s body away from her, but Wanda still clung to him. In a last move of desperation, she kissed his lips, as she was never able to do in life. At first nothing happened. However, a cry soon tore from her father’s lips. The stone that he so carefully crafted flew from his hands, glowing warmly. Energy began to spill from it. The scarlet tendrils threaded their way between Wanda and Vision, flowing through their mouths and twining around their bodies.

Wanda could feel a surge of power deep within her as the magic ceased its glow. Even more startling was that the stone had nestled itself in Vision’s forehead. A warm wave of crimson was spreading out across his body. Even her father was transfixed by the sight of Vision’s body rising higher, becoming upright with his arms wide open.

Hope was a relatively new emotion for her, but Wanda dared to dream that Vision would open his eyes and recover. When he finally did so, he looked confused for a moment, but floated down to her side, tenderly brushing her tears away. Eventually he rose and lifted Wanda to her feet. Looking down at her with some pure emotion that she was afraid to name, Vision asked, “Shall we?” His gaze was serious, enquiring if she still wished to leave with him, still wished to abandon the only life she’d known.

Wanda beamed at him with no reservation. “We shall.” They had both forgotten about her father until he stepped in front of the window, blocking their path.

“You will not move one inch, young lady.” He moved forward threateningly, but Vision refused to drop her hand. Instead, he tried to angle his body in front of her. But Wanda would not have it. She knew Vision meant well, but with the return of her powers, she would not have anyone push her to the sidelines in the name of protection. She pushed forward, so that they stood shoulder to shoulder. Vision nodded slightly at her and she could feel his acceptance that she had to do this.

“Father, I’m leaving.”

Her father scowled and squared his stance. “I swear I will-.”

“You will do nothing to me.” Red swirled around her fingers. “I’m leaving. Now stand aside. Let your would-be son-in-law inherit for all I care.” She prayed that her father would listen to her for once. Though he had not been a kind man, she did not wish to hurt him. She just wanted to be free. Apparently, her father saw the determination that was burning through her because he did move aside.

Not without one final barb. “I disown you. You will never get one acre of my lands or one coin from my coffers.”

Wanda would mourn the loss of her last family member another time. She steeled her spine and her voice to reply, “You have given me and taken away from me enough. I need nothing from you.” She held onto Vision as he phased them out of her room. She would not look back.

When they were beyond the boundaries of her father’s estate, Vision floated even higher, only the slight glow of the stone illuminating their path. Secure in his arms, Wanda began to relax. She almost didn’t realize that they’d stopped until Vision asked, “What happened back there, Wanda? The last thing I remember is talking to you, and then I was in the air and you were collapsed on the floor.”

“My father hit you with this, and you…died.” She tapped the stone that now resided in his forehead. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you being gone, so I kissed you. The stone gave me back my powers and healed you.”

Though taken aback, Vision smiled at her faintly. “Thank you for saving me.” But his smile fell almost immediately. “Although I cannot help but regret that I missed our first kiss.”

Wanda lifted her hands to his neck, massaging his skin. “Maybe it shouldn’t count since you didn’t feel it.”

“That sounds like a fine idea.” He brushed a strand of her hair, which was floating in the breeze, behind her ear, and his hand lingered, threading through the waves. “Would you care for a second try?”

Wanda pulled Vision’s head down until their lips were a hair’s breadth apart. “Absolutely.” Their second first kiss was everything either of them could have wished for. Wanda and Vision remained together for some time, letting any thoughts about their future fall away below them, their embrace keeping them warm.

[eviesmyspiritanimal]

Genevieve Labrador Chapter 4

Summary: Evie and Mal are looking for Mal’s spell book that Celia has stolen again when a certain mishap occurs… A hairy mishap that Mal and Evie very unfortunately have to deal with. Bal, Huma, Jaudrey, Jarlos, and Core Four feels with a special emphasis on Evie and Mal’s sisterly/best friend relationship.

  “I cannot believe that we’re seriously doing this. I am not somebody’s pet!” Evie indignantly announced to the two girls as they headed into the pet store, Evie close beside Mal. Uma just groaned loudly, throwing her head back in pure frustration as she listened to Evie’s whine for what felt like the thousandth time.

  “You’re Mal’s pet. Now shut up before people start staring!” Uma commanded, and Evie closed her mouth, throwing Uma a nasty look.

  “I really hope we don’t run into any cops, because I’m pretty sure there’s a leash law,” Mal nervously expressed, and Evie pressed her nose against Mal’s knee gently in an expression of reassurance.

  “What? You didn’t use that remembering spell on all of the laws of Auradon like you used it on the spells in your very much illegal book?”

  Mal just stared at Uma, glaring at the other girl with her eyes narrowed as she resisted the overwhelming urge to growl under her breath.

  They entered the pet store, Mal holding the door open for Evie as they went in. The place was sleek and crisp in its modernity, and Mal couldn’t help but admire the setup. There were several people around with dogs of all shapes and sizes, all inspecting the varying pet products. There was a grooming area on the nearest corner to the door, and Mal’s eyes widened as she spotted an employee shaving a dog.

  Apparently, Uma must have spotted the same part of the store as Mal had, and her entire face lit up in an enormous grin as she moved her gaze down to Evie.

  “You feel like a little trim today?” Uma suggested nonchalantly, and Evie’s eyes were wide and her jaw was dropped in the midst of her pure horror at the very idea of looking anywhere near the way that the poodle not too far from them was looking as the woman shaved the fur around her hips.

  “Okay, Uma, I think you’ve successfully traumatized her,” Mal cut in, trying to guide Evie along as she reached down and pulled at Evie’s shoulder. Evie finally spurred herself into motion as she absentmindedly walked with them, her gaze still locked upon the poor victim of a dog that was getting clipped.

  They approached the boy nearby that was stocking the shelves, his back to them, and Mal cleared her throat, getting his attention. The boy turned to face them and Evie almost found herself drooling at the very sight of him.

  It was Leo, the very handsome, very well-muscled son of Hercules, and also known as the boy that could make any girl swoon with just a slight flash of those perfect teeth. Those gorgeous violet eyes and that thick, brown hair made Evie a little weak in the knees despite herself.

  “Hi,” Mal greeted, completely unfazed by his obvious charms.

  “Hey! What brings the Queen to my part of town?” he flirted nonchalantly, and Mal felt Evie leaning hard against her leg in what was almost a faint as her tail wagged ridiculously hard. Uma angled her head toward Mal a bit, her mouth nearby the purple-haired girl’s ear.

  “I’m beginning to rethink the whole Harry Hook package,” Uma mumbled to Mal, unashamedly looking Leo up and down as she regarded him. Mal rolled her eyes, knowing that Uma wasn’t serious and was quite possibly the most loyal person in that she would never desert Harry or any of her friends. Mal knew Uma was just enjoying looking at the boy. Even Mal could see that he was incredibly good-looking.

  “Well, we are looking for several things. We need a leash and a harness. We also need to talk to an employee here. She’s an older lady?” Mal requested, hoping that Leo would have at least a bit of an idea of where things were.

  He blinked at her, and he looked down at the box nearby him before he smiled.

  “Here’s a leash and a harness, but if you want more variety, check Aisle Six over there,” Leo pointed in a vague direction somewhere on the far-left corner of the store. Mal nodded slowly as she observed the leash and collar. It was a startling shade of bright pink, which Mal knew Evie wouldn’t go for. If she was going to have to be dressed in dog-wear, then she would want her apparel in her colors.

  “And the old lady that you’re talking about is Heather, and she’s off today,” Leo informed them, his hands in his pockets as Mal took that in with some disappointment.

  “Oh, well,” Mal started to turn away so that they could head toward the aisle he had mentioned, but it quickly occurred to her that she could see if he could give her any information.

  “Hey, do you know about dog-friendly human food recipes?” Mal tried. Leo shrugged his shoulders with a crooked smile. If it was at all possible, Evie’s tail wagged even harder at the sight of his grin.

  “I don’t know much about that, I’m afraid,” Leo informed her, and Mal nodded, resigning to text Carlos about his recipes before they informed Harry and Gil about what to get.

  “Well, thank you anyway. I guess we’ll head over there and see what we can find,” Mal informed, moving away with Evie close beside her.

  “No problem! Make sure you get that dog on a leash, though. It’s a fine one, and you wouldn’t want anything to happen to it,” Leo suggested before turning back to his work.

  As soon as they were out of earshot and eyeshot, Evie let out a dreamy sigh before dropping to the tiled floor.

  “Evie? What are you doing?” Mal questioned, and Evie just smiled dopily up at her.

  “He said I looked fine,” Evie explained, her eyes practically sparkling. Mal just rolled her eyes and reached down, trying to drag Evie up.

  “That’s just it. ‘Fine.’ Not good looking or anything,” Uma piped up, but Evie was too absorbed in her own infatuation to consider Uma’s comment.

  “C’mon. I think you got a bad case of puppy love,” Mal informed her and Evie hesitantly stood up to walk with her, her tail still moving in that ever-present wag that it had been having since she spotted the boy.

  The three entered Aisle Six, their eyes wide as they gaped at all of the dog accessories. Evie grinned widely at all of it, completely dazzled by the amount of possibilities.

  “Look at all the stuff,” Evie spoke, her voice conveying just how amazed she was feeling.

  “I want this!” Evie quickly cried, hurrying over and sticking her nose to a red harness with decorative spikes as her tail wagged furiously. Mal strolled over and took it off the hanger easily, smiling at her best friend’s enthusiasm.

  Evie then bounded over to the leashes, marveling at them for a moment before she grabbed a matching leash between her teeth and tugged it down to her level. However, she accidentally broke the hanger in the midst of her effort, and it went clattering down to the floor. Uma and Mal’s eyes widened as Evie stared at the hanger in shock.

  Uma then edged over and kicked the hanger underneath the shelves. Evie looked up at her strangely, and Uma shrugged.

  “Y’know, hide the evidence,” Uma chuckled nervously and backed away so that she was standing next to the faerie.

  Uma looked around carefully, checking for anybody that could have seen them knock it down.

  “We need a collar,” Uma suddenly announced, completely deadpan. Evie glanced up at her, shaken from her stupor as she attempted to find out what Uma was planning.

  “Why do we need a collar?” Mal asked, and Uma’s lips curved in a wicked grin. Evie’s tail drooped as she realized that Uma was surely about to suggest something positively humiliating.

  “Because look at that!” Uma pointed eagerly, and Mal followed her finger to see a dog tag dispensing machine. Evie’s ears laid back, and she looked at Mal desperately, hoping she’d save her.

  “M, now that’s just adding insult to injury,” Evie expressed and Mal looked down at the dog apologetically before heading over to the tag machine.

  “I’m sorry, Evie, but it really might not be such a bad idea to get some physical identification for you just in case.” Mal pressed a few buttons on the machine, getting ready to type Evie’s name and Mal’s phone number.

  Uma leaned against one side of the machine, watching Mal type before she smiled widely and glanced at Evie.

  “You know, we could put Mudball as your name and you couldn’t do a thing about it,” Uma mentioned, and Evie sat directly next to Mal, looking up at her best friend faithfully and knowing that she wouldn’t do anything like that to her.

  “You want the tag in gold, red, blue, pink, black, or green?” Mal questioned, moving her gaze to the dog resting at her feet.

  “Gold, please. It’ll match the leash and the harness we’ve already got,” Evie requested, and Mal tapped a button.

  “Okay… Type my phone number… And it should be ready,” Mal announced before swiping her credit card. After a few moments, the tag was dispensed, and Mal held up the shiny, heart-shaped gold tag.

  “Now, let’s get a collar,” Uma excitedly told her before hurrying back into the aisle. Mal furrowed her brow as she approached Uma from behind.

  “Why are you so excited about this?”

  “I don’t know. Something about the humiliation that comes with being an official pet with a tag and everything,” Uma explained herself, unable to keep her monstrous grin away. Evie came over and touched a red spiked collar with her nose.

  “This is the only collar I can agree to,” Evie begrudgingly spoke, and Mal took it. They then left toward the front of the store and approached the cashier. Once they paid for the items, Mal knelt down in front of Evie, and clasped the collar around her neck. Evie touched her cold nose to Mal’s hand fondly and Mal smiled slightly before taking the harness.

  “Okay, E, help me out here, because this might be a little tricky,” Mal told her, and Evie nodded subtly. After all, there were people around, and they were trying to be at least a little surreptitious about Evie’s ability to speak.

  Mal held out the holes and Evie stepped in carefully. Mal then connected the harness together across her back before clipping the leash onto the harness. After that, Mal finally slid the tag onto the collar before standing up with a smile.

  “You look cute,” Mal complimented and Evie’s tail wagged happily at the praise. Mal then handed the leash to Uma carefully. Uma raised an eyebrow, confused at the sudden handover of responsibility for dealing with the dog.

  “I’ve got to use the bathroom. You hold onto her for a minute. I won’t be too long,” Mal assured her before leaving toward the restroom. Uma and Evie shared a glance before Uma started to look around the place as they waited. Her eyes skimmed over several rather uninteresting parts of the store until her gaze fell upon a certain booth toward the right.

  She scanned the name that was above the table and she smiled widely, starting over toward it as Evie followed along trustingly.

  However, when they got really close to the booth, Evie stopped, her paw-pads dug into the tile of the floor as she realized where they were going.

  “Uma, what are we doing?” Evie questioned, and Uma just tugged at the leash as she started trying to drag her.

  “We’re getting you microchipped,” Uma informed her as she pulled the dog across the slick floor. Evie started trying to scramble backward, but Uma’s strength coupled with her better grip on the floor left Evie on the losing end.

  “No way!”

  “Yes way. After all, Mal said that we should have physical identification just in case,” Uma wickedly spoke, and Evie started putting even more force into getting away.

  “No! I’m not a dog!” Evie cried, completely forgoing any sense of quietness as everyone started to turn and stare at the pirate captain that was currently dragging a talking dog across the store.

  “You look like a dog to me,” Uma expressed as she finally reached the table. She placed her elbow on it as she leaned hard, putting her weight into keeping a hold on the dog.

  “Okay, I want my friend’s dog microchipped.” Uma kept a tight hold on the leash as Evie continued trying her best to escape.

  “Mal!” Evie called loudly, trying to get her one and only chance at being saved to come.

  The people at the desk handed Uma a clipboard and she signed Mal’s information quickly onto the paper before the staff reviewed it.

  Uma couldn’t help but feel just a little bad, and despite her wicked enjoyment of the humor behind it all, Uma really did have Evie’s best interest at heart. Since that Leo boy suggested that something could happen to her, Uma had gotten a bad feeling in her gut about Evie and what could occur while she was a dog. Of course, Uma had to cover it up with a sick sense of humor in torturing Evie, but that really wasn’t her ultimate goal due to the fact that she actually was truly concerned and caring about Evie’s safety in this vulnerable state.

  However, before anything else could happen, Evie managed to pull the leash out of Uma’s hand with a mighty thrust, and she started running through the store, her feet slipping in her haste. Uma’s eyes widened and she took off after her like a madwoman.

  Evie rounded a corner, her leash catching on the shelf, and it started to lean with the pure force that she was exerting upon it. Uma stopped quickly, hurrying backward as the shelf slowly fell on another one, starting a domino effect.

  For a moment, Uma just stared, but she then quickly ran down the center of the aisles in a panic, terribly afraid that a shelf might fall on the dog.

  The shelves were moving fast, and Uma saw that Evie was about to go down an aisle that was about to be crushed by a shelf. Uma didn’t hesitate before hurrying through the aisle, nearly crashing into Evie as she grabbed the dog and slid out from under the shelf that was quickly falling.

  She safely made it to the other side, Evie huddled in her arms as they both gaped at the utterly enormous mess that had been made. Evie offered Uma a lick on the cheek as she shook fearfully.

  “What was that for?” Uma asked as she winced, wiping her face on the fabric covering her shoulder.

  “You really do care,” Evie beamed, her voice shaking with her joy and her pure fear. Uma rolled her eyes, patting Evie’s back firmly as she looked back at all of the pandemonium that had taken place behind them.

  “Don’t go sharing that or anything. ‘Kay?” Uma smiled slightly. However, her smile quickly disappeared upon spotting a vibrantly purple head of hair through the crowd.

  “What is going on?! EVIE?!” Mal yelled as she charged over, pushing through the people that had gathered. Evie crawled out Uma’s arms quickly, and Mal bent down, grabbing Evie’s face firmly in her hands as the dog whimpered in her fear.

  “What happened?!” Mal demanded, staring at Uma as if she was going to kill her.

  “I was going to get her microchipped,” Uma informed her as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, gathering herself to her feet as she glanced back at the shelves once more.

  “Why?” Mal spat venomously as she stroked her thumbs across Evie’s furred cheeks comfortingly.

  “Because I was worried about what could happen to her,” Uma expressed, an odd amount of genuineness in her voice, and Mal just huffed as she rolled her eyes.

  “Boy, that is a crazy dog you’ve got,” Leo suddenly piped up, and Evie shot him a wicked glance, taking offense to his comment. Well, so much for liking him, Evie couldn’t help but think as she glared at him.

  Before she could say anything else, a man came toward them, an angry look on his face as he severely failed to control his complete and utter fury.

  “Your majesty, if you don’t mind, we need to clean this enormous mess that this… dog made,” he spoke, his face turning ever redder as he stood there fuming. Mal glanced at his nametag and noticed that he was the manager. She offered him a strained smile before standing up gracefully, taking Evie’s leash in her hand firmly and Uma’s arm in her other hand.

  “Of course, sir. We’ll be going now,” Mal told him, attempting to dissipate the building tension in the air surrounding them as she dragged the both of them out of the store quickly.

  Once they were finally out, Mal’s phone made a noise, and she checked it quickly. It was a message from Carlos, and he had sent her the list of ingredients that she had asked him for while she was in the restroom.

  Mal then forwarded the message to Harry’s phone, and she stuffed it in her pocket. However, before they could even start toward Charlene, the device made another sound. Mal looked at it again, and it was Harry.

  “Can u call me? Have small problem,” the boy sent to her. Mal closed her eyes in exasperation, quite afraid indeed that Harry had done something that he most certainly was not supposed to do.

  So, Mal quickly ran her hand down Uma’s pocket, feeling for the other girl’s phone in the midst of her stress surrounding the fact that they were practically kicked out of the pet store and that Evie had been completely and utterly traumatized. Uma raised an eyebrow, her upper body leaning away from the faerie a bit as she tried to regain at least a small sense of personal space.

  “Is there some reason you’re doing that?” Uma questioned, and Mal withdrew Uma’s phone finally, putting it in Uma’s hand as she stuffed her own phone away.

  “Call Harry. According to him there’s a problem,” Mal informed her shortly, and Uma groaned deeply before dialing his number swiftly.

  It rang for a few moments before he picked up.

  “Ahoy, Cap’n,” Harry greeted on the other side of the line.

  “What did you do?” Uma simply asked, not hesitating for one moment.

  “We have an… ‘ittle bitty, tiny problem. ‘Tis certainly no reason to overreact, get cross, or blow up o’er-”

  “Did you get kicked out of Walmart?” Uma didn’t waste any time, already knowing from his overly large buildup that it was certainly something that she should get angry over.

  “Ah, well,” his voice got high-pitched for a moment, and Uma could picture him doing that oh-so-familiar gesture with his hook-covered hand, “yes. We did.”

  “Didn’t I tell you not to?!” Uma demanded, and Harry chuckled, knowing that he was definitely in big trouble.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you still sitting in the parking lot?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Get in your car and leave, moron! Go home where you’re not going to cause any more trouble!” Uma raised her voice.

  “I love you!” Harry announced in a sing-song tone of voice, and Uma just rolled her eyes.

  “And I hate you,” Uma shot back, but there was some tenderness beneath it.

  “Ah, ah, ah, ye know ye love me.”

  “Whatever. I keep you around, isn’t that good enough?” Uma informed him wittily but allowed a small laugh at the end to express her true feelings about it.

  They then expressed their goodbyes and Uma hung up before facing Mal, her eyes half-lidded.

  “Guess what we have to do?”

  “Go to the Walmart and buy everything that those two idiots didn’t get because they were kicked out?” Mal questioned, keeping Uma’s same tone as she faced the other girl.

  “Yep,” Uma simply replied.

  “With a talking dog in our midst?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Bring it on.”

[cherryyharryy]

Show and Tell

Harry and Y/N make their first public appearance, but things don’t go as expected.

I got this idea a few months ago but finally got the motivation for it the other day. Let me know what you think!!!!!

Part 1

She was going a little stir crazy. Okay, more than a little. But Harry had managed to keep y/n’s name out of people’s mouths whenever his was uttered, and so it seemed worth it, the secrecy, the separate cars, separate hotels... They’d escaped every fan pic and even the paparazzi wasn’t on their trail.

He’d had girlfriends before, and the older he got, the more his privacy became more sacred, so the desire to keep the girl on his arm out of the tabloids was crucial. And by the time y/n came along...he knew. He knew she was it for him, and he knew one day they’d find out about her, but for now he was going to do his best to avoid her pretty face being plastered over every magazine.

“Are you sure about this, H?”

He hummed, adjusting the glittered mask over his love’s face. “If I wasn’t sure, we wouldn’t be going.”

It was a birthday party. The invite alone cost more than y/n’s rent, and a sliver of her dignity when Harry suggested she join him since the dress code requested costumes. She didn’t know who’s birthday it was or where the shiny Bentley parked outside her apartment was taking them. All she knew was what Harry had told her about the lavish star-filled get-togethers he’d attended, and that this party was one of those that would start off classy and dignified with everyone acting like adults until someone inevitably switched gears and jumped on a table with too much wine in their system or dove into a pool with too many clothes on.

“Looks amazing, baby.”

Harry stepped back, tugging on his bottom lip with his freshly painted nails to admire the adjustments. Y/n had an elaborate mask—designed just for her at Harry’s request—hiding her face. It was a fox, an incredibly Gucci-esque-grownup-fox that molded to the shape of her face perfectly. Not too tight but with plenty of breathing room. Her eyes were hidden, and the faux fur Peter Pan collar around her neck hid the last of her skin not covered by the equally as sexy suit she had on.

“Here’s your gloves, darling. You can see alright, yeah? Need me to fix somethin’? Is it too hot?”

“Harry,” y/n giggled, “I’m fine. Actually feels pretty good, kind of empowering.” Once her white lace gloves were inched up her arms, resembling that of the animal’s, she did a little spin. “I like the heels.”

Harry’s eyes drifted down to her feet which were slipped into five-inch Louis Vuitton’s, then back up her body. “Your hair.”

“What about it?”

“I can see it,” he mumbled. “Didn’t think about that.”

“Well no one’s gonna recognize me from my hair alone, H.”

“Still, can’t be too careful.”

Y/n huffed as Harry dashed into the bathroom, following him to see his hands rifling through the cabinets.

“Oh no you don’t,” she chided, putting her hands up and backing away from his smirk. “That color looked dreadful on me.”

“It’ll wash out by Monday, love.” He was already shaking the can of hair color, an unfortunate match to y/n’s ensemble. “Now take that mask off and lean over the tub.”

***

Y/n had a bittersweet relief swimming through her brain. Because apparently attending a party with her boyfriend came with rules, and suddenly all the late nights spent dreaming about being by Harry’s side at whatever extravagant gathering he was at instead of on her couch were put into perspective.

“Don’t drink too much. And don’t go off on your own, can’t chance anyone tryin’ t’peak under your mask. Oh! And for the love of God, don’t talk.”

Harry’s rings were cold, cold enough for her to feel them through the dress shirt she wore under the jacket he refused to admit its price of when he brought it home. And his grip was tight, holding her close as if she’d get lost and never find her way back, which all in all, seemed like a potential possibility at the size of where they were. And she couldn’t guess where they were because that was all a secret. Everything was a secret, from the moment they met, and it wasn’t until a guy in a fish mask approached them with a bottle of wine in his hands that Harry’s sanity was dependent on her anonymity.

“Harry…”

“Hey, Jordan. How are you mate?”

“Thought that was you, you guys look great.”

Y/n nodded and looked over at Harry, who was decked out in a matching fox costume only his was less feminine, and he didn’t have to hide his hands or ruin his hair with cheap 24-hour dye.

“So, who’s this?”

Harry slapped Jordan’s hand away from its approach towards y/n’s mask, uttering out apologies while he pulled her closer. “It’s my uh, a friend.”

“Well can I get a name—”

“Excuse us.” Harry steered y/n away, practically dragging her from the mass of people fawning over each other’s intricate costumes.

“Harry,” she groaned, pushing his hands away. “What was that about?”

“M’sorry, I panicked.” He ran his hand through his hair, tugging on the ends. “I—I didn’t want anyone to know who you are.”

“Yeah I know,” she bit. “You’ve made that very clear.”

His shoulders slouched as he sucked in a breath. “M’just trying to protect you.”

She sighed, nodding her head. “I know. But most everyone knows you’re with someone, they just don’t know who. We’ve been together for almost two years now, I’ve earned the right to be called your girlfriend. You don’t have to hand out my blood type, but a little recognition won’t hurt.”

“Okay, you’re right.” His face was hidden, but it’d been two years, and she knew his lip was sore under his teeth and his brows were as high as they could go. “Come on, let’s go get a drink.”

***

Y/n was going to need more than a drink. Or, Alex, rather.

Alex was the name she’d been awarded with when the sixth person who inquired about who was under Harry’s companion’s mask had their hand gently pushed back down by his and those cold rings.

And she wasn’t just Alex, no. She was Alex the cousin, Alex the married hairstylist, even Alex, my sister’s best friend. And as the night drug on y/n’s patience dwindled away each time Harry patted her on the back while introducing her as some version of his friend.

“You want another drink, baby?”

“Why the hell are you whispering?”

Harry leaned in, lifting his mask an inch away from his skin. “So no one will know.”

Y/n was fuming. And Harry was lucky he couldn’t see her face, couldn’t see her lip curl at her boyfriend’s words or the glare she had steadied on him. “Right. Can’t have anyone finding out your little secret now, can we?”

“Sweetheart—”

“Don’t bother, H.”

She thrust her near empty glass into his hand and stomped off, slinking through the crowd until she found a door leading outside into the numb January air. Outside to what she now realized was a backyard, a very large, very expensive looking backyard. She followed a stone path into a garden, closed in by tall hedges, passing a dormant fountain until she found a little bench to settle on.

“Y/n?”

“Who’s y/n?”

Harry’s hair was a wild mess, face flushed under the moonlight with his mask hanging from the crook of his elbow. “What’re on about? Why’d you huff outta there like tha’?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She ripped the mask off her face, inhaling the cold night air and relishing the chilly sting soothing her warm skin.

“Y/n—”

“Who’s this y/n? I’m your...godson’s babysitter, remember? Or wait, wait, I forgot—your dogwalker’s mom.”

This time he saw the eye roll. And he definitely saw the grimace etched onto her face. “Okay,” he sighed defeated, “those are pathetic identities. But you have to admit they worked.” He chuckled, stepping closer to the bench and nodding at her legs propped up along the length of the seat. “Budge over, pet. And we can’t stay out here too long, s’freezing.”

She didn’t move, not for a few seconds until she swung her legs off, digging her heels into the ground as she stormed back towards the mansion. Once she reached the edge of the garden she turned around, crossing her arms and her ankles in a defying stance. “By the way, who the hell owns this place?”

Harry’s jaw slacked and he cleared his throat. “S’a, Benny’s.”

He stood there, staring at where she’d stood not two minutes ago and ran over the entire night in his mind, only in his head everything was playing out differently. She had a smile on that he could see, a smile that everyone tonight could see. But once reality hit and a heavy breeze grazed his skin, he made his way back, slipping the mask over his face to hide the tears sliding down his cheeks.

Read part 2 here.

[thebifrostgiant]

If You Know Where to Look - Part 7

Summary: in which you finally catch a break

Part 1 / Previous

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 2552

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Loki/Reader

*

Chapter 7: Before the Storm

Eir, as good as her word, returns with a bowl of some sort of food and a mug, both of them steaming, a short while after the prince had made his exit. She hands you the mug and sets the bowl aside, and seems to contemplate something as she looks at you. For your part, you simply bring the mug to your face and take small sips, letting the scalding tea distract you with its burn. It’s not overly helpful, but it keeps your hands from clenching into fists, keeps your mouth from yelling or screaming or sobbing.

Eir settles down onto the adjacent bed and waits. Her silent company is soothing, so much so that you wonder if it is simply the type of person she is, the underlying personality that makes her so well-suited to her trade, or if there is more to it than that. You don’t know very much about magic, but you realize that she, like Loki and the Queen, is adept at the art. If there are spells for healing, perhaps there are also spells that affect one’s mood. As much as you don’t like the thought of your head being tampered with — not that you genuinely are convinced Eir is deliberately influencing your emotions — the calmness you feel allows you to eat a little of the food from the bowl without much fear of upsetting your stomach. It’s a kind of soup, still mostly liquid, but with hearty chunks of vegetables and some strange, savory meat, so tender that your teeth slide right through it. It’s good, in fact, and you’re suddenly reminded of just how long it’s been since you’ve had a proper meal, and, despite the recent emotional upheaval Asgard’s second prince had put you through, you are hungry, and you find yourself eating at a rate that’s probably impolite. But if Eir was one for judgement, she’d have doled any manner of it out by now.

Once you’ve eaten, Eir invites you to try standing, to test the parameters of your recovering body. She holds your elbow in a loose grip, and helps you navigate the room. It’s dizzying, at first, being upright after so long lying, but the dark cast of your vision clears and your head stops swimming soon enough. Besides a bit of lingering soreness in your limbs, and the weariness of receding epinephrine, you feel relatively well overall. Physically, anyway. You’re not entirely sure how you feel emotionally, other than overwhelmed and yet strangely numb, like you’ve used up all your stores and just can’t find it in you to push at it. The fight inside you has slumped over in exhaustion.

Still, it feels good to stretch you legs, and as you gain stability, Eir lets go of you entirely, and lets you amble around the hall. You make a detour to the adjacent washroom — a spacious, vaulted room with a basin meant for bathing built into the floor and a strangely echoey quality — when the broth you had earlier makes its presence known. You spend some time letting the warm water from the faucet run over your hands and splashing it on your face, unused to such luxury, and relishing the chance to wash away all the accumulated stress and sweat from the day.

There’s a full, clear mirror above the sink, and you examine your still-wet face in it, the water making your eyelashes clump together and the hair on your forehead stick. You look at your disheveled hair, the sleeping gown that doesn’t favor your complexion, the scar. It’s even worse than you’d imagined, thick and long and raised, the shiny redness of it standing out starkly. But it’s a clean line, a straight cut, and not as hideously mangled as you’d feared both from your fingers’ tactile examination of it and from Prince Loki’s horrified expression when he’d seen it. Somehow, seeing it, actually forcing yourself to look and see it in all its glory helps you breath easier, the dread of doing so over with. It’s not pleasant by any means, ghastly thing that it is, but... it’s not as bad as it could be, it’s not the worst possible outcome. You tear your gaze away and dry your face on a towel more fluffy and soft than the down of a newborn lamb.

When you step back into the hall, Eir greets you with a smile that suggests good news.

“You seem to be recovering swiftly, as I thought you might,” she says with a wink. “You should be set to go by midday tomorrow at that latest. I do want to try to get a few more meals into you to keep you hydrated and help replenish the blood you lost. But for now, I’ll let you sleep, because you certainly need it.”

Her words are not unkind, despite being rather blunt. Instead, they have something of a conspiratorial lilt to them, like Eir knows first hand what dealing with Prince Loki is like. And you suppose she does, considering how she’d spoken of him earlier, the insight to his character she’d been aware of. That amuses you, even as you consider the undertones of affection therein. She seems to like the prince, for reasons beyond your fathoming.

Eir bids you goodnight, and as the doors snick closed behind her, you let yourself flop down onto the wonderfully plump and cushy pillows, letting them and the warm quilt surround and cradle you as you stop struggling against the urge to drift off and away.

***

When you wake, to a breeze stirring your hair and sunlight hitting your face, you think for a heart-stopping moment that you are back in the forest again, back in Einvald’s tent among the furs, alone, afraid, and at the uncertain mercy of an ignoble man. But you can smell something warm and sweet and there’s a pillow under your head and you’re clutching the edge of a quilt — a quilt! not a fur! — in your fists and you open your eyes. It all comes back to the present when you see the gauzy curtain billowing out slightly as it catches in the air from the window, open wide to let the early morning seep into the room, and there’s a wooden tray beside your bed holding thick slabs of soft, white bread slathered in honey and butter and another steaming mug of tea. Beside it is a pile of fresh clothing, folded up and stacked neatly.

You feel boneless with relief. Eir, you remember. She had promised to bring food for you, here, in one of the healing halls of the palace. No tent. No bound arms, no hand at your throat. Just the bed, the wide window, and your breakfast. You pull the tray into your lap and begin to eat. The bread is lighter and milder than the malty barley loaves you would often bake with your mother at home, but the honey is fresh, and sweeter than any jam, and the rich, melty butter that soaks into all the crevices is simply divine. You close your eyes in sheer bliss, feeling a bit spoiled and grateful to Eir, and let yourself enjoy a last little moment of freedom before you become a full-fledged servant of the palace, and to the future princess, no less.

Once you’ve drained the last of your tea and there is nothing but crumbs left of the marvelous bread, Eir comes back in to check on you. She has you walk around some more, eyes carefully examining you, and asks a few questions about your wellbeing. She nods, satisfied, when you tell her than you’re feeling nearly back to normal, thanks to her, and as she directs you to sit back in bed, she leans down close to you.

“You have a visitor who should be arriving any moment now,” she says, and there’s mirth in her eyes, like she’s holding back a secret. It dawns on you that perhaps this is why she cares for Loki, this hint of mischief she shares, but it’s got nothing of the Prince’s sort of malice. “Hurry up and get dressed,” she says and pats the stack of clothes. “I’ll send him in when he gets here.”

And soon, you’re alone again, scooping up the clothes and, once you’re sure you’re out of view of the open window, yanking the nightgown over your head quickly, because the last thing you want is for him to come in while you’re half dressed. Not that you have any idea who is about to walk through those doors. You did more or less leave Loki’s question unanswered — or the pretense of such, at any rate — but you certainly hope it is not to be him. You certainly hope Eir wouldn’t be so smug if it were the case, too. At this point, you’d welcome a visit from Prince Thor, or even the Allfather, awkward and mortifying as that would be, respectively, just to not have to see the younger prince again, not so soon. You imagine avoiding him altogether will be nigh impossible, if you’re to be working for his bride, but still.

You shake your head at yourself and your silly dreams and shove your legs into the simple cloth leggings and wrestle the tunic until your arms are coming out the right holes and you can pull it over your head. It falls to your knees and fits you loosely, by no means uncomfortable, but not very shapely or flattering, although the slate grey color is rather tasteful. You think, perhaps, as you’re sliding on a pair of plain slippers, that this is how most of the servants of the palace dress, but you haven’t seen any to confirm that surmise.

You’re shaking your hair free from the high collar of the tunic when there’s a knock at the door that reverberates through the hall and sounds doubly loud. Definitely not the prince, then.

“Come in,” you call, loudly enough to be heard but without shouting, as you comb your fingers through the ends of your hair to try to tame the worst of the tangles.

A man walks in, tall, with his black hair tied up behind his head, boots clicking on the floor. Your eyes widen in disbelief, as he steps closer to you, mouth falling open. No, you wouldn’t have thought-

He stops in front of you, and grins.

And then you laugh, bright and clear and delighted. Without another thought, you run forward and throw your arms about your brother, still laughing and smiling as he catches you and hugs you back.

“You’ve no idea how good it is to see you,” you mumble into his shoulder and then pull away, looking up at him.

“I do actually,” he tells you quietly, uncharacteristically serious, but still smiling. “You scared us all pretty badly,” he says and you can only assume that’s something of an understatement. “But I’m glad you’re alright. I think you might have gotten the worse end of things.”

You swallow thickly, nodding, in that instant reminded of the scar on your cheek that he has no doubt seen by now. But he isn’t staring, isn’t even looking at it, and you try to pretend that that doesn’t relieve you as much as it does.

“Yeah. I’m... I’m glad that’s over,” is all you can really manage to say. And you mean it. By Yggdrasil, you mean it.

“Mother and Father would have come too, wanted to come and cry over you and all that, but they’ve been tied up with getting the oats harvested, and Suvituuli’s just had her foal, and there’s not many hands to be spared. And, of course, Búrakki’s decided now’s the time to start harassing Ukko’s geese again.” You share a knowing, fond smile at that last, because, like he said, of course. “Honestly, they couldn’t really even spare me to come, but they insisted, and, well, I didn’t fight them too much.”

And it’s the closest you’re going to get to him saying he wanted to check on you and that he missed you, but the words warm you no less for their appearance of superficiality. You can translate.

“I guess you’ll have to suffice,” you tease back, because he can translate too.

He snorts in mock offense, and afterwards, there’s a momentary silence as you both let everything sink in. Then your brother unceremoniously plunks himself down on your bed, pulling his feet up and everything, and turns to you with an eyebrow raised.

“So... I hear you’ll be wiping the soon-to-be princess’s ass from now on.”

***

Talking to your brother is... nice. Unexpectedly nice. It’s second nature to fall back into the familiar flow between you, back and forth in meter, a seamless mix of easy chatter and the deeper, more unspoken understanding you share. You feel lighter for it, like you don’t have anything to hide or be ashamed of, like it’s okay, because no matter what you do or are, you’ll still have a friend who will stick by you with acceptance and a sly retort on the ready.

A wave of pure affection washes over you, and for a moment, you can almost forget that anything was ever wrong, that anything bad ever happened, that anything would happen. But all too soon, you find yourself waving your brother goodbye after a last hug and a promise to write as often as possible, and being escorted through the palace to the chambers of the woman Prince Loki intends to marry.

The corridors are vast and there are many turns that you’ll no doubt forget entirely, and it’s almost overwhelming, but the sheer magnificence of the place distracts you well enough and you wonder at all the polished marble and gold everywhere, the precisely chiseled statues and finely woven tapestries on display, the paintings so detailed they’re virtually lifelike. Even the windows are grand, some with colorful glass that stains the light spilling through a myriad of bright blues and vivid reds and soft amber tones, all arranged in breathtaking mosaics of orchards and gardens and forests.

You almost lose your guide as you stare for too long at a full-sized sculpture of a very handsome, but strangely eight-legged horse. Or at least, you think it is a sculpture. The artist clearly has spared no details, for the stallion’s eyes look dewy and soft as any horse’s, with long lashes and a silky mane, and the rippling muscles and hide look so true to life, you’re almost sure that if you reached out, you’d be able to feel the warmth of the flesh beneath your hand, feel the feathery twitch of his nostrils as you stroked his nose. It’s only the sound of fading footsteps that drags you out of your musings, and you snatch your hand away and hurry after the servant boy who’s been leading you silently through the halls.

Eventually, your wide-eyed tour through the grandeur of Asgard comes to a halt at the door of your new mistress, and the boy scurries off, leaving you alone and daunted. Still, you determinedly raise your hand and deliver what you hope is a sharp, strong knock.

Part 8

[muppeteyes1001]

Useless Details Ask Meme II: ALL OF THEM X'D

Getting closer:

× what does your muse smell like? what perfume/cologne are they using?

Kitt uses a lot of scented conditioners that smell like sweets and fruits since those are her favorite ones to use. She also uses perfume from time to time, but never too much of it. She would sometimes carry a tiny perfume bottle that she wears on a chain around her neck. It’s so strong that only one or two dabs on her finger are enough to do the job XD

� do they shower often? every day or just every couple of days? 

Since Kitt has smooth fur, she tends to shower every other day instead of ever day since it would make her skin dry out. Her fur contains natural oils that keep it healthy and shiny X)

♻ how about brushing teeth? three times a day, or just in the morning? 

Twice a day! ... In the morning and before bed.

⌘ do they rather shower or take a bath? 

She enjoys both! 

♀ how long does your muse usually need for a shower/bath? 

If she’s in a bath, it usually means that she just wants to relax and take her time to be alone with her thoughts .. Especially after a long, hard day. She enjoys using bath bombs or bubble baths during those times. Her showers are generally shorter.

⚣ how long does your muse need to shave? (this is also for the ladies!) 

Lol! .. Kitt’s a humanoid feline .. So, shaving’s absolutely out of the question XD

♂ does your muse put on make-up? how long do they need for it every day? 

She rarely ever applies any make up. Plus, it’s rather pointless to apply it onto fur XD

⚢ what kind of make-up does your muse use? favourite colours? how much do they use?

If it’s a special occasion, Kitt would put on a bit of eyeshadow .. something dark in color like indigo or mulberry since they go well with her coat colors .. But that’s just about it.

Exploring their body:

♤ does your muse have any scars? where? what do they look like? how did they get them? 

Kitt does have a scar on the side of her neck she received from a fight that she nearly lost. She’s rather embarrassed by it since it’s left a bare patch of skin where the injury was. She rarely talks about it and keeps it hidden from others behind a choker or high collar shirt.

♧ any freckles/moles/birth marks? where? 

Back when she was human, she did have a small mole by her left eye. Though now with her fur it’s hidden, but it appears as a black spot on her fur in the same place X)

♡ are their fingernails dirty or clean? cut/long? 

Kitt has more claw-like nails. However, they are slightly blunt and not as sharp. They are are not long and are easy for her to clean.

♢ how much do they weigh? 

She has a rather small, slender build and weights around 115 lbs.

♠ any ‘weird’ characteristics on their body? one leg/arm longer than the other?

Other than having dark-golden, striped and spotted fur covering her whole body .. Nope, not really XD

♣ are their veins particularly visible when they’re angry/upset/sad? 

None that can really be visible, no.

♥ do they have more muscles or more fat on their body? 

Kitt has a pretty lean body. She has to have that in order to do all the quick climbing and stealth work needed for her heists.

♦ any tattoos? where? what’s the story behind them?

Nope!

Open your closet:

⦂ what clothes do they sleep in? 

Depends, really! ... She would usually sleep wearing a light blouse or nightie ... Sometimes, on really warm nights, she will sleep in the nude since her body’s already covered in a coat of fine fur X)

♚ do they have a favourite piece of clothing? 

Hard to say, honestly! .. But, she does have a pretty decent number of assorted top hats that she enjoys wearing with her outfits all the time.

And boots, of course XD

❅ what do they usually wear when they’re not working? 

Her normal garb is not all that different from her work wear. Though, if we’re talking about like lounging wear for around the house, she would usually wear a blouse or shirt with leggings or shorts. 

☏ what do they wear when they’re at work? 

She would wear her top hat (which also serves as an extra place to hold some of her tools .. such as goggles, lock picks, etc). Her light trench coat, a satchel strapped to her that contains needed items, gloves, and boots.

₤ how many shoes do they have? what kind? 

Kitt loves boots and has quite the collection of them. Some with heels and some without. 

Σ how many purses do they have? 

Kitt doesn’t really own any purses. She usually has satchels that strap to her belt or thighs. These are much more convenient for her, especially if she’s working or when she’s traveling. 

⌚ how long do they need to decide what to wear in the morning? 

Depends if it’s for work or not! .. She will normally have her clothing out beforehand .. Plus, it’s very rare for her to do heists during the day. She’s very much a night owl XD

⌛ do they go shopping for clothes often? how long do they usually need? 

Kitt doesn’t shop that often, shockingly enough XD ... Though it depends on where she is visiting. Some places have clothes or accessories that far fit her tastes more than others. If she finds a few favorable shops, she would purchase what she's able to ... And without busting her budget XD

$ how much money do they spend on clothes every month?

Depends on how much she gains from her heists. Some months are better than others. She honestly doesn’t really spend that much on clothes since she tends to be rather picky on her style ... Not to mention it can be difficult to find what she likes at times XD

[elasianstar]

The World on a Turtle’s Back Chapter 8

RAPHAEL’S POV

My brothers were setting up for a movie night when Elasia came into the living room. Instead of being in the pajamas we expected her to be wearing she was in her training leathers, she threw a shiny gold top over it and was wearing a studded leather jacket over that. Her hair was styled and she was wearing bold makeup.

“I'm going out with my brothers for the night on flock business, I want you guys to just stay put while I'm gone. I'll be back around 2AM, don't stay up for me.”

We waited until we heard the sounds of their motorcycles leave before stealing the keys to the van. In our defense they were right on a hook in the kitchen. Donnie had snuck a tracker on her bike the last time she had brought it to the lair and we followed at a safe distance into the depths of the city.

They were in what looked like an old warehouse district, ancient factories with busted windows and graffiti tags line either side of an abandoned railroad line. One of the buildings stood out from the rest, it was about 10 stories tall and painted with an alien landscape. It was just like one of the drawings in Elasia’s sketchbooks. In the foreground however was the beastly figure of a troll with clownish face paint, leaned over the form of a scantily clad woman with a knife held behind her back. The neon sign over the door called the place the dark carnival.

Donnie pulled the van into an alleyway nearby and we took to the rooftops sneaking into the building via the air conditioning vents. Club music echoed through the vents and as we followed the sound, lights and fog let us know we were on the right track.

“Aww no fair, Angelface went partying without us!”

“Like we could go with her blockhead, we'd be shot down as monsters before we got to the door.”

“I don't think so Raph, look through here.”

Donnie was peering through the vents with his goggles as he waved us down.

The whole place was one central room with walkways going around it all the way up. On every level mythicals and humans danced and drank and had a good time while on the stage below a man with hands that looked like bird feet and aviator shades scratched records with another man with the tail of a snake instead of legs. People with colored skin and bug wings danced and performed aerial acrobatics from long silks hanging from the ceiling while furred folk showed off on the lower dance floor. A large twisted tree grew in the center of the building and glowed strange colors in the blacklights.

“Sick, we should totally be down there!”

Leo stopped Mikey from opening the vents by pulling him back by the edge of his shell.

“Hold back, there's a reason Elasia wanted us to stay at the farmhouse. We scope that out first.”

“Well then let's at least find a vent with a dance floor view, I wanna watch Time Reaper and Union Jack drop fat beats!”

“Time Reaper and Union Jack?”

“You didn't see the big shiny sign on the DJ booth man? Crow dude and snake man, Leo!”

“Fine Raph you take him down while donnie and i stay up here.

but we stay put until I give the signal, got it?.”

We found a nice grate just to the left of the curtained stage so Mikey could watch the DJ’s work. On closer inspection the crow man also had a bird’s feet and tail, his body giving off the same smoke as the nightmare back at the farm. He had a broken sword hanging on his hip from a heavy gold chain and his band t-shirt had a hole in the center where red stained bandages wrapped around his scrawny chest. The snake man had bright green scales scattered over his shoulders like freckles and was wearing a tank top bearing a British flag. Around his throat he wore a spiked dog collar and sharp yellow claws tipped fingerless gloved hands that shot across the turntables. His wild blonde hair was streaked with the same acidic green as his scales and his slitted yellow eyes were ringed in thick black eyeliner.

There was a man with frosted hair and glowing blue eyes working the bar, when the hand that wasn't wearing a white silk glove touched the glasses they would become frosted over with ice. He wore a baby blue suit jacket over a slightly unbuttoned shirt, a black bow tie tied around his bare neck.

Two women with grey skin and orange horns worked the bar with him, each wearing different shades of blue. The smaller one in teal wore bright red shades and a bright red leather jacket that ended just above her midriff. Her hair was cut in a bob, the ends curling upwards and streaked with teal. Her “sister" had longer hair streaked with cobalt and she wore a heavy bikers jacket covered in studs over a dark blue tee. Her shades had been broken on one side leaving a sharply winged eye to gaze bitchily at her patrons while the other side glinted with 7 red gemstones pressed into the glass.

I couldn't see Elasia or her brothers anywhere.

After a while of watching the club patrons having fun the lights went out and the music stopped dead. Signaling for mikey to stay put I moved a little further down the vent shaft to try and regain a visual. The sound of the curtains on the stage rising was all I could hear until the crow DJ started speaking in low smooth tones.

“Ladies and Gentlemen and Beings of all configurations, the dark carnival is proud to present to you, Furie and the BFT!”

The scaled DJ was lit by blacklight on the left of the stage, a union jack guitar hung from his shoulders over a white button up shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down. As he started to play a familiar melody the lights faded in on the bass player, a tall young man with shoulder length blonde hair, a single curl hanging in front of swirling blue and violet eyes. He was meek but the notes from his sparkling white bass guitar were strong and deep. A pair of moose antlers stood proud over his skull as long bony fingers plucked the strings. The crow DJ came up behind him to compliment the bass with cool smooth piano notes, his shades were gone and his skin had turned to shadow behind bright red eyes. Finally the drummer came into the light, he looked a lot like the bassist but his skin was California tan, thick muscle peeking out from under a ripped Tee instead of his brother’s sinew and bone. his shorter hair was honey blonde instead of pale cornsilk, a single cowlic stuck up from the front over deep blue eyes the same shade as the blacklight. He had an American flag the shape of a star painted on his right cheek.

the guitarist slithered up to the mic.

--”On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair,

Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air.

Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim

I had to stop for the night.”

The dark empty stage was lit by a single amber spotlight through the mist. Elasia stood there, wings slightly spread, her outfit had been replaced by a sheer dress that shimmered, metallic gold outlining every dip and curve. Underneath she wore a skintight black leotard.

--”There she stood in the doorway;

I heard the mission bell

And I was thinking to myself,

‘This could be Heaven or this could be Hell’”

Her bare arms moved like water, tangling themselves in her hair and winding around her body

with the flow of the music. Her wings shifting around her body to show a flash of skin here and there as she danced.

--”Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way

There were voices down the corridor,

I thought I heard them say…”

The other members of the band joined in the chorus as three dimmer lights revealed the trio, each one wearing dark tights, their colored shirts unbuttoned and their wings high and strong.

--”Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)

Such a lovely face

Plenty of room at the Hotel California

Any time of year (Any time of year)

You can find it here”

They stood in pose as she wound her way through them, delicate hands touching skin as she practically used them as stationary objects to flip and twirl off of before spinning away. once again solo in her spotlight as they came to life in the background.

--”Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes Benz

She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends

How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.

Some dance to remember, some dance to forget.”

She worked with each one of them in turn, first in waltz, blue light overtaking her form and hiding it under an elegant ball gown. Second in a bouncing fox trot, her dress turning the same rich plum as her lips under ruby light. Third she danced a scandalous tango sparked with twirling gold bathed in rich emerald. Each dance held a spark of intimacy, a strong hand holding the wide-set hipbones of a bird, the other cradling the lower back as if in an embrace. Slender fingers entwined in gold, white, and chocolate hair, she caressed their faces as if they were lovers before spinning away leaving them forgotten. i felt a knot tying itself in my stomach while something in my chest was practically trying to shove me through the vent toward her.

--”So I called up the Captain,

"Please bring me my wine"

He said, "We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine"

And still those voices are calling from far away,

Wake you up in the middle of the night

Just to hear them say…

Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)

Such a lovely face

They livin' it up at the Hotel California

What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)

Bring your alibis.”

Dropping to the floor she spread her body long against the smooth dark floor, obscured by the smoke. A flash of a limb or the shadow of an impossible pose being the only sign of her as the three males danced in an acrobatic tandem, wings spread like fallen angels if the faces of nearly every woman watching were any indicator.

--”Mirrors on the ceiling,

The pink champagne on ice

And she said ‘We are all just prisoners here, of our own device’”

Rising up onto her toes like a long silk scarf lifted by a fan she pointed her leg straight up into the air, arms wrapped around it as if chained. Her wings were spread straight out behind her, sparkling with golden stars against a deep velvet night as she spun slowly around her makeshift post. Her skin was dyed gold in the light, only to be broken by her markings and scars, a silver spiders web tempting those watching to edge closer. I lent against the vent, the light squeak of protest causing me to hold back. I wanted to see more of her.

--”And in the master's chambers,

They gathered for the feast

They stab it with their steely knives,

But they just can't kill the beast!”

The trio surrounded her as she faked struggling against her “restraints” each one drawing back as if raising a knife only to bring empty fists down harmlessly against her body. She arched her back in fake pain, eyes having been nearly closed the entire time flying open wide, mouth open in a silent scream before dropping once again to the floor.

--”Last thing I remember, I was

Running for the door

I had to find the passage back

To the place I was before

‘Relax,’ said the nightman,

‘We are programmed to receive.

You can check-out any time you like,

But you can never leave!’”

Her movements changed now, crouched low against the floor. her eyes glowed with hunger and her dance took on a predatory stance. moving sharply and pausing in positions mimicking a wildcat stalking it's prey from cover. The amber light turned blood red and her dress took on a similar appearance against her snow white skin. Emerging from the fog, her golden halo of a spotlight gone, she encountered each man again in turn. Instead of her varying dances of seduction from before she danced a sharp and violent pasodoble. claws raked skin harmlessly, carefully practiced to avoid hurting her partners. As she finished her mouth fell to each one's throat as they fell back into placid compliance.

The Snake man's hypnotic voice faded to the music as each of the men lifted her in tandem from behind, her arms and legs held back as her wings spread wide. She looked like a goddess ruling over her subjects as they twirled her gracefully through the air. Trading her off between them in spectacular acts of timing and skill. Finally she was passed to Francis as their wings mingled in perfect contrast, sunlit white to rich black, spinning together as all the lights faded out.

My hands balled into fists against the jealous fire in my belly.

…

When the lights came back on the dancefloor was empty, each of the dancers placed nonchalantly amongst the crowd and redressed in their clothes from earlier. The crow and snake were back behind the DJ table and the audience exploded back to life with the opening to The Monster by Eminem.

I heard the light crackle of my radio as my brothers chattered across the airwaves.

“Did you guys see that, talk about hot, i can feel my shell tightening!”

“ Mikey show a little decorum, those are her brothers and Elasia is our friend.”

“Those acrobatic maneuvers were impressive though, who knew her body could bend and twist like that. could prove to be a significant combat advantage in close quarters.”

“Now we know why she didn't invite us along.”

“Yeah yeah we get it, now is this little recon mission over? I'm heading back to the fuckin van”

“Somebody has a crush on Elasia!”

Mikey’s teasing tone had me gritting my teeth as i rounded the corner of the vent, when he saw my face his mouth snapped closed and he started crawling away through the vents as quickly as he could and remain silent. I chased him through the tunnels back toward Leo and Donnie’s scout point, making threatening lunges for him to get him to move a little faster, put a bit of fear back in him. When we got to the last corner of the vent though we heard the sound of rending steel before the floor of the vent fell out from under us.

The impact of my shell against the concrete floor knocked the wind out of me so hard that i almost didn't see the glowing tree twist around on itself to break Donnie’s fall, The entire room was silent as every eye was on us. When i got back on my feet and shook off the sheet rock and concrete dust i looked up to meet Elasia’s eyes. Her face was twisted in anger and in something i couldn't place. there was a smudge of something red on the corner of her mouth.

The crowd started to murmer, a single word forming, Golem.

I looked behind me to check on my brothers to stall. The glowing tree was bending down to the floor to gently set Donnie on the ground. leo was helping him out of the tree because his legs were shaking, his eyes were wide behind his glasses where they had been knocked askew on his face during the fall. The chant of the crowd was getting louder, the same word over and over.

“Golem.”

Elasia brushed past me, her wing grazing my arm as she went to Donnie. She grabbed his hand turning it over before wrapping him in a hug. She lifted his arm into the air like the victor of a boxing match for everyone to see. In dark black was a triangle tattoo similar to Leo’s except his was marked by another line that sliced the tip off of the triangle pointing down toward his elbow.

“The Golem has returned!”

Leo grabbed donnie’s other hand raising his arm to show his mark, the word Undine joining the murmurs of the collected creatures.

“The Undine! The spirits of the West and the North live amongst us once again!”

Her brothers and the band members surrounded us to hold off the swarming crowds as Elasia wrapped us in her wings, shoving us through a door behind the stage.

“You four are in so much fucking trouble when we get home, I TOLD YOU to stay at the house and now all of Elasia knows your faces! Splinter is going to kill me!”

“You are the one who just started announcing us to the crowd!”

“I had to, one of the guardians of myth just fell through the fucking ceiling and willed a diamondwood tree to bend! If i hadn't spoken there would have been pandemonium!”

“My scans should have caught the weakness in the vent shaft, this is my fault. I didn't intend for this to happen…”

Donnie’s anxiety was ramping up into high gear, as he rocked gently, running his fingers over his straps to try and calm himself. It hasn't been this bad since we were kids. Mikey got to him first, putting one hand over his chest and one on his shell.

“Its ok Donnie, bro, just breath. That's right in and out, what's the 28th digit of pie... 34th.... 14th.... 65th? Just keep breathing.... steady.... You good Don?”

Donnie nodded, pulling on his mask tails to ground himself. Elasia knelt in front of him careful not to do anything that might trigger an aftershock.

“Donnie, Donatello look at me hun. It wasn't your fault, your soul was merely responding to the danger, just like how Leo shoved us out of the lake. Do you understand?”

Donnie nodded, pushing his glasses back up on his beak.

“You were born with a gift, it would have manifested itself sooner or later. This wasn't your fault, don't ever be ashamed of being who you are.”

She turned his hand over and traced the mark on his wrist, it glowed bright green.

“Donatello Hamato, You’ve been chosen as the Golem. Your soul will survive the test of eternity, your body and mind will be as steady as the ground, your soul one with the plants and the stone of the earth. Be proud of who you are as the mountain never bows to the pressures of the sky.”

Elasia’s pov

I followed the van home on my bike, inside i could see three of the brothers souls huddled together while Leonardo drove. Donnie took a little to pull out of his panic but his brothers were quick to act, even Raphael stopping his brotherly bullying to comfort his hatchmate. I had hoped that the brothers would take their awakenings with more and more ease as each took on their new abilities but it seemed that the mixture of the unexpected fall, the overwhelming attention, and my own outburst had triggered Donnie’s anxiety. I had suspected he had some minor anxiety issues stemming from being the quiet and often overlooked brother but he had gone into a full panic attack. I would have to apologise when things leveled back out with the brothers.

When we got back they all headed to their rooms without a word but a few minutes later I heard all four voices coming from the morning suite. They would probably end up sleeping in a pile, they usually ended up doing that when one of them was overly stressed or injured.

I was dressing down for the night when I heard a light knock on my door.

“Come in Leo, it's unlocked.”

When he entered his eyes immediately scanned the space for potential escape points before landing on me with an ice cold resolve. I gestured for him to sit on one of the four plush cushions on the floor around a short card table.

“Tea?”

I gestured to the black teaset in the center of the table, it was painted with the ethereal forms of running animals in bright silver. After regarding the set he nodded, watching as i poured two cups before taking a seat on the cushion opposite from him at the table.

“You wanted to talk with me?”

“What are you doing Elasia?”

I set my cup down with a sigh.

“Honestly i'm not doing anything, i simply wanted to give you four a week out of the city, a chance to see that you don't need to keep yourselves hidden in the shadows of those sewer tunnels all your lives. I mean i had my suspicions about your latent abilities after handling your souls, but if my radiant magic energies didn't trigger your awakening in the month i've spent with you guys i was convinced that my suspicions were false. The events of today were not a part of my plan in the least.”

He sipped his tea slowly before speaking, his voice taking on his “leader tone”

“So you did have a plan, i suspected as much, watching you train, you never fail to have some hidden trick in place when you would get into a tight corner.”

“Yes, though the main plan was to simply get you four some much needed down time, i was also hoping that through the course of the week i would become closer with one of your younger brothers.”

he sipped his tea, contemplating the swirling tea leaves in the cup as his face subtly twitched through his thoughts..

“You're good for him, since you started your secret training every week, he hasn't been as prone to his usual outbursts. Something about you is almost taming him.”

“So you noticed… i haven't been doing anything to change Raphael, i've only been showing him how to deal with his own abilities. I showed him how to deal with the overwhelming influx of emotion he felt on a daily basis and over time what started as simple acts of compassion, turned into more.”

“I don't understand, you say that Raph possess some sort of supernatural sensitivity to emotion?”

the cup was on the table now, half finished.

“It's called Empathy, it's typically a rather common skill, even humans can become skilled empaths with the correct training. What you interpreted as an extremely brash and aggressive nature in Raph was simply him becoming overwhelmed by the influx of emotions he was naturally feeling from the people around him. Once i taught him to block out and deal with those ambient emotions his true self started to shine through, he really is quite a kind and caring person, he just has a skewed way of expressing that.”

“Yes, chasing mikey through the vents with threats to rip his shell off is definitely affectionate.”

“Well that explains why you fell through the ceiling, but think for a moment, has Raph ever seriously hurt any of you?”

He thought for a moment.

“Not Donnie or Mikey but he has left me with a few good cuts and bruises over the years.”

“That is mostly because you fed most of his intrusionary emotions, he was compounding your anger on top of his own. But truly think, Raphael bench presses 1000 pounds as a basic workout. If he really wanted to hurt you, don't you think he could?’

The look on leo’s face told me everything i needed to know, the young man literally wears his emotions on his face. He had never thought about Raph pulling his punches, he was only thinking of the surface emotion of his interaction with his next eldest sibling. Interpreting the words coming out of his mouth as his intention instead of looking any deeper.

“A good leader understands how his charges think.”

He nodded, eyes returning to the cup, his face so muddled with emotion that i had trouble reading him.

“I think i understand what you had meant now.”

“I didn't tell you any of this, i promised Raph that this information wouldn't get out. But i don't lie to my coven. You four are as close to me as my own brothers.”

“They aren't even your real family.”

“The blood of covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. When you've lived as many times as i have you come to realize the truth of that statement, you will as well someday.”

He stood to leave, bowing slightly in thanks before turning to go,  stopping in the door though he turned to me.

“You said you had suspicions, did that include all of us?”

“The Sylph and Salamander will wake in their own time. For now i believe your brothers may need your presence, there is a storm on the horizon.”

[thethrillof]

so remember that sort-of-underfell thing i wrote that one time

well i did some more b/c Fuck It

They're presented with a robe and a cape, both made of surprisingly fine silks. A pair of boots, shiny and sturdy. A glittering crown sized to fit on top of their head properly rather than accounting for horns.

It's all beautiful, but Frisk isn't satisfied.

They're hard for monsters to read, but it's getting easier, even just a few days later. Mettaton nearly falls over himself, holding their robe up with new hands (still claws, but blunt now). "Look, darling--I, ah, your Majesty, it's perfectly sized for you! But, b-but, if it's uncomfortable, I'll tear it up myself and make you a new one!"

His mouth's stretched in a grin so wide it looks painful. Frisk shakes their head and says he doesn't need to do anything like that, but...they'll wait to try it on.

They watch as his expression wars with disappointment and relief, until he realizes how they're looking at him and bows sharply, hiding his face with his hair. "Of course, d--your Majesty," he says, and he backs out of the room before they can tell him they're fine with being called 'darling'. They're not about to call him back--they've tried that a few times with various monsters for simple questions about food or places, and only Undyne didn't cringe.

Everyone's on edge, and so's Frisk, but they're doing their best to keep it down. Surprisngly few monsters see it as weakness--they've yet to be assassinated, though Papyrus and Undyne both have been whispering in their ear about the threats they're bound to face.

Well. Undyne has. Papyrus couldn't whisper to save his life, though they watched him try when he came in and gave them the boots, marking their first conversation since they challenged the old King.

Reverently, "YOUR MAJESTY! ALLOW ME TO PRESENT YOU WITH MY FINEST PAIR OF SHOES!" To their guilty surprise, the boots were great, too, and according to Sans, he'd made them himself. His cosplay skills are a lot better than his cooking skills. There wasn't any time to comment once they took them before he left the throne room too, but they didn't have any problem hearing his explosive glee in the hall: "DID YOU SEE THAT, SANS? UNDYNE! OUR MONARCH LOVES IT!"

Undyne is the one who gave them their crown. She's not at all hot-blooded anymore, which makes them uncomfortable. She's the only one who still calls them "human" and "punk", and even "Royal brat," which they find silly and far more comfortable despite the fact she rumbles the words out as insult. It's nice not to have somebody afraid of them...though they don't like being a little afraid of her. There's a chance she might kill them in her odd grief. "Asgore was the worst of us and the best of us," she told them, and they suppose they'll learn what that actually means one day. "You can't replace him, you're too SOFT! But I can see you're not about to give up trying."

Maybe that's enough, maybe that's respect. There's going to be a proper crowning ceremony in front of all of This Great Kingdom, but Undyne had to put it on their head before 'cause Alphys said to make sure it fit. She would've just put a spear through their chest if they didn't have the slightest worthiness to her.

Frisk asks for a mirror and stares at themselves.

The crown is darker than shadow, inlaid with dozens of tiny rubies, carefully angled in heart shapes. The cape's a flowing red, trimmed with something fuzzy, black and white, sort of like fur but stranger against their fingers. (Where would monsters get real fur, anyway?) The robe is flowing and shimmers when the light catches it, every dark inch, aside from the red inlaid against their chest--the Delta Rune--and the white around the edges of their sleeves and slightly raised collar.

They ask their partner why it all looks like that.

* Like what?

Frisk points out the colors. The rest of monsters wear these colors, and the buildings are decorated with them, and the entire throne room aside from the flowers are a mess of black and white and red that make their eyes hurt when they stare too hard. It's what got them caught, got them identified as human more than anything else about them, their shirt of blue with pink stripes.

Their partner scoffs at them.

* You really don't know? * ... * Tell me. What do those colors remind you of?

Frisk doesn't hesitate. The red makes them think of their SOUL and roses. The white makes them think of snow. The black makes them think of the night sky.

Their partner shocks them with a laugh. An incredulous one, but it feels more real than it ever did before, and Frisk allows themselves a grin while the other composes their voice.

* No. No, that isn't it at all... * You're so naive. * Red is the color of human blood and remains. White is the color of dust before it is dispersed. Black was considered the color of evil--plagues, I believe, when the War occurred. * Symbols of danger, battle. Strength.

Frisk purses their lips, shakes their head again, and says it makes everything ugly. It's all just the same. They'll wear this stuff when they're going to be crowned, and maybe the crown itself more, and boots. But they're going to pick more than this, different robes, hair decorations, bootlaces that aren't the same shade as the boots themselves. There are other colors! They're all cool! They don't need stuff just about battles.

* More colors. * ...A rainbow, you said. * ... * ... * ... * Good luck, human.

Frisk twirls in place, robe and cape flying out--because they sound like they mean it. They can do best together, and so it'll be done. A rainbow. A rainbow! A rainbow of determination, and they don't care if that doesn't make sense!

They don't stop and call for anyone--they'll run to Mettaton himself, and then everyone else to see what supplies they can find. Frisk's sure other monsters would look nice in rainbows, too!

[textales]

“A Curious Cat”

The Egyptians had a thing for cats. They even had a religion where they worshiped the feline gods. And If any one of those elusive feline gods had been even remotely as bewitching as my childhood cat I totally understand why.

She was a Seal Point Siamese…with deep blue eyes and a shimmering coat with blonde and brown fur, and even a strand or two of blue and silver mixed in. She was unlike any “normal” cat you’d see loitering in back yards or on front porches – this cat was downright exotic and stuck-out like a fine French restaurant in a trailer park. Great Falls was a simple “all American” blue-collar town, best suited for plain cats like Morris, the fat orange thing from the TV commercials for 9 Lives. Weird cats belonged in places like Missoula or Seattle with hippies and tie-dye and lesbians. She was clearly an outsider and a total anomaly. She might have been imported from Egypt or the land of Siam - wherever that was.

We lived on the right side of the tracks….but only by a few feet.  As a matter of fact, old railroad tracks remained in our back alley, abandoned since the 1950s when trucks replaced rail cars for local delivery of freight. We were on the last street where the old residential area met the industrial zone, with a giant three-story warehouse and tire repair shop on one end of the block, and a family-owned lumber yard across the alley. Our teeny home was built in 1916 when Great Falls was a thriving metropolis.  I’m guessing it was originally occupied by workers from the copper smelter or one of the many hydroelectric dams that were built in the era. Another set of tracks, about a half-mile away between our street and the Missouri River, carried the Burlington Northern freight trains which rumbled by a couple times a day.

Sometime in the mid-1970s my dad remodeled and we got all fancy with expensive Masonite paneling and a velvety couch and love-seat combo purchased from the House of Furniture for $499. We had multi-level shag carpeting and recessed lighting on dimmers, and the cottage-cheese ceiling had shiny silver sparkling bits.  

Ours may have been one of the nicer homes on the block - but just barely. I’m pretty sure the only reason it looked as good as it did was because my dad was always trying to out-do his sister who lived across the river in a double-wide. Hers was a very nice, color-coordinated double-wide, with full skirting and tip-outs. But according to my father it was still a “goddamned trailer.”      

My dad worked at a glass shop a block away. There was a vacant gravel lot between the shop and that three-story tire store/warehouse, and two tiny old houses between the warehouse and our place. His commute was better than that of a modern day “telecommuter” – his 30-second walk provided a little exercise and just enough separation between work and home to give him a decent “work-life” balance.

The glass shop was essentially our “second garage.”  We spent tons of time there when we needed to do big projects that required more space and the big air compressor. I have fond memories of that place. We painted our old Ford pickup in that shop…twice.  We did multiple overhauls on multiple engines for motorcycles, snowmobiles and lawnmowers, and we rebuilt at least one transmission in that space - all on nights and weekends after my dad had spent a solid 40 hours working. Who knew a glass shop would be such a good place for honing cylinders and grinding valves?  

I was in that shop with my dad and friends Lloyd and Wes the day Elvis died. And it was there where my dad and I had a big one sentence talk about “the birds and the bees” after my teacher sent me home with a note to advise the class had viewed the sex education film that day.  “Well, if you need to know anything about any of that shit, you just let me know.”  Thanks, Dad. 6th grade was so awkward.

Nobody seems to remember exactly when, but a Siamese cat showed up at the shop and didn’t want to leave. She didn’t need a new pane of glass for her cathouse - she was lost. My father took a liking to this adorable thing and offered up a little food and some attention.  

An exotic animal like this must certainly be someone’s pet. Perhaps it crawled from the back of a station wagon when its human came to get a makeup mirror fixed?  “Someone will come to get her” my dad explained as he poured Friskies into a makeshift serving dish fashioned from a decorative glass block.

After a couple days and no reports of a missing cat, Red decided he’d take this thing home. It would be easy to retrieve her should the owners come looking, and it couldn’t live at the shop anymore because the manager was allergic.

I was maybe five or six years old and hardly qualified to name a pet, but for whatever reason my parents gave me the opportunity so I decided her name should be Susie.  Where that came from I have no idea…it’s not like Susie was the name of a famous movie star, super model or even a family friend. In retrospect, and knowing her personality, that name was way too plain and simple for this enigmatic feline who had few characteristics typical of a domestic house cat. Susie was my spirit animal, and honestly I think she belonged in a circus.

She was a curious cat. Susie didn’t like milk, refused to eat Tuna, and loved the vacuum cleaner.  At least once a week my dad would spend an hour grooming her with the old Filter Queen, a beige-colored canister unit the size of a modern day shop vac. She’d come running the second it was brought out of the closet and would lie down in front of him, letting him suck her tail into the tube before extending her legs spread-eagle style waiting for the suction to take away whatever excess hair she would otherwise shed onto the carpet.  

Susie didn’t use a litter box. She’d hang by the back door and would announce with a polite meow when it was time for her to do her business.  Even if it was ten below zero she’d go outside.  The smell of her fur when returning from the frozen outdoors was something I wish I could bottle – I know I’d make millions on that magic scent.

We had a clothes hamper at the bottom of the stairs where she’d hide until we walked by. Then like a Jack-in-the-Box she’d pounce and start gnawing on your Achilles tendon. You’d think we’d have gotten used to it but it was always somehow a surprise.

My father would tease Susie by wagging a finger until she exploded and jumped from the floor into his arms.  She’d purr like the engine of a freshly rebuilt Mercury Cougar until she decided she was done with it, then without warning those beautiful blue eyes turned into fire, the fangs came out and she swiped with a vengeance.  Felines are so fickle.  

Canine Kryptonite.

Susie was like one of the guys. Far from being feminine, she wanted nothing to do with girlie things and could outfox and outrun any of the dogs in the neighborhood. She was far more masculine than Lloyd’s dog, Velvet, who played with rocks. She was far fiercer than Grandma’s Chihuahua, Cubby, and she had bigger balls than Aunt Kathy’s French gay male poodle, Shante.   

Neighbor Doug had a police dog, a German shepherd that looked like Rin Tin Tin. Susie scared the shit out of him – he knew to steer clear when she was on patrol.  

Susie and our cock-a-poo Peanuts loved to watch my dad and I work in the garage. They had a favorite spot on a 4-foot-high wooden ladder. The dog would sit on the top rung while Susie hung out on the tray intended for the paint can. Peanuts usually slept. Susie, on the other hand, paid close attention.  She was probably taking notes on how to operate the equipment and would be preparing a report for her alien overlords on the mother ship.

My brother and his wife were school teachers in the far-away lands of the Tri-Cities in Washington state. Just like the Egyptians, my brother’s wife had a thing for cats.

I recall one trip when they came thru town with a bizarre hairless cat like Mr. Bigglesworth from the Austin Powers movie. This cat and Susie had a lot in common (both being exotic and suitable for the circus) and Gloria fawned over Susie.  I can only imagine how pissed-off she had to have been, having spent thousands on exotic cats imported from breeders.  And we got ours for free because she was essentially a homeless drifter, rescued at the glass shop.

“Turn Me Loose, Set Me Free…Somewhere in the Middle of Montana.”

It made little difference where we were going, but on the weekends we just had to get out of town. In the summers we’d pack-up the pickup, hook on the travel trailer and head to a campsite somewhere. Whether a forest service campground or a gravel parking lot in a town 20 miles away it didn’t really matter - my dad just had to escape. Maybe something about the glass shop and our house being so close together didn’t provide the separation from home and work that he had hoped for? Hell, I don’t know…

Susie and my dog knew the routine: they’d wait patiently near the back door at 5:15 PM every Friday after work as we prepared to embark on another adventure. Peanuts knew instantly where he would sit in the cab of the truck between my mother and I on the bench seat. Susie usually jumped up onto the dashboard where she could sun herself and enjoy the view.

Susie was a swimmer - not to be left on the sidelines when the guys went fishing, she would jump in the water, “cat paddling” to the rubber raft floating out in the lake.  A cat that swims? Yes. And she would jump in the bathtub every so often.  This cat was crazy.

Once on a trip to Canada with my Aunt Ruby we met an Australian woman who really took a liking to Susie. When we went to leave the cat was nowhere to be found and my dad was convinced that the Australian chick had stolen her. She insisted she hadn’t, and joined our search party.  After an hour of panic and calling her name we’d almost given up. All the while she was in the tree directly above us, sprawled out with her legs hanging over the tree limbs. Immediately upon hearing the truck start she started meowing. Twenty-seven seconds later she returned to the dashboard and international peace was restored.

“Too many motors.”

My mom had reached a breaking point. “We have too many motors,” she exclaimed, slamming down the glass of “Chillable Red” she just filled from the box.  She then took a drag from a Newport menthol and promptly called the Tribune to place an ad in the classifieds.  We’d be having a big garage sale that weekend, to offload some excess items with engines that included at least one lawnmower, a go-kart, and the Honda 50 mini-bike I’d outgrown.  

Other goodies for sale included a collection of my mother’s hand-made doilies - you know those round frilly things that go underneath lamps or get used as an emergency potholder just once until you burn the shit out of your hands?  And we’d be offing a ceramic cookie jar, a creation of “Kathy’s Busy Bee Ceramics,” the studio for which was in a trailer next to the one my Aunt Kathy lived in across the river. This cookie jar was in the shape of a Christmas tree.  I hated that effing thing, especially when it sat on the counter well after the season was over.  I thought, but didn’t dare say out loud: “It’s not Christmas in July for Christ’s sake – so let’s get rid of this goddamn thing.”

The Garage Sale attracted all kinds of bargain shoppers including one family who arrived in a 1971 Plymouth Satellite Sebring station wagon plucked right from a Brady Bunch episode, complete with wood grain paneling, driven by a woman with a black bouffant hairdo and looking a lot like the country singer Loretta Lynn.

Susie got bored hanging out on the paint tray on the ladder and decided she’d explore the mysterious world of the Plymouth. It was warm, with strange smells and plush carpeting.  Its humans were different, and there were “stink sticks” (incense) from the Import Depot. A leftover wrapper from Burger Master smelled interesting, but after wondering “Where’s the Beef” she quickly went to sleep in the Sebring.  Nobody took notice and Susie went for a ride for a while, cruising the Garage Sale Circuit all over town.  

Of course she woke-up and started howling. She was not for sale. The kids wanted to keep her, but she wanted nothing to do with them now. She was agitated, and wanted to get back to her native habitat where she could guard the roost - even if it had too many motors. Those motors belonged to her and she needed to watch over them.

They had to back-track, returning to all the garage sales in reverse order until they found us. “Is this your cat?” asked the Loretta Lynn look-alike.  Susie was returned annoyed and unharmed.  Like a wayward teenager busted drinking at a party and retrieved by her parents, she was reluctant to show any emotion and quietly leapt from the tailgate of the Plymouth and returned to the paint tray on the ladder in the garage.

“Houston Means that I’m One Day Closer to You.”

In my junior year of high school I took my first trip on an airplane to see my sister who lived in the northern suburbs of Houston.  It was around Christmas of 1982 and I’d finally go inside a real building taller than ten stories.  I’d go to NASA where astronauts would say they had a problem if there were one, and I’d shop at a fancy shopping mall with an ice rink inside. Everything was fascinating and I tried not to stare, but I’m sure I made a quite a spectacle and an embarrassment of myself.

When I left Montana there was snow on the ground and it was maybe in the 10s. Since I was in the blistering hot warmth of Texas, I could get a little tan before returning to the frozen tundra up north. The neighbors had to wonder WTF as they looked through the shutters at some albino kid wearing shorts and laying out on the side lawn in the middle of winter.  It was maybe in the low 60s the day I tried to tan.

At the mall with the ice rink I remember looking for stuff you just couldn’t get in Montana.  I was kind of bummed I couldn’t find the platform tennis shoes like those worn by Stewart Copeland of the Police, but I did buy a cool, slightly “off color” dark-comedy cartoon book from one of the novelty stores there. I’m not sure what motivated me to buy it other than wanting at least one souvenir from Texas, and the book was easy enough.

Later that night I called home to check-in.  I was having a great time, and I told the parents I’d see them in a week. This town was fascinating and it was fantastic to be in a “real city” with 8-lane freeways and tall buildings and radio stations that played more than classic rock or country.  

“Your cat’s been moping around, so we’re going to take her to the vet.”  This message didn’t really alarm me.  Susie was getting old, but she was bullet proof. 

When I got back to Great Falls a week later I was greeted at the door by Peanuts but no Susie. “She was sick so we had to put her down” said my father as he fought back the tears. “She had feline leukemia” my mother said.

It was a bit of a shock, but really….Susie was no spring chicken (I think she was at least ten years old at that point) and it’s not like it was devastating.  Cats die. We all die.  And it’s not like I hadn’t thought about it.

Oh, and what was the name of that book I bought at the shopping mall with the ice rink?

“101 Uses for a Dead Cat.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have bought the book?