#so I’m no expert but tried to pick ones that fit their personalities and roles in the team | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smolfailure · 4 years ago

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FUCK IT, DREAM SMP HOMESTUCK AU

but it's only half shitposts and there are actual Thoughts in there.

You don't need to have read the comic to understand because I tried not to spoil anything major, but it'd help if you knew basic stuff about classpects, SBURB and the hemospectrum.

disclaimer: i'm not a good pixel artist and this is my first actual sprites ever so please be kind to my weird pixels

The Kids:

Tommy

Fundy

Techno

Tubbo

tommy, tubbo and fundy one of the kids because they're the kids in dream smp canon (with fundy being son of wilbur)

techno's there because i want to make a dave strider reference (haha get it because techno's name is also da-- *gets shot) and also because they are both coolguys except instead of using irony, techno has adhd

The Trolls:

Wilbur Soohte (fuschia)

?????? Ehrret (violet)

J????? Shlatt (purple)

Nihacu Niikki (indigo)

Skeppy Diamon (cerulean)

Quacki Tthiey (teal)

Philza Myncra (jade)

Dreame Wastkn (lime disguising as olive)

George Notfou (gold)

Sapphe Nahfpe (bronze)

Badboy Haelow (burgundy)

don't come at me saying only females are allowed to be jades and fuschias; gender is fake and this is an au

more of the AU and the talksprites are under the cut:

Tommy

Lunar sway: Derse. Types in: Red

chaotic. the first person to be introduced.

when he gets introduced instead of the “Zoosmell Pooplord” bit, Tommy is initially going to be the name inputted but then backspaced it and decided that Tommyinnit was better and he was fuming until he’s named Tommy.

Gives me big Blood/Hope vibes. Blood because a lot of the conflict of the dream smp connected to someone breaking his trust or harming the things he cares about, Hope because a lot of the plot of the dream smp stems from Tommy starting shit based on his ideals and what he thinks is right.

the first to instigate fighting against the trolls

bbh contacts him once and tommy keeps cursing until he disconnects from frustration rip

wields Gunkind and his only strife weapon at the beginning is the Vlog gun. He has Gunkind as his strife specibus mainly because he looked up at schlatt and he imitates him.

Fundy

Lunar sway: Prospit. Types in: Orange

it was his idea to play SBURB but only through Dream.

he talks to dream the most among the other trolls fwt stans getcha juice this is the rosemary of the session

dream’s the one giving him exposition about the game so that’s how he knows how to play SBURB.

wilbur trolls fundy once and instantly adopts him.

“You’re my son.” “How does that even work??” “I was one of the people who created your universe. It’s basically the same thing.”

Fundy relents anyway.

Techno

Lunar sway: Derse. Types in: Pink

dave strider but dead-inside voice + rose lalonde english major vibes

he slices the text box when you try to name him "Dave " like in

techno gives me time player vibes (contantly on the move. his skyblock series, his “stays in the pit” monologue,) but also rage vibes (anarchy, the “theseus” monologue, political alignment is Chaos) alas i am not sure what class

uses Tridentkind and claims "it came from god"

it was dream, he accidentally transportalized one of wilbur’s weapon while he testing the transportalizer.

Tubbo

Lunar sway: Prospit. Types in: Green

the jade harley of this session. the only thing keeping them from going apeshit. where would they be without him.

but also jade harley in a sense that he seems nice and wholesome but also don’t fuck with them they can mess you up

Heart/Life vibes??? someone good at classpecting help

i put them in prospit bc of the "tubbo third eye" instead of tubbo having a sixth sense or smth, they see the future from the clouds of skaia when they sleep

wields Stress-relieverKind at some point

bonus: everyone’s actual hair colors

Ideas about the Trolls

no i haven’t done their sprites yet bc it would take so much time and i’m not even sure if people wanna see more of this au skjdkdsakdfkl,, but i have Design Ideas.

events of the dsmp revolution are just a FLARP session drawing parallels to how the homestuck trolls had a FLARP session that spoiler alert: destroyed friendships. dtrio, eret, will are involved. eret betrays will's faction and wilbur's still Bitter over that.

on the context of alternia (highbloods and lowbloods) lmanburg and dreamsmp have their roles SWAPPED. the emancipation theme thing is completely gone since highbloods are in more power than the lowbloods (the dream team) .

wilbur made a faction called l’manburg because he wants a place where he and his fellow highbloods could make drugs vibe.they take a piece of land that was owned by the dream team. in normal circumstances, they shouldve stood down because lowbloods aren't supposed to start shit with highbloods (especially a group of highbloods that has the alternian heir among them) but dream turned it into an activism thing about lowblood rights. the story plays as close as possible without tommy or tubbo in it (which is pretty hard ik but this is the best can do).

like in the dreamsmp revolution, dream kinda let wilbur do what he wants but this time he has more reason to because he’s in a lower caste. dream really only fought back when wilbur announced that he’d be building lmanburg on their land and calling it theirs.

eret betrays wilbur by supporting the lowbloods and wilbur and co. technically won but only because he finally called the drones in, as a reference to how lmanburg absolutely got crushed by the dream team in the smp but technically won. l’manburg keeps the piece of land and the dream team scatter away to find a new home.

wilbur soot's a fuschia because a) he's in a position that has a lot of power, b) yknow how he wrote a song about squids and his thing with sally… yeah.

eret's a violet because nobility!! dream looks down on him because he's ambivalent on fighting for lowblood rights when he's in a power to do so "you just sit there, and you look pretty that's it"

also like eridan he has a minor aesthetic mutation (herobrine eyes) that won't classify him as a mutant.

jschlatt is purple because it makes sense thematically because of the gamzee parallels (a. substance abuse b. if you know what happens in act 6, you know this already but spoiler alert, he ruins the main protagonists' lives) also he's a funnyman he deserves the clown caste

quackity's a teal because he’s a law student. moving on--

ok but for real it also makes sense thematically because he's the one who wrote the thing that tricked schlatt into agreeing also he gets manipulated by schlatt which also draws parallels to certain events in the comic

skeppy and bbh are BEST FRIENDS despite being highblood and lowblood respectively. initially, skeppy just wanted to bother bbh but they grew to be good friends in time. y’know like how they actually becane friends :D

philza minecraft is a jade because dad friend. also works thematically, because spoiler alert he gets to murder a seadweller for going batshit crazy.

he also god tiers early. he dies fighting his quick undead denizen (haha baby zombie) but the consorts of his land carry him to his quest bed because he’s treated them all so well.

dream was initially going to be another caste but then i realized that means i have to make his hoodie something other than green which is unacceptable so its a good thing the fact that he's a lime works out

dream was the one who thought of playing sgrub in the first place- initially only planned to have gogy, sap, and bbh in the session but then realized that they four won't be enough so he invited more into his session

he’s also the first to go godtier ez clap blind speedrun not sure what classpect tho

the only reason why dream avoided being culled at birth for being a limeblood is because his rng is That Good. he quickly picked up the fact that he’s not supposed to exist and masqueraded as an oliveblood and kept mostly to himself to avoid suspicion.

george is still colorblind but he has lazer eyes along with it instead. dream lives with him in the same hive since being a mutant means dream doesn’t get a lusus of his own (dnf fans getcha juice “and they were roommates”)

despite living in the same hive, he never really figures out that dream is a limeblood. possibly because a) he’s colorblind and when he sees dream bleeding he just sees yellow b) he’s just that fucking oblivious and it’s so valid of him.

sapnap’s a bronzeblood mainly because i know he’s the instigator of the pet war with tommy also because i associate him with the color orang in my mind so bronze it is

that’s the end of this long-ass post!! if you have other ideas PLEASE i want to hear them. i don’t know the other streamers i mentioned in here very well so if you have ideas that would be fitting to them like with classpect or lunar sway that would be GREAT.

the only thing i’m confident about in here are the kids’ lunar sways. i’m not an expert in classpects and homestuck lore so there’s that too!! i just wanted to make this post because adhd means that the idea wouldn’t shut up until i finished it. This initially started as a single shitpost edit of tommyinnit talksprite but then the hiveswap 2 trailer came out and that means i have to combine my two hyperfixations.

also i have ideas about potential quadrants but idk how much of that is breaking some streamers’ boundaries about shipping (even the non romantic quads such as kismesistude, morallegiance and auspisticism) so i decided not to include it.

edit: apparently people want more so i made a discord server as a place to brainstorm!! please pm me to join!

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heliads · 4 years ago

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Thinker, Traitor, Soldier, Spy

You are a soldier hired on as a bodyguard for John Walker, the latest Captain America. However, Sam Wilson may help you realize that there’s more to life than just following orders.

masterlist

What does a soldier do? They fight. They follow orders. What does a spy do? They listen. They report.

What do you do now? You are a soldier and a spy. You listen and do as you’re told. You sit with perfect stature at the desk. There are four guns on your person, three knives, and a smoke grenade, just in case. Two men sit opposite you, one clad in garish red and blue and the other in an army uniform. This is your new assignment, they say. You start today.

You did not die after Thanos snapped, although you were fighting to stop it. You were forced to live instead in the five long years, watching countless friends die. There is no stop to the bloodshed, there never is. When the fighting at last cleared and everyone was brought back, you knew there would be trouble. They’ve tried to call forth a hero, someone everyone can depend upon. A new Captain America, the one sitting before you.

John Walker troubles you. You have seen many men in your line of work, men whose tongues only serve to twist and lie or whose hands reach to their guns before they extend in peace. There is a glint in Walker’s eyes that doesn’t seem quite right, a yearning for power that doesn’t seem to fit in with his new role as Captain America. If you knew any better, you’d say that giving him this position is the last thing you should do to a man who craves power in the way that Walker does.

But you were not here to place judgement or call him out. You are a soldier, and that’s why they want you on their side. Your employers, that half-formed shell between the fallen S.H.I.E.L.D. and the rising S.W.O.R.D., have sent you to defend him and his partner, Battlestar. It’s just another role, a bodyguard to the latest celebrity of the military world. Nothing more.

Yet, when you rise from your seat and shake their hands, you can’t seem to lose the feeling that something is going to end up very, very badly. You’ve seen men like Walker before, men who like to think of themselves as above all others. You have no doubt that he’s already hating you for being here at all, despising everyone for thinking that he needs protection. If this job of bodyguard fell to anyone else, you’d tell them to watch their backs. Luckily for you, you never stop doing that yourself.

They place a gun in your hands before too long. They know you have enough weapons to fend off an entire army, but they do it anyway. It’s less a check than a charity, like saying here, we have your back. Trust us, fight for us. You’ve seen it done many times before. You board the same vehicles and planes as them, ready for your first fight against the Flag Smashers. You approach the trucks rattling down the roads, Walker and Hoskins by your side. You can see two figures already fighting the masked figures and recognize them from a legion of surveillance tapes, news reports, and case files: Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. If they’re here, fighting the same enemy, you can at least try to delude yourself into thinking that you might be on the same side.

You join the fight as soon as directed, firing weapons with expert precision. This isn’t the first time you’ve fought super soldiers and it certainly won’t be the last. You notice a group of super soldiers targeting Sam Wilson and drop towards them, knocking them back again and again. You’re about to head after them, pursuing them when they run down the length of the trucks, but then a hand closes around your arm. You rear around, hands already rising to pistols and knives, but relax slightly when you notice the confused face connected to it.

Sam Wilson stares at you, releasing his light touch on your arm when he notices your reaction. “Sorry about that. Who are you?” It occurs to you then that they have no idea who you are. You’re a gun, nothing more. A hired weapon used to keep out of public scrutiny. Sam Wilson is a good man, so of course he would not know you. You just shake your head slightly. “I’m with Walker.” It will tell him all he needs to know.

Sam’s brow furrows, and you take this momentary lapse in focus to dive off the side of the truck, reaching for a side mirror with perfect timing to swing between the trucks. Sam watches you go, but he doesn’t follow. He pauses for a second longer, then continues the fight, as do you. Something raises the hairs on the back of your neck and you throw yourself to your knees; seconds later, Walker’s shield streaks through the air to collide with a Flag Smasher’s shoulder.

You glance back at him, but still remain silent. He cocks his head to the side, evidently expecting a bigger reaction to him almost decapitating you. You refuse to give in to any emotions. You’ve walked through many tests from many more people. What is one more to you? At a brief moment of respite from the fight, Walker and Hoskins address Sam, stating their names along with a casual salute from the latest Captain America.

Sam takes this in with a tilt of his head, then turns to face you. You remain silent, refusing to divulge any more information than necessary. Seconds later, you’re granted a reprieve from his expectations when the Flag Smashers rally again, this time with more force. You’re ready to go to your last, even when Sam and Bucky and then Lemar and Walker are knocked from the truck. You’re ready to keep going, to finish the job, but then you see Walker shake his head at you even as the truck rattles past him. If he cannot complete the job, then no one can- the fame and glory must fall to him alone. You jerk your head once in a nod, understanding, and leap from the truck yourself. If the impact scars your knees in a jolt, you’ve conditioned yourself to ignore it.

Walker and Hoskins grab a truck on the walk back. You sit next to the driver, gun obvious in your palm. They attempt to pick up Sam and Bucky, although the pair seem more than hesitant to get in. Eventually, they give up and climb in, accepting Walker’s constant questions with barely more than a restrained eyebrow raise. Sam turns towards you, unintentionally or perhaps purposefully ignoring Walker’s latest offer at a partnership. “So, what’s your story?” You remain stoic and silent. Walker answers for you. “She’s an agent. You can trust her.”

Sam directs a confused glance Walker’s way. “I didn’t ask you.” Walker rolls his eyes. “You might as well have, she doesn’t talk much. Honestly, she’s no better than your buddy with the staring problem.” Sam gives Walker an irritated look. “She’s right there. She can hear you.” You raise an eyebrow. “I can hear you too.” Walker turns to you, feigning incredulity. “Look at that! She speaks!”

You can hear the warning in his voice, so you bite your tongue and stop speaking, even when Sam tries to talk to you again. You can still feel Sam’s gaze on you, although you say no more, even when Sam and Bucky give up on Walker’s constant attempts at friendship and jump off the car entirely. You can’t say you entirely blame them- if you could jump after them, you would be long gone.

You continue to work by Walker’s side, just as your orders demand. As the days pass by, however, you feel a permanent crease beginning to form itself along your brow. There is something wrong with Walker, a kind of insanity you’ve only seen a few times. It won’t be long now until he snaps, you just don’t know when it’s going to happen. Then again, it’s not your place to place judgement, not yet. You can watch, wait, and follow orders. Nothing more.

You’re sent to patrol an area where the Flag Smashers are rumored to hide, walking alone through twisting cobblestoned streets in search of the familiar logo of a red handprint. Although you search for a while, you sense that the person following you is not a Flag Smasher. No, it’s someone altogether different. You allow them to pursue you down a couple of streets then turn around unexpectedly, startling your follower. You come to face Sam Wilson, and the man chuckles softly when he sees that his attempt at following you undetected hasn’t exactly worked out.

“And here I thought I was sneaking up on you. Your reflexes are great.” Your face remains decidedly neutral. “I appreciate the compliment.” Sam allows himself a smile, then his face returns to the urgency that has pierced him for a while. “I need your help. You know as well as I do that Walker is getting in over his head. He’s going after the Flag Smashers in completely the wrong way. People are going to end up hurt. I think I can get to Karli Morgenthau, but I need your help in convincing Walker to stand down.”

You shake your head once. “I have my orders. I can’t break them.” Sam sighs once. “I don’t know much about you, Agent L/N, but I know enough. I know that you don’t want to see innocents hurt if you could help it.” You fold your arms across your chest. “You looked me up? If you did your research, Sam, then you’d know that I’ve never once disobeyed direct orders. I have been told to fight by Walker’s side, it’s what I’ll do.”

Sam stares at you. “You agree with him? You think this is the right thing to do?” You feel a bitter laugh crossing your lips. It makes Sam look at you in a different way, like he’s truly seeing you for the first time. Not just a hired gun or soldier, but a person in need of saving. For some reason, it makes you feel uneasy. “Sam, I have never had a choice in this. Do you think I’m going to sleep at night with a clear heart because of what I’ve done? I have never had a choice. Not once. It won’t start now.”

Sam’s gaze falls, not in disappointment but a mutual understanding. He is a soldier too, you remember, he knows what this feels like. “Not all orders are pleasant.” He agrees, then meets your gaze again. “If you have the option, though, I would be grateful if you reconsidered. It doesn’t have to be much. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t heading down his path.” You fight the urge to laugh again. “I don’t think I could if I tried.” A faint smile appears on Sam’s lips. “I didn’t think so either.”

You have gone through many difficult interrogations and communication sessions, places where you’ve lied and been lied to for the sake of a mission. This conversation with Sam, though, throws a stumbling block under your feet. You’ve always been able to move on from your job, to pack away the memories of screams and blood stuck under your fingernails until you don’t think of them at all. For some reason, you can’t get Sam’s words out of your head. What does he want of you? He doesn’t seem to have an ulterior motive, some want to have your knives and fists on his side. No, if you didn’t know better you’d say that he’s truly looking out for you. It’s a foreign concept, but for some reason it feels right coming from him.

Walker ends up teaming up with Sam and Bucky again. They’ve tracked down Karli Morgenthau to a church, the funeral service of a Donya Madani. Sam has gone inside to speak to Karli, hoping to persuade her to lay down her weapons and search for her peace and equity in a different way. If his words are anywhere near as effective as his talk with you, you have no doubt that she’ll listen to him.

Walker, however, is growing antsy with every second away from a battle. Eventually, he gives in to his gnawing need to fight and charges into the fray. Shots ring out, punches are thrown. When you look up, your stomach clenches with horror. Lemar Hoskins lies dead on the ground, neck broken, blood welling up. Walker goes silent, a maddening rage rattling through him. He sprints out of the room, after a perceived killer of his friend. You exchange a silent look with Sam, then the two of you run out after him.

You end up splitting up, Sam flying out and you going a different back route to avoid the cameras already recording. When you see the horrors of the scene before you, you feel acid creeping up the back of your throat. Walker raises the infamous shield, smashing it into the head and throat of a pleading Flag Smasher until the blood and gore stains everything within the surrounding distance. A primal scream echoes from the man’s throat, fitting for this act of barbarity.

You’re not sure how long you stay there, only that you can’t seem to move your feet until the square is cleared of horrified viewers. Only then do you force yourself to start walking. You don’t stop until you’ve found Sam, until you’re standing before him and he’s reaching out an arm to steady you. You’ve seen bloodshed before, enough death to drown out the world. For some reason, this seems different. Maybe it’s because you were fighting on Walker’s side before, and you’re still expected to do so now. Maybe it’s because you’re still locked away behind the rules, the orders.

Sam is speaking now, asking you if you’re alright. You look up at him, incredulous. “You saw what he did. Walker has to be stopped.” Sam looks hesitant. “I would appreciate your support, but I know what this means to you. Are you sure about this?” You nod harshly. “He’ll be waiting in a warehouse near here. I saw him go. If you arrive alone, maybe with Bucky, and try to speak to him first, you’ll have the best chance at getting the shield. It’s the only way.”

You expect Sam to go now, but instead he stays, making sure you’re alright. “And what happens after that? Where do you go?” You shrug. “I don’t know. They might reassign me. They’ll definitely order a hearing for Walker, I might be included in that too. I’ll see what happens from there.” Sam’s jaw clenches in worry. “If you need help, I’ll be there. I’ll speak for you.” You glance up at him. “Why? I fought against you, with Walker. I’m not one of your allies.”

Sam chuckles softly. “Not all things are alliances and sides. I trust you, you came to me. That’s all this has to be.” You nod at him slowly. “Thank you, Sam. Honestly.” You set off with him towards the warehouse, where Walker waits alone. Gore still stains the shield. Sam begins his negotiations, but everything falls apart when he mentions the shield. Walker looks at you, raw rage coloring his gaze. “You told him how to find me. You’re a traitor to your cause.”

Sam steps forward before the words can take hold. “She is a soldier making the right choice. Don’t involve her in this.” You glance back at him. Who would defend a toy soldier? Only the man who never saw you as one in the first place. When the fighting begins, it feels strangely liberating, like you finally have a cause instead of just a direction. This is truly a fight that matters, not just another job.

When it’s all over and Sam stands with the shield, you begin to walk out into the sunlight, leaving the dark cool of the warehouse behind. Someone joins you after a short while, someone with a new shield who nods at you with a smile when you wait for him. Your feet crunch on the gravel outside. “So, it’s over now.” Sam shrugs. “There are still the Flag Smashers. Some battles never truly end.”

You glance over at him, for once not stopping the smile hesitating on your lips. “I’ll be there.” Sam smiles back at you. “I’ll be glad of it. You’re a good person, Y/N, even if you don’t believe it.” You laugh at that. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Sam doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he’s still looking at you with that same thoughtful expression, like he’s just seen a masterpiece come to life and it happens to be you. “I think I like your laugh.” It’s then you know that you would follow him anywhere.

marvel tag list: @mycosmicparadise

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thebadchoicemachine · 4 years ago

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Despair Suits Ultimate Run-Through

Okay this has been sitting in my drafts for months I’m just posting it because all my drafts are stressing me out.

Wilbur - Ultimate “Guitarist” / Ultimate Distortion (despair)

- He’s the least true despair oriented out of the family. He loves messing with other people but doesn’t enjoy despair himself, something nobody including himself really realizes until Tommy is dead and he’s pissed because it’s not fun when HE’s the one mourning.

- He works with twisting perceptions and rules against people, there is no true good and all that. You do something nice? Well actually you see it’s cause so much more despair here etc etc..

Tommy - Ultimate “Playmate” / Ultimate Pawn (despair)

- Really just a brainwashed kid hyped up on death and despair because it’s what his family is built off of. He holds it to a religious degree and takes it very seriously.

- He’s the most like Junko out of the despair family, the rules of the game are sacred to him otherwise it’s no fun. He really does his own thing so long as it’s within the goals others have set for him to accomplish. His role is mostly fulfilling other’s plans. He simultaneously has the most and least freedom out of the despair grip, being able to function however pleases so long as he fulfills his task but he is completely obligated to fulfill all and any such tasks.

Tubbo - Ultimate Hazard / Ultimate Hope

- Much like Tommy he’s really just a brain washed kid who is drunk on despair because it’s what his friends do and it’s all he’s ever known.

- Helps him realize the reaason he stuck it out so long was becuase he already had jope, belief and drive that things would be better

Ranboo - Ultimate Journalist (main character)

- He is a journalist. He tries bis very hardest to be objective while still remaining compassionate and driven.Honestlyy he never intended to become a journalist. He started keeping notes to help himself and ended up submitting one for a school project he procrastinated on. Turns out he’s an excellent story teller as well as truthful, it won a contest and was featured in a paper and before he knew it he was writing for big news full time.

- He doesn’t even accept a lot of pay. His main and constant condition is, so long as everything is factual, his words not he twisted.

Niki - Ultimate “Baker” / Ultimate Agent

- She was already in the habit of not being upfront with her ultimite so as to be able to just get to know people first. She can work much easier when people don’t think they’re being worked at, if they knew they were going against an ultimate they become eager to prove it wrong so she went by “Ultimate Baker” for most of her life.

- As the Ultimate Agent she is extremely good at conflict resolution and always able to get some kind of goodness through her advocating. Ever since she was a child she found herself to be the only one who stood up for victims. She is very multi-talanted as it takes different things to get different people to listen. The skills she’s built up include a BS detector that’s off the charts, being genuinely one of the friendliest people you’ll ever meet, and being able to kick your ass seven ways to sunday.

Puffy - Ultimate Pirate

Schlatt - Ultimate Tycoon

- Tubbo convinces Puffy Schlatt is going to kill him. Schlatt has actually been very kind and mentor-y to Tubbo. He’s a good fit because his gruff additude isn’t too jarring for despair-washed child to dismiss but he is genuinely helpful at heart. He wants everyone to be safe.

- Tubbo is unerved by this shift in views happening to him and half-truthfully vents his feelings of unsafeness to Puffy, who posiosn him.

Hannah - Ultimate Florist

- Famous for growing the best flower garden in the whole country alll by herself, she has a strict rule about anyone else interfering with her plants. Also, generally a plant expert. Knows a lot more than just flowers. She’s strong as hell (maintaining one of the most revered gardens in the whole world by yourself involves a lot of running and lifting) and can also find the perfect blend of colors, smells, and meanings

Jackstanifold - Ultimate Determination

- I love the idea of more abstract talents! Like, “Ultimate Moral Compass” sounds really unique but he was actually more like “Ultimate Hall Monitor.”

- He got picked on by adults and other kids alike for not having an “applicable” talent. Determination isn’t like being a Ultimate Baseball Star or Ultimate

Fundy - Ultimate Game Designer

- Has several popular games under his belt.

Sam - Ultimate Guard

- Actually, he hates his ultimate. He’s strong and scary and can keep people in check sure but he’s also hella fucking smart as well kind and just wants people to be safe and happy. He wished people didn’t focus so much on his enforcement and more on his protecting.

Purpled - Ultimate Astronomer

- Actually spends most of his time playing sports, he’s very athletic and wanted to play something professionally but his knack for the stars kind of dragged him away. He doesn’t mind too much though, he really does love space!

Quackity- Ultimate Rogue

- It’s like he’s trying to be a Troublemaker™ (like Celest) but ends up more a Fuyuhiko. Albeit without the depressing jumpstart to his turn into genuinely wanting to help. It’s more of a slow burn.

Charlie - Ultimate Forensic Chemist

- Acts as their detective/doctor character

- He’s in like an uncanny valley of a mad scientist and just some friendly dude. Sure, he experiments plenty (to the point it’s questioned why he’s forensic specifically or chemist specifically) but his speciality as an actual successful sciencest is in forensics chemist.

Karl - Ultimate Astrologer

- Sort of works like Angie but less... awful. He’s more genuine and happy and understands other’s opinions and skepticism.

- Honestly he more psychoanalyzes people and sort of personalizes some therapy then he does fret about their starsigns.

Sapnap - Ultimate Arsonist

- He is very proud of his flame abilities. He holds a “No one gets hurt unless I want them too.” Attitude about his fires. He knows just how to make a flame worse or better and was consulted in several forms be it weapons, demolition, or prevention. Basically, dude knows everything about fire.

George - Ultimate Model

- Not necessarily a model for his looks, rather his appeal. He just has a face people apparently love. Companies would play vast sums of money for him to pose with their product as it seems whatever he was attached to would sell like hot cakes. Even when he was a child his school made him sit alone in front of their stand as a mascot instead of working with everyone else.

Eret - Ultimate Aspirant

- Kind of the other side to Jack’s coin. He earned his ultimate title because no matter what he was put in he worked his hardest in and improves tremendously, not always beyond others of course but he himself gets better than he was. He as a mind and a drive for success.

Dream - Ultimate Prey

- Ultimate prey. Governments from all over the world would drag him into their battlefields to test their powers. He’d been shot several times actually but no one ever managed to catch him.

#despair in suits ♣ ♠ ♦ ♥#dsmp AU #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp danganronpa

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five-rivers · 5 years ago

Text

Adoption

Based on a prompt by @fabnamessuggestedbytumbler for the Phic Phight! An excuse for Lost Time fluff? Don't mind if I do...

The Ghost Zone had a legal system. A court system. A prison system. A police system. A set of established rules. There were even lawyers.

In theory.

In reality the courts (Observants) refused to look at anything that wasn't world ending. Every group had their own, private prison. The police made up their own rules and, even then, broke them regularly. The actual rules had gone several hundred years without an update and referred to places, organizations, and customs that no longer existed. The lawyers were all clinically depressed. That's what happens when there's no active, unifying head of state for hundreds of years.

Still. Every so often a sufficiently foolish ghost, possessed of a brave purpose, would attempt to navigate the ruins of the legal system. Few made it out alive.

(True, being ghosts, they didn't necessarily go into it alive, but it's the thought that counts.)

But those who did make it out (metaphorically) alive, did so with prizes... well, not great enough, but something enough to convince others to make the attempt. Hence Clockwork's current location and headache.

"Sign the paper, Walker," snapped Clockwork.

"That would be against the rules," said Walker, leaning back in his stupid chair. Clockwork's nonexistent spine hurt just from looking at it.

Maybe he should give himself a spine, just so he'd have a reason to feel this way.

"How," he began, "would it be against the rules? This form needs to be signed by a law enforcement official that has seen or witnessed conclusive evidence the child in question being abused by their natural parents. That is you."

"Yes, but the law enforcement officer must first get a warrant approved by an appropriate court in order to collect such evidence," countered Walker.

"Not if the official came across the evidence or act of abuse while pursuing a different case or simply following standard operating procedure. You saw them shoot at him. His mother put a gun to his head. Have mercy, Walker. I know you don't like him, but he is a child who needs guidance. Not a criminal."

"He's a criminal in my books," said Walker.

"What he did was hardly a crime."

"Jailbreak is a crime!"

"Not if one is unjustly imprisoned," said Clockwork. "He was attempting to remove the foreign object." No matter that possessing material-plane items wasn't an actual crime.

"He let others escape!"

"And what were they imprisoned for?"

Walker grumbled. "Some of them are dangerous, and even he knew that," said Walker, nodding at the file spread over his desk.

"Consider it a cry for help. While you were watching him," stalking him, Clockwork did not say, "on the material plane, did he really strike you as criminally inclined? Or perhaps he was simply confused and scared? One thousand years is a very long time in human terms. The targets of his Obsession would have died. Even if he did commit a misdemeanor, he would have rightly been granted clemency, or at least had his sentence deferred."

Walker frowned.

"That's not what this is about, is it? You covering up a mistake?"

"No," said Walker.

Clockwork blinked, quickly running through potential futures. "No one will care that you crossed the veil without authorization. No one who can do anything about it, in any case."

"There'll be an investigation if I sign that there piece of paper. What's the big deal, anyway? Like you said, humans don't live that long. Just wait fifty years."

"They almost ended him," said Clockwork. "He's a child. Do you really want that on your conscience? With the knowledge that you could have stopped it?"

Sighing, Walker picked up his pen.

Danny went to school. Mainly, he went because he didn't know what else to do. He needed the routine, even if the routine was a lie and he felt like trash.

"You could have stayed," whispered Sam, as his hand inched towards the bandages on his chest for the fifth time that morning. "They wouldn't have noticed you."

Danny shook his head. His hand shook more. He put it back in his lap. "It wouldn't have been right. Besides, I need a passing grade in this class, right?" He couldn't get another F, or his parents would kill him, except- except- except-

They had already tried to kill him.

Everything had gone so much worse than he had ever imagined- No. That wasn't quite right. It had gone- It had...

At least he hadn't been cut open.

(Much.)

"Mr. Fenton?"

Danny jumped, banging his knees painfully on the underside of his desk. He looked up, wildly, tensing himself to flee, only the fact that he was currently human keeping his powers from activating.

(Well, that and... what had been done to him.)

When had Mr. Lancer gotten there?

"What?" he asked, breathlessly.

"Are- Are you alright, Mr. Fenton?"

"I'm fine," Danny said. He wasn't. His ghost half was urging him to go find a nice, dark, quiet, safe corner to hide in, preferably one in the Ghost Zone, his heart was hammering out of his chest, he'd spent the night not-sleeping in one of the guestrooms in Sam's house, and that was before even touching on his injuries.

He forced a smile. Mr. Lancer was one of the few teachers who hadn't given up on him, which was alternately touching and frustrating.

"You look sick," said Mr. Lancer. "Are you sure you don't want to call home?"

Danny's heart stuttered, his core painfully cold. "I'm sure," he said.

"Today is a project day," said Mr. Lancer. "You wouldn't be missing anything in this class, and I can talk to your other teachers."

"No, I'm fine."

The legal clerk for the family court was the kind of ghost who seemed to have fused with her role. The sleeves and collar of her shirt melded seamlessly with her skin. Her nails were brass pen nibs. The lenses of her glasses were part of her face.

She lived in either the basement or the attic of this particular building, depending on how one oriented themselves, among barely-organized stacks of books and papers. There were parchment scrolls and stone tablets, too, the later often re-purposed as elements of the room's furniture. Green-marbled filing cabinets grew out of the walls, and electronic somethings glittered out of the shadows.

The clerk had been reviewing Clockwork's paperwork for literal days. Rather, she would have been, if Clockwork hadn't surreptitiously dropped a time medallion around her neck and stopped time.

She hummed, thoughtfully. "In this document, you are using the pronoun tsai to refer to the adoptee. Are you certain you don't mean tusui? Or perhaps chahe?"

"Absolutely," said Clockwork. The intimation that he wasn't fluent in nchabhatsi was insulting. On the other hand, the requirement for that particular piece of paperwork to be in the language was also, in his opinion, rather ridiculous. Many ghosts, especially the recently dead, did not know nchabhatsi.

"The adoptee is liminal?"

"Yes," said Clockwork.

"Hmm." She stood up and flew from her desk to an inverted bookshelf anchored to the ceiling. From a box she took a huge sheaf of papers, and blew an amount of dust from them that was unhealthy even to a ghost. "It has been a while since we used these," she said, giving Clockwork a faded-ivory smile. "You'll need to fill these out and have them notarized by the proper officials before you can proceed. Liminal spirits are so rare, after all! They require special care. Oh!" Her hands fluttered. "And I'll have to get in contact with our liminality expert. That may take some time."

"If you can give me their name," said Clockwork, "I will take care of it." He gingerly took the stack of slightly-decayed paper. Had it really been so long since a partly-human child had been adopted? Probably.

"Oh, you're such a dear," said the clerk, not noticing the sudden absence of the medallion around her neck. "But that paperwork won't do itself, and-"

"It's done," said Clockwork. Fulfilling some of the new requirements had been more challenging than others and avoiding a paradox had taken considerable self-control, but what good were his temporal abilities if he couldn't use them for personal gain now and again? None at all.

"Ah," said the clerk.

Familiar, and very loud, voices spilled from the hallway near the office. Danny, one hand on his locker, trying to remember his combination, froze like a deer in headlights. His heartbeat picked up, his core buzzed frantically. He couldn't move. Grey crept in along the edges of his vision.

"... not him. It was never him! He's dead-"

"Mrs. Fenton, Mr. Fenton, I'm not sure what you're getting at, here, but your son has been at school all day, and we-"

"A ghost killed him and took his place! It's been playing a sick game with us this whole time!"

"Danny would never have gotten grades like this. We should have noticed the lower intellect right away, if nothing else."

"That's-" spluttered Mr. Lancer. "You- Daniel's work is exemplary, what little of it he turns in. I'm going to have to ask you to go back to the office-"

"No! Not until that piece of ectoplasmic scum is wiped from the face of the Earth!"

"Danny," said Tucker, much closer. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Right. Ghostly super hearing. Tucker and Sam, staring at him with concern, couldn't know.

"They're here," he managed, the words like sandpaper in his throat.

Sam uttered a word that would have sent her mother into a screeching fit. "We need to get you out of here," she said putting a hand on his back and pushing him down the hall.

"I'll run interference," said Tucker. "Make sure they can't follow you in the GAV."

"Good thinking," said Sam.

"Call me when you're safe," said Tucker, peeling off, presumably to hack the GAV.

"Danny, breathe," ordered Sam, as she propelled him through the double doors at the back of the school. "We're going to get you through this."

Clockwork had resorted to trapping the legal complex in a massive temporal bubble. Not the neatest solution, true, and it seemed to encourage the various functionaries, regulators, and bureaucrats to take even more time to process even the simplest request, but at least it would keep Daniel's suffering in the meantime to a minimum.

However, that didn't change the fact that he had been bouncing back and forth between the various floors of the building like a ping-pong ball, never getting closer to the solitary family court judge, for well over a subjective year. He was exhausted, frustrated, and he missed Daniel.

"You will be able to provide steady, stable access to the adoptee's preferred haunt?" asked his present interviewer.

"Yes," said Clockwork, dully. The room was ringed with runes that prevented deception of any kind.

"You will be able to provide shelter adequate for both his ghostly and human form?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. He had answered these questions so many times before.

"You have taken the mandated class on liminality?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. He was beginning to understand why other ghosts just gave up and sought extralegal solutions.

"You are aware of a liminal spirit's developmental and emotional needs?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. This was just so boring.

"And are you able to satisfy those needs?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. If only it would end.

The interviewer nodded. "Then we're done here," he said.

"Ye- What? Does that mean I can see the judge?" asked Clockwork, hopefully.

"No. That means that your adoption motion can move on to the next stage," said the interviewer. "Our liminality expert will examine your arrangements and determine whether or not they are sufficient, and we will contact law enforcement to follow up on your claim that the adoptee is being abused."

Clockwork bit back a groan. At least he was making progress.

They cut through the empty field behind the school, angling back toward the surrounding neighborhood. The grass came up to their chests, except where there were holes, mounds, and gouges from ghost fights. When there was one in the school, Danny tried to bring it out here, so people wouldn't get hurt.

He wasn't often successful.

Sam led the way. Danny felt- He felt ashamed. If his powers were working, he would be able to fly them away, or at least turn them invisible. This would all be so much easier. He could have taken care of himself, and Sam and Tucker wouldn't get in trouble, because they would definitely get in trouble for this. But he couldn't.

He couldn't even convince his parents that he was himself. He had to screw that up, too.

Before, he had thought, worse case scenario would be that they'd try to 'fix' him, to remove his ghost half, or maybe they'd think he was overshadowed. At least, he'd convinced himself of that, convinced himself that dissection would be off the table if he ever told them, that they would still love him. Maybe they might still want to do tests, but they'd love him. They wouldn't want to hurt him.

But he had been so, so wrong. They didn't believe him. They thought he had killed himself, replaced himself.

They had tried to cut him open.

(They succeeded.)

His core shuddered at the memory.

At least, though, there hadn't been any ghost attacks today. He wouldn't have been able to fight anything stronger than the Box Ghost. Heck, he might have lost to the Box Ghost. Like this, he would have to leave the ghosts to his parents, Valerie, or the GIW, none of which were particularly good options for the hunters, the ghosts, or the innocent bystanders of Amity Park.

His core pulsed uncomfortably at the thought of any of them getting hurt, including his parents.

He flinched. His core had been very jumpy, very active ever since... it... happened. Usually it only did this while he was in ghost form, and was otherwise almost dormant.

"Are you okay?" asked Sam. "Is it hurting?" She was the one who had bandaged him up last night.

"We can't stop now," said Danny.

Sam flattened her lips. "That isn't an answer. As soon as we get somewhere quiet, I'm checking you out, okay?"

"Yeah," said Danny.

When they reached the short fence, Sam gave him a boost to get over and they made their way into the suburb. There was a small library branch down the road a ways. It had a small family bathroom that Sam and Tucker had patched Danny up in before. It would be a good place to regroup before trying to put as much distance between them and Danny's parents as possible.

"We could take the city bus, I think," said Sam. "There's a stop outside the library. Maybe we could go to Elmerton?"

"Maybe," said Danny.

"Any ETA on Jazz since last night?"

Danny shook his head. "She couldn't get a flight. She's taking a Greyhound. Won't be here 'til-"

There was a beep. Danny stopped breathing. That could have been anything, a phone, a watch, a car, something from a building, but something about it tickled at Danny's brain as wrong.

"There is a ghost twenty feet in front of you."

The whine of a charging ectogun-

Sam slammed into his side, and they both fell. Danny felt the cut on his chest begin to bleed again, and he curled around it protectively. It hurt so much more than it should, and Danny wondered if that was because ghosts were ultimately shaped by their minds and his was in so much pain right now.

His parents had just shot at him. From behind. Not ghost him, Phantom him, either. Human him.

They hated him. All of him. Not just half of him.

His ghost sense went off. Because things could always get worse for Danny and the universe apparently hated him.

He struggled into a sitting position and blinked, confused. There were people surrounding him, protecting him, standing between him and his parents. Sam was shouting. Danny couldn't make out what she was saying, what anyone was saying, not with his heart pounding in his ears.

"Kid," said one man, shaking his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Danny considered that. "No," he said, finally.

The man pulled a phone from his pocket and began saying something about calling the hospital. Normally, Danny would be worried about that, but he was looking for the ghosts. It was possible one of the more benevolent spirits that haunted Amity Park had happened across the scene, but, somehow, Danny doubted it.

His ghost sense went off again. He whimpered.

His people were in danger.

Ghosts usually came for him (he was leading them here, an evil ghost, causing all this trouble, murderer), or at least attacked him first, to get rid of him as a threat. He staggered to his feet. He had to get away. Still clutching his chest, he turned and bolted.

Almost at once, he was surrounded by ghosts in police gear. Walker's goons. Definitely stronger than the Box Ghost. Still, he was going to at least try to fight. He put his fists up. Maybe some of them would be dumb enough not to phase out of the way of his stupid human punches.

Then Walker himself descended from the sky.

"Daniel," he said, stiffly.

"Walker," returned Danny. A small part of him was grateful that Walker hadn't called him Phantom and spilled his secret. It was strange, but no ghost had ever seemed particularly inclined to do that, despite how easy it would have been.

"We have a court order to take you into custody," said Walker. "Someone wants to ask you a few questions."

Danny decided today's mood was 'pointless bravado and defiance.' "And why would I want to come with- whoa."

As Danny talked, Walker had taken a piece of paper with strange symbols written on it in green ink out from the inside pocket of his jacket. The symbols made his head spin... Or maybe that was just his injuries catching up with him. His left leg was trembling, and he wasn't sure how much longer it would hold out.

He shook his head, trying to clear it, and focused on Walker. "I have no idea what that says."

Walker sighed. "Just come quietly, son. Make it easier on yourself."

Danny swallowed his discomfort at being called 'son.' "You won't hurt anyone else?" he asked.

"I'm just here for you."

There really wasn't much of a choice. Whether he went quietly or got himself beaten up even more, Walker would win and carry him off. Anyone could see that. Besides, ghost prison might be a better alternative than getting dissected by his parents.

He raised his hands in front of him, wrists together. "Go ahead, then," said Danny, flatly.

Walker nodded, and the goons converged on him. The cuffs they put around his wrists glowed green, but they had weight in a way most purely ghostly things didn't. Danny doubted that he'd be able to phase his way out of them, human or ghost. Then they picked him up and the whole swarm started to fly away.

"Yes, this is my lair," said Clockwork. "I can, however, duplicate and be both here and at the secondary residence I acquired expressly for the purpose of ensuring continuity of Daniel's human life."

The 'liminality expert' grunted. "He's still been here, though, hasn't he?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. "He has."

"And he might be here again in the future."

"Yes. I do plan to have him here, for short periods of time."

"And later, when he sheds his human life?"

"Perhaps."

"Then I need to know, are these up to OSHA standards? Your entire lair needs to be up to OSHA standards."

"They're time viewers and tools for unraveling paradoxes. OSHA, even the OSHA of the far future, does not regulate these items," said Clockwork. "Why, in the name of time, do you even need to know? Surely, OSHA didn't even exist the last time a liminal child was adopted."

"Well," said the expert, slightly sheepish. "No. But regulations state that all residences must be safe for children by both human and ghost standards."

"Then OSHA is not what you should be using," said Clockwork. "OSHA is the set of rules for occupational health and safety."

"Ah," said the expert. "Then we can move right along to the next check mark, shall we?"

"Hi," said a cheerful voice.

Danny looked up from his contemplation of the examination room table and glared balefully at the ghost who had just entered the door. They didn't seem to be affected. But then, why would they be? Danny was handcuffed to the table and clearly not a threat.

"I'm the interviewer," said the featureless ghost. "Do you know why you're here?"

"No," said Danny.

"Well," said the interviewer, "I work for the eighth authorized family court of the Infinite Realms, we're actually the only one right now, but there used to be more, and a little while ago, an adoption request was filed on your behalf."

Danny blinked and made a face. "You mean, someone stole my identity in ghost court?"

"No, no," said the interviewer, waving one amorphous hand. "Not at all. I mean to say, I ghost filed a request to legally adopt you."

"Who?" asked Danny. "Not Vlad?" Vlad was the only ghost he could think of who had demonstrated any interest in adopting him.

"No, that's not the name listed here."

"Plasmius?" asked Danny, still cringing internally.

"No."

"Then who?"

"Clockwork."

"What, seriously?" Danny liked Clockwork, and he liked to think that Clockwork liked him back, that they were friends, but the older ghost always seemed somewhat aloof.

"Yes, he was very serious. Now. I have a number of questions I need to ask you." They took out a small, glowing crystal, and set it on the table. "Do you know what this is?"

"No?" said Danny.

"It's a record crystal," said the ghost. "But one of its other functions is that it can sense deception, and record when in an interview it is being used. Go ahead, say something you know is false."

"I... like toast?"

The crystal's glow dimmed slightly before returning to its previous level.

"There, see? Very useful, don't you think?"

"I guess," said Danny. He didn't know how to feel about this. Any of this. What would ghost adoption even mean? He trusted Clockwork, but this felt like too much, too fast. He hadn't even properly processed what had happened with his parents a few hours ago.

"Right. So. We'll start with an easy one, then. Is your name Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom, also known as Danny Phantom, or simply Danny or Phantom?"

"Yes," said Danny, eyeing the crystal warily.

"And what would you prefer to go by, for the purposes of this interview?"

"Phantom," said Danny.

"Alright then, Phantom," said the interviewer, "could you please tell me where you primarily reside?"

"Fentonworks," said Danny, "in Amity Park." So far, he hadn't really had a reason to lie. All of this was common knowledge for both his human and ghostly acquaintances.

"And what would you consider to be your haunt?"

"My what?"

"Your haunt. The territory that you have metaphysically claimed."

"I- I don't really understand."

"Is there an area that you feel compelled to defend against hostile persons? An area in which non-hostile ghosts defer to you?"

"I- Yeah. I guess. Amity Park. And some of the bits around it, too."

"The entire city?"

"I guess? I don't know," said Danny. "Is that weird?"

"It would be unusual," said the interviewer.

Danny really wished the interviewer had an expression he could read. Or even just something approximating a face.

"Now, do you feel safe in your home? In 'Fentonworks?'"

The correct answer to that question would be no, but he wasn't sure he should answer. What if this was some kind of elaborate trick?

"We can come back to that," said the interviewer. "Are there any other places where you do feel safe?"

"I mean, sure?" said Danny. He fidgeted.

"Would you please share some of those places?"

"School, I guess?" Except that he got beaten up there all the time and his parents had hunted him down there and he had to escape and... Yeah.

The crystal dimmed. Danny grimaced.

"Ah," said the interviewer. "Anywhere else?"

"My friends houses," said Danny. "And the Far Frozen." To his relief, this time, the crystal stayed bright.

"Have you ever been to Clockwork's lair?"

"Yeah," said Danny. He slouched in the chair as much as possible. He wasn't sure he should be answering these questions, but he was. Maybe he should stop.

"Do you feel safe there?"

"Not at first, but now I do."

"I see. Why not at first?"

"Clockwork and I didn't meet on great terms and we sort of got into a fight." Maybe that would get the interviewer to stop. They'd decide Clockwork couldn't adopt him and leave. Did Danny want that? He wasn't sure.

"That's more common than one might expect. But you feel safe with him now?"

"Yes."

"Alright, moving on. How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

There was a long, drawn out silence that managed to be skeptical despite the interviewer's lack of a face.

"I know I'm small," said Danny, insulted, "but I am sixteen."

"Excuse my indelicacy, but... how old were you when you died?"

Danny flushed. "Fourteen," he bit out.

"Then you're fourteen."

"It was two years ago. I'm sixteen."

"Fourteen is your natural age," said the ghost. "A ghost's natural age is the age they died at."

"Yeah, but I'm still half human. I'm still aging. So I'm sixteen."

The interviewer shook their head. "As a liminal spirit, your apparant age range is likely larger than a normal child's would be, but your natural age, your true age, is still fourteen. Based on records of liminals, the highest extent of your age range is most likely to be either twenty-one or twenty-eight. That's part of the reason we investigate official adoption request so thoroughly. The relationship may very well last for thousands of years, if not forever."

"Wait, are you saying I could live forever?" asked Danny, incredulous. This was not how he wanted to find out he was immortal. Heck, he didn't want to be immortal.

"I'll admit, my understanding of liminality isn't perfect, but I believe that is the case. Why? Is that problematic?"

"The results of the law enforcement investigation have come back," said the bureaucrat to whom Clockwork was currently assigned. "As well as an inquiry as to the opinion of the mortal law enforcement arm."

"And?" asked Clockwork. "Their findings?"

The bureaucrat, who had up until that point not displayed evidence that xe possessed any emotions whatsoever, made a face of extreme disgust. "When the officers found the child, the human parents were openly shooting at him. Other humans intervened for long enough for law enforcement to pick him up. Of course, they then felt the need to arrest him and carry him away in handcuffs... I have no idea why I keep at this job, really I don't."

Clockwork's core shifted in worry. His first impulse was to leap up and go comfort Daniel, but he suppressed it. If he left now, he would lose his place in line and have to start over.

"The public nature of the event means that the human police are now investigating the child's circumstances and may recommend that the child be removed from his human parents' custody. If you have a human identity and you are able to gain custody of him there, it will aid your case here."

"I am aware," said Clockwork.

"Well, then," xe said. "I believe this is all in order. Here is your ticket to see the judge. Just show it to the door. You know where it is?"

"I do," said Clockwork, rising.

He had walked by the door several times in his dealings with the various clerks and notaries. The room behind it lay directly in the heart of the family court building, all the other rooms and residents armor for this one.

The door itself was made of dark wood full of eye-shaped knots. As Clockwork approached the door, the eyes opened, watching him. He held up the ticket and the doors swung inward.

Inside was a courtroom, complete with benches, tables, a witness stand, a courtroom recorder, a judge's box, and a judge.

The judge was a one-eyed ghost in pale purple robes. She examined Clockwork.

"We had not foreseen this," she said. "Not until you filed the first motion."

"You were never able to see me clearly," said Clockwork, hoping this would not turn into a power play between himself and the Observants. "Did you receive the relevant paper work, your honor?"

"Yes," she said. "Take a seat, Lord Clockwork."

Clockwork flew to the front of the courtroom and settled himself in the applicant's chair.

The judge leaned forward. "Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Because I love Daniel, and I believe he deserves more care and protection than he is currently receiving from his biological parents."

The judge waved a clawed hand. "Yes, yes. But you didn't have to go through all of this and get to me in order to do that. You could have just taken him. That's what most people do, nowadays. Ever since the King was sealed and our systems of governance began to decay."

"I believe it is the only way Daniel will truly be safe," said Clockwork, meeting her one eye calmly.

"You want to prevent us from 'interfering.'"

"That would be nice, yes," agreed Clockwork.

"You want this to be binding," accused the judge.

"You say that like it is a bad thing," said Clockwork. "But what else could induce him to fully remove himself from that situation? You see how they treat him. Have you looked at the medical report, yet?"

"I have," said the judge, looking at her desk. "Very well. All the paperwork is in order. I am approving you for a one-month trial period. At the end of the trial period, the status of the child will be assessed. If his state is found to be acceptable, the adoption will be approved and bound. If it is not, this court will take custody of him until such a time as an appropriate guardian can be found." She scribbled something on a piece of paper and then hit it with a stamp. "The probationary bond should be active. You may go."

"Thank you, your honor."

After the end of the interview, which had become much more distressing than Danny wanted to admit, one of Walker's goons showed up and took him away, to another room.

This room was different than any of the other rooms he had seen in Walker's prison. For one, the walls were a soft, pastel green with purple accents, not the harsh, neon pink of elsewhere in the facility. The chairs looked soft, and were arranged almost randomly, clustered in little groups, or around tables. There were colored pencils and crayons on and occasionally floating over the tables. A large basket sat in one corner, overflowing with toys of various sizes.

Alright. Danny was confused.

He let the goon- the... officer?- guide him into one of the chairs and put a stuffed rabbit on his lap.

"I- I don't understand," said Danny. "What's going on?"

"Didn't that interviewer guy tell you?"

"He said I was being adopted," said Danny, who still hadn't wrapped his head around that particular tidbit of information. "But I thought- I was under arrest?" He raised his cuffed hands. "You arrested me?"

"Those're just so you don't run away," said the ghost. He ruffled Danny's hair. "You're not under arrest. We're just waiting for the court to decide what to do with you."

"And what if they don't do anything with me?"

"Then it's up to the boss."

"Oh," said Danny, not liking the sound of that at all.

"But, if it helps, I think that the court probably will decide to do something with you."

It didn't really help, no.

"Do you want a lollipop?"

"Sure," said Danny. It wasn't like this day could get much weirder.

The ghost handed him a lime dumdum. Yeah. That was about what he expected there, honestly.

The sensation of a thick, weighted blanket being draped over his mind hit him with such intensity that he looked around, trying to see if someone had just wrapped him up in a blanket without him noticing. Tension bled out of his muscles, and his core finally stopped the angry/depressed/frightened/pained dance it was doing in his chest.

He felt... protected. Which was wrong, because he was in Walker's prison, and Walker would use any excuse he had to keep Danny imprisoned for a thousand years. Danny was not safe here. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

And yet, that feeling remained.

He brushed his fingers over the bandages over his chest. What was wrong with him? His parents hadn't even cut all the way through, but he was so messed up. He didn't understand.

This feeling... This 'safety'... It felt like a cruel joke more than anything else, only it was one he couldn't escape from because it was coming from inside him and he was calm but he was also crying.

"Oh, heck, do you not like lime? I think I have some green apples-?"

The door to the room opened, and Danny looked up. Before he could register who had come in, he was swept up into a hug.

He blinked into silky purple cloth. "Clockwork?" he croaked.

"I'm here," said Clockwork. "It's fine. You're safe now, Daniel."

Danny pushed away. Clockwork let him. "You're adopting me?" asked Danny.

"Yes," said Clockwork. "Unless you don't want me to."

"Why?" asked Danny. "I don't understand. I didn't think you liked me that much."

"I like you very much," reassured Clockwork. "I want you to be my family."

Danny sniffed. "Okay," he said. It wasn't as if he really had anywhere else to go. "Okay. But what about," he made an awkward gesture with his cuffed hands, "Amity Park?" The idea of leaving hurt, even worse than the cut on his chest.

"You won't have to leave," said Clockwork, soothingly. "You can still have your life there."

"I'll have to go back?" asked Danny, in alarm. Back to Fentonworks, where even the walls had it out for him with how much anti-ghost weaponry they had packed into them? He couldn't. Not after what his parents had done.

(A small part of him knew that wasn't what Clockwork had said, and that he was being irrational. That part of him was ignored.)

"No, no," said Clockwork. "I have a new place, just for you. If you'll let me show you?"

Very hesitantly, Danny nodded.

"Alright, good," said Clockwork. He turned to the police ghost. "Do you have the key for these? We really must be going."

"Yeah," said the ghost, producing the item. "The boss says that he expects you to teach the kid how to respect the law."

"Appropriately," said Clockwork, neutrally, unlocking the cuffs.

Danny felt an urge to hug Clockwork. So he did. Clockwork hugged him back, and rocked him back and forth, gently.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Clockwork.

"Yeah," said Danny.

With a gesture of his staff, Clockwork opened a portal.

Clockwork wanted custody of Danny. He wanted full custody of Danny. Legally. In both worlds.

This posed a bit of a challenge, as he did not legally exist on one of those two worlds. Thus, Clockwork had to establish a legal presence in the human world.

On the surface of it, this did not seem too difficult. Between his temporal powers, his minor shapeshifting abilities, and overshadowing, simply creating an identity was easy. The hard part was creating an identity that Daniel would not have encountered before, in order to avoid a paradox, while making it plausible that Daniel had encountered the identity before, for the purposes of dealing with mortal law.

In one timeline, the hill to the west of town stood empty of habitation, owned by the county but rendered unusable due to a dangerous failed mine on the site. In this timeline, however, the mine had never been built, and the property was instead owned by a reclusive hermit who went by the name of Charles Worth. The property had passed through many hands in the years before Mr. Worth had purchased it in his youth, and a stately, if somewhat faded, mansion sat at the hill's crest, overlooking Amity Park.

Charles Worth went to Amity Park only rarely, and for good reason. He was an albino, with red eyes, white hair, and even whiter skin, and superstitious people often thought the worst of him. In recent days, he had even been mistaken for a ghost.

'Mistaken.'

He rubbed Daniel's shoulders, and the child startled, pulling away from him again. Daniel had missed Clockwork's, admittedly minor, transformation, and now blinked up at his newly pale face, confused.

"Do you like my disguise?" asked Clockwork.

Daniel's eyes flicked up and down Clockwork, assessing, processing. He gave a tiny nod, and reattached himself. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Hickory Hill," said Clockwork.

Danny frowned, mouthing the words. "Isn't that owned by... Charles Worth. Charles- Oh. I get it."

Clockwork gave Danny a little squeeze. "Would you like to see inside?"

"Okay," said Danny.

The house, Danny had to acknowledge, as they approached the front door, looked haunted. As if some pale, frail, spirit might look out one of the lace-draped windows on the upper floor at any moment. As if there was a Gothic mystery just waiting to unfold. A murder mystery, maybe, full of forbid love and jealous lovers. Or the tale of a sickly heir to a great fortune.

Or that of an ancient ghost and his adopted half-living son.

Even before they stepped inside, Danny's ghost half had decided it loved the building.

The door, as Clockwork opened it, creaked in a loving sort of way, the tone low enough to be comforting instead of annoying. The entrance hall's floorboards did not creak under the weight of the ghosts, but Danny could tell that if a human tried to cross them, they would. He hoped the rest of the floors were like that.

He padded forward, daringly leaving the protection of Clockwork's cloak, examining all the dark nooks and crannies, the odd architectural choices arising from generations of additions, smiling at cold spots. Clockwork shut the door. Even then, there was a draft, curling around his ankles, cool and refreshing.

Danny smiled. It was small and strained, but it was a smile. "It's perfect," he said.

"Don't you want to see your room before you say that?" teased Clockwork.

"Yes," said Danny.

Clockwork led Danny to a staircase with an elaborately carved banister and began to climb. Danny followed eagerly. He had never thought his core would be so happy simply to have somewhere safe to exist.

It almost was enough to let him forget what his parents had done to him. He stopped, hand on his chest.

"Daniel?" said Clockwork. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," said Danny, automatically.

Clockwork frowned, the expression both familiar and foreign on Clockwork's falsely-human face. "Why don't we take a look at that, once we get to your room, alright?"

Danny nodded, swallowing back his irrational fear.

They went up, and Clockwork opened the door to a large room, much larger than the one he had back at Fentonworks. The bed was similarly large and equipped with curtains and enough blankets and pillows to turn it into a nest at a moment's notice. The walls and ceiling were painted a deep blue, with tiny green-white dots picking out a star map. The room also contained a number of carefully curated hiding places, areas where the dressers wardrobe or desk created blind spots and deep shadows. The floor was carpeted, but still icy.

It was an excellent room for a ghost (or half-ghost) like Danny.

He was too nervous to enjoy it.

Clockwork pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat down. It was a little strange to see Clockwork actually sitting and not floating or coiling. Actually-

"Can you have legs in ghost form?" asked Danny.

"I can," said Clockwork. "But typically I don't bother." He patted the bed. "Let's take a look at you."

Danny hesitated, holding his hands clasped in front of his chest. Clockwork's face went soft.

"I just want to make sure you are healing. I know this is difficult, but neither you nor I want things to get worse."

"I'm fine," said Danny. "I heal fast. It was just- It should be gone now. I've gotten worse."

"Is it?" asked Clockwork.

Danny could still feel it. "I don't know," said Danny.

Clockwork patted the bed again. Danny sat down and started fumbling with the hem of his shirt.

"Would you like help?" asked Clockwork.

"No," said Danny. He pulled his sweater off. Taking off his t-shirt was harder. Then there were just Sam's bandages. He bit his lip a the red and brown blotches staining them.

"Would you like to talk about it?" asked Clockwork, taking one end of the bandage and starting to unwind it.

"I don't know," said Danny. "I just- It's so stupid. I shouldn't have- They saw me walk through a door and- They don't even know I'm Phantom. They just-" Danny hiccuped. "They tried to cut me open. They pretended."

Clockwork pulled free the last layer of bandages. The long, shallow cut was still there, straight along his breast bone until the end, where it curved sharply right and tapered off. That was when Danny had jerked free of the restraints and ran.

"Why isn't it healing?" asked Danny.

"It isn't just a physical wound, Daniel. Ghosts are spiritual creatures."

"Oh," said Danny. It made a sick kind of sense. "So my core is really hurt? I thought I was just... That it was in my head."

Clockwork raised a hand to touch the bottom of the cut. "Your parents are important to you, and to your Obsession, your existence as a ghost. Of course their rejection would affect you." The cut began to knit itself together underneath Clockwork's fingers. Danny's core thrummed strangely at the touch. "I can heal your physical injuries."

"But not the mental ones, huh?" said Danny.

"You need time for that," said Clockwork, reaching the top of the cut.

"Good thing I have you, then."

"It is," said Clockwork. He leaned forward and kissed Danny on top of his head.

Danny ran his fingers up and down the newly healed cut. "So my powers aren't going to work until, what, I get over this?"

"That is one possibility," said Clockwork. "But everyone heals differently."

"Can't you tell?" asked Danny, reaching for his shirt.

"The more involved I am in an event, the more difficult it becomes for me to see its future," said Clockwork. "The timeline branches and splinters as I look at it. Also, it may surprise you, but you are fairly difficult to predict on your own."

"Oh," said Danny. He pulled his shirt on, ignoring how it caught on the dried blood on his skin. "So, what now? Should I just, I don't know, hide out here? I mean," he shifted, uncomfortably, "It's fine if I can't let anyone know I'm here, I get that, but I'd like to, um..."

"Live your life?"

Danny flinched. "As much as I can, yeah." He licked his lips. "Sam and Tucker didn't get in trouble, did they? They're fine?" He'd been so wrapped up in how miserable he was, he'd barely spared his friends a second thought, and now that guilt from that rained down on his head.

"They're fine. Due to the circumstances, they haven't gotten in any trouble at all, so stop that."

"What?"

"Feeling guilty. I know for a fact that the safety of others was your first consideration." Clockwork patted his shoulder. "As for your continued presence here on the mortal plane," Clockwork smiled, "would it surprise you to learn that I am in fact registered as a foster parent? I have even had a few children here, although not many stay for long."

"Really?" said Danny. "But... Wait, um. What about- What about Mom and Dad?"

"They were seen shooting at you in public after insisting that you were a ghost. They've been arrested."

Danny swallowed. "Are they going to be alright?"

Clockwork sighed and shifted so that he was sitting on the bed next to Danny. He put an arm around Danny's shoulders. "They'll be fine," he said. "But we should come up with a story about how you wound up here, hm? For the social workers."

During Daniel's periodic visits to Clockwork's lair, Clockwork had noted how tactile he was, how much he enjoyed hugs and other physical expressions of affection. After Daniel got past his initial hesitation concerning his new situation, that particular personality trait multiplied.

Clockwork suspected the Fentons were ultimately to blame. Their hostility towards Daniel's ghostly identity and their tendency to carry objects that could hurt Daniel precluded him from seeking comfort from them, and his friends and sister, while very remarkable, were children themselves. Their relationship with Daniel was different.

This meant that Daniel could and would spend long periods of time laying against Clockwork. Usually, he would be doing homework during those moments or talking to Clockwork about various ghostly things that he had never had a chance to learn about before.

Today, however, he was just sitting there, quietly, almost dozing.

"I'm not keeping you from doing things?" asked Daniel, abruptly. "Am I?"

"No," said Clockwork.

"You don't have to do time stuff?"

"I can make duplicates and also time travel. I can be wherever I need to be. But if you want space-"

"No," said Daniel. "This is good." He snuggled closer and startled as a ring of light flashed around his waist. He was, for the first time since before his parents had attacked him, a ghost. Clockwork, in turn, shed his human guise.

Daniel was blinking down at his gloved hands.

"What?" he asked.

"I think you finally relaxed," said Clockwork, ruffling Daniel's hair. The smaller ghost leaned into the touch, purring. "Your transformations might be a bit unpredictable for the next few days."

"Good thing it's a weekend, then, huh?"

Danny jittered nervously as he and Clockwork passed through the large, eye-covered doors. This time last week, strange ghosts had been in and out of Clockwork's house, asking questions, poking things, and staring. Clockwork said they were checking to see if everything was in order, if the adoption could become official.

Danny didn't really see why it being official mattered. The Ghost Zone didn't really have a government to speak of. Families that Danny had seen just sort of decided that they were families, and that was that. It seemed important to Clockwork, though, and Clockwork claimed that there were certain benefits, like strengthening connections... Danny didn't get it. Wouldn't their connections be strengthened anyway?

Clockwork guided Danny with small nudges, directing him to a seat in front of the judge, who stared down at them with her one enormous eye.

"I have decided to approve the adoption request regarding Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom," she said.

Danny felt Clockwork relax incrementally beside him. He smiled. The judge's pronouncement felt a little anticlimactic to him, but, well, whatever.

But the judge wasn't done speaking. "The child's familial bond with his biological parents will be severed. The familial bond will be established with his current guardian, known as Clockwork. On all levels legal, physical, metaphysical, metaphorical, emotional, mental, and spiritual, Clockwork will be the sole parent of Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom. Due to the child's status as a liminal spirit, the memories and associations stored in his human brain will not be altered, and he may still experience feelings, especially those of nostalgia, towards his former parents, however, this is expected to fade with time. Questions?"

Danny had rather a lot, actually. Clockwork hadn't quite explained it like this. "Wait, are you saying I'll forget my parents?"

"No," said the judge, in a rather condescending tone.

"You won't forget them," said Clockwork. "But your core won't recognize them as your parents anymore. It's so you'll be able to defend yourself." His tone was almost pleading. "Your relationship with your sister will, of course, be unaffected."

"Okay," said Danny. They clearly didn't see him as their son anymore, so... It wouldn't really change anything. He didn't like the idea of ghosts he didn't know messing around with his core, but he trusted Clockwork. Even if he was apparently really bad at explaining ghost adoption. "What about the other stuff? The physical, metaphysical part?"

"The severed bonds in your core are replaced with ones to your new parent. Similarly, new bonds will be established in your parent's core," explained the judge. "Are you satisfied?"

Clockwork gave Danny an encouraging smile.

"I- Yes. I'm satisfied," said Danny.

"Very well." The judge waved forward a seven armed bailiff who had been waiting in the corner of the room.

The bailiff carried two tall glasses and a large, covered pitcher. He set one glass each in front of Clockwork and Danny and poured a thick, white, faintly glowing liquid into each of them.

"What is it?" asked Danny.

"It is a potion designed to stop our cores from fighting the changes that are about to happen," said Clockwork.

Danny looked at the potion dubiously. "Like an anesthetic?"

"Like an anesthetic," agreed Clockwork. He had already picked up his cup. "Together?"

"Okay," said Danny, still doubtful.

He picked up the cup and brought it to his lips, watching Clockwork carefully over the rim. Clockwork tipped his cup back, and so did Danny.

The potion reminded him a lot of eggnog, except that it was thicker, heavier, sweeter, like it had been mixed with honey. Almost at once, that heaviness settled into Danny's bones, weighing him down, a sensation just to the left of sleep settled over him. He lowered the cup from his face, his grip on it going gentle. The bailiff caught it as it tipped over.

Clockwork reached over and gently, slowly, pulled him close. Then he went as limp as Danny.

Inside, Danny's core became open. Not open, as in vulnerable, but as in receptive. Listening. He felt soft. Malleable. Like someone could press their thumb into him, and it would leave an impression when he hardened again. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation.

The judge sighed with something like disapproval. "So mote it be." She raised a stamp up off her desk, brought it down, and things changed.

Or, at least, Danny did.

Clockwork, being the elder ghost, recovered faster from the potion than Daniel. There was no reason to stay at the court, so, after bidding a goodbye to the judge, he picked Daniel up and left, flying a polite distance before opening a portal back to their home outside Amity Park.

He settled Daniel down in his bed, phasing him beneath his covers and tucking him in. Daniel would need to sleep off the potion, as well as take time to adjust to the changes to his psyche, however minor they might be.

"I love you so much," said Clockwork, brushing Daniel's hair out of his face. Getting here had taken subjective years of work and planning but it was worth it, because now Daniel was his child, in every way that mattered.

Forever.

Yes, that ending line was a little bit ominous, but they're ghosts. They wouldn't be happy if it wasn't ominous!

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2020

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itsthenovelteafactor · 4 years ago

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Vanya and the Phantom

I asked and y’all answered (special thanks to @schizoidwire and @the-aro-ace-arrow-ace and all the people who responded to my earlier post for encouraging me!), so it is time for how The Phantom of the Opera song introduction can be read as a look into Vanya’s self-narrative and also foreshadows future events in a really subtle and interesting way.

I’m channeling my inner Elliot and going into full conspiracy mode. This is gonna be a long one, y’all.

Part One: In Which I Expose Myself as a Former Theater Kid

So, for those who aren’t familiar with The Phantom of the Opera, it was originally a novel by French writer Gaston Leroux back in 1909. In 1986, Andrew Lloyd Webber rewrote it as a musical. For purposes of my analysis here, I am just going to be discussing the musical because 1) the score used in the opening scene is from it and 2) I’ve never read the book. (If anyone out there has read the book and wants to weigh in, please do!)

It’s a very aesthetic show, and draws on a lot of gothic themes and imagery. The plot follows an opera house, and specifically a young chorus girl named Christine Daaé. I’m not going to explain the whole show plot in detail because wikipedia exists, but I will do a quick overview here and point out some things as they relate to things I’ll be discussing later. Also there will be a test after and it will NOT be multiple choice.

The show begins when the opera house is sold to new owners who 1) just want to make money and 2) do not respect the opera house’s resident ghost (who isn’t really a ghost, but we’ll get to that later.) When the Phantom makes his presence known, and freaks out the resident prima donna singer (who will be relevant later) Carlotta, who says she won’t sing under these conditions. It is then that Christine appears. She’s quiet and humble and has always lived in the background, but is incredibly talented. The woman who runs the chorus (also owner of the opera house’s resident braincell) suggests Christine sing the part. She does, and is amazing. Everyone is blown away, and she’s catapulted into instant fame and success.

We later learn that Christine has been studying under the Phantom, who appears to her in mirrors. She calls him the Angel of Music, and thinks that he was sent to teach her by her recently deceased father. He isn’t. He’s actually pretty malicious, and is obsessed with Christine, wants to control her voice, and doesn’t like her dating anyone. Which is a bit awkward when her childhood friend shows up and promptly falls in love with her.

Anyways, Carlotta is jealous of the attention Christine has been getting and threatens to leave prompting the new owners to cut Christine from the program. The Phantom doesn’t like it at all, sends a bunch of letters, things escalate, people are murdered, and the whole first act ends with the chandelier falling from the ceiling and crashing onto the stage (which is done with really cool effects, oftentimes beginning the show hanging over the audience. It’s a BIG MOMENT and one of the most iconic ones from the show. This will also be relevant later.)

Act two takes place a few months later, wherein no one has seen the Phantom. Shock of all shocks, though, he’s not dead. He’s been writing an opera and he wants Christine to star in it. More stuff happens, you learn the backstory of the Phantom (which is pretty sad, ngl, but in no way makes him less of a creep) and the story ends with the Phantom kidnapping Christine and giving her an ultimatum: stay with him forever, or he kills Raoul (aka childhood friend/romantic interest guy). She agrees to stay with him and he’s so moved by her compassion that he lets them both go and disappears forever.

Part Two: Casting the Characters

That’s interesting, Rosie (note sarcasm) but you said this was about The Umbrella Academy? I did, in fact. So, we meet Vanya when she’s playing a medley of songs from The Phantom of the Opera. Since it’s primarily the melodies and not one of the orchestral pieces from her performance later (I don’t think), we can assume she’s just playing it for herself (which is nice! good on you, Vanya).

Maybe she’s never seen the play and just likes the score, but for purposes here, let’s assume she’s familiar with it.

You can tell a lot about a person by the stories they connect with (for example, I like TUA because I like fun sibling dynamics, found family, music, and being sad). And I think that it makes sense that The Phantom of the Opera would be a story that resonates with Vanya. The overlooked chorus girl finds power in music, and, after years in the background, is finally given a chance to show how special she is.

So, yeah. I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility that Vanya sees herself as Christine. There are some discrepancies, sure, but this is Vanya’s self-narrative, which we learn pretty much immediately is unreliable. (Love her, but it’s true.) And if Vanya is Christine, then we can try and tap into her perspective to look at some other characters.

Anyways remember Carlotta (the prima donna opera singer who always got the spotlight and tried to destroy everything good that happened to Christine because she felt threatened that someone might be as good/better than her whose entire personality and role in the story I just summarized, rendering my plot recap useless)? Carlotta is how Vanya views Allison. (Kind of all her siblings, but her relationship with Allison is the most important here.)

Think about the scene in the cabin?

“You couldn’t risk me threatening your place in the house! You couldn’t handle the fact that Dad might find me special!” - Vanya, having a mental breakdown.

This always struck me as an interesting accusation to throw, since prior to this moment, I don’t think there was any indication that Allison had ever felt threatened by Vanya. She excluded her, sure, and wasn’t super friendly at times, but the idea that Allison has been pulling strings to keep Vanya out of her spotlight is new. But that is exactly the role Carlotta plays in Phantom.

Fun fact! At one point in the musical, the Phantom enchants Carlotta so that she loses her voice right before coming on stage.

Part Three: The Phantom of the Opera is there

So based on everything I’ve said so far, the most straightforward reading is then, that Leonard Peabody/Harold Jenkins (who for purposes here I’ll call Leonard) is the stand in for the Phantom, which works... really well. Both in helping to understand Vanya and also because it foreshadows the twist of season one in a really cool way.

So, the Phantom appears to Christine first not as an enemy, but as a friend and teacher, who encourages her to be more confident in her abilities. He trains her to develop her singing ability. While the teacher-student dynamic is actually inverted initially with Vanya and Leonard, from the get go, he is showering her with compliments, encouraging her to be confident in her abilities, and, at least on the surface, supporting her in a way she hasn’t been supported before (he’s a trash human but an expert manipulator).

But, in the play, the Phantom is also very possessive over Christine and her power (er, I mean voice). He also is perfectly willing to kill and/or hurt people who he views as standing in the way of Christine and her success (see the aforementioned Carlotta incident). Which is exactly what Leonard does to Vanya. He kills the first chair violinist to help her get it, and orchestrates a whole master plan to get her to reveal her powers on his terms.

Even the part where he starts “training” her to use her powers kind of resembles the second act of the play. The Phantom wrote a play for Christine and she’s going to star in it, whether she wants to or not.

(One could even make the argument of the parallels between Christine believing the Phantom was sent by her father to teach her and Leonard showing up because of his revenge scheme against Vanya’s father, but I honestly don’t have much support for that.)

Part Three: Two Conflicting Narratives

So, as you might’ve noticed, I sort of have two different threads of analysis going on right now. 1) The Phantom of the Opera parallel is part of Vanya’s self-narrative and in it she mischaracterizes Allison, making her more suspicious of her motivations and 2) Leonard Peabody is clearly the Phantom and doesn’t bother being subtle about it. I hope that I’ve been convincing (or at least intriguing) for you to get to this point, because here is where they come together.

Vanya has this parallel going, but she doesn’t see Leonard as the Phantom. In the beginning at least, he’s her Raoul. If I had to guess, I’d say Reginald Hargreeves is the Phantom in Vanya’s self-narrative (says he’ll train her but wants to manipulate her and keep her locked away for himself, strict teacher who doesn’t really care about her well being, wearing a mask to appear more normal/human... she wouldn’t exactly be wrong). Leonard, on the other hand, is Vanya’s supporter. He validates her, and believes in her, and taker her side when Carlotta and the opera house owners (er, the rest of the Hargreeves children) gang up on her and conspire to keep her out.

This is all building to, of course, the final confrontation. The Phantom says Christine has to pick one or the other. When Allison comes to talk to Vanya, Vanya feels as if she’s been given an ultimatum and lashes out.

And that’s where everything (including this parallel) starts to crumble.

(I honestly don’t know a lot about the other characters and how they fit in. I suppose we could have Five = Raoul if we ignore romance plot and focus on the childhood friend that hasn’t been seen in a while angle? And maybe also Pogo = Madame Giry. Vanya doesn’t really have any friends to be Meg.)

Part Four: It’s All About the Moon

So that is kind of the gist of The Phantom of the Opera as a window into Vanya’s self-narrative theory, but there are a couple of other loosely related ideas I thought I might as well bring up since this thing is already ridiculously long.

Remember how I mentioned the chandelier is like, THE scene from The Phantom of the Opera back in part one, and said it’d be relevant later? Bringing that back now, because I’m going to pull a Luther and connect everything to the moon.

So, to get the obvious out of the way, the moon exploding and the chandelier coming crashing to the stage are similar because something falls, breaks into a bunch of pieces, destroys a bunch of stuff, and creates a powerful and memorable image to close off before an act/season break (the next installment of which begins with a time jump).

Additionally, it’s worth mentioning that The Phantom of the Opera is told out of order. The opening scene shows a grown up Raoul at an auction for the items left behind after the opera house closes, and it switches to the past as the remains of the chandelier rise upwards to the ceiling, Phantom’s theme swelling (it’s a really cool moment, tbh). Following the prologue of The Umbrella Academy, we switch to the present with two images: Vanya alone on the stage, and then Luther alone on the moon. Which has a kind of symmetry that might mean nothing, but is still kind of cool.

(Also the item that Raoul buys from the auction is a music box with a monkey crashing symbols on top of it. Which might mean nothing.)

Part Five: How is she STILL talking about this? (AKA Conclusion)

To be honest, this is more a very tangled “things I noticed and thought were interesting” discussion than a formal essay with any clear thesis. While there is a chance that this was all coincidental and I’ve gone full Pepe Sylvia, the music selection in The Umbrella Academy is one of the things that they seem to be really deliberate about.

I would love to chat with anyone about this theory, so feel free to reach out in the notes or message me! My inbox is always open. Much love, and thank you for reading, if you got this far! ❤️

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yamithediaperdork · 3 years ago

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Worlds fastest Little and a Super caretaker

Bart was willing to do many things for his friends, Help them out in epic battles, babysit (though most people only made the mistake of letting him baby sit once), Run errands at super speed but today Bart Allen, the fastest boy alive was going to go about and beyond in the favor he was going to do for his second best friend.

Because today he was going to let Kon diaper and baby him.

The urge to baby and look after a little guy was a left over from Kon's time spent in Gem world. After posing as and to some extent becoming the husband to Lophi and father to her son little Lon. Rao knows Kon had tried to just work his feeling out looking after little ones at a daycare job Kal had set him up with but it wasn't enough and he knew there was NO way in hell he'd be able to adopt.

That left finding a little (Something Kon hadn't even known had existed till a little google search) or someone close to one who could be trusted to keep his mouth shut.

Considering all of his options, it naturally came to him that Bart would fit the role perfectly.

'Now the only question is will I be able to keep up with a speed forced charged big toddler.'

Bart arrived five minutes late from when he was suppose to arrive having gotten distracted by a new arcade in town though he lied and said it was a intergang attack. Since he was doing Kon such a big solid Kon decided not to call Bart out on his bullshit excuse and just led him to the bathroom instead.

"Sooo why are we coming in here? I thought I was gonna be going in diapers? Or a training potty. Oh, Do you just want me to wear?" Bart asked, going a million miles a minute like always as Kon just chuckled.

"Bart, when was the last time you took a bath or had a shower?" Kon asked reasonably, starting to run a tub.

"I didn't come here to have my personal hygiene attacked!" Bart huffed and pouted, crossing his arms and glaring.

"Bart, Daddies give their their little ones baths and you smell like you need one." Kon said chuckling.

Bart went to argue then held up a arm and sniffed a pit and made a face at the smell.

"I say we agree to disagree but I'll humor you and let you give me a bath.. if I can play with some bath toys." Bart said, striping down at super speed and having spotted a few toy boats.

Since Kon was going to be diapering him anyways the smaller boy didn't bother to cover up and Kon wasn't shocked that he was devoid of any chest hair or pubic.

"I suppose that can be arranged, but I need to wash you first so g-" Kon started and then was hit with a splash of water as Bart jumped into the tub, shocking him. "-et the tub.. I'm starting to see this is going to be a little different from looking after Lon." Kon sighed, dabbing his face with a towel as Bart giggled impishly.

Bart giggled as he let Kon go to work washing him. Normally he considered Showers and baths a semi waste of time because of how slow they were but having someone else do all the work was actually kinda fun.

After having his hair and body washed Bart was left to coo and play with the boats and a rubber ducky as Kon cleaned up the water Bart had displaced and then went to change into dry clothes.

Oddly the more he played in the tub the more he started to wonder how the ducky would taste and kept stealing glances at the door, not sure how Kon would react if he came back to Bart popping the toy in his mouth.

Deciding to risk it Bart tugged the shower curtain semi closed, and then nommed on the head of the rubber ducky, and giggled, having his mouth stuffed and acting so babyish was bringing flash backs of sucking on a paci and sitting in his parents laps while they watched holo shows. He was enjoying it so much he just closed his eyes and chewed (making sure not to chew too hard) and lost himself in the feeling.

So much so it wasn't until he felt the water getting warmer he realized that apparently he had relaxed a little too much, he was peeing in the tub!

"Ah! Kon!" he yelped, spitting out the rubber ducky and pulling the curtain back. "I-I had a accident!"

Kon had been not only getting changed but setting up the cloth diapers for Bart, making sure he could get the little guy right into the diapies when he heard the cry and dashed into the bathroom.

he might not of been as fast as Bart but he could still hit a pretty nice burst of speed and was picturing the worse. he figured Bart had gotten hurt trying to get out, or had cut himself or something else, cursing himself for leaving the little guy all alone only to get in and see the once clear bath water now had a tell tale yellowish twinge to it, and his super sense confirmed that Bart not only had peed in the tub, but needed to drink more fluids.

The fastest boy alive was standing up in the tub, blushing badly and his bottom lip was trembling.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean to it just came out an-" Bart was saying rapidly, sounding like a over sized toddler.

"heh, it's ok little man. I know you can't control it. I should of sat you on the potty first. At least you didn't make any 'torpedo's' in the tub." Kon said tugging the plug out of the tub and then making use of the removable shower head to re-wash Bart down.

Bart whined at the torpedo's comment but just shushed up and let Kon re-clean him then get him out of the tub, drying him off with a soft and fluffy towel.

"Speaking of stinkies though, I only have so many diapers and we wanna make it last before I have to wash any to change you..so did you wanna sit on the potty and try to go boom boom like a big kid?" Kon asked.

"I can go potty like a big kid!" Bart whined and huffed, his tone taking on a fussy toddler twinge. "And I KNOW I don't hafa uh-oh!"

"mmmhmmm..Of course you know when you have to go." Kon said, smirking and using a condescending tone. "Alright, if your SURE you don't need to sit, let's go get a diapie on you widdle guy." Kon coo'ed.

Bart was huffing and pouting as he padded along, Thinking about just how much of a meanie butt Kon was being when he was trying to be a good friend, even though as they got to the bedroom he could feel his tummy churning a little.

It was too late now though to say he needed to potty so he just convinced himself he could hold it for a little while.

"uh Kon..you know that there are disposable diapers on earth right?" he asked, even as he dropped the towel and plopped his butt on the thick white terrycloth diapers, nothing it was pre-powdered.

"heh, yeahhh but I'm used to cloth, and this is just cuter. plus I got you some adorable plastic pants." Kon chuckled, holding up a light base colored pair with rainbow sprinkles and teddy bears in diapers all over it.

Looking them over, Bart's face went shocked to curious while Kon swallowed, looking unsure/hopeful that Bart would like them.

As squeal escaped from Bart's mouth and he went all sparkle eyes, cooing and reaching up to hold them.

"They're so cuttttttte!" the worlds fastest little in the making gushed.

"heh, Glad you approve. they cost a pretty penny but figured you were worth it!" Kon said as Bart giggled and hugged the plastic pants, holding up and looking at them again then hugging them over and over. "uhhh buddy..I'm gonna need those back."

"...Pin my diapies up first." Bart said, giving a toothy grin.

"So clearly I'm gonna need to get you lots of teddies if we're gonna keep doing this huh?" Kon asked, tugging the cloth up and with expert ease getting the pins in and making sure the diapers were nice and tight.

Bart coo'ed and squeezed his thighs together, finding he couldn't get his legs to touch Kon had gone so thick but also finding he didn't mind at all, letting out a muffled poot and getting a raised eyebrow from Kon.

"Heh, you SURE you don't wanna go sit on the potty little man?" Kon asked, holding out his hand for the plastic pants.

"I'm good!" Bart giggled and gave the teddy bear plastic undies one last hug then handed them over.

Bart wasn't actually sure if Kon was gonna be able to slide the plastic pants over his puffy diapers, but though determination and the used of super steaght the deed was done, and Bart sat up on the bed and went to zip over to the mirror and see how he looked.

went, but didn't because the thickness though off the speedster and 4 steps in he ended up plopping on his butt, a adorable surprised look on his face as Kon chuckled and gushed.

"Awww! Babies first steps! wanna try again little man? I can help you if need me too." Kon coo'ed, coming over and leaning down holding out his hands.

Bart almost took the offer up, but then giggled and rolled over onto all fours, and showed that even reduced to crawling he was a quick widdle guy.

Honestly the sight of Bart crawling around in JUST his diapie and getting over to the mirror and coo'ing and giggling at how he looked was just too adorable, and if it hadn't of been for the agreement of no pictures Kon would of used up half a memory card already. he almost just let Bart keep posing in front of the mirror but they did only have SO long they could do this before Bart would have to go home, so he cleared his throat as he picked up a t-shirt he had a sneaking suspicion Bart was going to lover.. since it shared the same color and designs as the plastic pants.

"You don't mind if I finish getting you dressed do you?" Kon asked, a big grin on his face.

Bart turned to whine that this was good, then spotted the shirt and zipped over so fast Kon barely moved to the side in time to avoid being balled over and then Bart was on his knees reaching up and trying to grab the shirt.

"I want! I want!" he whined as Kon lifted it out of his reach.

"ah ah ah, Let me dress you little one..arm's up." Kon said.

Bart looked like he was gonna argue for a second (Kon figured he just wanted to hug the t-shirt like he had the pants) but then stuck his arms up in the air like a good little boy.

Sliding the t-shirt down and adjusting it, Kon wasn't really shocked when Bart crawled back over to the mirror to look at how cute he looked and giggle like a mad man.

His only regret in the whole thing was that originally it had been a teddy bear onesie Bart was meant to wear, but the company he had ordered from had messed up and there hadn't been time to fix the order. That and the company had forgotten to send the pacifiers Kon had ordered but at least his next order was going to be half off because of the mix ups.

'Oh well, always next time. sometime tells me I'm not gonna have a hard time convincing him to come back.' Kon thought.

Bart coo'ed and giggled and in a move that made Kon's heart melt, leaned in and kissed his reflection, something Kon had seen other toddlers do.

Moving from the bedroom Bart's tummy was rumbling lots though Kon had given up on asking him to use the potty, which was good because he didn't wanna lose any his new favorite outfit.

'Besides, I'm just hamming it up for Kon..I'm not really a widdle diaper boy..even if i am super duper kewt.' Bart thought, though he knew he was lying to himself.

there was no way he wasn't coming over and getting babied like at least ONCE a week from now on!

Sitting on a blanket on the floor he studied the baby toys Kon had gotten him, he was used to the toys of his time period and these were actually more fun to play with, though he kept nom'ing on some of the more brightly colored toys.

"Remind me to get you a teeth ring before next time." Kon chuckled, patting Bart's head.

"..That's a thing!? I want that!" Bart said excitedly.

"You sit here like a good boy while I go and make you a ba-ba, I don't want you getting all dehydrated." Kon chuckled, clearly not shocked by Bart's response.

"ok..but then a teething ring? Pleassssse?" Bart whined and tried the puppy dog eyes on his new semi daddy.

"Not today buddy. at least not right now." Kon said.

"Whyyyyyy?!" Bart whined and huffed

"Because you'd have to go shopping in your little outfit and it's mid day. Didn't think you'd wanna make this public." Kon pointed out and a muffled fart escaped as Bart blushed.

"Oh..yeah.. ehehehe..didn't think about that." he said sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head.

"I thought that might be the case. Apple juice or milk?" Kon said, chuckling lots at just how silly Bart was.

"Milk please. apple juice gives me the poops. trust me, you'll take me later." Bart said and giggled, blowing a raspberry.

"heh, So what your saying is if I want a super little present maker.." Kon said and winked, but then disappeared into the kitchen.

'..Why do I get the feeling I'm gonna regret telling him that?' Bart thought, but then had his attention drawn to a white and blue rattle with a teddy bear on the handle and started to shake it lots.

Kon had just finished making the ba-ba of milk, 3 percent, when a loud racket started to fill the apartment and he almost dropped the bottle, stumbling out and holding one hand to his left ear and the bottle in the other, he could see Bart had found the rattle and was playing with it..at super speed not aware of the racket he was making.

Not only was it loud enough to hurt Kon's super hearing, but the windows were vibrating and were seconds away from shattering.. all the while Bart was just looking at his rattle and shaking it unaware of the damage he was doing.

Coming over as fast as he could (he tried to yell and get Bart's attention but the noise was too much and Bart was off in his own little world) Kon got a hand over the rattle and stopped the noise.

"hey! what cha do that for!" Bart huffed.

"Buddy, you were shaking it at super speed and almost blew out my eardrums, as well as break my windows." Kon said.

"What? No I.." and Bart stopped and looked around, a few picture frames were cracked and things had been knocked around the room. "oh..Oh...Um.. Sowwy?" Bart said, gulping and giving a weak smile.

"...it's ok buddy. I didn't think about it when I gave you a toy like that. why don't I get rid of any noise makers while you drink up." Kon said.

he could see how bad Bart felt about it, but just like a parent with a real baby or toddler, he knew Bart hadn't known any better and like he had said, it was his own fault for leaving the toy there.

Getting rid of anything that made noise when it was shook Kon turned around to see Bart drinking his bottle, but with a few tears coming down his cheeks.

"Bart..it's Ok buddy. I'm NOT mad at you." Kon said, coming over and scooping up the big baby who tugged his ba-ba out of his mouth.

"I just..I was having fun and didn't..Please let me come back for more baby time!" Bart sniffled.

"Bart of course you can. I'll just have to be careful about toys I get you from now on." Kon said and kissed the whimpering big babies forehead, Taking a seat on the couch and taking the bottle from Bart and starting to feed him himself.

"Besides..now we know what to do next time some Parademons attack, get you two rattles then dive for cover." Kon teased getting a giggle out of the big baby.

Before the bottle was half drained two things started to happened, the first being Bart's eye lids started to droop and he was clearly falling asleep in Kon's big strong arms.

the second and less adorable for anyone with a super sense of smell was Bart started to poot up a storm.

'can't say i'm shocked, known he had to go for awhile now.' Kon thought and just put up with the smell.

he'd put up with worse stinks on the farm between the animals and changing Lon's diapers so it wasn't like Bart could be any worse right?

with his eyelids shut tight and Kon pulling the ba-ba from the big babies mouth, moving the sleeping boy up to burp him, Kon got his answer.

Between the massive budgle that was rapidly forming in the back of Bart's diapers with a series of gross sounding farts and the stink penetrating the whole apartment.. Bart was much, much worse.

'...being a daddy isn't all fun and games.' Kon thought, wrinkling his nose.

Still he made no move to get up and change Bart, worried about waking the little guy up.

'but I'll be damned if I'm gonna like a little..ok..BIG stinky diaper stop this!'

The end

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concealeddarkness13 · 4 years ago

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WHG 15 Post-Games Imposter Syndrome Part 30

This is the last one before the party! Tagging: @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses (also thanks for Conor!), and @thoughts-of-nora!

With the blood in my carpet, I was able to create a few crystal knives just in case I needed them, but I would only use them in an emergency. So, I kept one on me very inconspicuously.

A couple days after I saw Shine and Volt, some Peacekeepers knocked on my door. They didn’t tell me what was going on; they just grabbed me and pushed me along. Brilliant. Was it some other brilliant idea of Aurora’s?

Nope. It was Conor’s. He was standing in the middle of the room, wearing just a buttoned shirt, instead of a full suit, and he had rolled his sleeves up. There was an Avox over to the side, standing by a radio. What the hell was this?

I smirked over at him as the Peacekeepers pushed me into the room and slammed the door behind them. I crossed my arms. “What’s this? You trying to woo me now?”

“You’ve only just now figured that out? We’ve only been a couple for how many days now?” He pretended to look wounded as he walked closer to me, and his eyes sharpened when he got closer.

I laughed. “That means my acting has been that good. I had no idea.”

He actually looked serious. “If I was to ask if you were physically alright, what are the chances of you giving me an honest answer?”

Aw. Was that a bit of concern I saw? I held up my hands so he could see the scar on my right hand even more clearly. “100% truth, I’m technically physically alright. You don’t have to worry about me fainting on you.” I winked at him. He really thought I was going to admit weakness in front of him? He had already exploited my weakness for my friends once.

“Alas, and here I was hoping we would get the full cliché of the romance story. Now I’ll never cross it off the list.” Sorry for disappointing him. “But if ever there was a time for Ally cats presence…nevertheless, I suppose the dress will have to be a little different than the first plan. Still I do hope you will like it.” Ooh. What was this? I hadn’t heard hints of these plans. “But as for why we’re here, apparently the Capitol is afraid that throwing their newest gem into a party for the first time might embarrass them more if she doesn’t know how to dance. Though, I suppose we can’t give them too much credit for worrying about how they’ll be viewed through you all things considered.” A dark look passed over his face before he hid it with a smirk.

Huh. He seemed to be so concerned about me getting hurt. I wouldn’t have expected that of him. I put my hand over my chest, faking pain. “How rude to assume I can’t dance. And 100% true. So, I’m assuming that means you know how to?”

“Why of course! Some of the best dramas unfold on the dance floors of parties, loves, deals, battles of their own sorts, break ups, and renouncements…so much easier to see it all the closer you are. Or to spread the right rumor, secret, story, and what-have-you when the guards of those around you are down from music and dance.” Good to know. I really should pay more attention to parties then. “And,” he added as an afterthought. “I have told you I like the finer things of life.”

Ugh. But dancing was so annoying. I fake pouted. “You can have the finer things in life without learning how to dance. Look at me…well, at least before all this shit happened.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A point I will not contest, though I admit, some of them are to be found in it. Lucky for you I have had enough practice that I doubt many would notice your mistakes when the time comes, but I confess, I am unsure how we will fool the ever watchful,” he nodded at the Avox and a camera, “eyes, that we did indeed do as they asked. Or how we would otherwise spend this time.”

I huffed, but he had a point. Damn it. I held out my hand and smiled my best smile. “Then shall we begin?”

“Let’s.” He bowed and kissed my hand before guiding me to the middle of the room.

I was going to look like a damn fool. I didn’t know anything about dancing. The Avox turned on the music. He helped me position my hands, and I hid my nervousness with sarcasm. “My, but I feel under-dressed for this occasion. I hope you can stand a partner who doesn’t know the dress code.”

He started a complicated dance, moving with no warning, and I already stumbled. Shit. I wasn’t prepared for this. “And here I hoped I was dressed down for you, should I have worn less? Perhaps undo a few buttons as well? You can hardly be blamed when uninformed.”

Shit, I couldn’t even respond right away. I looked down as he moved me in the dance. I tried to keep up, but I kept stepping on his feet or stumbling. I looked ridiculous. “I don’t know how you could wear less and still be appropriate. But a more casual shirt would have made me feel less like I missed a memo.” Less sarcasm now.

“Alas, my current wardrobe is rather lacking in what you would call casual, unless of course you mean in the manner of the Capitol? If not, then this is as dressed down as I can appropriately get while in my current position.”

Huh. That probably wasn’t something I should try to imagine, or I’d start flushing. But I made a face just thinking about having to wear fancy clothes all the time. “Then I’m even more grateful they let me wear whatever I want when they’re not parading me around on tv. Sucks to be you.”

He laughed. “Indeed, though I will admit to revealing a bit in playing these roles. Putting a mask on and allowing the world to see something they wish so you can do as you please? I do enjoy these games.”

I had already seen how much of an expert he was in playing those games. It would be better if I learned more about that, if I ever thought to have another scheme. As I was thinking, he spun me, and I almost tripped over my feet. I frowned. “Any tips for doing that? I’m still working on it myself.”

“When spinning, the best option is to pick something stable to look at so you will not become dizzy, only turning away when you can physically no longer look at it. I’d say trust me, but well,” he spread his arm and raised an eyebrow.

Yeah, he couldn’t be trusted. Especially because he hadn’t answered my question. I snorted. “The dancing tips are much appreciated, but you know that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s much the same really. Pick a point that you know is stable about your mask, even if it’s something as small as how you stand or what you wear. Imagine how that fits the part you want to play, as you’re already in it, go from there and believe that it’s a part of you. But only a part. Want to seem confident? Straighten your back, and keep conscious of how it is, and you’ve already done one step of the persona. Then just add more.”

I bowed my head a little, and then promptly tripped. “That’s solid advice. I honestly didn’t expect that from you.”

“I’m wounded.” In a deadpan voice. “But of course, it’s more fun to play the game with someone else who knows.”

“But of course,” I echoed. As we danced, I was actually able to keep my balance. So, I was getting better. “Tell me about your methods. So that I can appreciate your effort that much more.” Maybe I could figure out more about his motives.

“Hmm, some of my methods, I’ll admit, are natural for me, and I have had years of practice. Of building up my personas and masks for everyone else, they are naturally a part of me at this point. I confess, I don’t know what other methods you’re referring to.”

I sighed. He was going to make me say it, wasn’t he? But at least I could get a few more tips out of this. “Fine, I’ll admit. Your charm, your wit, how you can destroy someone with just a few words, how you’re always one step ahead of everyone else.” I made my voice exaggeratedly sarcastic. “You can’t tell me all of that is just a fake persona.”

He laughed. “Destroying someone with a few words is probably the easiest to explain, but it requires having knowledge ahead of time or being able to read them and their tells on the fly. Actually, a rather cheap trick learned from pseudo-psychics about how to cold read a person based off subtle tells they give to a conversation. If you mention this, does their breath hitch or eyes go wide? Or did they seem dismissive of it? Or again, have prior knowledge of their weak points based off their history. Which I suppose aids in the being a step ahead, but having ready access to knowledge and plenty of contacts helps. As well as the years of seeing the patterns people tend to play out. As for charm and wit,” he dipped me, and I lost my footing, and I flailed a little before I realized he was keeping me from falling, “well, at one time they were ‘a fake persona’ for me, learned through pretending to be sharpest in the room, acting like those that were, watching and picking things up to add to my masks. But as I also said, they became a part of me from those years because I let them and wanted them to the point they became as natural as breathing. Satisfied my little thief?”

He pulled me back up, but I still stuttered before I could speak clearly. And I frowned. “Wait, since you answered those questions, do I owe you more kisses? Not complaining or anything, just making sure I know everything I’m getting into.”

“I was not going to charge you for those no, but if you insist, you do still owe me.”

I hated how I actually felt a little disappointed about that, but I didn’t have much time to think about that. He dipped me again, and I almost lost my footing, but he kept me from falling even as he leaned down closer so that our faces were inches from each other. Shit, and I was starting to flush. I was being so stupid. He was dangerous.

He kissed me and as I was getting lost in the intensity of it all, he let me fall and broke contact so that he could lean over me with a smirk before crushing his lips to mine. His hands wandered to my scars on my collarbone and my hand, and he traced them, and his kiss became more intense. He clasped my right hand tight before letting it go and slipping his hand under my shirt. And that was where he found the scar on my lower back and stomach. His hand lingered there, tracing over the scar tissue, and he held me tighter and tighter, and I couldn’t breathe…

He broke away, and when I looked up at him as I gasped for breath, his eyes were dark again. “Are you well enough to continue, little thief?”

I was still gasping for breath, but I wouldn’t admit any weakness. Anyway, I was fine. I was just still in pain from the healing. “To continue what? Don’t go and start talking all vague. I’ll assume something you aren’t meaning.” I smirked.

His gaze hardened a little, and he frowned as he pulled me back upright. “Dancing of course. Though,” he smirked, “I am curious as to what else you could have assumed?”

I cocked my head. Had he really not realized his vague wording? “Well, you did say ‘continue’ after you just stopped kissing me. So, I wouldn’t be out of line to believe you were talking about kissing me more.”

“And tell me, is that what you want?” He leaned close to me as he positioned my hands again.

I flushed a little. He was dangerous. I shouldn’t get closer to him. But also, a stupid side of my brain wanted me to close the distance. Shit. I wasn’t going to admit that. “You’ve already expressed doubt that I’d tell you the truth in other matters. So, why do you think I would now?”

“And yet I’m the liar in our little game.” He started the dance, and it was a lot simpler than the last one. “I am allowed the basic emotion of hope, am I not? Why exactly must these things be such a terrible secret that you have to keep it to yourself? But nevertheless, I will not press. After all, I do keep far too many things close to my chest so to speak, that I am not to be trusted by anyone. Perhaps I should instead be commending you for being one of the few.”

One of the few what? I couldn’t even tell what he meant. “Hmm. Now that’s just confusing on purpose. And I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell the truth, so insinuating that I should be called the liar is just assuming. Like you assumed I wouldn’t tell the truth before. And then I told the truth.” Talking about when he asked if I was physically alright.

“You told the truth in the same manner that I tell the truth, so either, we’re both liars, or we’re both honest people. And should I not be judging based off of past actions or do we constantly forget the past to blindly hope the future is brighter because we so wish it?” As he led me in the dance, he was studying my face.

Of course, my mind flashed to how he had actually told me the truth about Reine and the others. They were safe. They hadn’t been captured by the Capitol. But I’d never admit that. So, I went for a subtle admission. I smirked a little. “A little bit of both, I suppose, especially when new information about the person in question comes to light.”

“Ah, but new information simply means you yourself were wrong about their past, not that they themselves have changed. But I do concede the wisdom of that, given the difficulty one might find in reframing their early bias.”

Good time to press. “So…in the spirit of learning new information and reframing my early bias, what are your motives for fucking with me? This can’t help you with the three motives you stated in the past. Unless you were lying about those.”

“To which three do you refer? I have mentioned my interest and curiosity haven’t I? Or perhaps it was the need for entertainment in a boringly long life? And I informed Star that I’d help her get as many tributes out of the Games of the Capitol as possible. When she failed to get you, and your other friends out, that meant that I was still to help her. Or are you by chance hoping to uncover the dastardly ulterior motives that I’ve yet to reveal that paint me as the true villain in this story?” He spun me, but I actually didn’t trip this time. “The part where I’m using all this as a distraction for the Capitol and other interested groups so I can obtain something that’s been kept from me?”

With how much he made it sound that his villain plan was farfetched, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was real. And I totally didn’t believe that he was just doing this to help Reine get the tributes out. Was he lying, or only telling partial truths? “The three whose answers I’m still paying off. But if there aren’t ulterior motives, why the hell did you choose me?”

“I never said there wasn’t an ulterior motive, but the reason I chose you was simply interest, dear little thief. I’m not sure whether it would comfort you to think that it was purely by chance of fate that our paths crossed in time for you to steal my gloves and draw my attention enough to be intrigued about what the Shades had to say about you instead of say another. Avery or Hugo, or any of the others perhaps could have worked just as well for the purposes, but I’m not sure if she would have endeared herself to the Capitol as easily to be a big enough star.”

Oh boy. I spoke with heavy sarcasm. “Yeah, that makes me feel loads better, hearing that it was just chance that a manipulative, crafty jerk decided to interfere with me. Seriously, the only thing going for you right now is how easy you are on the eyes.” And the information he was giving away that was hopefully at least partially true.

“Not even my honesty, I’m shocked. After all, I’ve always been rather up front about who I am.” He finished the dance, letting go of me and bowing. “But I dare say, that was a little too close to a compliment.”

I smirked and gave him a small curtsey. “Well, maybe you’re too close to deserving that one. But only that one.”

“I’ve survived off of less and have gotten this far. Feel like you understand that one? You didn’t step on my feet accidentally once.”

Maybe I should have. “It makes sense. I should be fine with that one.” So, why did he even show off the complicated one first? “You just made me dance the first one because it was so complicated and I’d stumble and look foolish, didn’t you?”

“Stumbling yes, because it would make the others seem far easier to perform.” Sure. “Looking foolish was not the plan, though I was curious what would happen if you were truly off balance for once, if you’d let anything slip. I cannot say if I’m disappointed or pleased by how you adapt so easily.”

Ha. I either disappointed him or pleased him. I smirked. “I’m just annoying like that, aren’t I, hun?”

He raised an eyebrow, also smirking. “Intriguing is the word I would have used. But if you’d feel better labeling yourself as such, yes, I do find the puzzles I’ve yet to solve annoying as you say.”

I felt even more accomplished. I’d actually annoyed him! Best day ever. I laughed. “What puzzles? Me, I’m an open book.” I spread my arms out with a little bow.

He mimicked me with a flourish. “As am I if you look close enough, and yet we seem incapable of fully understanding the other. Or do you believe to have figured me completely out already and I’m the one left behind?”

“This time I’m being 100% honest when I say: hell no. But I guess that’s part of the fun.”

“Exactly, on that we can agree.”

Well, this had been fun. But time to go. Didn’t want to overstay my welcome. I took his hand and kissed the top of it. “Until next time, Bystander.” And I walked off before he could get the last word.

I paused by the Avox, glanced at the camera, and discreetly handed her one of the crystal knives I had kept on me. I leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “Use this to escape, if you can. And take as many as you can. It’s very sharp.” She gasped and nodded, and I left. Hopefully, I had helped her.

#writeblr hunger games #writeblr

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askrighthandrecollections · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2: The Meeting

The sound of tinkling bells came from Right’s coat pocket as the cyborg headed towards the boardroom. He blinked and wordlessly pulled out then notebook and pen.

donttalkmeangy,

RHM, you ever thought about discussing the whole time loop thing with Henry?

“An’ what good would that do?” Right grumbled and wrote his reply.

If you know about the time loop, then you must have an idea of how difficult Stickmin can be. He does whatever benefits him and nothing else.

I’m not going to risk him screwing us over even more than already does by not knowing.

Besides, I don’t trust him enough for that, he has to earn that right, and as far as I’m concerned, he won’t.

Right tolerated Henry, for the sake of the clan, for Reginald. That didn’t mean he had to like the guy.

He walked into the boardroom to find Reginald and Henry already there, along with Burt Curtis, the head of Communications.

He looked over at Reginald, who shrugged, just as in the dark as he was. Right took a seat next to his partner as Henry gestured for Burt to take the floor.

Burt rubbed the back of his neck. “So uh, last night I got an emergency transmission from Bluebird.”

He saw Reginald stiffen beside him, Right himself leaned forward, paying close attention.

“She in trouble?” he asked, and Burt nodded.

“Yeah, seems like it… Are we going to go find her?”

Henry cleared his throat. “Uh, who?”

Reginald picked up on his confusion. “Ah, Bluebird is a former member of the clan, our magic expert. If she got in contact with us then she may be looking to re-join us for protection.”

“She didn’t want to leave,” Right added. “There were… extenuating circumstances.”

Henry nodded slowly, raising his hands to sign his response.

(You think we should find her?)

Right nodded. “Reginald an’ I knew her back in the day, we can track her down an’ bring her back into the clan before the authorities get their hands on her.”

Henry hummed in thought and nodded.

(I’m coming with you)

Right sighed. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“Why not?” Henry asked, brow raised.

Because you’d remind her of Terrence. Right thought and before he could talk the chief down, Reginald beat him to it.

“Have you looked into the clan’s history at all?” Reginald asked. There was a sharp bite to his words, an accusation.

Henry just looked frustrated, heatedly signing his response.

(No? Why?)

“Reg,” Right said, and the man calmed down and leaned back in his seat. Right fixed Henry a level stare. It appears he’d have to be mediator in this discussion. He’d have to put his personal feelings aside. “Bluebird left because of verbal abuse from the chief before Reginald. You’re wearing that chief’s hat. You became chief through a violent take-over, an’ now you want to go with us to retrieve a former clan member that’s asking for our help… Bluebird won’t take the news well.”

Henry rose from his seat about to voice his objection. Right beat him to it, standing up and marching over to stand eye-to-eye with Henry.

The other tried to meet his gaze, but wavered at the stern, unflinching gaze Right directed at him.

“She’s family. I won’t stop you if you want to tag along, but you’d best keep your head down when we go pick her up,” He said and looked over at Reginald as he turned around and walked back to his seat. “Now, are we all gonna play nice, or I am rescuing my sister by myself?”

Henry looked surprised at that. “Sister?”

Right shrugged. “Lora Wright, my twin, former magic teacher in the Civilian Division,” He looked around the room. “If you two can’t agree on this, I’m going to get her by myself. Toppats ‘elp our own, even those who have left the clan.”

“Fine…” Henry huffed and sat down.

Henry was used to things going his way, Right observed. No one in the clan had yet to question his role as the leader. Reginald may have thrown a few hissy fits behind the chief’s back, but even he had enough sense to just follow orders, to keep his head down.

Right knew Henry wasn’t nearly as reckless with his heists as Terrence, as they followed Reginald’s plans most of the time. But Stickmin was getting comfortable with his place at the top of the clan, he was starting to push his weight around, starting to take charge.

Terrence had started out like that too and it was worrying that Right could even draw parallels between the two.

Burt just looked awkward. “So… I only have a rough idea of where she is…”

“Where?” Reginald asked.

“Australia…”

Right nodded. “Can you get in touch with her? We’ll need to point her towards a safe house so we can pick her up undetected.”

“About that… I haven’t been able to establish communication since the emergency transmission.”

“Must be bad if she’s ghostin’ us,” Right mused. “Might be best if I track her down myself.”

“It would be safer,” Reginald agreed. “She’ll listen to you.”

“How long will it take?” Henry asked.

Right blinked. “A few days, since we’re headed to the launch site, I can bring her straight to the rocket.”

Henry nodded, significantly calmer.

(We need Reginald for organising the rest of the launch preparations. A magic expert would be useful for future heists.)

Right bit back the urge to point out the Civilian Division was for non-combatants and just nodded. “You approve of her re-joining?”

Henry nodded curtly.

The meeting was quickly adjourned, and Reginald sidled up to his left side as Right exited the room.

“I take it this hasn’t happened before?’

Right shook his head. “Been a lot of new things happenin’ lately,” he reached into his coat pocket and showed Reginald the red notebook. “This appeared in m’room last night. Lora sent it.”

Reginald flipped thought the book as they walked. “You think she’s wrapped up in this time travel business too.”

“Yeah… not too sure about these new friends of hers either.”

Reginald brushed his hand against Right, smirking. “You’re worried.”

Right grabbed Reginald’s hand in his own.

“Yeah…” the cyborg admitted quietly.

“Would it help if I offered to handle these newcomers of yours?” Reginald said and held up the book in his free hand.

“You’re busy with the rocket launch, I can’t ask you to do more than that.”

“Nonsense, you’ll be busy looking for Lora and I doubt these curious individuals will wait for you to return. I can entertain them in the meantime.”

Right made a noise.

“Come now Right, you can’t handle all of this by yourself, let me help you.” Reginald said.

Right sighed. “You got a point, but I’m… not likin’ the idea of leavin’ you alone with this lot yet. ‘Sides, I can try to use the book to contact Lora.”

“Very well, how long until you leave?”

Right ran through the numbers, taking stock of what needs to be done. “…Need to make sure I’m fully charged, check my maintenance equipment, an’ stock some food for the trip. That’ll take a few hours to sort out.”

“Would you like some help?” Reginald asked as they walked hand-in-hand. “I have the time.”

Right smiled at him. “Could always use the company.”

[Reginald and Right are both available for asks while Right makes his preparations.]

[You may also try to contact Lora using the notebook]

#ask blog #asks are open #henry stickmim collection #right hand man #reginald copperbottom #copperright #time loop

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toonqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Duckvember 2020

PART 1 OF 2

Part 2 is Here

Frenemy AND Paramour

This is my Negaverse Gladstone (Grimstone) and Nega Magica in my 87/Comics headcanon. SHELDRAKE is @cataradical 's and he’s a cool jerk. Wheee.

THERE IS CUSSING and dirty things said. It’s the Negaverse that's just what goes down there. PG-13ish?!

--------

Sheldrake was glad to have a very easy mission this time. It was planned to be the typical “act natural at a party, steal a thing, and then slip out” kind of job. And it was a solo mission; no coworkers to be annoyed with him (and vice versa). To top it off, he was actually invited to this shindig. Well, his paladin sect received the invite, but that meant he didn’t have to sneak in. With everything added up, it was practically a vacation!

What Shel expected to be a boring hunters’ gala was anything but. The leaders of different groups were trying to appeal to a modern, younger crowd. Instead of a stuffy meeting with the typical job fair flair, it was a real, honest to God party. A full bar! And dancers in cages! Sheldrake couldn't help but chuckle at how hard old fogey hunters were trying to get new blood. Crimey.

The paladin went to the bar and ordered a drink. He sat on a stool facing the crowd, keeping an eye out for his target.

"Well, hello there," a sultry voice greeted him. A tall redheaded duck leaned up against the bar beside him. She motioned to the bartender to get his attention. "I'll have what he's having."

Sheldrake wasn't caught off guard by the attractive duck's flirting. Despite his cursed energy that often drove others away or made them immediately dislike him, people that were intentionally and professionally deceptive could overcome it in an attempt to get something they wanted. Lord, it was a test, though.

The lady’s tight red dress and orange wavy locks were clearly up to no good. She was a literal red herring if Shel ever saw one. However, he played it cool.

"First hunter's gala?" He sipped his drink and gave the mystery woman a smile.

"Oh, I've been to a few--none quite like this though. Luckily I dressed for the occasion," she paused like she was turning a knob to up the seduction. She moved around, but kept looking back at Shel. "It would be even more exciting if I had one of those VIP passes I've heard others whisper so much about."

Sheldrake smirked. He knew this overtly sexy duck was trying to weasel her way to being a plus one on a special invite. However, he was curious as to why. "Yeah, it would be great to have one of those. But what is it even for? To join an exclusive party with more go-go dancers in cages?"

The redhead let out a giggle. A high pitched one, as if Sheldrake were just the funniest, most charming guy in the room. "I heard it was for a special auction. A bunch of rare items retrieved and uncovered by different hunters,” she replied. “My, I couldn't afford any of them, but I would love to look. Be some nice arm candy for a kind gentleman."

Sheldrake just chuckled before taking a sip of his drink. The lady hadn't touched hers yet. She watched him, slowly drawing her finger around the rim of the glass with a bewitching glow in her eyes.

Finally, Sheldrake said bluntly, "I'd give your performance a 9 out of 10. It might work on those first year hunters over there.” He waved vaguely to a group of younger bachelor-types chatting and laughing on the dance floor. “However, not quite buyin’ what you’re sellin’.”

The redhead shot them a quick look before turning back to Shel. "But they're not my type," she pouted. She leaned in a bit toward the paladin, and placed her hand over his on the bar. "I’d rather have someone more seasoned who can answer any questions I may have about the artifacts."

"Oh, I see, I see; switching gears, okay, okay. Stroke my ego first, then go for my intellect? If sex doesn't sell, then try brains? Gettin’ any warmer?" Sheldrake downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. "Well, this has been very amusing, and I wish you all the luck. Unfortunately, my VIP pass is just for me and doesn't allow a buddy. Boo dang hoo. Maybe try one of those light paladins in the white capes over to the left. They're way more sociable and have to travel in pairs." He gave another general hand wave… everywhere.

The redhead narrowed her dusky eyes. It was the first time she had shown any annoyance with Shel--ah, there it was, back to normal. The paladin slid off his stool, but before he could stand, the lady pressed her entire body flush against his side, beak in his head feathers..

Sheldrake expected a final desperate plea. Something to the effect of “I really need to see this event for my research,” or “please help me, I lost my own pass and my sect will be furious.”

Instead he got a low, unexpected voice. A familiar one that could be likened to Antonio Birderas' role in “Debate with a Vampire”, except if he were a white peking duck raised in suburbia with a twinge of a farmboy accent.

"Shel, I need to get into that auction to obtain a crucial item," Grimstone's voice whispered clearly out of this petite, curvy redheaded lady’s bill, "you have to give me your pass."

The paladin did not outwardly act surprised. He had 100% picked up the fact this woman was hiding something--more than the obvious. He did not expect, however, that Grimestone would be involved.

Shel hummed shortly. With a coy smile, he slid a hand around the redhead’s waist, whispered, "I didn't know you were so proficient in glamour spells."

"I'm not," Grimstone said, his voice reverting back to that soft, playful feminine tone, "my wife is one of the gentlemen servers."

"Oh, how cute," Sheldrake teased, pulling away from the duck.

"She doesn't like to be… flashy," Grimstone explained, a little defensive, looking over his luscious figure and tight-fitting dress.

"I get it, I get it. Taking one for the team, hm?" the paladin smirked as he sized Grimstone’s disguise up, "give my compliments to the caster, though.” He blew a kiss from his fingertips, as if praising a delicious gourmet meal. “Great job. Succulent, divine, mouthwateringly juicy."

Grimstone scowled, crossing his arms. "Sheldrake, the pass."

"Sorry. I have business here, too," the paladin disagreed, "why don't you try those frat boys I recommended earlier?”

"I’ve already tried. You were my last resort. Trust me, this is for the greater good," Grimstone explained.

Sheldrake put his hand to his chin, pretending he was thinking deeply. Grimstone and him had an interesting work relationship; they’d helped each other on several occasions in the past, but also had been on opposite sides a few times, too. Finally, after much consideration, he said casually, "Yeah, no. I'm sure you'll find another way."

Grimstone’s tiny manicured fingers curled into tight fists. "Is there somewhere private we could discuss this more openly?" he pressed.

"Man, this is a borderline orgy sex party. I'm sure there’s a room we can get for a half an hour," Sheldrake replied, then gave an obnoxious wink.

Grim rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for this. People have been dipping out to the stairwell to smoke. We’ll talk there,” the disguised warlock suggested.

“Sure. Sure. I take it your high school prom wasn’t that exciting,” Sheldrake taunted.

Grim sighed and nodded to a waiter nearby before taking Sheldrake’s arm in his. “Let’s walk, then. Hopefully no one’s there at the moment,” he said. Despite the voice coming from the redhead being so playful and demure, Sheldrake could tell Grimstone was using his “I'm taking charge of this operation” tone.

Sheldrake would normally roll his eyes when Grim spoke to him so seriously, as if he were one of his many wild rugrats. However, he played along, swaying off side by side with this very attractive lady.

Once outside on the desolate stairwell, Grimstone exhaled heavily. "There is a magical person of interest I’m here to free, and it's of the utmost importance that I do.” He spoke in an unusual voice; neither his normal voice, or his disguise’s. Rather, a unique combination; feminine, but more husky. Kinda cute, actually.

"And you don't think what I'm doing here isn’t important, too?" Sheldrake replied, loosely crossing his arms.

"I really *do not* have time for this Shel. I’m handling a case where a school of children were transformed into inanimate objects, and I need to free this woman known as the Brunswick witch who specializes in these curses and can break it,," Grimstone explained. He glanced cautiously at the stairwell window.

"And I have an out of place artifact from a different universe I need to win--or steal, if I have to. I can't give you my pass," Sheldrake insisted. He was going to add a flirty comment, but quickly saw the short nod Grimstone gave in the window’s direction before looking back at him again.

Sheldrake sighed. "You're really going to fight me in a building full of hunters?” He leaned close, booping his beak against Grimstone’s. “*Really*, my guy?”

"I need the pass, Shel. You leave me no choice," Grimstone lamented, rolling his hands up his arms as if drawing back sleeves. Sheldrake expected a punch, but was instead tackled around the waist like a damn linebacker instead.

Sheldrake would’ve had the wind knocked out of him if he hit the ground like Grim intended. Instead, he wiggled his shoulder and pulled an arm free, grabbing his attacker. With expert ease, Sheldrake pinned Grim down on his back with one knee in a partial straddle.

Brushing loose bangs from his eyes, he looked down to see if Grim had slipped out of his glamour in the brief scuffle. Rather, Grimstone’s disguise was shifting, brows becoming thicker, body filling out, patches of feathers turning black.

Grimstone was trying to copy and transform into Sheldrake.

“Aw,” Sheldrake chortled at the struggling duck, “well, they do say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

Grimstone gave a distinctively annoyed “ugh” before ripping an arm free and grabbing Shel by the throat; however, he didn’t squeeze or attempt to choke him. "And I do often tell you to go fuck yourself."

"That… trying to be a badass line doesn't quite work in your position, buddy," Sheldrake added as he fought to keep Grimstone's hand down.

"I just have to,” Grimstone's voice dipped back down to his own before changing into one eerily similar to Sheldrake’s, "keep you talking."

"Hol-lee shit. Well, the glamour spell might’ve been the missus, but you're totally doing that all on your own. How quaint! I can't believe you've been holding out on me. I thought you told me *all* the tricks you could do," Sheldrake replied. Grimstone went to grab something, anything from Sheldrake’s pocket. “Oh, no, you don't! Don't get handsy with me."

"You didn’t have a problem with it before," Grimstone snarked at the comment. He continued flailing and clawing until Sheldrake eased back to elbow him in the beak. Just enough leverage for the warlock to free his second hand, grip Shel’s shoulder tight.

Grimstone snarled, twisting one of his leg's around Shel's until they switched positions, the paladin now pinned beneath the demonic duck.

"How is it that we're both expertly trained in hand to hand combat, but whenever we fight, it’s like we’re stupid little kids slapping each other on the playground during recess?" Grimstone grunted. He continued searching desperately for some personal item on Sheldrake while also trying to hold the speckled duck down. Shel managed to punch him in the jaw before Grim hooked his arm around Sheldrake's to pin it back above the paladin’s head.

"I just assume,” Sheldrake grunted, arm freed and throttling Grim, "I assume we don't really want to kill each other, so we do all this bullshit ass grabbing--"

The stairwell door abruptly and loudly opened. Both ducks stopped fighting, looking up with eyes comically bugging from their shocked faces.

A paladin recruit in their early twenties stared back at them, blinking. “Um…” he gaped.

Two almost identical dudes, possibly, maybe twins, with one wearing a sexy dress, wrestling on the stairwell.

“Look,” the recruit grumbled, raising a hand, "I'm not judging whatever fetish is going on here, but please do it somewhere more, uh, private? Some of us need to vape.” With a grumble, he left, shutting the door behind him.

"Well, shit," Sheldrake snorted. Grimstone sighed. The two relaxed and unwound, sitting side by side.

"We need to solve this. Now," Grimstone said firmly. Sheldrake watched as he stood, offering his hand to help the paladin up. "I don’t want to fight you, but I need to save those children."

Shel blinked then finally conceded with a big, exaggerated sigh. "Okay, okay.” He took Grim’s hand. “... Actually... I think I have an idea."

-----

The third floor of the hotel was unsettlingly quiet. There was a low murmur of voices coming from the auction room, barely audible outside the door.

"Grim! Grim!" the blonde duck whispered harshly as she walked up to Sheldrake. The male server uniform Magica wore was baggy when she was out of glamour. She fixed the bun in her hair as she said, "You have to be careful. I overheard a few disturbing things about the auction… I'm worried some of the items could hurt you. Maybe… maybe I should go instead."

"It's fine, it's fine. I know what I'm doing. Besides, I'm the only one who could get his voice right,” Sheldrake--Grimstone--replied. He smirked, a slight leer on his beak. “But how about a kiss for good luck anyway?"

Magica glanced around the hallway; with the coast clear, she leaned in to peck the corner of Grimstone’s beak. "Please, please, please do be careful," she pleaded.

Magica turned to leave, then stopped; turned back around quickly. She took Grimstone’s face in her hands and pulled him into a deep kiss. He could feel her tongue shyly stroke his for a second, hands affectionately squeezing his cheeks, caressing the corners of his beak.

The light witch broke the kiss when she heard a noise from down the hall. Luckily, they were still alone.

"I'm getting this foreboding feeling off you, Grim,” Magica said dubiously, “you sure you're full up on luck?" She let his face go and stepped back, slipping into the form of a masculine Borzoi waiter.

The “paladin” restrained an amused grin. "Really, I'm fine,” he reassured. “You do your job, and I'll do mine.” He winked, then entered the ballroom.

Magica took the stairwell at the end of the hall to the lobby downstairs, only to be greeted by Grimstone a second later. She looked up, eyes wide; it was Grimstone’s voice, undeniably, but he was still disguised as Sheldrake.

"Love, there’s been a change in plans," Grim stated.

With a blink and *poof*, Magica changed back to her normal form. "Who... what...? I thought I just spoke to you a second… You were that paladin, but... How?" She squeezed Grimstone’s shoulders, scanning his eyes and face closely.

"I’m disguised as the paladin I told you about, yes. He’s agreed to help us; we need to wait by the fire escape in case he needs emergency back-up should anything go wrong," Grimstone explained.

Slowly, color drained from Magica’s beak.

“What is it?” Grimstone asked, concerned.

"N-Nothing!” Magic squawked. How could she have been so easily deceived-- “I'll explain later. Let's go help your friend." She quickly disguised both herself and Grimstone as canine servers. "We'll just… act like we’re taking a smoke break in the back."

"Good, I was thinking the same.” Grimstone frowned and looked away. “And he's not my friend…” he trailed off.

"But we can trust him to help us, right?" Magica asked in her own voice.

"Eh, we can trust him, but not *trust* him," Grimstone said vaguely, “if you get what I mean.”

Magica rubbed her temples. "We're leaving this mission to a paladin *you don't fully trust*?"

"Oh, I don't know. I seem to remember doing the same thing a long time ago, and that worked out just fine," Grim said with a half smile, squeezing Magica’s shoulder.

"That's different! I was a lightbearer. I--" Magica was interrupted by the opening of a stairwell door above them.

Grim took Magica by the arm. "Let's go take that smoke break," he said quietly, guiding her down the hall.

------

#duckvember #duckvember 2020 #magica de spell #gladstone gander #magicstone #negaverse #morgana macawber #sheldrake

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breanime · 5 years ago

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Decisions

Here’s my first bingo attempt for @banditthewriter! Thanks for this event! I love you!

*gif not mine*

Very rarely did Billy Russo feel like he was out of his depth. He had always been confident; from the time he was a smartass kid mouthing off to the biggest kid on the playground to his time in the Marines all the way to his role as CEO. He always knew what to say or do, and how to handle tough situations. It was a virtue he prided himself on: knowing what to do and doing it.

But now he wasn’t so sure. He was doubting himself, questioning his decision and wondering if it was too late to take it back.

“Are you still brooding?” You asked, walking into Billy’s home office with a dirty towel on your shoulder. “It’s been an hour.”

“I’m not brooding,” he said broodily as he brooded by the window, hands behind his back as he stared off into the backyard. His tense stance relaxed a bit when he felt your arms wrap around him from behind, giving him a soft hug. He sighed. “Do you think I was too harsh?”

You clicked your tongue from behind him. “We’ve talked about this, Billy…”

“I know,” he turned and took your hand in his, dark eyes staring into yours, “But I feel… I don’t…”

“You did the right thing,” you assured him, “The punishment fit the crime.”

“Did it though?” He asked, dropping your hands and walking over to his desk. He looked at his favorite picture, proudly displayed amongst the files and papers: a photo of him with his arm around you, and your two kids smiling as they held hands. Your son was so happy. He’d just hit the winning ball in his little league game, and he was still wearing his uniform. Your daughter was almost as proud of her brother as you and Billy were of your son; she’d nearly screamed herself hoarse cheering for her brother. Billy picked the picture up and sighed again. “Maybe I should go in there again…”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” you reminded him—as if he needed to be reminded. Billy made a face, and you sighed. “She’s just upset, she’ll be fine…”

He nodded, but he still felt shitty. He’d just caught your daughter coloring on the kitchen walls; she was five, and she knew better. So he’d made her clean it up and then grounded her, sending her to her room and telling her she couldn’t watch any TV for the rest of the week…It was Friday, so the rest of the week was just the weekend, but still… His little princess had been so hurt when he’d grounded her. Billy had used his stern Anvil voice—he never yelled at his kids, or you, but the Anvil voice was pretty serious. She’d made that face, the downturned corners of her lips quivering as her wide eyes—Billy’s eyes—watered with tears, and her little hands balled into fists at her sides as she tried not to cry. When he had said “now go to your room”, she’d run so quickly, as if she didn’t even want to be in the same room as her Dad. She slammed her bedroom door when she’d gotten to her room, and when Billy went in there to scold her, he found her face down on her bed, crying her little eyes out on her pillow. His heart had broken. He’d tried to soothe her, sitting at the edge of her bed and reaching for her tiny foot, but she recoiled from him—and Billy, 134 confirmed kills Marine Scout Sniper, CEO of his own private security firm, nearly broke down in tears. His baby girl, his sweet little princess, had cried out: “Leave me alone, Daddy!” and shuffled closer to the wall and further away from him.

And now he wasn’t sure he was doing this whole fatherhood thing right.

Sensing his unhappiness, you walked over to him once more, engulfing him in another hug. “She’s five,” you went on, “She’s just acting out, she’ll be fine.”

“You didn’t see her face,” he wrapped his arms around you, glad to have you with him, “She was so sad. I shouldn’t have been so rough on her.”

“You weren’t,” you assured him, “She did something wrong, she knew better, and she got in trouble. She’s upset now, but she’ll get over it. I promise.”

“When?” He asked, trying not to whine.

“Hm… Probably about around the time this one comes out,” you said with a grin, taking Billy’s hand and placing it over your round belly.

That drew a smile out of him. This last pregnancy had been a welcomed surprise, and the kids were so excited to have a new baby in the family. He leaned down and kissed you, soft and slow, and he grinned when he heard you moan into his lips. Pregnant you was perpetually horny. “Don’t think I can wait that long… I’m gonna give it another try,” he said, kissing your forehead when you pouted as he left your embrace.

“Well, at least consult the expert first,” you suggested.

He nodded. That was a good call. Billy knew just where to find the person your daughter trusted most.

Your son was underneath the kitchen table with his stuffed dog Mr. Mean Face, a G.I Joe, three Barbies named Auntie Karen, Mrs. Curtis’ girlfriend, and Samanthica, and your black cat named Pitbull having a tea party. He was wearing his new tutu, a fluffy yellow one Frank bought him, and had a pair of toy nunchucks draped around his shoulders. He didn’t look up from pouring his tea (air) into Auntie Karen’s cup as Billy crawled under the table to join him.

“Hi, Daddy. Would you like some tea?” He asked.

Billy smiled at his sweet boy. “Sure, bud. Thank you.” He accepted the tiny cup from his son and pretended to drink, to which his son nodded; pleased.

“Is Sissy still grounded?” He asked casually.

Billy swallowed. “Um… Yeah?”

His son turned to him, dark eyes the exact same as Billy’s—exactly as deep and disconcerting. It always scared and fascinated Billy that his children had his eyes; it was insane seeing his own eyes in their little faces, insane to be on the other end of that deep gaze. “Mommy says you have to stand by your call,” he said, voice still effortlessly casual, “If you say Sissy is grounded, she has to be grounded.”

“Oh, is that what Mommy said?” Billy deadpanned. He could feel your presence somewhere in the kitchen, obviously eavesdropping.

“Sissy is very very sad,” he went on, dabbing Mr. Mean Face’s face with the corner of his tutu, cleaning a pretend spill, “You used your Mad Voice on her.”

Billy cringed. “Yeah… I know…”

“But she did a bad thing,” he reasoned, shrugging one shoulder, “But she’s not a bad kid, is she, Daddy?”

“No, of course not.”

“Uncle Frankie says sometimes good people do bad things. He said he did bad things,” your son glanced over at Billy again, and his eyes looked so much older than his young age, “He said you did some bad things, too. But you’re good. Mommy wouldn’t marry a bad guy. She wouldn’t let a bad guy be our Daddy.”

“No,” Billy swallowed, feeling the emotions well up in him, “no, she wouldn’t.”

“And when you did bad things, you got in trouble, didn’t you Daddy?” He picked up Mr. Mean Face and put him in his lap, still staring over at his dad.

Billy nodded, thinking of dark interrogation rooms and broken bones. “Yeah,” he answered, “I did.”

“And when I do bad things—even if it was on accident, I get in trouble,” your son patted Mr. Mean Face on the head, “’Member when I wouldn’t share at school and I had to go to the Sit And Think Corner?” Billy nodded. “That was mean of me. Nice kids share. And after that, I didn’t not share anymore, did I, Daddy?”

“No, you’ve been a great sharer since then,” Billy smiled, “You’re such a good example for Sissy.”

“And the baby,” your son grinned proudly, “I’m gonna be the bestest big brother in the whole wild world.”

Billy laughed. He’d thought he’d gotten ridiculously lucky when he met you, but now he knew he was extremely lucky not only to have you as his wife, but these amazing, wonderful angels as his kids. His baby Russos. “Yeah you are, bud,” he agreed easily.

“Sissy isn’t mad at you,” he said, cutting to the core of the issue easily, “She’s sad.”

Billy’s smile fell off of his face. “Why is she sad?”

“She’s sad cause she made you dis…disappointed,” he said, tripping over the word a bit, “Now she thinks you’re not gonna love her anymore, and you’re gonna love the new baby more.” He took a sip of his pretend tea. “She told me she thinks the stork is gonna bring a girl, and then you and Mommy won’t need her anymore.” He rolled his eyes, popping his pinkie out as he pressed his cup to his lips. “Sometimes Sissy can be such a baby…”

“Sounds like maybe Daddy should have a talk with Sissy,” you chimed in, bending down to smile at your two boys, “Let her know that we would never try to replace her.”

Billy clicked his tongue and scrambled to his feet, helping you stand up straight and admonishing you gently. “Be careful, baby,” he said softly, kissing the side of your face as you rolled your eyes. He bent down and smiled at his son. “Thanks for the advice, son.”

“I don’t know what that means, but you’re welcome, Daddy!” He said back cheerfully.

Billy laughed, standing up again and kissing your cheek as he walked past you towards your daughter’s room. The door was closed, but he couldn’t hear her crying anymore, so he assumed that was a good thing. He knocked on the door before opening it, and he saw her on the floor in front of her bed, chubby cheeks still wet with tears as she hugged the pink teddy bear Billy had won her at a carnival last year.

“Can I sit down?” He asked, gesturing to the empty space in front of her.

She shrugged, burying her face into the bear’s fur.

Billy sat down, crossing his legs in front of him. He felt the familiar sense of surety within him, that patented Billy Russo confidence that let him know he was making the right choice as he looked at his baby girl. “You know your mother and I love you, don’t you, princess?”

Another shrug.

“C’mon… You know that, right? Mommy and I love you so much, we love you more than air.”

She peeked out at him, face still hidden behind the bear.

Billy smiled. “We love you more than water. We love you more than food.”

“All food?” She asked, voice coming out in a soft whisper.

“All food,” he agreed, “Even spaghetti and pizza.”

She smiled—and Billy’s heart nearly floated out of his chest. “And ice cream?”

“Even ice cream,” he leaned in a little, “and you know how much Mommy loves ice cream.”

She giggled, trying to hide her adorable little smile behind her teddy bear. “You love me more than ice cream?” She asked again, astonished.

“Uh huh,” he answered, nodding, “We love you more than everything else in the world. We love you, and your brother, and the baby so, so much. And you know,” he lowered his voice, and she leaned in to hear him better, “That ain’t never gonna change. No matter what happens, no matter what mistakes you make—like drawing on the wall…” he watched her duck her head guiltily. “…Mommy and I will always love you, baby girl, just like we love your brother. And you know what else?”

“What?” She asked, eyes wide.

“The new baby is gonna love you, too. And no one could ever replace you, you know that right?”

She held the bear harder. “Even if the baby is another little girl? You won’t love her more than me?”

“No,” he said, “I won’t. I’ll love you the same, just like I love you and your brother the same.” He smiled. “It won’t matter if we have a boy, or a girl, or if we have 100 new babies…” She laughed, and Billy’s smile widened. “…We will always love you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Billy held his breath as his daughter regarded him for a moment. Carefully, she put her teddy bear down and crawled over to Billy. He opened his arms, and she crawled into his lap, putting her little face on his chest. “I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you, too Daddy,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, “I’m sorry I was bad.”

“It’s okay, baby, we all make mistakes.” He kissed her cheeks, making her giggle. “And you know what I just thought of?”

“What?”

“When the new baby comes, you’re gonna have to teach it everything.” He widened his eyes dramatically. “You’re gonna be a big sister! You’ll have to teach and care for and protect the baby, just like your brother does for you!”

Her eyes widened, too, and her mouth dropped. “I’m gonna be a big sister!” She said, shocked. Clearly, she hadn’t come to terms with her new role in the family. “The baby is gonna need me!”

“Mm hmm,” Billy agreed, nodding, “The baby is going to need a great big sister… Do you think you can be a good big sister?”

“I’m gonna be the best big sister!” She said seriously, nodding her head wildly. “I’m gonna show the baby how to make snow angels and teach it all the colors and numbers and letters I know…” She gasped, and Billy had to hold in a laugh at her theatrics. “If the baby is a girl, I can teach her how to ask Mommy to do her hair all pretty like she does for me!” She clapped her hands together. “Ooh, I hope it’s a girl! Can we ask the stark—”

“—stork,” Billy corrected with a laugh.

“—to bring us a girl?!” She finished excitedly.

“How about we write the stork a letter?” He suggested, propping his daughter on his knee. “With crayons and markers and glitter—”

“—On paper, like we’re a’sposed to!” She added, glad to have learned a lesson from this whole ordeal.

“Great idea, princess,” he kissed the top of her precious head, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek in return. “Do you want to see if your brother wants to help us?”

“Yes!” She jumped out of Billy’s lap and raced down the hall, calling her brother’s name.

Billy could feel an argument coming up—he was sure his son wanted a baby brother—but he knew it would all be in great fun. He stood up, picking up the teddy bear and placing it on his daughter’s bed. You were a few weeks away from learning if it’d be a boy or girl, but Billy would be happy with either. Hell, the fact that he would be getting another perfect child brought into this world was reason enough to celebrate.

“A hundred babies?” You said, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest.

Billy laughed. “You’re weirdly stealthy when you’re knocked up, you know that?” He said, coming over and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I’m not having 100 babies,” you said, laughing as he kissed you.

“Nah?” He asked, dropping his head down to your neck and kissing you there. He grinned against your skin when he felt you shiver. “You sure?”

“I’m not…” You closed your eyes when Billy lightly bit down on your shoulder. “…We’re not…” He licked the bite, making you sigh contently. “…Maybe 99 babies…”

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked, straightening up and kissing you softly.

“Daddy! How do you spell ‘stork’, and ‘baby’, and ‘girl’, and ‘please’ and--?” Your daughter’s voice cut through the sexual tension in the air, and you both laughed at her questions.

“Duty calls,” Billy sighed, placing one hand in yours and the other on your belly.

“Fine.” You pretended to roll your eyes. “I know you went through an emotional roller coaster and whatever today, but I’m gonna need you to finish what you started here tonight, Mr. Russo.”

Billy grinned, leaning down and kissing you one more time before leading you down the hall. “Happy to, Mrs. Russo…”

For the rest of the evening, the four of you sat at the kitchen table, writing letters to the stork (who your daughter kept calling Mr. Stark, to which your son replied: “his name is Iron Man!”) while the radio played in the background. Neither of the kids even asked to turn on the TV, and Billy got warm hugs and kisses from them both when the two of you tucked them into bed.

(He got an even warmer show of affection from you that night…)

As he laid in bed with you in his arms, both hands on your tummy as you slept soundly, Billy knew he had made the right decision when he started his family with you. He was learning, still, how to be a good husband and father, but everyday he was growing more and more secure in his role, and more importantly, he was incredibly dedicated to being the best he could be for his family.

It was a decision that was easy to make.

*******************************************************************************************

I flippin’ LOVE father!Billy! Ugh... Let me know what you guys think! I never had a nuclear family, so I hope this tracks lol! Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily @suchatinyinfinity@fanfictionrecommendations-com @maxslime-blog @elanor-of-imladris@songforhema @lucielandss @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @themadhatter92@realduckvader @the-blind-assassin-12 @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @littlemermaidprobz @ashkuuuu@luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso@teacuplotus @iaintnofurry @thesumofmychoices @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @whovianayesha @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @starkrobb @marauderskeeper @charlylama @thesandbeneathmytoes @gollyderek @leahnicole1219 @evanlys19 @ms-delos @something-tofightfor @banditthewriter @binbons-is-theloml

Billy Taglist: @honeyydippaa @thebabblingbookworm @khuangpu13 @ladyblablabla @woodlandreads

#billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo #ben barnes bingo

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danetobelieve · 5 years ago

Text

I Spy With My Little Eye || Darwin, Rio and Winston

Usually, when people invited Darwin it was always about some demon that needed to be banished, or the occasional booty call. In this case it wasn’t a demon, but something definitely suspicious anyway: Winston had asked his expert opinion on a knife and... An eye? Pictures had been sent, but the messages had been vague, the sort of short responses you only give when your current project is eating most of your time away, or when it’s troubling you enough that you don’t feel like sharing much over the internet. Whatever Winston had gotten themselves into, it must be something big. Something dangerous, judging by the carvings on the knife. Darwin liked to think of himself as a demonic expert, but even he had some trouble identifying the symbols on the weapon. Which is why he’d asked Winston to see it in person: books were fine, Darwin had even brought a few with him in his bag, but in his experience a hands-on approach was always the best way to get answers. Which is why he now stood there, bag filled with tomes and various supplies, lips slightly twisted in an excited smile. Dangerous, sure, but interesting nonetheless. Too bad Bertrand would have to miss this: Winston had mentioned a roommate, and Darwin couldn’t be sure they’d be as welcoming about fashionable yokai as Winston had been. After a moment to fix his clothes, he knocked. “It’s Darwin. I brought something.”

Winston had been working with Rio for a bit now. Ricky was off working out, training or something else that would make Winston sweat and wheeze. But they were making progress, at least, they hoped by it. The carvings on the knife were beyond Winston and every search of the internet that they had done on the images carved into the knife hadn’t been all that helpful. There were just too many resources to be able to reliably cut down and some of the answers that they were getting were conflicting or just downright contradictory. “Hey Darwin,” Winston said with a yawn as they opened the front door a mug of coffee already on the way up to their lips, “we’re in the workshop I’ll show you the way.” Winston turned and led them through the house to where the old garage had been converted. They were in the corner that was Winston’s, a mess of notes and old leather bound tomes were scattered across the parts of the desktop not covered by wires, the keyboard or the mouse. A bank of screens on the wall were each running their own individual search. Some cross referencing, some image searching and some running through key phrases. “Darwin, this is my friend Rio, Rio this is Darwin, he’s … an expert.”

Winston has mentioned that somebody would be dropping by that would hopefully be able to help with the research. Orion hoped that he could, because the two desperately needed it. They had cleared a small space in the workshop for Rio to set up an area, and Rio had taken full advantage of the given space. He had pulled whatever books he could fine at the Scribe building on demons and stuffed them in his book bag to bring back home. Now they laid spread across his desk space, sharing it with various cans of energy drinks. Rio had been going on about twenty seven hours without sleep now. His eyes were bloodshot and his pink hair was a tangled mess, but he kept it hidden beneath a baseball cap. He was also incredibly jittery, the sugar rush of the energy drinks being the only thing keeping him going at the moment. Rio heard Winston and Darwin coming before the door opened. He leapt up to hop over and extend his hand out to the man here to help. “Hey there! So happy to have you here! We need an expert. How are you?”

“I don't know if I'd call myself an expert after having seen your setup here...” Darwin looked around the room with a low, impressed whistle. “You've been busy, I see.” Most of the screens and wires were as alien to Darwin as runes and rituals were to the common folk, but there was no denying the two had been poured their heart and soul into whatever they were researching. He turned to Rio and shook his hand. “Darwin Asrani, at your service.” For a moment he hesitated, wondering if the young man would recognize the last name, and if so what he'd make of it. Being an Asrani came with a certain reputation, one that would give Darwin credibility in his 'expert' role, but could also cause some tension. Then again, the two seemed way too exhausted to care about his family, for which Darwin was grateful. “I'd say I'm more well rested than both of you. Is... Is that a first edition?” The sight of tomes like those laying so close to coffee and drinks made him shudder a little: his book store may only be a cover, but he still cared about knowledge. “Well, the sooner we begin, the sooner you two can get some sleep. I've brought some books as well, I think I recognized some of the symbols on the pictures you sent me.” Darwin took out a couple of tomes and gently added them to the pile on the desk. Like most of the books in his private collection, they were old and written in a language long forgotten. “I'm afraid I couldn't understand most of what was written in there. I got this as payment for a... Favor I did for a friend. But maybe if we cross-reference them with whatever you have here we could...” He let the sentence hang, twirling his moustache for a few moments. “Anyway, what are we looking for, here, exactly?”

“Sleep is for the weak, finals season is worse then this.” Squinting at the book for a moment, Winston grabbed the mug of coffee and poured it into the one they already had in their hand before placing the coffee mug next to the book. Placing it in the microwave in the corner, Winston shrugged. “It might be? I don’t know about first editions but it has some very fascinating information in it that helped us to … well more questions.” Winston forgot about their coffee as Darwin kept talking and began to explain their point of view. “Okay, so the situation is that we’re pretty sure there is a demon in the lake, big squid demon. It’s been cordoned off by the police but a few of us managed to get close to the lake hoping we could do some recon and get a real look. Instead, we actually ran into a cult, well, we say cult, we don’t actually know. They were wearing robes, chanting in a long dead demon language, had their eyes sewn shut and their eyes in their hands somehow? Anyway, we beat feet and got out of there but we’ve got some samples.” Winston pointed at some of the photos they had taken, both of the cultists by the lake and of the eyes which they were keeping on ice in the back of their freezer (the tupperware was brightly labelled and Winston didn’t know what Ricky’s problem was). “Rio over here has been working on the language and I’ve been trying to analyse the eyes as well as run searches through the database of information we’re collating. It had made sense to give them home access to all of the digitised information that Rio had accrued. “So, I guess we’re trying to work out what the dagger says and find out anymore information on this stuff that we can?”

Admittedly, Orion didn’t even feel that tired. Most likely they had reached some sort of numbness, long passing the point of exhaustion and entering some state of sleep deprived and caffeine fueled hysterics. “It is first edition. The Scribe who owned it was a friend of the original author.” Rio answered nonchalantly, remembering the signature on the inside of the first page. Sometimes he felt like he hadn’t even made a dent in the Scribe library, which in a lot of ways he hadn’t. But other times like these he finally thought he was making some progress. “The creepy cult people kept making mentions of the water and ‘joining the bodies’. It makes sense to assume that they mean the lake when they say water just because that’s where the cultists were, but I haven’t really found anything to prove that yet. I was able to hunt down the translation for water in the language. It’s written on the white board over there.” Rio babbled, pointing haphazardly towards the board while he focused instead on type books Darwin had brought along. “Woah. These looks old.” He ran his finger along the spine and stared at it in wonder, “Can I start looking through them? If I can find a match somewhere in these books with the what we know about water and bodies and joining then I bet we can pinpoint the language.”

Darwin blinked. “You... Suspected there's a giant demon in the lake and you decided to take a look? No wonder Hellhounds leave you unimpressed.” Darwin tried to make sense of everything Winston and Rio told him. Squid demon was too vague a clue: most demons adapted their form to fit humans' expectations of a monster, and the imagery of tentacles had been present enough throughout history to become sort of a staple. Eyes and hands were also pretty common in demonology: windows to the soul, the tools with which someone shapes the environment around them... Off the top of his head Darwin could think of four Greater demons who would appreciate something like that, but two were supposed to be just a legend, one had been banished and the other was always depicted as a spider, not a squid. And none of them had a particular interest in water, or joining bodies. “They were chanting, you said. A ritual, maybe a prayer of some sort? What day was it? Lunar phase? The moon often matters when water is involved, something about the tide. And I'm assuming you crashed the party and interrupted them, right? If so, they might try again. If I were you I'd try to keep an eye, pun intended, on the lake during the next few days. Demons don't appreciate their cultists missing Sunday's mass.” Darwin was about to ask even more questions, but he figured the two already had enough on their plate, so instead he nodded at Rio's request. “Knock yourself out.” He walked to the pictures, picking them up one by one and studying each of them for a few moments, focusing more on the ones depicting the knife. After a couple of seconds, he pointed at one of the symbols on the blade. “This one here, I think it has something to do with energy. Or spirits, maybe, not sure. I saw the same symbol in the black leather-bound book on top, you might find something in there. Oh, and... That's a first edition, too.” A weird flex, but one Darwin couldn't help: he might not have only three degrees of separation between himself and the author, but his collection had always been his pride and joy.

Shrugging, Winston gave Darwin a smile. “Yeah, well, I’ve found that if I don’t actively try and solve these potentially town ending problems then it has less then enjoyable consequences. Especially after the mimes.” Winston began googling so that they could answer Darwin’s questions. “That is a good point, it was like four days ago and on a day after the full moon which means that it was a waning gibous, I can’t believe that we didn’t consider lunar phases affecting tidal currents within the lake. I mean, or something like that.” Winston remembered Kaden opening fire without warning with a wince. “Yeah, well crashing the party wasn’t exactly something that we volunteered for, but yeah, I think they would probably go back. The place is meant to be being watched by the cops, but I’ll see if I can set up some cameras in the area so that we can at least get an idea about it. I might even be able to get it on the police budget…” they scratched their head thoughtfully and made a few quick notes on a sticky note. Raising an eyebrow at Darwin’s comment. Winston had to admit that they didn’t understand the whole first edition being a boast thing. Sure the book was older and therefore more valuable, but edition 1 was usually the one with the most problems that were slowly fixed and made worse in edition 2,3,4 and so on. “Energy and spirits, I can run a search on other symbols that are used for that,” Winston tapped a few buttons and symbols began to arrange themselves into a grid on the screen in front of them as their search results loaded in, “I don’t know if that helps though….”

It only took Darwin’s approval to dive into the book, skimming through the pages as Orion listened to Darwin and Winston continue the conversation. Rio had to admit that he wasn’t exactly well versed in the lunar cycles, but maybe it was something he should start learning. It wouldn’t be too hard to incorporate the lunar calendar into his own and memorize the patterns. But that wasn’t important right now. “You can keep a hold of the knife if you’re looking at that. I have the pictures that Kaden sent me.” Glancing through the book Darwin suggested, he came across a symbol that he recognized from some of the Scribe books he had read on a similar subject. He rushed over to the white board, sketching some of the symbols that he had found that he thought looked similar to the symbols on the knife. Then he brought the picture on his phone up and propped it against the board, zooming in on various spots of the picture and trying to mention it. “These symbols look pretty similar to this sketch on the knife. Something about a shelter or home. There’s something else on the knife that matches with the symbol. Another part of the word or something. I’ll keep looking.” Rio exclaimed, excited that he was working with another first edition. To think that the author of this book had personally put this together, that it was his own words on the page was fascinating. “The squid itself is an interesting choice for a demon. They’ve been seen as a sort of monstrous creature for a long time. The Kraken dates all the way back to the 13th century.” He spoke, mostly to himself as he worked. Something about the familiarity of the subject made the unknown of the thing they’re studying a bit calming. “I don’t know that being a squid is necessarily related to the demon. But considering the connection to water my guess is that choosing some kind of aquatic creature was specific.”

“Cameras are a good idea. If I wanted to hold a ritual nearby a place full of cops I'd try a sleeping spell first. Or illusions. Memory spells would work too... It's easy to deceive the human mind, but cameras? I for one would not have thought of that. I'm too old-fashioned, I suppose.” Darwin shrugged before clearing his throat. “I should note that I do not make a habit of holding dark rituals in the moonlight, cops or no cops. I have better things to do with my spare time.” People were quick to assume the worst of a demonic expert, sarcasm and deflection had become second nature to him. Putting the pictures down, he moved behind Rio, watching carefully as he added notes and compared symbols, going too quick for Darwin to really follow. “Water definitely seems to be a recurring theme, yes. Perhaps what we're looking for is something involving both shelter and water. And over there, zoom on that picture, please...” Again, he nodded. “That little hook at the end of that rune is often used to represent a sign, a warning. Winston, can your fancy computer see if there's anything that would involve all of these things? A shelter, water and a warning? Maybe a place where the... Joining of bodies, was it?... can take place. Or maybe...” Darwin's musings were cut short by one of the screens beeping, and he turned to look, hopeful. “I want one of those. Wouldn't know how to run anything on it except Minefield, but I want it. Has it found a match for the spirit bit?”

“I mean, we don’t know that they have magic necessarily,” Winston replied with a shrug, “but yeah, cameras sound like a good idea, hopefully they won’t think of it.” Pausing for a moment, Winston laughed a little at Darwin’s joke, maybe it wasn’t a joke. Winston wasn’t sure that Darwin struck them as the type to have moonlit rituals. At least this was good natured fun research, for once they weren’t nearly dying. At least not yet. Winston grabbed their coffee and swallowed a mouthful that was now piping hot. Winston followed Darwin’s instructions carefully and listened carefully to their conversation. Honestly, this was a little out of their league but it was all so fascinating. “Cross referencing everything is something I can definitely do,” Winston set to work, setting up the specific search parameters before setting the search going. The screen beeped with results far faster then Winston had expected, but at least they weren’t going to be sitting around waiting for ages. “It looks like this is something to do with a lighthouse y’know, like the old timey beacon thing, look over here, you’ve got multiple symbols for lighthouses, both in terms of a nautical capacity and as a geographic location. I guess it makes sense right?” There were a few old newspaper articles, various other search results were flashing up in the background too.

Some time had passed since they had first started diving into the research. When Orion found that he had started dozing off while looking for something relevant he reached beneath his desk and cracked open another energy drink. “A lighthouse?” Rio questioned, perking up at the discovery and glancing over at the screen to see what Winston had found. “That fits the theme of water!” They were getting somewhere, they had to be! “Obviously lighthouses have a functional purpose, but beyond that they’re used as a religious symbol. It’s seen as some sort of spiritual guide. Not sure if it that has any connection to the spirit symbol on the knife or not.” He sighed. Maybe he was trying to find a connection where there wasn’t one. He studied the blade of the knife again. Noticing some slight differences between symbols that he had originally thought to be similar. “Hm. The first time I looked at these I thought these were the same.” He pointed at the knife, “something to do with joining or coming together.” He flipped through the book again, spotting down a symbol he had glanced over the last time. “But I think right here looks more like some kind of transformation.” He made a correction on the white board, looking over the change that had been made. “So joining the bodies like Nell said, and then transformation of spirit and something about a lighthouse.”

Darwin listened carefully, his eyes darting quickly between Rio and Winston, and suddenly he found himself wishing he had some coffee as well. “Lighthouse. An odd thing to put on a ritual knife, but you're right, lighthouses have been a recurring religious symbol in the past, which would definitely fit with a crazy cult. Perhaps their purpose was to... Summon a lighthouse? Or rather, a beacon. To guide something... To the place of the ritual?” Darwin shook his head, unsure. Pacing back and forth, he went on. “Lighthouse beacon, joining of bodies, transformation of spirit...” He repeated those words over and over, their only clues. Could it mean the ritual was meant to guide a spirit to join with its original body, transforming its form from incorporeal to very much corporeal? Wild speculation at best, they didn't have enough information to be sure of anything. Darwin pinched his nose and sighed. If only he'd been there to witness the ritual, maybe he could be of more help. And then a crazy idea started to take root in his mind, and he moved to his bag. “So, most people would find what I'm about to suggest... Shady, at best. But I've done something similar in the past, and I can promise, it yields results. You said you have samples, and I've seen pictures of an eye. Do you, by any chance... Have said eye?” Instead of bracing himself for their reactions, Darwin simply left them no time to react and continued. “During big rituals there's always some sort of... magical residue, and the eye was at the center of it all. It might be possible to channel that residue and let us... See what the eye saw. Its memories, so to speak.” Mental magic, the other Asrani specialty. Granted, Darwin had never used it on an eye, it shouldn't even be possible: dead things have no mind, no memories to share. But then again, magic was life, and the eye probably had been bathed in it multiple times. Chances were, it was less of an eye now and more of a focus, and as such he could use it.

“Lighthouses could also mean somewhere to avoid maybe?” Winston thought that it seemed like a long shot but whilst everyone was riffing and spitballing they might as well throw something against the wall and see if anything stuck. “Lighthouses are there to show where rocks are right, so maybe it’s something like that?” Winston wasn’t convinced. Listening carefully to Darwin’s suggestion, they thought for a moment before nodding carefully. “gimme a sec and I’ll get the eye, does anyone want anything from the kitchen while I’m there? I might get some snacks, I don’t remember when I last ate.” Dashing to the kitchen, Winston returned with arms laden with various treats and a carefully wrapped eye that had been retrieved from the lake and carefully stored in their fridge-freezer. “So, what exactly do you need us to do?” Winston was aware that this was something that could potentially be viewed as somewhat shady by other members of the magic community. But Winston had deliberately refused to join a coven to avoid any conflicts of interest like this and as long as everyone was volunteering and no one got hurt Winston wasn’t exactly sure what the problems were. The ethical implications seemed fairly clear cut for once.

“It’s true, in the literal sense that serves the dual purpose as both a warning, not to get too close and a signal that land is near. If I was more fluent in the language I may be able to tell some sort of difference. Just like English has its nuances to the language. Context clues provide a lot more detail when you’re trying to paint an entire picture. Unfortunately we’re going in sorta blind.” It wasn’t the most optimistic of views, but Orion was mostly pointing out that he was disappointed he hadn’t had more time to learn the language. Not that learning some creepy ancient demon language was particularly high on his priority list. The last thing he needed was to accidentally summon something, which would have been his luck. “You kinda ruined the appetite asking if we wanted food in the same sentence as saying you’ll grab the eyeball.” Rio shrugged. He had tried to wipe the memory of the eye from his memory anyways, so the idea of doing some creepy ritual using the thing was… well it wasn’t something Rio was about to jump for joy at. But it was the best shot they had at trying to piece some of the loose bits of information that they had together. Plus, Rio knew he was just going to go along with whatever Winston did anyways. Wasn’t that what he had been doing for weeks now? They were some kind of kryptonite. “This sounds terrifying but uh- I guess I don't have any other ideas. So let’s get started.”

“Context clues, that's exactly what I'm hoping to get from this little... Let's call it a seance, it's less unnerving than 'foreboding dark ritual'.” Darwin commented with another shrug, perhaps a bit too comfortable with the idea of digging through the memories of an eye that was most definitely part of some twisted cult. Most of what Darwin studied and did was considered questionable by the majority of other magic users, but as far as Darwin was concerned results were what mattered, and he got results. “I'm also going to need a bowl, one that you don't mind throwing away. And maybe some orange juice? I love me some orange juice.” While Winston was away, Darwin dug through his bag, taking out a carefully wrapped dagger, not unlike the one they've been studying for what felt like hours. The runes on his were of channeling and protection, of course, but to the uninitiated Darwin was sure it would've looked ominous; that's why he'd asked the juice: he figured the explanation of what they were about to do would be more comforting if given with such an unassuming drink in hand. “Mental magic is... Deceptively simple, even a beginner can pull off a trick or two. But here we're dealing with a dead thing, one that we don't know.” For a moment Darwin doubted himself, wondered if they were biting off more than they could chew. Then again, the alternative of not knowing was worse. “We need to bring life to it. Not necromancy, but... Still unpleasant. Blood is life, you see? By sharing our blood with the eye, we might restore some of its energy. And since the blood will be ours, we'll create a... A connection. And that is what will let us see through it. Hopefully. So... When you're ready just put the bowl between us and place the eye inside. I'll get us started.”

“You could just call it a plan, because seance isn’t at all better then dark foreboding ritual,” Winston reached up and adjusted their glasses again, pushing them further up their nose. Winston passed the orange juice and the bowl over to Darwin. “If we could avoid getting anything caught on fire that would be great, otherwise if we bin the bowl I can deal.” Winston watched curiously as Darwin pulled a dagger that look ritualistic from their bag and couldn’t help but admit that they felt a little jealous. They wished they had a ritual knife. Either way, Winston carefully unwrapped the eye and placed it in the center of the bowl so that the iris was facing the ceiling. The white of the eye looked a little less pure in that moment and Winston found the dark hazel iris really unnerving. “Shit, okay, I’ve never done blood magic, this is really cool,” Winston knew that they probably shouldn’t be excited about this but they loved trying new things and blood magic had been fascinating to read about, “oh god sorry this is just really fucking cool.” Unbuttoning the cuffs of their shirt, Winston rolled their sleeves up in anticipation, taking a deep shaky breath. “I’m ready when you are Rio.”

Nothing about a ritual or a seance sounded good to Rio. It sounded terrifying and pretty much every sense of the term. “Nothing’s gonna catch on fire! That would be crazy!” Rio was laughing now, convinced that Winston had meant it as a joke. But he quickly sombered up when he realized that he didn’t know much about the world that he was currently diving into. “Wait… like seriously? Woah.” Now he definitely didn’t want any part of this. But it was too late now. “Cool is definitely one word for it.” Rio mumbled in reply to Winston. Maybe Rio was a little excited, but only because he had never seen anything like this before. He would have much rather read about it afterwards or watched it from afar rather than experience it himself. Winston was unrolling their sleeves to get ready. In the movies, didn’t they always use the palm of their hands for some reason? Rio wasn’t thrilled at the idea of rolling up his own sleeves. Now wasn’t the time to have to explain the scars that laid beneath his hoodie, but he would if he had to. For now, he just held his hand out towards Darwin, shutting his eyes and bracing himself for the pain. “Let’s get started.”

Darwin smiled again, doing his best to be reassuring when he noticed Rio's reluctance. “This is more within the realm of mental magic, to be fair. Blood is an ingredient, but the focus of the ritual will be to connect our minds to the eye. Blood magic is... Not my specialty. But like all the Arts, magic often draws its power from multiple sources.” It felt good to share his knowledge with these two. Darwin was used to working alone, and before that he was used to being the apprentice, never the mentor. He wasn't a fan of the responsibility that came with the role, but the admiration? He ate that up. “I should also warn you... Mental magic is subtler than other branches. There won't be any fireworks in this particular spell, so no fire hazard. But that doesn't make it any less powerful, and there's a good chance we won't be seeing rainbows and unicorns, so be prepared for anything. Am I making myself clear?” He waited, letting his silence weigh heavily on the other two as he moved the small flame from his lighter across the blade. “Here we go.”

Before Rio could have any second thoughts, Darwin grabbed his wrist, gently yet firmly. The scars were noticed, but Darwin spared them no thought, too focused on his task. A small cut on Rio's palm was all it took, and Darwin tried to make it as quick and painless as possible, offering Rio an apologetic smile. Then it was Winston's turn to go through the same process. “Let the blood drip in the bowl and look at the eye. Look through the eye, let it show you what we seek.” Darwin winced as he sliced his own palm, a shallow wound that quickly drew a thin red line on his hand. He closed his fist above the bowl and let the blood flow, drop by drop. Words of power followed in a low whisper. Those well versed with languages might recognize words such as 'connection' and 'sight', and what sounded like a request. In his rituals Darwin never demanded, only suggested: he wouldn't taint his magic with slavery, he was better than that. The other two followed his example, letting their own blood mix with his in the bowl. The air around them grew cold, and then impossibly hot, and the red liquid started to react to Darwin's energy. Small ripples at first, and then bubbles as the blood started to boil. And then something unexpected happened. Darwin felt a surge in power, one he hadn't anticipated, strong enough that he was sure the other two must have sensed it too. Darwin looked at them with what could only be described as panic on his face as he realized he was unable to stop the ritual: another force, one Darwin didn't recognize, was pulling from the other side, keeping him from severing the connection. The eye started rotating in the bowl, spinning faster and faster, focusing its dead pupil on each of the three. They'd wanted a connection, alright, but this ran deeper than Darwin expected. Smoke rose from the bowl as the level of the boiling blood kept rising. Darwin felt his own eyes moving in sync with the dead eyeball, and then he stared in horror as the dead thing stopped moving and started to melt like candle wax. The last thing he saw were three red tendrils slide up, towards their closed fists still dripping blood in the bowl. He felt his hand being opened by force and something slide inside the small cut he'd make. And then, he saw.

Third eyes were really not what Winston had expected from this. Not at all. But as the blood spiralled from the bowl and funnelled into their hand, Winston could really see. For the first time ever. It was different from normal sight. They could still see everything in front of them, but somehow they could also see everything else that the eye was showing them. Winston looked down and saw the eye that had been in the bowl was somehow set into their palm and for a second they could see their own face looking down at the eye and then there was darkness. A thick fog enveloped their vision and when it began to clear Winston could feel sweat pouring down their back, their legs shook but the vision kept going. The fog was getting less thick now and Winston spotted a light in the distance, and then another one, and then another, the lights slowly blinking open. Wait, no, they weren’t lights, rather giant eyes that rolled and spun to fixate on Winston. Bloodshot veins ran through the eyes in jagged lightning bolts of crimson and scarlet, cutting across the pale white backdrop of the eye. The irises seemed to spiral and blur, running into one another in a constant never ending whirlpool that was somehow spiralling and still all at once. The eyes didn’t seem to have a body to them, and yet they sat their, hanging in the darkness and blinking. There was a creature, Winston couldn’t see it’s body. Just it’s mouth. A long, purple, leathery skin covered a jaw that protruded from the darkness. Long, jagged and uneven teeth stick from the bottom lip. The teeth are cracked, scarred and chipped, they’re clearly used to tear and grind. To mash and chew. To rip and maim. Yet they’re a perfect, snow white. The colour of which Winston has never seen. The colour so bright that you can see it in the darkness before you notice the rest of the mouth.

At first, Orion had no idea what was going on. Whatever magic Darwin was using, it seemed to be working. He was mumbling about seeing, a rather pointed line considering they were pouring their blood over a frozen eyeball. But then the eyeball leapt. Or moved or did something and suddenly it was attached to Winston. “What the heck is it doing to him?” Rio yelled out, beginning to move but suddenly being unable to. Oh god, this must be part of the spell or maybe it was something the eye was doing to them. Rio had no idea what was going on. But he had a sense of dread that had washed over him as he suddenly felt like he was being watched. He didn’t know the full scope of it until the eye hopped from Winston’s eye and began sliding across his arm, the tendons trailing behind the eye as it scurried to its new victim. Finally, it hopped over to Rio, still unable to move or jerk away from it. Goosebumps shot up his arms when the eye touched him and it easily slid into the cut that Darwin had made.As soon as the eye latched on, that’s when Rio figured out the true scope of why he had felt being watched. He could see them. Thousands of eyes. Some attached to the walls and some their own lone creatures, chained down and jerking around, ooze and blood dripping from them as they fought to be freed. What was this? Rio could only hear the room they were in, but whatever he was seeing seemed so real, so disgustingly vivid that he felt like he could hear the chains rattling and the sound of blood dripping onto the floor. Worse, it was like the monsters were staring right at him. The veins that ran through the eyes were dark red and blood escaped from them, coating the eyes with streaks of blood mixing together with all the others, creating a sea of blood between the monsters. It wasn’t like anything that Rio had ever seen before. He had never felt so dark or scared in his entire life. He could feel the tears escaping his own eyes. He needed these visions to stop. Jesus, he would do anything to make it all stop.

The notes and screens in the room blended together with visions of bones and raw muscles pulsing to a macabre beat, and Darwin couldn't make out what was real and what was just a cruel trick of the eye. There was something malicious in it, something ancient and powerful that he could not hope to push back. He stood there, cold sweat sticking to his neck as he was helpless to stop what was happening. Darwin witnessed Winston and Rio being assaulted by that dark, foreboding energy that had been awakened by the spell, he watched as the eye moved from one to the other. And then he knew, it was his turn next. Unable to react, Darwin swallowed back an anguished scream as the eyeball disappeared from Rio's hand, but when the evil sphere latched onto his own hand and made its way inside the pocket he'd unknowingly carved for it he was unable to hold back a whimper, equal parts fear and pain, and he turned around in a futile attempt to escape. His vision blurred, and the room was replaced with a terrible sight. Barren lands, grey hills covered with dark mist and darker thorns, haunted by creatures that he'd only read about, and some he never even imagined. Black leathery wings surrounded him, a swarm of bats with luminescent claws. He raised his hand to protect his face, the eye still blinking ominously on his palm, and when Darwin lowered the arm he was met with another sight, a mass of monsters. Hounds, and grotesque hybrids that vaguely looked humanoid, some of them dripping what looked like acid. Fangs and screeches surrounded him and Darwin grabbed his head and knelt down, crawling back. “No, no, stop!” That last word was an anguished scream, covered by the sound of the bowl falling to the floor. His back was against the small table, his breath heavy. He looked around, and everything looked just like it had before they'd begun the ritual: sticky notes covered the walls, empty cans of energy drinks were scattered all over, books were exactly like they'd left them. Finally he stood up and turned to face the other two, voice trembling. “Are... Are you alright? Did you see?” With a sudden realization, Darwin lowered his eyes to his hand. Instead of the cut he saw what could only be described as a closed eyelid, but of the eye no trace. “The... The eye. Where is it?”

Drenched in sweat, Winston could feel their clothes sticking to their skin. Their exhaustion was beyond palpable. Their chest rose and fell in laboured attempts to drag oxygen to their brain as a bead of perspiration rolled down the end of their nose and dripped onto the floor with a plop that was so quiet it deafened Winston. Looking down at their hand, the eye had returned to their palm and was looking back up at them, but the visions of the monsters had stopped. “It’s in my hand,” Winston said with a wince as they flashed them their right palm and showed them the beady eye sat in the center of their limb. “Fuck, that, was weird as shit. Do you think- do you think that is what the cult is trying to do?” They had seen terrible terrible things. monsters that they hadn’t ever been able to comprehend previously. Ghoulish creatures with bones that jutted through skin at odd angles, razor sharp teeth and talons, rough skin, scales, fur and eyes. So many eyes. They bored into Winston’s brain as they did everything that they could to forget the terrible things that they had seen. A tear rolled down the side of Winston’s face as they sat there, exhausted. “Oh fuck, that was pretty fucking bad wasn’t it?”

#i spy with my little eye #p: darwin #p: orion #wickedswriting #chatzy para #chatzy #para

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mikeshanlon · 5 years ago

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do you like astrology and if you do what signs do you think the losers are

Okay so shoutout @denbrough (mo) for helping me with this, also @stenbranlons (claudia) for nodding alongin our gc, I’m sorry we talked about this for like a week RGLKNRG. To preface,we are in no way astrology experts lmao, we pulled from several differentsources and picked which ones we felt fit best. Which, that being said, we didnot consider any of the canon birthdays for this, just vibes. Ik some peopleare very particular about astrology headcanons LGRNG so these are just our ownopinions, any differing ones are not less valid or whatever. Also, charts arevery complex and have many different factors, like Mercury for communicationand Venus for love, etc, we just decided to do the main three placements. Incase some of y’all don’t know, someone’s Sun sign is essentially their basicidentity and personality, it’s how we act in the world, and our conscious mind.Our moon sign is our emotional self, our unconscious, how we react tothings, our deepest needs. Some astrologists say this is more like our “trueself”. One’s rising or ascendant sign is our social personality, it is howpeople perceive us, and often how we perceive the world and new experiences—it representsthe “outward”. Some refer to it as the mask we wear around others, though thatdoes not mean our rising/ascendant is fake, but rather how we act and thinkwhen interacting with our environment. Anyways because this is me, theseexplanations became super fucking long so I’m sorry about that! This was superfun though, thank you for asking!

Bill:

Leo Sun: Leos are leaders, theyare very charming and pull people in with their loyalty, humor, and confidence.All of the losers love Bill and are very enraptured by him, Leos tend to be inthe spotlight and adored, so I think this is very fitting. They always want tohelp people but sometimes they can also get fixated and arrogant and end up neglectingwhat others need—for instance Bill being so fixated on finding Georgie that hedoesn’t totally realize the other losers are really scared and getting hurt. Still,Leos are very inspiring and fearless and want their people to be happy. Leosare also quite romantic and generous, which I think are traits that can beattributed to Bill.

Cancer Moon: Okay so I have alwayssaid Bill has Big Cancer Energy, but I think it makes most sense as hisemotional self. Cancers are caretaker types; they want the best for theirfriends and do whatever they can to help them. They are persuasive—sometimes tothe point of manipulation. Many Cancers are afraid of rejection/abandonment(hello Bill’s shitty parents and him holding onto the idea of his brother foras long as possible!) Because they are so caring and sensitive towards theirfriends, they can be quite moody—both anger and sadness. (Bill be Crying andpunching his friends sometimes doe!) Cancers like art and are very imaginative(Bill’s art and writing). When I think of Cancers, I think of tender h*rniness.They fall in love very easily and crave a deep love and can be v thirsty attimes lmao, to me that really encapsulates Bill. Cancer Moons are also verydomestic and love comfort, and while I think Bill likes to go on adventures, Ithink he is someone who enjoys a sort of domestic routine with the people heloves from time to time. Cancer also rules the moon so he’s Extra EmotionalLNRGRG.

Aries Rising: Those with Ariesrising are often leaders, lively, generous, warm, and have a reputation ofbeing a troublemaker. They are rash and jump into situations (HELLO BILL KINGOF DUMB IMPULSE DECISIONS). But, they are very engaging and can be greatmotivational speakers (Neibolt speech teas). They want to help friends to thepoint that if they refuse, an Aries rising individual will refuse to acceptthat rejection. Furthermore, sometimes they can come off a bit like arrogantassholes, but they really do care about their friends and just want to helperklgneg. Aries rising people are very emotional and their impulsiveness cansometimes translate into rushing serious relationships.

Mike:

Libra Sun: Libras are very diplomatic;they bring harmony and balance and can see multiple sides. I think this fitsMike very well, for instance during the scene where the losers are by the PaulBunyan statue, Mike understands why Stan is looking at this logically but healso understands Bill’s emotional reaction. He also understands why Bill andBeverly think they should stay together and help, but he also understands whyRichie/Ben/Stan don’t want to keep going. He tries to get everyone to calm thefuck down and cooperate. Libras hate conflict, aside from Mike’s nonviolence(not wanting to kill the sheep and hesitating to hurt Henry until he knew itwas life or death), he also avoided telling all the losers about why he askedthem to return, showing sometimes his aversion to conflict can be a negative. Librasoften get fixated on one thing—the crazy conspiracist Mike of it all… Iunderstand why people think he could be a Taurus because of his commitment tothe losers and staying in Derry for 27 years, but I think that is super tied tothe idea of bringing justice for those who P*nnywise killed and will try to kill,Libras are super into fighting against injustice. Also, Libras are ruled byVenus and love love and are very charming, I think Mike has a certain pull andmagnetism about him.

Taurus Moon: Individuals withtheir moon in Taurus are very warm, affectionate, and sentimental. They like togather all the facts but can be somewhat impressionable, again I think thismakes sense with how he decides that he believes pennywise exists and hisresearch as he stays in Derry. Speaking of, this line from Mo’s book killed me:“when you’re confronted with a problem you look for the most effective way todeal with it, and even if it’s personally painful for you, you get it handled”.Like. Oh my god. They also like creature comforts—often Taurus is linked withluxury but I think in this sense his ‘luxury’ is his kitschy clutter of thingsthat hold sentimental value—supernatural items, knick knacks from his childhood,his favorite books, etc. He holds these dear and this is probably why his homeis a big ol mess but he likes it and finds it cozy. Speaking of, they are veryromantic and want a life of domesticity, which feels very Mike to me! Theyinvest a lot in their friendships, I think this is true of Mike as well seeingas you know.. he sacrifices years of his life so they can be happy.

Capricorn Rising: Those withCapricorn rising can be quite shy with strangers, but once they get to knowpeople, they are very friendly and warm. They are very dedicated to theirgoals, these goals are often to strive for a better life (Mike wanting to savethe people of Derry, Mike wanting to travel, etc). But sometimes this strivingcan make Cap risings feel unfulfilled and they continue to search for somethingmissing. Capricorn rising individuals are smart and concentrated, they are ableto parse through information and plan ahead, though sometimes they go overevery detail too much—Mike is very into research and understanding things andsearches every possibility. They love deeply and are very loyal and protectiveof those they love. They can worry a lot. Mo also added that cap risings are dependent,reliable, and stable. which can be attributed to mike staying in derry allthose years and keeping that promise to call them. Overall he’s very groundedand down to earth with his rising/moon!

Stan:

Virgo Sun: Virgos are veryanalytical and pay attention to the little details. Often times, this leads tothem being very critical of themselves and others, and they are prone toworrying. I think Stan is someone who tries to navigate through life logically,but he can get caught up in the anxieties of everything going wrong and getoverwhelmed. They often like animals and nature (not to be like Stan likesbirds and plants and shit but he does GLKNRG), and value cleanliness, sometimesthis leads to germaphobia or hypochondria especially because Virgos tend toworry (and we know Stan is a germophobe and deals with OCD, he has to clean thebloody bathroom in a certain way, the painting needs to be perfectly straight,etc.). In friendships, Virgos usually play a role of an advisor—they are veryloyal and want to solve problems but sometimes that means they find problems ineverything (I think Stan tries to advise the group but also Bill is like okaylet’s do it like this

Pisces Moon: Some people view Stanas very emotionless or even angry, but I think he’s quite emotional, he justtries to operate with logic first. Pisces moons are often described as ‘dreamy’and want to escape reality (Stan being like it’s summer let’s just forget what’sgoing on and… other stuff lmao). They are very emotional, but those emotionscan be hard for others to read because they are very mysterious, and even hardfor the individual to express. They have a strange sense of humor (kookiekookie lend me your bonessssss). Those with Pisces moon are very sweet andsensitive to others suffering and are drawn to those in crisis often (like.Literally all of the losers LKGNRKRG) and can be overly trusting (I swear Bill!!!).They are also very afraid of the past coming back to haunt them… :(. Mo the ultimate Stan stan also had this to say: ever since claudia tagged one ofmy posts about stan being one of the most emotional losers but no one evertalking about it, i'm constantly thinking about how stan reacts to things. myinitial reaction was scorpio moon, but scorpio moons are really good at hidingtheir emotions. think about stan's reactions to big events in his life: gettingleft alone in the sewers, his bar mitzvah getting mike's call. he has distinctemotional reactions. pisces is also the sign of sorrow and self-undoing, sothinking back to some canon events it just makes a lot of sense to me. piscesmoons are also really selfless when it comes to their friends, but very strictand disciplined when it comes to themselves.

Aquarius Rising: There’s thissection in Mo’s astrology book that just like. So completely encapsulates Stanand how he interacts with the losers imo: “You are often intolerant of otherpeople’s shortcomings and can be wickedly sarcastic and very funny at the sametime. Your razor-sharp powers of observation help you uncover flaws that youcan poke fun at. You are a system of paradoxes. You enjoy being with people butare perfectly content to be alone. You like to travel but love relaxing athome. You are friendly and outgoing but, at other times, moody and reserved.” Like!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Also, those with their rising in Aquarius are very idealistic and want theworld to be happy and harmonious (Stan being like its summer can we chill andnot wanting to be part of any conflict). They can also feel impatient towardsthose who don’t share the same vision.

Beverly: (imma be honest Bev was the hardest toplace so don’t judge lerngerg)

AquariusSun: To me, Aquarians are the epitome of like… chill/friendly stonerthat likes to talk about conspiracy theories and injustices of the world whiley’all are seshing but they are also kinda mysterious bc you never really knowwhats going on in their head …. which is v Bev to me RLGKNNKRG. Aquarians lovehanging out with friends and are really good listeners, which I think is trueof Beverly—they also have odd senses of humor. They are humanitarians that liketo fight for justice, I think Bev is someone who wants to fight for those whoare being hurt bc it’s something she has experienced and wants to provide thehelp that she didn’t get. For instance, she’s the one who’s like we need to gosave Mike, and she also wants to help save Derry and agrees with Bill that theyshould keep fighting Pennywise during the big fight after Neibolt. Aquarians canbe quite paradoxical—at times they are shy, other times loud and eccentric, Ithink this makes sense for Bev, another quality is that those with their sun inAquarius like to have some time alone, both of these things make me think ofthe moments she enjoys on her own and the other times she seeks out fun withthe losers and does crazy shit like jump off a cliff LKGNKNRG. They can bekinda bad at emotional expression and are very guarded with their emotions,sometimes coming of cold/bitchy until they know they can trust someone (Bev toBen at first on the stairs elrkgnerg).

Aquarius Moon: okay Mo wrote this explanation and I thot it was perfect so: Moon in Aquarius brings upthe qualities of sensitivity and perception. Since aqua is the sign of rationalthinking and humanitarianism, moon in Aquarius gives a person a clear mindsetand kinder outlook on life. Moon in Aqauarius are rational, intuitive, andimaginative, which i think can speak for a lot of beverly's character traitsand actions like her monologue in it 2017 where she tries to rationally explainwhy pennywise is going after them and how they have to defeat it, whereaseveryone else is struck by fear and emotional, or at the end of it 2019 whereshe tells richie that eddie is dead, and being intuitive enough to know thatshe has to tell him and tell him in a specific way, the imagination quality isa clear call to her artistic vision as a designer. aqua moons have greatvitality, they're witty conversationalists, and all around great friends. ithink that the friendliness and sociability of her aqua moon can be offset byher sag rising so there's more balance and nuance to her characteristics there.they're interested in the unusual, specifically in people, which could link herto vibing so well with the losers club. they can't stand possessive or jealouslovers, but they unconsciously choose people who aren't available to them (herfirst husband). they need a fine line between commitment and independence,which i think speaks to her behavior as a kid. she needs the stability and thespace to grow she didn't have from her dad. they deeply value platonic love. overall,aqua moons are independent, they have stimulating minds, persuasive charms, anda side of their personality that will always gear towards the unusual

SagittariusRising: Sagittarians love hanging out with their friends, but they alsohave the desire to be free and have adventures (I want to run towardssomething, not away! Queen). They are wise but optimistic, again I think thisties with things like her understanding that they all have to stick together tobeat pennywise, but also believing that they have the ability to kill It aswell. They are humorous and can be quite outgoing and confident, there aretimes when Bev is v confident and wild (teasing Ben, jumping off the cliff,initiating the rock war, etc). Sag risings are also v brave—like every single timeshe fights It or the Bowers or her dad or her husband. They’re good at tellingstories. They are also people who fight for the oppressed and want to createideas that help the world.

Ben:

Pisces Sun: Pisces are super friendlyand will do anything to help others even if they don’t get anything back(Ben!!!!!!!! Ben!!!!!!). They are very compassionate and gentle with others, I thinkthis is very true for Ben as he is p much always super sweet and understanding withthe losers. Their compassion can sometimes lead to being way too trusting—this canbe a problem bc they could fall in with bad company and hate being criticizedand sometimes views themselves as a victim. I don’t think Ben ever tries to like…capitalize on being a victim or anything but I think he does feel that waysometimes especially in regards to Bill/Bev, but he understands that’s her owndecision, again being very compassionate and not expecting anything out of hisactions. Sometimes their strong emotions can manifest in negative ways, likebeing scared, sad, and feeling misunderstood—they also can cry p easily (Ben criesquite a bit for his friends like in the sewers and his own romantic feelingsand stuff). They are super romantic and love unconditionally. They are also quiteintuitive, I think this makes sense (in tandem with the romanticism) withthings like kissing Bev to save her, understanding where to look into stuff inregard to the pennywise bullshit, etc.

Taurus Moon: We’ve talked aboutthis a bit with Mike, but I think Ben is also a Taurus Moon! LunarTaureans are very sentimental and have deep, strong emotions. They are vromantic and hang on to their relationships, both platonic and romantic, (thepostcard…….) they want a devoted and committed relationship that providessecurity. Those with their moon in Taurus really invest a lot in their friendships,I think friendship is one of if not the most important thing to Ben so thismakes a lot of sense to me. There’s a line in one of the sites I looked at thatfeels SO Ben to me: “Taurus moon sign energy has two speeds: relaxed andcontented […] or hyped-up and ready to charge”. That totally reminds me of howBen is usually p chill and easy going but when the people he loves arethreatened he goes crazy to protect them (the rock war scream and him going crazyduring that LGKNNRG and fighting pennywise, etc). While Mike’s affinity for luxuryis more like…. Kitschy clutter trash GLNRG, I think Ben’s interest in architecturefeels v luxurious and the importance of a home base makes sense for him. TaurusMoons also like to gather all the facts first—this makes sense in how heapproaches his friendships/relationships but also other things like investigatingDerry.

Libra Rising: Let’s go diplomatic romanticslet’s goooooooooo!!! Libras want harmony and are therefore good mediators, theywant everyone to have a good time and are good at teamwork. I think this makessense for Ben and can especially be seen in scenes like the reunion dinnerwhere he tries to calm everyone down and let Mike be heard. They are persuasivebut often do so with a ‘nice guy’ approach rather than like Charm andConfidence like Leo/Aries. Again, Libra Risings are SUPER romantic and havegood intuition, they usually know when they have a chance with someone and willcreate an ideal vibe for their relationships to bloom. They like to plan aheadfor the future with their loved ones (hello argument scene where he’s like imgonna be 30 and far away from here). They also feel like they need anotherhalf, which i think is true for romance but also just like. He needs hisfriends and really loves/cares about them. Those with their rising in Libraalso really care about home aesthetics and having a balanced space, again I thinkaiding in his architecture career.

Eddie

Sagittarius Sun: Tbh, I was v tornbetween sag and scorpio for Eddie’s sun, but I think Sagittarius best describeshis sun and Scorpio for his emotional self. Sagittarians are curious and fullof energy, and they value freedom (hello let Eddie be free!!!!!!). They can besuper impatient and tactless with some of the things they say, which is a veryEddie thing to me lernrgge. Furthermore, they can get angry pretty quickly aswell, and often talk quickly too (Eddie speaks so fucking fast and snaps easilyat everyone erglknegr). They also have good senses of humor; they like to teaseothers. Those with sun in Sagittarius are dedicated to their friends and arewilling to do anything… like defy their awful mother and crawl through a sewerwith a broken arm to fight a murderous clown. Sometimes they have blind faithin others, which I think could be translated to his relationship with Bill andto a more intense and negative respect, his mother. Sags want to find knowledgeand understand other people’s beliefs, and they are very vocal about their own,even to the point of exaggeration (like every single rant Eddie goes on LMAO).They also like sports which like LET EDDIE RUNNNN. Also, not to be a reddie butin looking at compatibility with the signs Gemini/Sag fit so much better forthem and made a lot of sense to me.

Scorpio Moon: Those with theirmoon in Scorpio are very emotionally intense and can be quite dramatic. Thiscan allow them to be quite perceptive of the emotions of others. However, theyare very good at hiding their own emotions because they often disprove of themand deny that they are motivated by their strong emotions. (hello repressedEddie). This helps Scorpio moons feel in control, but it can be detrimental. Ireally love this line from Mo’s book: “you must learn to let go emotionally andfeel your pain, and through the experience expand your phenomenalability to love”. Yup lover!!!! Scorpio moons are also very determined andpersistent…. fighter eddie!! Lover and fighter eddie!!! This made me kinda sad,but it says that there’s usually sorrow/trouble in the lives of Moon-Scorpiosand those are often tied to family and health… :/ and that they think ofescapist fantasies to cope with that. Scorpio moons are sensual but thestereotype of ~super sexy scorpio~ is kind of misleading. They have huge trustissues and don’t want to be controlled (oop… also they usually get married multipletimes lmao), it takes a lot for them to be trusting in love but when they do it’sa very deep love.

Virgo Rising: Those with theirrising in Virgo are BIG worriers and are super analytical, they often noticetiny details. (Maybe a dumb thing but Eddie is always the first to notice whenone of their friends is gone in the sewers, also in more funny and little wayslike him sniffing Ben’s perfume—that also ties in with his Sag curiosity imo).However, even though they notice details and can be intuitive, they miss out onemotional nuances. Sometimes they can be a little too forward and matter offact with people—I think Eddie speaks before he thinks a lot LKRG and can saysome rude shit sometimes without realizing it. (Ik this is kinda like my own stuffbleeding through but in general I think Eddie can be oblivious to other’semotions LRNGKNLG). They are very critical—often towards themselves, they areinsecure and beat themselves up over just about every little thing they do (SUCHan Eddie thing to me). Furthermore, they are guarded with their emotions untilthey have analyzed the situation and feel comfortable (again. Very Eddie tome). This often means they come off as timid and at times cold/stand-offish,which I think in new situations or times when Eddie’s unsure (aka has not analyzedeverything and feels unsafe whether physically or with his emotions), he tendsto draw in on himself and stay quiet. (But, then, his fire Sag side comes burstingout when he just can’t take it anymore and goes bonkers LKGRNG). Virgo risingsare organized and care about hygiene and cleanliness and are very in tune withtheir body (of course, Eddie’s obsession with cleanliness and hygiene/healthhas a lot to do with his mother’s abuse, but I also think there are some parts withinhim inherently who care about those things, it just got exacerbated in anextremely negative way bc of his mother). Interestingly, Virgo risings are veryenergetic, often with nervous energy, and have a hard time staying still—this feelsvery Eddie to me, his pacing and emphatic hand gestures, etc.

Richie:

Gemini Sun: Geminis are superwitty and funny and love to have a grand ol’ chaotic time with their friends,but then can turn serious suddenly. Oftentimes they feel restless and feel likethey are missing their other half so to speak (the yearning… the emo moments…).They’re very sociable and hate being alone, they love to entertain others, theyare strong communicators. Their love for communication often means they feelthe need to talk A LOT, even to strangers. (Trashmouth Tozier always talking!—Mopointed out that Richie’s talking is so bad that they had to create a separate phase,beep beep, just to be like We Seriously Want You To Shut Up, which I thinkmakes sense for all his placements bc they’re all like. One’s where the person talksso fucking much GRLNRG my annoying king

Gemini Moon: Yup double geminilove this obnoxious legend!!! (jk I like geminis but. It’s true. I am also sayingthis as a gemini moon). A lot of the stuff about his sun can be applicable herebut I’ll add on bc I am incapable of shutting up (the gemini moon of it all…) Thisis from Mo’s book again, I’ll just add some commentary/examples as to why Ithink it fits with Richie: Gemini moons are mutable and erratic. they have anactive mind, and imaginative and creative personality, and are inclined to intellectualpursuits. they have extraordinary quick sensory impressions of the outsideworld and they rapidly sift through info in their minds to make judgements.fast learners, high iqs probably , good critics and have the ability to bothanalyze and verbalize (despite some fanon interpretations, Richie is actually reallysmart, he’s good at math/science, I believe he’s also into politics later in college?).they have great charm. conversations with gemini moons tend to go off onunexpected tangents and take sudden turns and reverse (This feels SO Richie tome lekrnglenr). at heart, a lunar gemini is essentially restless and needsconstant stim (Makes sense for Richie for me, also with his ADHD, he needs tobe playing video games or reading a comic or doing this and that, he hatedhaving to be look out and do nothing for like an hour ergklnerg). lunargemini's are always mentally assessing their feelings. they tend to dissecttheir feelings and emotions to analyze why they think or behave in a certainway. they're quick witted and vibrant and can change their minds often. inemotional relationships they display a free spirit, going on the whims of theother person's emotions. at times their talent can be isolated because theylose interest in this quickly and drop their projects. they perform well whenin a relationship with someone practical and hardheaded (inch resting……..)

Pisces Rising: Taking some morestuff from Mo’s book, these lines I think really resonate with Richie’s outwardself and how he deals with the world: “You want life to be perfect and since itisn’t, you choose not to see what you don’t want to see”. That is SUCH a Richiething to me. “At parties Rising-Pisceans are vivacious and verbal (sometimesyou talk too much); you enjoy performing in front of a group. A talent formimicry makes many Pisces Ascendants turn to theater”. Literally Richie… the Voices,the talking too much and wanting to entertain the losers…. Those with Piscesrising are also very romantic and want to live a fantasy life, but they can bevery sad and moody especially because they feel like they are destined to bealone. (Richie yearning gay….) They are also quite disorganized but work wellin groups (let’s go loserssss clubbbbbb!!!).

#it #the losers club #literally im so sorry this is so long LKRGKLRNGR #anon #ask

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biomedmillie · 5 years ago

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The SARS-CoV2 pandemic; insight from a science student, an NHS worker and a patient.

My view of the pandemic, and the response

My name is Millie, I’m a second year biomedical student studying in England and hoping to apply for graduate-entry medicine. On the weekends, I also work in my local hospital as a health-care assistant (HCA), to gain experience and to support my own study. I also tested positive for the SARS-CoV2 virus on a swab test for UK healthcare workers.

As all science students will most likely concur, when the media first picked up on the outbreak I was frustrated to say the least. Such sensationalised and misleading headlines such as ‘killer virus!’ proclaiming a deadly contagion to a misinformed public spread like wildfire. Pasta ran out, toilet paper couldn’t be found in site and those with no prior knowledge to the inner workings of infection control were suddenly preaching to the masses about sanitation on morning breakfast shows. In my own microbiology course, my kind lecturer had taken it upon herself to give us a lecture on the exact strain causing the outbreak in Wuhan, and painted a very different picture to what I had heard on the news. This was not the terrifying plague the news media had made it out to be, but rather a new mutation of a common family of viruses that were often the sources of runny noses, sneezing and other symptoms of the common cold that you or I might be infected with thousands of times within our lives. So what was different, and what warranted the drastic measures we see before us now?

The new strain of virus could infect the respiratory tract, and as such was dangerous to those with pre-existing respiratory illnesses or those that were severely immunocompromised. This accounted for an estimated 1% fatality rate, mainly targeting the elderly; although such a low rate may have you scoffing, a lower rate is more beneficial for the virus as those who act as carriers will most likely be unaffected, and as such will not know they are infected and will spread the virus to others. But none of this had been reported in the news, only the severe symptoms and the deaths that a small proportion of the population were experiencing. Such misinformation bred fear, and as such panic began to ensue that had the public rushing to supermarkets further spreading the virus and infecting the vulnerable.

What the newsstands failed to report? A WHO annual report published three months prior to the first case predicting that a virus causing respiratory illness would incite a global pandemic, advising health services all over the world to prepare infrastructure for expanded treatment (GPMB, 2019). The WHO predicts this based upon blood samples taken from bats, known reservoirs of zoonotic viruses. They monitor each new strain that crops up, and further monitor and warn other health services if a virus is found that could potentially make the jump to humans. SARS-CoV2 was found this way, flagged and seemingly never picked up by mainstream media nor bodies of government.

As a part-time NHS worker, I was on shift right up to the first peak of the virus in London at the end of March; the following week my university was shut down and students sent home, and has been my last shift to date. I cannot fault the trust I work with for not being prepared- right before the first wave of cases hit, multiple wards had been cleared and as such every ward was overflowing, including the one I was working on. I can tell you now, that even before the outbreak hit there were not enough masks, sterile gloves or plastic gowns; these are the bread and butter of a HCA when maintaining patient’s personal hygiene, and even before the pandemic every ward I worked on was always running out. This is no surprise to a healthcare worker, these are necessities used everyday by every medical personnel. Another misconception I found myself confronting was the belief that the NHS and their workers only need support during times such as this; pandemic or no pandemic, the job is incredibly hard everyday for every healthcare worker. Urinary tract infections are a common complaint among staff as the working day is so busy there is no time to go to the bathroom, I myself have fainted multiple times on placement or on shift from dehydration, and an hour break is given for a 13 hour shift. Healthcare workers need support everyday for a difficult yet highly rewarding job, not just a minute of clapping at 8pm.

When I first noticed symptoms of the virus, I was two weeks away from my online exams and in the thick of study. I have six exams in total (of which I am in the midst of right now), so it would be an understatement to say that I was stressed. I am also immunocompromised, with a current autoimmune disorder under investigation, but I was never panicked as I had worked in close contact with Norovirus outbreaks at work and had been fine. I was ill for around 10 days, and for the first seven I felt completely incapacitated. I had tried to push myself to study but to no avail, and felt debilitated by the disease. Even before my results came back, I was almost certain it was SARS-CoV2; one of my patients was a confirmed case, and I worked in close proximity with them often. My taste and smell went, I had a slight temperature and my muscles ached. For the initial week I couldn’t get out of bed, slept the majority of the time and my appetite waned as I couldn’t taste anything. But I never felt like I was dying or suffocating as the news reports suggested, and I never developed the characteristic cough widely broadcasted. After a week I was fit to go back to studying, but it took many weeks before my taste and smell fully returned. Many asked if I was angry, as my job as a HCA had put me in the line of fire so to speak, but I replied with a resounding ‘No’; I did not choose my job nor medicine for that matter without the knowledge of the risk. I loved my role in the NHS, I love that medicine is not easy but rather a struggle to reach perfection that one knows they can never ascertain. I love my patients and the compassion the job instils in me, and so I was never angry at my work nor the NHS; I was angry that the world had been warned by science that a pandemic was coming in bold, black letters, and no one had cared to listen.

As a science student, I was infuriated that the literature by world-renowned experts had been ignored. As a healthcare worker, I ached for all the lives that could have been saved if the WHO’s words had been taken into account. And finally, as a patient I was insulted that the same system the government had been criticising for years, draining life from, was the very same organisation that had saved them in the most dire time of need. The NHS has always protected the public, it is just only now coming to light. And for the record, healthcare workers have always been and will continue to be ‘heroes’, providing a gift that no single one of us can ever hope to repay.

The paper I have referenced here is entitled “A World At Risk: Annual report on global preparedness for health emergencies” by the Global Preparedness Monitoring Board, an offshoot of the World Health Organisation. It is referenced below in the Harvard formatting:

Global Preparedness Monitoring Board (2019), A World at Risk: Annual report on global preparedness for health emergencies. Accessed [15.05.20]. Available from: https://apps.who.int/gpmb/assets/annual_report/GPMB_annualreport_2019.pdf

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lilfellasblog · 5 years ago

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Knight in Shining Armor - Roman’s 2019 Birthday Fic!

Summary: When Thomas has an allergic reaction, Virgil’s anxiety gets stuck on high-alert. Will he have to face it alone?Hello! Despite how the summary makes it sound, this is actually a fic for Roman Creativity Sander’s birthday! Happy birthday to the dramatic, passionate Side that inspires Thomas and keeps him going!

A/N: If you like this please reblog. It is the only way for this writing to reach a wider audience. Tumblr ate most of my fics that I know I posted here, which makes me very sad for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being that the love and comments and tags that folks showed this fic is gone into the ether.

TW: Minor allergic reaction, anxiety, feeling of breathlessness that comes from anxiety. Let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 1741

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Earlier that morning, Thomas had woken up at his friend’s house after a bit too wild of a night. He had groaned and stretched, trying and failing to open his eyes past the searing headache, when he felt weight drop on his chest.

His eyes slammed open and he was face-to-face with a very fluffy cat.

“Oh my goodness!” Thomas cooed as he brought his hand up. He let the cat smell his hand, then started gently petting its head and neck. The cat was a light gray color with yellow eyes and a very poofy tail.

“Aren’t you such a good kitty?” Thomas gushed.

The cat laid down on him and stretched, accepting more head scritches. Thomas couldn’t stop himself from booping the cat’s nose, but he immediately went back to petting. Soon enough, however, his immune system had something to say. He barely got his arm over his nose and mouth in time for him to sneeze.

The cat was entirely nonplussed and simply looked at him as if to say, “Why did you stop petting me?”

Thomas gently picked up the cat and deposited it on the ground. He stood up, gripping his head, and made his way to the bathroom to get some water and ibuprofen in his system. Might have to see if they have benadryl, I can already feel my nose getting stuffy.

////

Virgil was panicking. Thomas had been exposed to a cat, right after he had woken up, for an extended period of time, and was already having his airways close. Logically, Virgil knew that Thomas probably wasn’t going to go into anaphylactic shock, but what if he did?!

Virgil was keeping a very close eye on his own breathing. He didn’t feel like his airway was obstructed or swollen, but he did feel like he had to focus on taking deep breathes or else his lungs would start burning. He tried his breathing exercises, to no avail. Virgil was relieved when the benadryl kicked in for Thomas and his symptoms disappeared fairly quickly, but Virgil still couldn’t get enough air. He felt like he was constantly yawning or deeply sighing. It just felt like he wasn’t getting oxygen into his lungs!

He knew that it was going to be difficult to act normally around the other Sides. Patton was the center of Thomas’ emotional intelligence, Logan was ridiculously smart and observant, and Roman was very sensitive to how others were acting around him. Resigned to suffering alone in his room for the rest of the day, he flopped on his bed and scrolled through Tumblr. He had days like this; where he’d feel like his lungs weren’t working properly and that he’d have to gulp air just to feel like he wasn’t out of breath. It usually dissipated by the next morning. Virgil knew it was his anxiety, but knowing that only helped so much. He wasn’t going to have a panic attack over thinking he had methemoglobinemia or was going into anaphylactic shock, but his brain was still telling him that he was dying.

Virgil tried focusing on the various memes and shitposts that made up his Tumblr feed, but he wasn’t enjoying it at all. He was thrumming with anxious energy. When 3 PM rolled around, Virgil was exhausted and miserable. He wanted his anxiety to just fucking stop, to let him be a neurotypical person who could cure their sadness by walking outside or whatever shit, but no, his neurotransmitters decided that their role was to make his existence miserable. Was it so much to ask to just be able to breathe and have a normal day?!

Virgil threw his phone on the bed in frustration and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. He heard excited knocking coming from his door.

“Virgil, my Chemically Imbalanced Romance! May I request thy presence for a quest?”

Virgil took a deep breath in through his nose.

“Sorry Princey, I’m not feeling too hot today. Maybe another time.”

There was silence at his door, and Virgil was relieved and sad that Roman had left.

“A new quest then! Perhaps I can interest you in a distraction?”

Virgil considered that. He wasn’t getting much better laying here in his room, but he could barely catch his breath as it was! How could he last during one of Princey’s quests?!

Virgil let out a groan. “Fine, but only if you promise there’s little to no physical activity.”

“I swear it.” Roman said way too solemnly. Virgil huffed a silent laugh to himself. Roman’s extra dial is stuck at 300%.

Virgil got himself up, made sure he had his phone and headphones, and opened the door. Roman was looking at him as though he didn’t expect Virgil to actually come out.

“Virgil, my dark knight! How may I be of service to you?”

Virgil shuffled. “I don’t know.” he mumbled. He really didn’t know how Roman could help him.

“That’s quite alright! I’m sure I can… imagine something.” Roman said with an excited smile and waggle of his brows.

“Did you just make a Patton joke?”

“Why yes I did!”

“Not very creative.”

Roman let out an offended Princey noise and Virgil snorted. Roman led the way to his room, not touching Virgil. He had learned that when Virgil’s anxiety was acting up, touch didn’t feel very good for him.

Roman opened the massive doors to his room and Virgil noticed that it was slightly darker than usual. The only light came from candles, fairy lights, and a sunset in the Imagination that was shining through the window.

“We could play Scrabble, we could watch movies, I even have a PS4 set up in here!”

Virgil bobbed his head as he looked around. He needed a distraction, so,

“Scrabble?”

Roman swept his arm to the fireplace (that has GOT to be a fire hazard) and directed Virgil to one of the armchairs. Unlike the other armchairs, it was black with silver metal accents, as opposed to the red chairs with gold and brown accents. That little detail almost made Virgil tear up.

Almost. He had a reputation to maintain dammit.

Roman grabbed two mugs of jasmine tea seemingly from out of nowhere and set one in front of Virgil, along with a plate of finger sandwiches. They played several rounds of Scrabble, with Virgil winning the first one by a narrow margin and Roman winning the second by an equally narrow margin. They got about halfway through the third game before Virgil decided to try eating some of the finger sandwiches. They were good. Virgil ate enough so he wasn’t hungry anymore but no more than that. He didn’t want another lecture from Patton about ruining his appetite. Although to be fair, this was probably healthier than Cheetos dipped in cream cheese, right?

Virgil irritatingly brushed his fringe out of his eyes for approximately the 70th time that minute and huffed in annoyance.

“Would you like the assistance of an expert hairstylist fair maiden?”

Virgil saw excitement barely being held at bay in the royal’s eyes. His skin didn’t feel so uncomfortable anymore, and he could use some help…

“Sure.”

“Wonderful! Come into my bathroom, I have everything we’ll need in there.”

Virgil threw one more finger sandwich into his mouth, chugged the rest of his tea, and followed the royal.

Roman’s bathroom was an amalgamation of every bathroom Thomas had seen in his life that made him think “Oh pretty!”. Walking past a clawfoot bathtub that was in the exact center of the bathroom for whatever reason Virgil was sat down in a chair facing a vanity. The mirror was lined in lightbulbs.

Fit for a star.

Roman tousled Virgil’s hair, staring at it in concentration. After running his hands through it a few more times, he went to his vanity.

“Your hair has enough grease in it to make hairspray not as effective, and we really don’t have a good hair type for hair gel. I was thinking of putting some dry shampoo in and adding hairspray?”

Virgil shrugged. “Whatever you think will work best.”

“Excellent! I shall begin right away.”

Virgil let his mind drift a bit as Roman fussed over his hair. Roman had personalized his room just for Virgil’s sake and put his whole heart into doing whatever it was Virgil wanted to do. All because Virgil was being a useless puddle of anxiety on his bed and decided he couldn’t breathe and avoided the others. He had even made sure Virgil was hydrated and had something to eat, and Virgil hadn’t even gone on the quest Roman wanted to go on, and-

“Done! What do you think?”

Virgil tore himself away from his thoughts and looked in the mirror. It… looked good. For only using dry shampoo and hairspray, it was damn impressive. It had some volume and stayed out of his eyes, but was still draping down enough to keep the emo vibe alive.

Roman was chewing on his lip and staring at Virgil in the mirror with wide eyes.

“Thanks Ro. I really like it. It’s really good.”

Roman’s smile lit up the entire room and Virgil swore it got a few degrees warmer.

“I’m very glad you like it Virgil! My skills are unmatched!” he declared with a flourish.

Virgil chuckled as they heard knocking on Roman’s door.

“Kiddos! Dinner!”

Virgil and Roman began to shuffle out of his room when Virgil realized something: he could breathe again.

He felt a lump in his throat beginning to form against his wishes. Roman heard Virgil stop walking and turned around. Upon seeing the expression on Virgil’s face, his brows knitted together.

“Virgil? Is something the matter?”

Virgil laughed wetly. “No Princey, I just… thank you.” he breathed out.

Roman smiled. “Of course. It is my pleasure to help you Virgil.” he paused, looking slightly hesitant. “Would you like a hug?”

Virgil nodded and walked into Roman’s waiting arms. Roman held him tightly, showing the strength hidden beneath the prince uniform, but not too tightly. He had his face buried in Virgil hair and was breathing in the scent of hairspray and dry shampoo. After a good 30-second hug, they separated. Virgil was looking down and blushing slightly and Roman was smiling, a blush also covering his cheekbones, but instead of embarrassment in his eyes there were stars.

“L-let’s go to supper.” Virgil muttered.

“Very well. Let’s.”

#sanders sides #fanfic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #anxiety #thomas sanders #fic #fanfiction #ts sides

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lassluna · 5 years ago

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The Pumpkin Incident

Summery: It was supposed to be a quick trip to the pumpkin patch. Quick in and out, grab the pumpkins and get home. She was not supposed to meet newcomer Killian Jones. She was certainly not supposed to end up trick or treating with Henry, a pirate and little Robin Hood.

(But why does he look so damn good as a pirate?!)

Ao3 FFn

AN: This is my contribution to the @csrolereversal . Thank you so much @darkcolinodonorgasm for putting this event together it was wonderful to be a part of. Please see the art that this is based on by @carpedzem it's amazing Thank you so much for all your help making this story what it was, she also did some beta work on this thing, so please go check out her art. Also thanks soo much to all the people who helped inspire some of this over on discord!

What Emma will never understand is the fascination for pumpkins everyone has this time of year. Because seriously, why pumpkin of all things?

Pumpkin spice, Pumpkin carving, even pumpkin hummus! Pumpkin wasn’t even that good!

(She’d be lying to say she didn’t try the pumpkin hummus, it was as gross as she expected.)

“We need to find the biggest Pumpkin!” Leo announces proudly from the back seat of Emma’s bug. Emma smirks at her nephew’s assertion. At 12 years old, the kid thought he was ready to conquer the world.

“Nuh uh.” Henry disagrees. “We need to find the weirdest pumpkin. I want the one no one else wants.” Emma steals a glance at her big hearted kid. Henry, being 2 years Leo’s junior, always loves finding the underdog, whether it be the saddest pumpkin, or the smallest plant, Henry always wanted to give it a shot.

(Emma’s always surprised how well these smaller things blossom under Henry’s influence, as if he’s made them succeed with his pure belief)

“Smaller things are lame.” Leo retorts.

“You’re lame!” Henry replies bitterly.

“Hey, no calling your cousin lame.” Emma says immediately silencing them mid argument. If the boys are left alone, it would soon dissolve into a fight. “We can get both, how does that sound?”

Emma hears small mumbles of agreement. She suppresses a sigh herself.

Typically, it was David who did this kind of stuff with the boys, all the dirty messy stuff dads did with their sons. Henry was almost always included, something she was eternally grateful for. Emma hoped that David made up for Henry not having a father in some way.

It was why when David's shift got changed to work the afternoon before Halloween rather than the morning. She offered to take the boys instead to pick out pumpkins to carve. It was a tradition of sorts so she would hate for them to miss it.

"Alright, we're here." She announces, pulling into the parking spot besides Tiny's Farm. "Everyone remember the rules?"

"No talking to strangers, and always be within sight." Leo echoes in an annoyed tone.

"Good." Emma says unlocking the doors. The boys pile out of the bug and make a beeline towards the pumpkin patch.

She can see the one Leo has his eyes on, an absolute monster of a pumpkin that he most likely won't be able to carry.

"Maybe not-" but she's interrupted by the kid in question trying to lift the pumpkin.

“Leo-” She tried, before he managed to get it off the ground before nearly dropping it onto his foot.

“Easy lad.” says a voice, as a man came around to help support the pumpkin's weight and keep Leo from accidentally hurting himself. “That’s a big pumpkin for a little lad.”

That made Leo pout, and try once more to pick up the pumpkin“I’m not little” Leo says impatiently.

“Leo, do not pick up the pumpkin.” Emma snaps. “You can really hurt yourself if you’re not careful." The little brunette boy threw a glare her way.

"But I am being careful. Dad would let me." he says simply.

"Well your Dad's at work, so why don't you find a pumpkin that won't need a seatbelt." She glances around noticing Henry talking to a young boy, several appropriate sized pumpkins scattered about."Look, Henry's finding plenty." She points out.

With a huff, Leo crosses his arms and walks towards his cousin. Emma has no doubt that after seeing some more pumpkins he’ll forget all about the giant one.

"The lad is certainly spirited." The man says with a chuckle.

"Yup. Thanks for helping Leo." She says turning towards the stranger.

He was a bit taller than her, wrapped in dark leather, and more importantly handsome, very handsome.

"Anytime love," he says shooting her a brilliant smile. It makes her blush ever so slightly. She’s surprised she doesn’t recognize him, being a Sheriff in a relatively small town, Emma feels like she knows a majority of the locals by name.

“You’re not from around here are you?” She inquires with a smile, noticing him watching the young boy talking to Henry.

“What gave it away?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

“I’m something of an expert of this place.” She says casually.

“Oh?”

“Plus the accent, not many foreigners in Storybrooke.” She says. “So what’s your story? Visiting family?”

His grin wides. “Killian Jones.” He introduces. “But not visiting family, hoping to use the holiday to help the lad settle in.” He says gesturing towards the boy. “His mother just got a job as the new District Attorney so here we are.”

Emma had heard David talking about that, with Spencer retiring, they were looking for someone new. Word around town was that she was a very blunt straight forward woman with a husband and son...

“Killy!” The boy calls out, beckoning their attention. They both venture closer to the boys “Can Henry come trick or Treat with us?” He asks, big wide eyes looking at the man.

“Why don’t we ask his mother lad?” Killian says smoothly, looking at the pumpkin the younger boy was holding. “That’s a mighty fine treasure you found.” He says.

“Can we Mom?” Henry asks. She looks to the two energetic boys, big wide eyes.

“Sorry kid, you know the rules.” She says. It had been a long held rule that holidays were for family. It was time for Leo and Henry to have fun as cousins. “Halloween is just for family, you’ll have a good time with Leo.”

Speaking of Leo...

"Leo. Put down the pumpkin!"

"Fine."

“Understood...” He confirms with a nod, trailing off.

“Emma.” She introduces. “Sheriff Emma Swan.”

"Swan." He says simply. "Well Swan”, he says fishing into his pocket. "If you change your mind about the trick or treating..." he hands her a card.

"Oh?" She says surprised. "Photographer?" She reads on the slip of cardstock.

"Usually weddings and the like, the address is outdated but the number...” He scratched behind his ear nervously.

“Do you usually give your number out to people you just meet?” She asks with a brow raised in curiosity.

“Typically that's how one gets business, besides you’re the sheriff.”

She smiles as he and his son walk off. He has the boy’s pumpkin in his arm, the other holding onto the boy’s hand.

For a moment, Emma wonders about calling the guy.

The next she wonders, if he was here with his son and wife, why the hell was he flirting with her?

They arrive back at the farmhouse with no less than five pumpkins. Emma’s not entirely sure how the boys swindled her into buying more pumpkins than they could possibly carve in a month, let alone the few hours till Halloween.

“Pumpkins Pumpkins!” The boys shouted the moment she pulled into her spot in the driveway, practically falling over themselves carrying their pumpkins into the house.

“We have Pumpkins Mom!” Leo calls rushing through the front door. Emma follows behind, holding the other two they just had to have.

Mary Margret, her sister in law looks like she just got home, purse still laying on the couch, kettle still simmering for her daily cup of tea.

“You did!” The pixie cut 4th grade teacher says, a brilliant smile as she embraces her son. She looks up at Emma thankfully, but with a curious expression.

Why so many?

Emma shakes her head.

Don’t ask...

“Go set them on the table and go wash your hands.” She says simply. The boys don’t miss a beat obeying Mary Margaret’s instructions. No one could disobey something when she used her teacher voice, even David and her sometimes caught themselves listening when she raised her voice to that teacher pitch.

“You know Emma.” Her sister-in-law says taking a seat on the couch “You’ll still be Leo’s favorite aunt if you say no to his demands.” Emma groans, collapsing into one of her nearby chairs.

“You know I’m not good at that, if it isn’t something that will put them in mortal danger I’m a sap.”

She laughs in agreement.

It’s then that they could hear a rickety truck pull into the driveway. Everyone in the house knew exactly what that was.

“Dad!” Leo proclaimed, racing towards the door as it swung open.

“Hey bud.” David says, giving his son a hug.

“Uncle David, Uncle David!” Henry exclaims behind his blonde haired cousin. “Look at the pumpkins we got!” He nodded, letting the boys pull him towards the table where the oddly shaped pumpkins waited for carving. Emma could vaguely hear all the ideas they had for the designs that David was going to help them make.

“Let him put his stuff down first.” Mary Margaret calls after them. “Don’t forget to wash your hands!”

“Yes honey.” David replies. There are moments like this that really remind Emma how perfect her brother’s life was. He ran an animal shelter on Main street, married his high school sweetheart, the most perfect person Emma had ever met.

It was really Emma to really feel like a screw up next to him.

Sure she was a sheriff, but that was more of an accident than anything else. The town really only needed two deputies with the sheriff. When Graham Humbert decided he wanted to leave town, Emma was the natural choice. Will Scarlet, the other deputy didn’t really fit the sheriff role.

“Are we going to cut the brain out of the pumpkin now?” Leo asks. “Are you going to use the big knife?”

She watches as Mary Margaret grabs the knife from the kitchen, helping David empty the centers from the pumpkins.

“Did you have fun with Emma today?” Mary says, once all the prep work had been completed and both Emma and she had a glass of red wine in their hands.

“Yeah.” Leo says casually, marker in hand as he draws a spooky face on the pumpkin. She could tell the blonde was concentrating as he had the same face both his father, and cousin had as they too were focused on their creations. “I had this huge Pumpkin I was going to get, like you wouldn’t believe it mom! It was so big!” He extends his arms trying to illustrate the size of the thing. “I tried to get it, but Auntie Emma said it was too big to fit in the car.” He explains.

Emma nods. “We probably wouldn’t have been able to get it to fit in the bug.” She agrees.

“The guy could have helped...” Henry pipes in rather cheerfully.

“Guy? What guy?” David repeats rather surprised, looking between the boys and Emma. He practically screamed over protective big brother mode, making Emma roll her eyes.

Emma closes her eyes, knowing what was about to happen.

"Emma was talking to a guy." Leo says, not even looking up, too busy carving the pumpkin while David helped Henry.

It certainly got Mary Margaret’s attention.

“There was a guy with his son...” She says at the excited look her sister in law was giving her. “He’s married, so obviously I’m not pursuing anything.” She says quickly.

“But this is the first guy you’ve gotten excited about since-”

“I don’t think I’m getting excited about anything.” She reminds her. “I just had a nice conversation. That’s it.”

It was silly, really, to read anything at all into this.

It was just a conversation. A conversation she’d enjoyed, but still just a talk. She'd talked to plenty of people. Perhaps she hadn’t smiled as much or laughed or been disappointed when it ended. Plus he never said anything about being married to his son’s mother. She knows better than anyone that just because you have a kid does not mean you’re married...

She should not be reading into anything.

“Maybe just consider it Emma. I know you don’t like talking about these things, but your walls, the walls you put up ever since Henry was born and Neal left...they may keep out pain, but they also keep out love too.” The older woman glances back at the boys carving. David overseeing them. “A lot can happen when you open yourself to the possibility of love.”

Emma shakes her head.

It didn’t mean anything.

Emma doesn’t need a man. She certainly doesn’t need to be fantasising about a married man, or one in the middle of a divorce or something, her life was complicated enough!

Ok, maybe being a simple sheriff in a small town wasn’t that complicated, but she had Henry to think about. Emma didn’t need tall dark and handsome to make her simple life ever the more complicated.

Mary Margret was going to take the boys trick or treating, and she was going to have a nice night to herself. Maybe she’d do her toes. She hates painting her own nails, so probably not, she’d certainly have a glass of wine. Maybe two.

It was going to be a good night. Emma Swan was determined to have a good night tonight if it killed her.

But of course, things never go according to plan.

“Mom! Leo set the pumpkin on fire!” She hears called over her thoughts.

Emma blinks, then looks up, seeing Mary Margaret’s ten year old standing in front of a currently aflame pumpkin.

Or maybe not...

“But it’s not fair!” Leo exclaims angrily. “Why does Henry get to Trick or Treat if I’m grounded?”

“Because your cousin didn’t put five candles in his pumpkin that caught the rest of the pumpkin on fire.” David says casually, from his seat on the couch.

Leo was in half of his green goblin costume glaring daggers at Henry in his knight outfit. When his parents saw what he was doing, they immediately jumped into action, putting out the fire and grounding their son effective immediately.

“The pumpkin wasn’t behaving.” The elder kid said darkly, arms crossed. “Why is that, my fault?” Mary Margaret sighs.

“Because we don’t light vegetables on fire in the house.”

“Can I go do it outside?”

“No!”

A very annoyed Leo slumped in his chair.

“But we’re supposed to trick or treat together.” He counters.

“Grounding trumps all family rules.” Mary Margret cuts in. “In addition, this is not the first time we’ve had trouble following fire safety Leo.” She too takes her seat on the couch, reality shows blaring in the background.

They had really spared no expense in teaching Leo a lesson. Not only was he grounded for a month, but right when she and Henry headed out, the plan was to play some informational movies about how not to set fires.

“But who am I going to Trick or Treat with?” Henry asks, glancing at his pumpkin pail sadly.

“Henry...” Emma says, not to sure how she was going to solve this problem. “Do you think any of your classmates would mind if you tagged along?” She asks. Henry instantly looks mortified at the suggestion.

“Henry doesn’t have any friends.” Leo says sarcastically. Throwing an eye roll their way.

“Leopold!” Mary Margaret says sternly. “You apologize to your cousin right now.” She orders her son.

Emma can’t help but glare at the boy as he mumbled through a half meaning apology. Henry barely glanced at the older boy, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

Did Henry really not have any friends?

“Henry...” She says simply, pulling her kid to the side. “Are you having trouble making friends?” She asks. They’d been in town for years by now, but when Emma thinks about it, Henry hasn’t gone to any birthday parties, no one had come over to their little apartment, he hadn’t gone over to anyone else’s....

Henry didn’t respond, which was answer enough for her usual chatty boy.

“Roland wanted to be my friend.” He says finally. “Can I trick or treat with him?”

Emma hesitates only a fraction, seeing her kid’s eyes light up when she pulls the business card out of her pocket. Jones Photos.

“I’ll give them a call.” Emma says. “But I’m going with you, non negotiable.”

Henry’s eyes light up, and regardless of Emma’s own worries about contacting Killian Jones, she’s determined to fix things for Henry.

Hey, this is Emma from the Pumpkin Patch, is it possible for Henry and I to come trick or treat with you and Roland?

“Are you sure this is going to fit?” Emma asks once more as Mary Margaret tightens the straps in the back of her costume.

“Of course Emma!” She says excitedly. “Bandit Snow is going to look so good on you!”

Emma hadn’t planned to trick or treat this year with the kids, so when Leo wanted to be the Green Goblin, and Henry wanted to be a knight, David and Mary Margaret decided to match the kids themselves, rather than going in couple costumes. David had gotten a perfect Spider Man costume, while Margaret had decided on going as Snow White, except Mary Margaret always hated the whole ‘Damsel and Distress’ idea so she had done some… alterations.

“So now that the leather vest is on, we can get you in the pants and here’s the bow and the sword, it’s a fake sword but it’s really realistic...” She rambles.

"Its fine, trust me. I really appreciate you lending it to me..." she says trailing off. It doesn't look half bad on her if she's being honest... She likes the look of the blue vest, the under shirt is a bit poofy, but its not unbearable. She got to wear her own khaki pants with some boots.

"You're phone buzzed." Mary Margaret notes handing her the device.

Absolutely! We're thinking of hitting Main Street first, would you like to meet us there?

"You said he was a photographer?" Mary Margaret asks. Emma nods as she types out her reply.

Yeah that works, what time are you thinking?

Emma barely takes notice as her sister-in-law takes the abandoned business card and types something into her phone.

“You didn’t tell me he was that handsome!” She hisses into her ear. It makes her blush brightly as she tries to get her hair tied up. She ties a messy ponytail, which Mary Margaret quickly undoes. Emma can see that she has the guy’s website pulled up, along with a photo of him taking some photos.

“Mary Margaret...” Emma says with a sigh. “You do know you’re married to my brother right?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t admire hotness when I see it.” She says with a wink.

“Oh my God, stop please.”

She ties a much tighter one, letting a few strategically placed hairs escape the hair tie. It's much tighter than the one Emma had done.

45 minutes?

"Looks good." Emma says with a smile. But they have to get going. She stands, exiting the master bedroom. "Henry! Ready to go?"

He practically bolts from his chair looking every bit the knight from his fairy tales, flowing cape, dark blue puffy pants and a light blue tunic. He was practically beaming with excitement.

"Time for Operation Trick or Treat!"

I’m dressed like a pirate, Roland’s dressed as Robin Hood from the movie.

Emma takes another glance up from her phone, looking around carefully for them.

“Swan!”

She turns around, seeing a pirate and fox-bandit coming towards them. She waves at them, especially when she sees Henry jump to get their attention.

“Glad you could join us.” Killian says once they’re close enough. But Emma was too… distracted by his pirate get up.

“You look...”

His vest is a scarlet red color, his jacket is dark, long and flowy, his eyes were lined with eyeliner and his fingers have ruby rings on one hand, the other was...a hook?

He looks better than he did before, if Emma’s being honest.

She should not be thinking these things, not when he’s possibly married.

He smirks. “I know.”

Emma can’t help but roll her eyes at the smugness. “You look great too Swan.” Emma flicks her hair in agreement, watching as the boys chat excitedly as well. “Where should we start?”

It’s Henry that answers. “Granny’s, She always gives hot chocolate when we trick or treat, plus Ruby gives the best candy.” Roland nods in agreement and rushes in the general direction of the cafe.

“They’re getting along well.” Killian murmurs. “Henry goes to the local elementary school right?” Emma nods.

“4th grade.”

“Perfect, same as Roland. I’m glad the lad will have a friend when he starts school on Monday.” Emma didn’t expect that, she knew he was new in town, but the thought that he was about to be a new regular was a bit surprising. That meant PTA meetings, soccer games, bake sales, carpool lines...“Where’s your other boy, Leo?” Killian asks.

“Oh, he’s my nephew, Henry’s my son.” Emma clarifies. “Leo got grounded by his parents.”

“On Halloween?”

“There was a Pumpkin Incident...” Emma says casually, hoping he doesn’t press for details.

“Trick or Treat, Sheriff.” Granny says when they reach the dinner, handing her a styrofoam cup of hot chocolate, just the way she likes it.

“Hey Granny, have you met Killian yet?” She introduces taking a sip of her drink, inhaling the scent of cinnamon. The older woman nods, looking him up and down. The guy grins back at her.

“Didn’t realize I made an impression.”

“Of course, not many in this town are as fine as you.” She says with a wolfish smirk. This makes Killian’s cheeks turn pink as he scratches behind his ears.

He’s about to respond when Ruby, dressed as The Little Red Riding Hood, as always, quickly intervenes. “Granny! Stop hitting on people.” Pulling the older woman away. “We're nearly out of marshmallows!” She exclaims, shooting an apologetic smile their way.

“Come on Mom!” Henry groans, grabbing her hand. “Lets keep going!” Killian is also being pulled away by Roland. Not that she’s surprised, they decide to trick or treat down the stores on Main Street, before descending on the residential block just across from it.

“They seem to have this down to a science.” Killian points out, noticing that they’d only been at this for an hour and Roland had a completely full pail. She nods.

“It’s the usual route, most of the locals know what houses to hit first, and which to avoid. For example,” She points to a small quaint looking cottage filled with a beautiful garden. “Never visit Aurora and Phillip’s house, rumor has it they give out raisins.” Killian visibly shutters. “But they’re really nice people, just a bit too into healthy eating...” She points to the large mansion decorated with cobwebs and batts. “This is The Gold Residence, they give out...” She trails off as Henry and Roland race back from the large house, prize in hand.

“Movie Theater sized candy!” Roland exclaims, an entire box of whoppers clutched in his grip, one ear of his fox head hanging the wrong way.

“Wow...” Killian says dumb founded.

“The guy’s rich and his wife, Belle the librarian loves giving out candy. They always run out pretty quickly though...Be careful of the husband, he’s not nearly as kind as Belle.” She smiles and continues her introduction on How To Trick or Treat in Storybrooke.

“Marco doesn’t give out the best stuff, but his son August always hangs out in his garage giving the kids the good stuff.” She snickers at that one. “One time, Marco called me in because he thought August was dealing drugs, not Reese’s Pieces.”

That makes Killian laugh. “You certainly know the town pretty well.”

She does, doesn’t she? It hadn’t always been like that. When she came to town, she hated the fact that it was a ‘small town where everyone knew everyone. The rumors, gossip, but there was something homey about it too. Like everyone was talking about you because they cared about you, they warned each other about things they found fishy. A bit like a quirky family.

“I don’t know, it sort of snuck up on me...I wasn’t a small town kind of girl growing up...” She wasn’t an anywhere kind of person growing up.

“Too many happy families?” He assumes. It catches her off guard. She catches his expression and suddenly he knows. “You have that look Swan, the look we all get after being abandoned.”

Perhaps that’s what drew her to him. “Who was it for you?”

He smirks; even if the conversation was nothing to smile about. “My father. Left the day we buried my mother.”

Emma pauses. “My parents abandoned me on the side of the road. Then turned around and kept my brother.” She doesn’t resent her brother, not one bit, but to say that she never forgave her parents was an understatement. “I found this out after Henry was born, I wanted to know where we come from in case anything happened...”

Killian nods in agreement. “My brother tried to get custody of us, but a couple adopted us instead. We didn’t get along too well with the mother, but things did work out in the end… Sometimes things work out in bizarre ways.”

Emma definitely agrees on that. “Hey Henry!” Emma calls. Her kid looks up. “Why don’t we take them to the Haunted Mansion?”

“Ooooh, Good idea!”

“Haunted Mansion?” Killian repeats.

“Trust me, you both will love it.”

They did love it, even if the possessed monkeys did freak Roland out a bit.

“Does Henry’s father come to these very often?” Killian says suddenly, scratching behind his neck.

“He’s not a part of our life.” Emma responds automatically. His eyes widen with some sort of understanding.

“Aye. His loss then.” He replies. Emma raises a brow.

“Aye? Really getting into character aren’t you?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively in response.

“Absolutely.” She laughs at that.

“Hey Mom, the house on the end has someone new in it.” Henry says, and he’s right, the white manner that had been empty for as long as she could remember had always been empty, a For Sale sign a permanent fixture of the neighborhood.

Now it was gone, in its place where graves and pumpkins, no less than six various carved pumpkins lines the walkway, bats hung from the arch. She could even see candles burning creepily in the windows.

“That’s our house.” Roland says. “Mom’s giving out caramel apple slices.”

Emma exchanges a glance with Henry.

Definitely not as bad as raisins.

“Can Henry come over?” Roland asks Killian, big puppy dog eyes that would have Emma hesitating. He glances at Emma.

“Just for a little bit.” She confirms with a smile. “We promised we’d bring Leo a few treats remember.” Henry nods in agreement. It sends the boys running in that direction. It takes a few words with the woman, dressed as an evil witch, before they disappear inside.

“We have a killer apple cider.” Killian says with a mischievous wink.

Emma’s not to sure what he’s getting at. Was he really inviting her inside to drink in front of his wife? This was getting too weird.

“Thanks, but technically I’m still on duty.” It was a lie, but it worked. He looks visibly disappointed. Not that she should care. Emma really can’t afford having rumors spread about crushing on the new District Attorney’s husband before the woman even moves into her office.

Not that she’s crushing on Killian.

“At least come in and meet Regina.” He says. “You’ll probably be working with her regardless.” Emma hesitates. “Besides, Henry and Roland are having a good time.”

That gets her, she’d do anything for Henry, even engage in pleasantries with the wife of the guy she did not have a crush on. Maybe just an interest? But not romantic. Not at all.

“Regina, this is Emma, Henry’s mom and the Sheriff.” Killian introduces. She smiles sheepishly.

She puts out her hand for Regina to shake. Emma’s rather impressed by her dark purple manicure. “Miss Swan.” She says “It seems we’ll be seeing a lot of each other soon.” She opens the door welcoming her inside. The home is...beautiful, white couches, beautiful marble floors, everything as pristine and perfect as possible. It has a forest sort of feel.

“Killy! Come see how much candy we have!” Roland says as soon as their inside. He grabs his hand and pulls. He looks back at them before he was pulled away into another room by the little Robin Hood.

Regina snickers. “He’s a total sap with him.” Emma nods.

“Roland obviously loves him.” Emma agrees.

“Cider?” Regina offers. She shakes her head. “Suit yourself.” She says pouring herself a glass. Then she sits on her couch, the woman’s gaze makes her feel nervous. She looks around for something to take the piercing gaze of the lawyer off her. “Are those family pictures?” She says suddenly, noticing the wall of frames in the far side of the room. It makes Regina’s expression soften instantly.

“Yes, this are when Roland was a baby.” Emma glances over, seeing a much softer version of the woman before her holding a toddler with the same curly hair as the boy she’s met.

“He looks so precious.” Emma says. Regina picks up another photo.

“This is him with his father starting little league in Boston, it didn’t really stick but they enjoyed it.” Emma sees little Roland in his uniform, it’s red with a shark on it, he’s holding a baseball bat grinning with a man.

A man who is not Killian. “Wait you said that he’s with his father in this picture?” Emma asks. It’s not making sense.

“Yes, my husband Robin. He’s a Marine overseas right now, but his tour ends December.” Emma looks at the photo and then back to the room where Killian disappeared.

“I thought...I thought Killian was your husband?!” she says still too shocked to understand.

“Killian.” Regina repeats. “You thought I’d marry him?” she seems genuinely appalled by the suggestion, but she lets out a laugh regardless. “Killian is my brother, adopted brother, but he’s family regardless. He moved with me when I got the job.” The woman narrows her eyes. Definitely looking like a woman who can read between the lines “But I assure you, he’s absolutely single.”

Oh my God. Emma thinks, face flushed with embarrassment.

“Honestly Miss Swan, he was over the moon when he got your text. If you’re going to be the key witness to a majority of my cases, you need to make sure you don’t jump to conclusions. ”

This can not be happening.

“Bloody hell, what did Regina say now?” Killian says coming into the room, chewing on something chocolate, his hook gone in favor of a small box of candy. “Milkdud?” He offers.

“I think I’m going to leave the two of you alone. I need to make sure that Roland isn’t eating too much candy.” Regina announces, giving her a pointed glance. A glance towards Killian.

“What was that about?” Killian asks. “Did she say something mildly offending? You shouldn’t take it personally, she can’t help herself.”

“Yeah, but it’s fine. She’ll warm up to me.” Emma assures him. “I tend to be prickly to most people.”

“You didn’t seem prickly to me.”

“You don’t strike me as most people.” She responds. “But anyway, I think I have to get going, candy for Leo, plus its technically a school night...” She says trailing off. “Henry! Finish up! It’s time to go.” She calls.

“Of course.” Killian agrees, scratching behind his ear sheepishly. He looks a bit sad by the idea of her leaving. Emma decides, in a spur of the moment decision, to fix that.

Ever so softly, she plants a kiss on his lips, until she feels him lean in and so she ends up grabbing him by the coat jacket, pulling him ever so closer. Killian Jones is a damn good kisser.

He’s wide eyed and surprised when they part. “That was...”

“...Gross.” Henry says, passing right between them. “Let’s go! I have to tell Leo all the stuff he missed!” Henry announces.

“Right.” Emma agrees, feeling her kid pull her away towards the door. “I get my coffee every morning at 8.” She announces in his direction, smirking. “See you then?” She asks.

“As you wish.”

Killian shows up for coffee that next morning.

And the morning after that...

The next year, Killian, Robin, David and the three boys bring home the largest pumpkin Emma’s ever seen.

It takes its place front in center in the new house they bought together.

#Captain Swan #cs role reversal #cs halloween week #csff #cs au ff

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