#starting drawing this before midnight and completed the details within the first few hours of the new year ^^

[screaming-universe]

Bronze Melrenith and @spotsandsocks's brown Calenth accidentally crashing into golden Zialuth.

Aka the Basketball Scene but it's with Pernese dragons and also buddietommy. Calenth and Buck struggle with Zialuth and Eddie spending more and more time with Melrenith and Tommy, and try to butt in. This escalates into Calenth and Melrenith squabbling and crashing into Zialuth; pushing her into a lake. Since one of Zialuth's wings is sprained, they have to work together to help her and Eddie to shore and back to the weyr.

(more art for this au)

[oneshotnewbie]

hii!! can i request a athena grant x reader where in reader fell asleep waiting for athena?? i hope you have a good day!!

ᕚ---ᕘ

The clock ticked incessantly as you desperately tried to pass the time that remained before Athena returned from her shift. It was well past midnight and you had decided to keep yourself busy, so you sat alone and visibly restless on the sofa of the Grant House in the cozy living room, surrounded by a sketchbook, a novel and a laptop that was in vain tried to get your attention with your favorite series.

You mechanically flipped through the pages of a novel, trying to read a few pages and immerse yourself in the story, but your mind kept wandering and the words blurred in front of your tired eyes. The rain pattered against the window panes, the rhythm seeming to increase your nervousness. Athena had promised you that she wouldn't be home too late. But the hours passed, and each minute seemed to last an eternity, merged with the fear that something had happened to her. And with the materials around you, you tried to keep yourself busy, trying to drive away the impatience and worries that were beginning to arise within you.

Reaching for the sketchbook, you began to draw with the pencil in your hand. Lines and curves melted onto the paper and you created abstract shapes of your lover's face but it seemed to challenge you more than it ever did. Your concentration simply wasn't centered and minutes later your gaze fell back to the series, waiting to come back to life with the start of a new episode, but the screen progressively darkened until the screen saver came on.

With a sigh, you resolved to continue drawing. Perhaps your favorite feature of Athena's face first, expressing all your thoughts and feelings in detail in her beautiful eyes that flooded you every time you looked at her. But despite your efforts, time moved painfully slowly and the form and radiance did not come smoothly; the details remained half-formed in your head.

You peeked at the clock and noticed your eyelids growing heavy. The room was silent, only the gentle ticking of the clock breaking the silence. An incessant calm that only increased the tiredness. Without further ado, you decided to make some tea to keep yourself moving around the apartment.

The tea kettle whistled in your ears as you rested your head on the counter and dozed off for a moment, before pouring yourself another cup. You began to sip the hot water while staring absentmindedly out the window. The clock ticked relentlessly in your head.

To distract yourself, you turned on the music quietly, hoping the rhythm would get you going. You put down the hot cup and began to glide around the room to the beat of the music. For a moment it felt good to let the energy flow through your body, but soon your movement was lost in complete exhaustion. You fell back onto the sofa and made another attempt to focus and catch the shine in your girlfriends eyes given how they actually shone.

The sheet of paper filled with more lines and shades and you poured your feelings and longings to soon be able to see them in reality again, into this sketch. The night progressed and the tiredness continued to eat into your body. Despite your struggle to stay awake, your eyelids feel increasingly heavy. You rub your eyes and try to keep concentrating, but the exhaustion slowly overwhelms you and you lean back. The eyes closed to rest briefly. The exhaustion took over, conspiring minutes into hours.

You fought the urge to fall asleep because you really wanted to stay awake to greet Athena when she finally came home and to fall asleep with her in her arms. But your body didn't obey you and your surroundings blurred as your consciousness went against your will. Your head tilted to the side, your fingers that were gripping the pen slowly letting go and it slipping from your hand, the sketchbook sliding gently to the floor. Your head finally rested on the soft back of the chair.

Sinking into an involuntary sleep, your breathing had become calmer as you reflexively curled up on the sofa. The clock continued ticking and the rain outside was easing as the darkness of sleep took over you relentlessly. In the distance you barely heard the sound of the key in the door and Athena quietly coming in and strutting down the stairs when she spotted you sleeping peacefully on the couch.

A warm smile spread across her face as the policewoman saw the drawing she had started on the floor and picked it up. "My little illustrator," she spoke carefully before carefully placing a soft blanket over your body and placing a kiss on your cheek before sitting down and watching you. You woke up through the movement of the soft velvet beneath you and the gentle caresses on your leg. „´thena,“ you whispered with a scratchy voice, clearly seeing the silhouette of your girlfriend, smiling tiredly at the sight of her in Uniform.

„I am sorry it took me so long to come home. I had another mission shortly before I wanted to leave,“ she spoke sadly, knowing she had kept you waiting for so long. But especially without a call that she would come later. She had been completely prevented by a road closure due to a traffic accident and was unable to write you. "But now I'm back and you can go to sleep in peace."

You nodded and put your head back on the pillow before you even put your legs on her lap and she wedged them tightly under her arms until you fell asleep and she could get ready for bed. When your breathing became shallower and noticeably slowed down, Athena knew that you had drifted back into a peaceful sleep. "Sleep well, my love."

Athena was finally home, but you were sleeping soundly, surrounded by the traces of your hours-long battle against tiredness and the unbearable waiting.

[junova]

↬ 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

abstract: the one where steve finds your love letters.

pairing: au!steve x fem!reader

word count: 3K+

warnings: cussing, fluff, angst, crying, slight self-deprecation.

[author’s note]: hey guys! i’m really new to the writing scene so kind words are appreciated! srsly just testing my writing style out and wanted to just post something to motivate me to keep writing. hope u like it. <3

also thank u ari for the inspo and that bomb ass album that saved twenty-twenty. now we just need biden to get elected.

ps. don’t forget to vote! <3

Stevie,

First and foremost, I want you to know how proud of you I am. You have become the man you’ve said you become, the one I always knew you would. You have finally seen what the rest of us see.

A good man.

The soul you carry within you shines brighter than I’ve ever seen. Just for that only, I’m thankful for the time we’ve spent together. Maybe one day, I’ll be brave enough to tell you this without hiding behind the comfort of this notebook. She won’t spill my secrets, fortunate for me.

Some days you have no idea how badly I want to tell you. I think it’s on the days I discover a new fleck of green in your eyes or maybe when you show up to class with a cup of coffee for me without request.

More. More. More.

More. More. More.

It’s selfish of me, that much I know. More days than not, I would say you give too much of yourself away. Always wanting to appease everyone, you, Steven Rogers, the bridge to making the people around you happier than they walked in. Even when Bucky drags you into his nonsense bullshit, you say yes without hesitation.

I’ve got not a a clue on how you continue on, how you still remain you when you tend to spread yourself so thin. Who watches out for you? Who cares for you? Who loves the almighty, selfless Rogers?

For me, it’s much easier to pretend you carry too much on your plate than to deal with the rejection I would receive from you. You’re just too good, more than I deserve. More than I would be willing to take. I know I couldn’t possibly give you what you deserve but, I hope that one day you might see me differently. You would see me more than the light I’ve painted myself in.

Even though the shade is lovely, I want to be deeper. Deeper into you on a level which only seems unattainable at this point.

A forever friend. To be in your life, just as a friend, is an reward in itself.

But someday I hope you would love me in the same way I do. It’s all a love struck girl could do. Hope for the best, bet be prepared for the downfall.

With much love, your forever friend.

Tearing the page away from the binding of the overfilled notebook, dispensing it in the first empty drawer you could find, you abandoned the feelings as soon as the pen’s ink bleed out dry.

“You know it would just be easier to tell him how you feel.” You peaked up at the sound of her voice, before realizing she was looming over you, watching your write the letter.

Your supposed, secret letter.

“Nat, please. No.” Opening the drawer, she grabbed the letter but was surprised with just how many she found.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve written about him multiple times?” You sank in the soft, plush material of your seat hoping that just maybe it would begin to swallow you whole. Hopefully, fast enough were you wouldn’t have to endure the rest of the conversation. One you had been trying to avoid, for the past three years.

“It’s nothing Nat, just forget it.” Just like a Romanov, she couldn’t leave it alone. Even if she tried it was laced in her blood to see any little thing through.

“You really shouldn’t wait so long. A window might close for you, much sooner than you think.” With a curious eyebrow lifted, you felt your breath leave you.

“What does that supposed to mean?” Steve certainly deserved the best and you knew it was only time for him to figure out you would never be enough for him.

“Peggy Carter.” Peggy.

The one girl of a sea of many who had been enamored by Steve. He never really seemed to spend anytime with the women who vied for his attention, but Peggy was surely different than the rest.

Even if Steve was oblivious when it came to the advances everyone would make on him, he saw Peggy. Considering she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, she intimidated you. God, did she ever.

On numerous occasions she and Steve had gone out, and even though he assured you they were just friends you were starting to believe he was only trying to protect your feelings. As a friend.

He had never cancelled on you once for her and he would tell you if he had started to date someone, just like he had before.

Even though the entire three years you’d known him he only had one serious girlfriend and after eight months, the pair broke up and even now he still didn’t budge on why they broke up.

“Steve can do whatever he wants with her. He’s a single man. He’s gone out with her before and he’ll probably go with her again.” Then Sam was the next to speak up, dismissing the total bullshit spouting from your mouth.

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want to? The damn man follows you around like a goddamn puppy.” Okay, when did he even come in here?

“God, fuck, no he doesn’t. He would have said something by now, he’s had three years and it’s been nothing but radio silence.” With an all knowing smirk, Sam proposed a new concept into question.

“It has been three years. So, have you ever said anything to him?”

Shit. Fuck you, Wilson.

“W-Well, not exactly.” Sam didn’t have to say anything in response. You knew he was right and you hated it.

Your unwillingness still stood for you, there was just no way he actually would reciprocate your feelings.

“Listen, I think it would be really good for the both of you to air everything out. Peggy is sinking her claws in him and it isn’t too long before they get stuck. Just talk to him.” You nodded silently, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever have the courage to.

—

Emptiness.

It’s all you seemed to feel today. Following you around was a dark cloud, looming over you. Wishing you could be anywhere but your own body. Nothing in particular happened to make you deserve the feeling you were granted with. It just so happened to be one of those days.

From the moment you got out of bed — or rather stayed in bed until four in the afternoon, you felt like anything you would have done just didn’t feel enough. The feeling was fleeting, never staying for more than a day or so, but it made the day drag on. Never ending.

Your muscles sore, body aching from the lack of activity your presumed. Or maybe you had built it in your head too.

Thankfully for you, Nat was busy helping Bucky move into his new place the entire day. She asked if you wanted to help, but mentally you didn’t feel you would be useful for anyone. Simply, telling her you would hang back, claiming you had another an essay to write.

Which you did, you weren’t completely lying, but there was more than your sour mood to blame for your dismissal of social interaction.

You hated to be that girl, the one who needed the presence of men. Specifically, the company of one very beautiful, blue eyed one.

His absence in your life the past few weeks felt heavier on you than you thought it would. You knew from Sam’s intel he had been hanging out with Peggy more and more. He said the two of them were getting close, mercifully sparing you the details.

You hated it’s you’d become. A girl so damn struck over a boy who was giving his attention elsewhere. Upset you were though. Before even if he was busy between classes and his internship at the gallery, he would still text to check up on you.

Now, it was nothing but radio silence letting you draw conclusions on your own. Very, very dangerous territory for you to travel to.

Steve and you are just friends. Get. Over. It.

You thought you’d be alone the rest of the Saturday, especially since it was nearly midnight. Figuring Nat was staying over at Bucky’s and Wanda leaving earlier in early hours of the morning to see her boyfriend for the entire weekend.

Then, an incredibly drunk Steve stumbled into your quaint apartment, the thoughtfully sweetness in him blubbering out with the alcohol flooding through his system. It was like he was on overdrive. More than ready to crash at any given moment.

You had enough when Steve started shamelessly raiding your kitchen, but you remained on the couch attempting to maintain some distance between the two of you. He had a history of being incredibly handsy whenever he had bit too much to drink.

Stumbling his way over to you, almost tripping on the rug, until he was basically cuddling up to your side. His arms latched tightly around you, pulling you into him. Not spared a choice, not that you’d want one.

The security of being wrapped up to him wasn’t something you ever grew tired of. You don’t think there would ever be a time you would ever be capable of turning him away.

“I’ve missed you. It’s been too long.” His soft tone, penetrating the tiny resistance you held towards him. “Me too. I was starting to think you disappeared on me, bubba.”

“Never.” His iron grip holding so tight like he was afraid you’d slip right through.

“Is everything alright?” Trying to pull from him, but Steve seemed unable to let you go. You whispered in his ear, caressing his back.

“I think so.”

“Here, let me grab you cup of joe and some water. Okay? I’ll be right back.” Leaving him a kiss on the cheek, before heading him into the kitchen.

If you had been around him recently, perhaps you would be more in tune with how he was feeling. Then the guilt sept in.

“Sweetheart, do you know where the phone charger is? It’s not by the recliner.” You heard him shout, trying to stop your heart from hammering into your stomach.

Just make him some coffee, sober him up, until he crashes.

Steve always seemed to be a lightweight and somehow whenever he did decide to drink he always found himself routing his way into your home. You thought it was simply for accident alone. The bar he frequented at was only a few block from you.

The past few times he would just stumble into your bedroom, immediately passing out in your soft, silky sheet. Now, he seemed to have more pressing matters at hand.

“Check the drawers, Stevie. I think there’s one you left around here somewhere.” You grabbed the filters and the grounds out, brewing the coffee. Soon, with a black cup of coffee and a water bottle in hand you took note of just how quite he was being.

He was never this silent and it was freaking you out.

“Are you sure you’re o-”

Just like that.

Fuck.

Hunched over, practically on his knees, he read over the endless letters you wrote about him. Confessions never meant to be seen by him. You lost track of how many you had written over the past few years once realized how irrevocably in love with him you are.

He didn’t realize you had found him and you were suddenly paralyzed. Unaware of your presence he continued to read through them and his expression was unrecognizable. One you’d never seen from him before, and you didn’t quite know how to react.

No. He wasn’t grimacing nor did he seem to be elated either. He just stood there just like you, afraid what would happen next.

What did this mean for the two of you? Your entire relationship was purely riding on whatever happened next.

Softly, with a gentle hand, he sifted through them all like he was looking for something specifically. Steve let them fall to the hardwood floors as your shaking hands could no longer support the weight of the dainty coffee cup he had actually sculpted himself.

The glass shattering everywhere, several pieces making their way towards him, thankfully not fiercely enough to penetrate his skin.

Truly, you had never been more sorry than when he looked up at you with tears in his eyes. Threatening to spill over. Because of you.

You didn’t have to be told, you already knew.

Carefully, Steve stood up making his way over to you around the shattered mug. Still you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Simply just watching him until he was right in front of you — more silent than you’d ever seen him before.

“Those were about me. Weren’t they?” You nodded having no reason to lie other than to protect yourself from a rejection you been hoping to spare yourself from.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. Or at all really.” Your resolve dropping instantly when Steve took a step further gripping by your hips, pulling you closer.

“Why not?” He questioned you, again. Almost like he needed a verbal affirmation of every secret he had just read.

Unintentionally, stealing your soul served for him on a silver platter.

“I know how you’d feel about me, Steve. It’s not how I want it to be and it’s okay.” You remove yourself from him, traveling to the other side of the living room. Suddenly, the apartment seemed suffocating with him in it. “I’m fine, Steve.”

Hearing him sigh in frustration only furthered your immense feeling of being a burden to him.

You’re just one more obstacle he has to deal with.

“One of them dated back for over two years ago. Two fucking years.” His harsh tone, piercing through you like a knife.

“I know. I should have told you.” You whispered, wishing you could disappear into any abyss that would take you. Deeply wishing you just didn’t have to endure for the rest of this conversation. Wishing you could have stopped him from opening that stupid drawer. “I tell you everything, but I just couldn’t bring myself to speak about this. Look at how you’re reacting? How could you blame me when every fear I have about this is justified?”

You really should have kept those elsewhere, not your open, public living room.

“Because it’s us. I’m always here for you.” He was still crying through broken words and you didn’t know why. Almost like you had shattered his resolve and his control leaving with it.

“Not lately. You’ve been otherwise occupied.” Suddenly find the plant in the corner of the room. It certainly weren’t trying to distract yourself from the insatiable cerulean eyes.

The breathtaking british woman wasn’t even here and as soon as she was brought up — there was a wall. Seperating, you from whatever was between the two of you.

“This isn’t my fault. You never said anything. How was I supposed to know you feel that way about me?” He tried to make his way towards you but you just stalked off in the other direction. Circling around the living room like a coward.

“It didn’t matter though, did it? You found someone perfect for you regardless of how you feel.” God, you wish he would just leave so you could let the dam break.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Since the moment I met you I only had eyes for you, but you never seemed like you were interested. So, I dropped it. Okay? You never left me a crumb to think you would ever want to be more than just friends.”

“You were my best friend. You still are. No matter how I felt, it could never outweigh the need I have for you to be in my life.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Trying to figure out what was next for the both of you. Steve always had to initiate and this time was no different.

“Peggy told me tonight she wants to be exclusive.” His confession washing over you like a ton of bricks. Crushing you.

You really couldn’t have any ill feeling towards her, she was just doing what you lacked the courage and the tenacity to do.

“But I didn’t really know what to do.” He took quiet steps towards you, not wanting to spook you. He voice not no longer held the a warmth of teddy bear, but a man on a mission rather took over.

Steve kept quiet until he had you backed up into a corner, no escape route in vision for you.

“’Cause there’s this other beautiful woman, absolutely breathtaking — and I just I really needed to know how she felt. If I had known before,  I never would have gone anywhere else.” His hand caressing your soft, plump lips. Pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb, sending you into a frenzy.

“Then, I just wanted to forget about everything until Sam called me. Three beers deep, when he told me of a drawer filled with letters I should take a look at.” You could feel his breath on you, temple pressed against yours.

“I just need to hear you say it. Just once.” Taking it a step forward, intertwining your finger with his own.

“I love you.” It was all he needed as he sealed his own affirmation with a sweet kiss, inking your lips with all of his love.

[sunlit-squid]

I don't care about everyone else! i care about you, SQUIDWARD! (simping softness asks)

For those who don’t know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I’ll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

so, uh -- i might have gotten a bit carried away with this prompt. it’s definitely longer than a ficlet, but oh well. either way, it was a lot of fun to write! selfish spongebob is so rarely explored.

fic under the cut. also, just in case, cw: drinking, drunkenness, etc.

Spongebob rose bright and early, long before his foghorn alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. With a cheerful shout, the poriferan jumped out of bed, earning a disgruntled “mrow” from Gary, who was still asleep nearby. Stretching vigorously, the sponge leaned down, planting a soft kiss atop the snail’s shell.

“Gary,” he whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “Today’s the day!”

Turning away, Gary simply replied “mrow”, in a disdainful way that most certainly meant “whatever.”

Undeterred, Spongebob ran to his calendar. Sure enough, the day’s date -- July 14th -- was circled in bright-red, permanent marker, with the words “My birthday!” written neatly across it. And just below those words, was a tiny drawing of Squidward’s face, with dozens of little red hearts surrounding it.

Making his way over to the window, Spongebob gazed out at Squidward’s moai in the distance. He sighed, dreamily. What was Squidward doing right now? Probably sleeping, in that adorable dress of his.

The sponge lingered there, staring dazedly out at the moai, for perhaps a moment too long. Then, remembering himself, he sprinted to the bathroom. Once inside, Spongebob pointed a finger at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Enough beating around the bush, Mr. Squarepants!” he yelled -- much to Gary’s annoyance. The sponge lowered his voice down to a soft whisper. “Today, you tell him how you feel.”

His reflection simply shrugged. “I mean, okay,” it said. “But this is like, the 57th time you’ve said this.”

“Oh, shush.”

-0-

The party was supposed to start at 6:30, but Spongebob, in a manic cleaning fit, had the entire house ready by noon. This year, the party was themed around As The Tide Turns, a very polarizing-but-popular soap opera, especially in Bikini Bottom. If you were a Bikini Bottomite, you either watched the show genuinely, or ironically -- there was absolutely no in-between.

Spongebob and Squidward both genuinely enjoyed the show. It was one of the first things they bonded over, back when Spongebob started working at the Krusty Krab. Through the window to the galley, the two coworkers would talk for hours about the show, and whatever drama was center-stage for that season.

It got to a point where Mr. Krabs -- who only watched ATTT ironically -- got on them both, for shirking their duties.

“If yer gonna flirt,” he’d said, “do it on yer own time.”

So, Spongebob started coming over to Squidward’s house on Friday nights, when the new episodes would air. In fact, even when the show was between seasons, Spongebob still came over, just to watch reruns. It was one of the few times Squidward would (begrudgingly) let Spongebob inside, with no complaints.

Spongebob hummed softly to himself, his eyes scanning the small clipboard in front of him. Food, decorations, party games … Check, check, and check. Everything was present and accounted for -- and he had to admit, the house looked spectacular.

Every room was themed around a different, iconic arc in the ATTT series. His living room, filled with chalk drawings, crime scene tape, and red-string boards, was inspired by the murder mystery arc. His kitchen, decorated with leftover Halloween gear, was inspired by the vampire arc … and so on and so forth. Each and every room had its own particular, careful design -- and in all, it was probably Spongebob’s most intricate and detailed party to date.

That was because it had to be. Spongebob had a plan, a carefully detailed plan -- one that was sure to sweep Squidward Tentacles right off his … er, tentacles. And it went like this:

Squidward and Spongebob’s favorite arc, in all 42 seasons of As The Tide Turns, was the murder mystery. In the arc, the dashing Detective Heartthrob, accompanied by his sidekick-slash-lover Joey, must bring a heinous mass murderer to justice. At the climax, it is revealed that Detective Heartthrob is the true killer -- having been hypnotized by a witch, who was also his evil twin sister, for some reason. In the end, Joey must kill Detective Heartthrob, in a tragic display of love and sacrifice.

The season was thrilling, silly, and emotionally traumatizing, to boot. For months after the finale, Squidward and Spongebob would not shut up about it -- much to the annoyance of Mr. Krabs.

Either way, Spongebob had set up an elaborate, original mystery game, inspired by the events of the show. Each attendee would get a “random” card, assigning them a different role in the story. Squidward would be Detective Heartthrob, and Spongebob would be Joey.

Together, they would embark on an original mystery, one that Spongebob had devised all by himself. After he and Squidward solved the mystery together, and the party was over … Spongebob would finally, finally confess his feelings.

Of course, Spongebob had, more or less, rigged the game to ensure this would happen. Which was cheating, sure, but this was for love! So it couldn't possibly go wrong.

-0-

It went wrong. Almost immediately, in fact.

For one, the party started at 6:30 -- and, nearly two hours later, Squidward had yet to show up. Spongebob spent those first two hours lingering by the door, staring out the window towards the moai, and forgetting to refill the punch bowl. Sandy, ever the observant one, noticed immediately.

Pulling Spongebob aside, she asked, in a hushed voice, “Hey, partner. You good?”

“Oh, I’m -- I’m great!” chirped Spongebob, putting on his worst, most unconvincing smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sandy, flatly. “This about Squidward?”

Spongebob blushed, immediately. The squirrel sighed.

“I thought so,” she mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “Did he say he was gonna come?”

The sponge nodded. “He said, ‘I’ll see if I can make it work’, which in Squidward-speak, is practically a yes!” groaned Spongebob, staring up at Sandy with his huge baby blue eyes. “He’ll come, right, Sandy?”

Sandy hesitated. She didn’t really know Squidward that well … but he did seem to have a soft spot for Spongebob. Awkwardly, she replied, “I mean … I can’t say for sure, but he did say he would try. Let’s be patient, okay, Spongebob? Maybe he just got caught up with something.”

Spongebob sighed, then repositioned his face into its usual chipper smile. “Alrighty. You do usually know what’s best, Sandy.”

“I sure do,” she giggled. “Oh, and Spongebob?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cut his cable this time,” she said, before walking off to get more punch.

-0-

By 9:30, the party started to go a bit haywire. At this point, practically all of Bikini Bottom was at Spongebob’s house, except for Squidward -- and Larry thought it would be a great idea to play Truth Or Dare: Extreme Edition. The rules were pretty much the same as Truth Or Dare: Standard Edition, but with one exception: each subsequent truth or dare had to be more extreme than the last.

It started off alright. A few people were dared to take off their pants, or do a somersault down Conch Street while blindfolded. However, as the game progressed, the stakes grew astronomically. At one point, Patrick was dared to eat half of Spongebob’s pineapple. Later, Sandy was dared to juggle three of Plankton’s bombs, while riding a unicycle. Even later, Larry and Mr. Krabs were dared to switch shells and wrestle -- which wasn’t really destructive. Just disturbing.

The dares were stupid, but if there was one thing Bikini Bottomites had, it was a complete lack of common sense. Or any sense, really.

It certainly didn’t help that as the night progressed, the partygoers grew more and more … inebriated. The punch itself was non-alcoholic, but apparently, Karen and Plankton had taken it upon themselves to bring their own alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

By 10:30, Squidward still hadn’t shown up yet. Several people had either passed out or thrown up. And the pineapple was a complete disaster.

Spongebob sighed. He was seated on his living room sofa now, watching as the partygoers reveled inside (and outside) his home. Of course, the sponge was happy they were enjoying themselves -- but this day was supposed to be about him, and … well, nothing had gone as planned. His entire house was destroyed, it would take days to clean up the mess -- and Squidward hadn’t even bothered to show up! The nerve.

“Hey Patrick,” muttered Spongebob, waving a tired yellow hand at his drunken best friend.

Immediately, the starfish stumbled over to him, drink in hand. “Wha… haha … whasss’ up, Spunchblarb?” he slurred.

Spongebob pointed to the drink in Patrick’s hand. “Could I have that?”

Patrick grinned widely. “Yeeeeeahh! Now -- now, yer talkin’, buddy!” And with that, the starfish handed Spongebob his first drink of the night.

-0-

About three drinks in, Spongebob Squarepants was well and truly intoxicated. Which was nice, in a way. Now, the world was a weird, misty haze, and he didn’t have to worry about his pineapple being destroyed, or his party being ruined, or Squidward, or whatever. Now, he could just be peacefully drunk and stupid, just like everybody else in his house. Blissfully unaware of the world around them.

As the night went on, Spongebob began losing track of time. What time was it? Midnight? 3:00 a.m.? Did it even matter?

Over the course of one very stupid evening, Spongebob made more than a few bad decisions. For one, he bought like, ten mops online. Which was both counterproductive (he was a sponge) and financially irresponsible (he was also a frycook). Later, the sponge swam to the surface of the ocean to see how long he could breathe without water. He fainted within the first ten seconds, and had to be retrieved by Larry. After that, the night became a dizzying blur. Spongebob was certain he had been driving, at one point, and also dancing, and maybe singing?

Either way, several hours later, Spongebob was still dancing in his living room, a lampshade stuck on his head, when he felt something on his shoulder. Turning woozily, the sponge tried to get into “kara-tay” position, and ultimately failed.

“Who -- what -- stay back! I’m warning you!” shouted the sponge. “I know … er, kar .. karat … carrots?”

There was a familiar sigh, then a soft chuckle. “Oh, you moron,” came a voice, a voice that Spongebob loved so dearly, even in this drunken state. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Squ … squib … ?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward, wrenching the lampshade off of Spongebob’s head. “It’s me. Sorry I’m late.”

Spongebob looked up at Squidward -- and in his inebriated, hazy stupor, he couldn’t take it. He loved him so much, and for so long. It hurt. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Squi -- Squidward, you -- you came,” the sponge stammered, his bottom lip quivering. “I -- I didn’t think …”

“Hush,” said Squidward, looking around the room. “This is, uh … wow, you really had a rager, huh? I didn’t think you had it in you, Spongebob.”

Stepping away, Squidward began picking up random items off the floor -- the punch bowl, some photographs, and a spilled carton of milk. The octopus had to step over and around several bodies, which were lying passed out on Spongebob’s floor.

“Listen, I’m gonna try and find a way to get everyone home,” said Squidward, sifting his way through the pile of garbage and bodies. “Everyone else is knocked out -- ”

Spongebob had had it. He’d had enough. He’d planned out this whole day perfectly, just for Squidward to not show up, for his whole house to be demolished in the chaos. Sure, he was glad everyone had a good time, but deep down, Spongebob was a little selfish, and deep down --

“I don’t care about everyone else!” shouted Spongebob, clenching his fists at his sides. “I care about you, Squidward!”

Squidward, startled, nearly dropped everything he was holding -- and before he could properly respond, Spongebob fell over, unconscious.

-0-

For once, Spongebob didn’t wake up to the sound of his foghorn. Instead, he woke up to the sound of the television nearby. Very soft dialogue wafted its way over to the sponge, bathing him in its pleasant familiarity.

“Why, Joey, I think you’re right -- the killer is closer than we seem to think!”

“Then we best get cracking, Detective Heartthrob!”

Groaning, Spongebob sat up -- a dull, throbbing pain coursing through his skull. Dear Neptune. What happened last night? There was the party, the drinking, and … Squidward, maybe? Spongebob felt his heart drop at the thought of his neighbor, and sighed. He hadn’t gotten to tell Squidward how he felt. Attempt 57 had failed. Miserably.

Blinking slowly, the sponge looked around, and with surprise noted that his bedroom was not a mess, like it had been during the party. In fact, it was squeaky clean. The only thing out of place was the living room television, which had been moved to the end of Spongebob’s bed. The TV was playing an old rerun of As The Tide Turns, from the murder mystery arc. A smile tugged at Spongebob’s lips. How ironic.

Wait a minute. Who moved the TV?

Just then, there were footsteps on the stairs -- the tell-tale pat-pat-pat-pat of someone with four legs. Squidward. He was still here! Steeling himself, Spongebob sat at attention, gripping the blankets tightly.

When Squidward entered, he was holding a tray of food and wearing a long pink apron. When he saw that Spongebob was now conscious, the octopus jumped, nearly dropped the food, then steadied himself just in time.

“Squidward!” said Spongebob, cheerily. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here, you nitwit,” muttered Squidward. “Who else was gonna clean up that messy party of yours?”

Squidward crossed the room to place the food tray on Spongebob’s nightstand. Once there, the octopus shoved a glass of water and two pills into the poriferan’s hands, with one simple command: “Drink.”

Spongebob did so, gratefully. Then, he asked, “The party … what all happened?”

“I don’t know, but it was a mess,” sighed Squidward. “I’m pretty sure half the town was completely passed out by the time I got here. I’m surprised the cops didn’t get involved.”

“Oh,” said Spongebob, feeling very guilty all of a sudden. “Did -- did everyone get home okay?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward. “Listen, don’t -- don’t worry about it, okay? I took care of everything. Your house is clean, Gary is fed, everyone got home. That’s all.” Squidward’s cheeks were stained red.

Spongebob smiled, his heart jumping happily in his chest. “Thank you, Squidward.”

After a moment of silence, Squidward brought the food tray up to Spongebob’s lap. “You should … you should eat that,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “Look, I … I’m sorry I was so late, alright? The truth is, I … I got caught up.”

With a mouthful of food, Spongebob asked, “Wif whaf?”

Squidward grimaced. “You’re disgusting,” he snapped, then looked away, blushing brightly. “Anyway, I … was trying to get ahold of your birthday present. It was supposed to be delivered here, to Conch Street, yesterday -- but I guess there was a mix-up, and it was instead delivered to Conch Road, which is … in an entirely different town. Several hours away.”

Spongebob blinked. “You drove all the way to get it?”

Squidward scowled. “Whatever,” he snapped, pulling a small red present box from beneath Spongebob’s bed. “Either way, it’s here. So, I guess … open it, maybe.”

Shoveling down the rest of his food (much to Squidward’s disgust), the sponge quickly shredded the pristine red wrapping paper to reveal -- a boxed set of the entire As The Tide Turns series. The extended edition, with all the bonus scenes and commentary tracks. And to top it all off -- the box was signed by the stars of the show.

Spongebob looked up at Squidward, eyes shimmering with shock and awe. “Squidward, this is -- this is amazing, I thought they didn’t sell these anymore!”

“Oh, trust me,” said Squidward, shuddering. “You have no idea what I had to do to get my hands on that.”

“Let me guess,” said Spongebob, holding up two yellow hands to form finger-guns. In his best Joey impression, the sponge said, “You had to kill a lotta folks, didn’t ya, Detective Heartthrob?”

Squidward chuckled immediately. In one suave motion, he leaned against Spongebob’s bed, and pointed a finger-gun of his own. In his best Detective Heartthrob impression, the octopus replied, “I did, and I don’t regret it at all, Joey!”

The two laughed for a good long while. Then, suddenly embarrassed once more, Squidward looked away. Taking a deep breath, the octopus said, “Look, Sponge, I -- last night, you said something kinda weird, and I wanted to know if -- if maybe --”

“Huh?”

“You said -- you only cared about me, not anyone else, and I -- I wanted to ask,” stammered Squidward, “... what exactly … you meant by that.”

Spongebob’s eyes widened. Oh, barnacles. Did he really say that? Well … there was no hiding it now. Gripping his sheets tight, Spongebob steeled himself for what was to come. “It means I … I wanna keep hanging out with you, Squidward,” said the sponge, staring down at his yellow knuckles. “I wanna hang out with you more than anyone else.”

Squidward swallowed, hard. “Sponge, what are you saying?”

Spongebob looked up. Their eyes met. “I like you,” said the sponge, smiling nervously. “A … a lot.”

A long moment of silence passed. Spongebob’s heart hammered furiously at his chest. Then, Squidward sighed, and picked up the ATTT boxed set. Walking over to Spongebob’s TV, the octopus inserted the first disc, grabbed the remote, and returned to Spongebob’s side.

Lifting the blankets, the octopus said, “Scooch over.”

Spongebob blinked, then did as instructed. “Why?” he asked.

“You really are an idiot,” muttered Squidward, climbing into bed with him. “It’s a Sunday, the Krusty Krab is closed, and we have a whole boxed set to watch together. Might as well start now.”

Spongebob smiled, happily. “So -- so you -- ”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “If you must know, yes, I … I like you,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna drive halfway across the ocean floor for just anybody, you know.”

Spongebob grinned stupidly. “I guess not.”

With that, the show began, its melodramatic theme tune echoing pleasantly across Spongebob’s pineapple home. And just below the bed, Gary let out a soft, contended meow -- which almost certainly meant “finally.”

-0-

References:

The line about cutting Squidward’s cable is a reference to the episode “Party Pooper Pants”, in which Spongebob cuts Squidward’s cable to get him to come over for a party.

[marvelvsmarvel]

Cap’s Super Power

After analyzing the fight scenes between Cap and Bucky I started to think about what we know about Cap as a fighter and seeing his actual progression in the MCU and how this speaks to being a super soldier not only physically but tactically and strategically.

First Avenger: It’s the Superman fighting where he’s literally physically superior than everyone that he really only needs to swing or kick to win a fight. He still uses a gun and uses the shield in the most basic way as protection or a frisbee. Learns at minimum that the shield can absorb bullet damage completely when fired directly.

Versus Red Skull: Kinda the same example of his fights with Bucky. Cap was used to easy wins that when he first hits Skull and he takes the blow it’s terribly shocking. Skull is only not as surprised because he understands the capabilities of their abilities. Their fight isn’t as crazy in a technical manner again as fighting styles back between American and Germany wasn’t so broad from boxing + street fighting but again when you’re used to winning most fights with a punch or kick someone who can actually take the blows makes a match and in the end it ultimately was a draw.

Avengers: There’s the moment when he first hits Loki and he barely moves and Cap realizes “oh crap he really might be a god”. Cap’s insufferable yet utterly amazing willpower and ability to learn and adapt and strategize in combat and warfare are verily considered a part of his super powers or abilities. We see that for the first time here as he keeps at it against Loki and lasted against an army of aliens who are kicking his butt. Again when he went under he fought Nazis with wild tech and a super steroided Red Man Group member and then woke up to a demigod and aliens... in the future. His will power is insane! But his strategic mindset is in full display coordinating this advanced fighting group of individual abilities whom he only just met hours before against an army no one anticipated of unknown tech and weaponry. (He did research up on the Avengers members but more or less spark notes.) He also learned about the sonic blast that occurs between Thor’s hammer and his shield on the fly. All in all probably the most beaten up he’s ever been with or without serum and had a realization of the number of “I should be dead” moments that solidified how durable and strong he might actually be.

The Winter Soldier: After fighting an army of aliens and winning Cap looks to take it easy and routinely by hooking up with SHIELD to refine his abilities and knowledge on modern warfare and it shows. Primary difference is in his shield-wielding every which way from his turtle defense position to redirecting bullets to taking down a quinjet with only that shield. There’s obviously more psychological trauma in this one fighting his previously accepted as deceased bestfriend (and that never quite goes away) but also psychological in that it seems possible that this is the first time he’s been stabbed and shot by a bullet. Now I know he fought aliens but still he was never shot before. I point this out to show that post Avengers he had an idea of what he could do and how durable he could hold up in a fight but here I think he believed he was going to die in the final fight with Bucky.

Age of Ultron: Once again the strategy is on full display as the team works much more like a well oiled machine. (It is suggested that he was the one that trained them as a unit as well since he trains the new members at the end.) He and Thor use their weapons-combos in a few different ways.

Verse Ultron Bots: It is noticeable that Cap works their joints which seems like their most vulnerable spots but it also just neutralizes them. This is like Fighting 101 but it shows up later in more noticeable ways.

Civil War: Strategy again only with a fun wrinkle in which he trusts Wanda to literally toss him into a building. It’s understandable that on paper Team Cap had way less fire power and so the pregame strategy had to be key. There was a joke that Cap literally could’ve killed Peter when he dropped that container on him but I think that in the one on one fight between Spidey and Cap that he got a gage of his strength primarily when Peter webbed his arms into a tug-o-war situation.

Versus Iron Man: That Fighting 101 breakdown started with taking out the thrusters on one foot. Keep the combat close within his arm reach to avoid the hand repulsors and other long range weaponry which of course is a huge advantage to Iron Man. Again seems obvious and plus they’ve trained and fought together but he makes the cognitive effort when he charges Tony dead on with his shield. Attacking the neck area (joint) in rage he literally rips the helmet off (but that is a common opening for the suit). He takes out the arc reactor thus neutralizing the suit. (He did luck out with a strategic enclosed location...or did he pregame that as well...?)

Infinity War: The tactical aspect of fighting with foreign weapons without training such as the Wakandan gauntlets and Proxima Midnight’s spear is demonstrated. This is his second go at aliens only this time the army is a mindless horde. He’s a lot faster and stronger since Avengers and it shows.

Versus Thanos Round 1: It’s not a fight but there’s things to analyze. He charges in and doesn’t initially attack but slides under and behind. He strikes his knee (joint) and then uppercuts his chin. An uppercut to the chin is a classic knockout punch but it’s also practical being Thanos’s most exposed weak point and the height difference. He also gets to gage his strength in a game of mercy but Thanos hand vs all of Cap.

Endgame: That insufferable willpower...

Versus Thanos Round 2: There is the idea that Cap knew he was able to lift Thor’s hammer and with that came the understanding that he would “possess the power of Thor”. With a clear understanding of this he wields Mjolnir as if it was always his and calls lightning at will but first the breakdown. Throws the hammer to save Thor with dramatic effect. This time he attacks first with a Mjolnir uppercut that levels Thanos. Then the behind the back sneak attack by tossing the shield knowing it would be deflected and then throwing the hammer at it to create the sonic blast. A flying knee to the chest because he’s still bigger than him and stronger than him. So afterwards using the hammer and the shield he goes knee (joint) to uppercut again but now seeming to be on an even power scale with Mjolnir that 40’s Brooklyn back alley boxing mentality comes out attacking the head over and over again. Then he calls the lighting and literally give his best shot. Obviously Thanos turns up the heat and regains the advantage BUT if Cap was on par with strength and ability there’s no saying who wins that matchup.

Overall I just love the detail toward progressing Cap as a fighter. The super soldier serum was a one and done and it made what was good great but that didn’t just include him physically but mentality and spiritually as a good man and as a warrior.

[poptod]

hey there! hope i’m not bothering u. maybe a snafu x reader after the war where he tries to impress them at a bar with war stories but y/n was an air force pilot and it turns into a debate of who was more badass during the war? sweet at the end maybe? i’m addicted to ur writing lmao. thanks again for always answering my requests!

notes: not a problem at all :) unfortunately the power has been out at my house for a day or two so this is a tad late, but youve got fun ideas so i dont mind writing them at all. hope you like this one too

It had to be past midnight – somehow despite that fact, you were still wide awake. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn't taken your sleeping pills, or the pounding loud shouts of the bar's drunken patrons, but you did not lag behind your friend. She'd dragged you there, saying something about getting free drinks since she was banging the bartender. Before either of you knew it, she was off flirting with another man (which the bartender did not like), and you were ordering your third drink. Not the most you'd drunk in one night, not even close, but it was enough to give you a pleasant buzz, allowing you to relax against the bar counter and look out across the crowd.

Within the next several hours most of the crowd had filed out, making way for a new wave of soldiers, ones that had just arrived home and were celebrating their life still belonging to themselves. You were once part of that menagerie; the only difference was you had become a marine before the war ever started, and while you were there for the beginnings of the war, your contract with the marine corps ended soon after. It left you feeling apart from both citizens and soldiers – someone who didn't know the horrors of war, but who was traumatized enough that society didn't care to love them anymore.

Unlike many returning soldiers, you did not turn to alcohol to fix your issues. For the most part you distracted yourself with work, working and working till there was nothing in your head but work – there was little else in your life besides work now, the one exception being your friend, Penny. She made sure you ate, made sure you got outside and had human contact. For that you will always be grateful.

Your attention wavers from her only when one of the returning soldiers stands right beside you at the bar, ordering a bottle of beer before noticing you, his posture suddenly changing as he does so. His back straightens out a little, his hips a little more forward, elbows on the bar behind him so as to show off toned forearms and a skinny waist. He stares for a little while – you pay him no mind. When he gets his drink, that's when he actually speaks to you.

"What's a doll like you doin' here?" He says, and you almost roll your eyes. What a typical start.

"Keepin' a friend company," you answer him quietly, taking a swig of your own drink. It's not entirely a lie, although you feel you're keeping less and less of her company the more she drifts off to the side, caught up in the stare of a rather handsome man with a fair amount of scruff.

"Really? You come here often? I'm - jus' curious. I've never been here before," he says, clarifying that he isn't that stupid so as to use that specific line, a clarification you appreciate.

"This is my first time. My friend though, she comes here often, says she likes the atmosphere," you tell him, nodding in the direction of Penny, who is currently in a corner with the stranger. "You're a soldier, right?"

"Yessir," he says with a proud nod, "just returnin', actually."

You nod absently, looking out across the general crowd before you at last meet his eye. In the neon red lights you can barely see him, the shape of his face against the black mass of people, the color of his eyes against long eyelashes that flutter when he scans you up and down. All you can tell about him is his voice – rough and deep, drawling his words and humming his thoughts.

"You meet many marines?" He asks, and you can already tell he's gearing up to tell you some horrid stories of the war. Unfortunately, you don't know him well enough yet to know if he's going to tell you the truth, and a small part of you hopes he doesn't tell the truth. The truth is gorey and dangerous and heartbreaking, and you're not ready to live out such memories and tales again. Not yet.

"I've met a few," you say vaguely, watching the way a grin cracks across his face as he chuckles smooth and low.

"All I gotta say is you're lucky I ain't no army kid, those assholes are weak as all hell," he says, something you fully agree with, and something that has a sweet giggle coming involuntarily out of you. He smiles even bigger when he watches the way you laugh.

"My father was a marine," you say, coming down from your high. "He said the same thing."

"He's right, y' know... me n' my troop, we was out on that godforsaken island in the Pacific, hot as hell every day – humid, too. We saw hell n' back, shootin' at Japs n' gettin' shot at, sitting in all those damn trenches, up to ya knees in mud, and there go the fuckin' army soldiers, prancing around like goddamn deer. Funniest shit I ever seen, though to be fair, I don't think any a' us had much to eat that day," he recalls fondly, but you can tell he's suppressing the worse memories. You don't ask on that – it'd be rude, and it's not a subject you want to talk about. Nonetheless, he continues. "An you know, you're sittin' in mud all day n' night, you're gonna get pretty dirty, right?"

You nod attentively. If there's one thing you're still good at after your time in the marine corps, it's listening well.

"So we're all covered in mud, and they come by in a neat row, with their freshly washed hair and white as all hell skin – I made a bet with this one fella, Burgie, a' said they'd get so sunburnt after a week on that island, they'd be cryin'. I was right, of course," he says, motioning with his hands as he told the story. At the end he rubs his nose and turns back to you, watching for your reaction, and loving the way you still manage to enjoy his story.

"So you're tellin' war stories now?" You ask, leaning in closer and smirking imperceptibly when his breath catches in his throat. "What's your best story, then?"

He doesn't skip a beat, another one of those sweetly impure smiles coming across him as he starts.

"Hell, there's a lot to choose from. I do remember though," his hand comes up to his shirt collar, unconsciously toying with it, "this one Jap snuck into our camp, still don't know how, but he was one a' those damn kamikaze soldiers, the radical ones. He shouted somethin', don't remember what, but everyone went for their guns – I did too, an' we all pointed at his chest, cause it's easier to aim that way, y'know? But the bombs were tied to his chest, so a' aimed at the head. Shot him dead center between his eyes," he tells you with an air of pride and a hint of disgust. You don't blame him.

"That's a good story," you say with a small smile.

Anticipation creeps up on you as you wait till he's done prattling off little details, just waiting till you can watch the light die in his eyes as you tell him your own war story.

"I think my best marine story would have to be when I was flyin' over this active war field, there's fighter pilots everywhere in the sky, and sometimes it's hard to tell which jet belongs to which side in the moment. Everythin' goes by fast, but I saw this Jap flagged plane drop a bomb the size of a whole person. Immediate reaction was to shoot at the bomb, and I got pretty lucky – it blew up midair, and I was far enough it didn't hurt me," you say, unable to stop a grin from coming to you when the man slowly realizes that he's talking to another marine.

"Oh, you're a marine too, ain't you?" He says, but it's not a question – no, it sounds more like a challenge, and one you're completely willing to participate in. "Where you stationed?"

"I was in Hawaii at first," you say quietly, and he immediately gets the implication. Although you both now know what you saw, and the topic is in your heads, neither of you explore that further. "Later got stationed at some place in the Pacific. Like you. Though, I was on the ocean, not an island."

"What's your kill count?" He asks, and he leans forward just a little bit, drawing closer to you.

"Does it really matter?" You ask in return.

"'Course it does. You gonna be out here tellin' me you didn't count?"

"I didn't," you say truthfully. "A bit hard to see how many y' kill from a thousand feet in the air."

"Y'ever do parachute drops?"

"Once," you say. "Did you?"

"Nah, parachute drops ain't nothin' compared to the shit I did," he says, dismissing the notion as if it wasn't important. Now he's trying to impress you – again.

"Really?" You ask, almost sarcastic, but you manage to hold that part back. "What is it that you did then that was so much more terrifying and dangerous than freefalling through the atmosphere?"

"Try carryin' mortars on ya back in searing heat, n' all the while you n' ya company's out takin' a little hike 'cross a whole island filled with Japs," he says cockily, angling his chin upwards in a motion that accentuates his already sharp-as-hell jawline.

"Wow, a whole island," you say sarcastically, but he sees the humor behind it.

"Hey, Japan's an island too an' they big enough that they got the whole nation in uproar," he points out.

"Whatever makes you feel better," you say, taking a sip of your drink.

"What's your rank anyway?" He asks as he puts his drink on the counter, crossing his arms.

"I'm a major," you say, and once again the light dies in his eyes. You almost want to spare him the embarrassment of telling you his own rank, but you are curious, and it's just too fun to let him off. "What's your rank?"

"... corporal," he answers quietly, and you have to hold back a laugh. You try really hard, you really do, just so hard not to laugh, but you end up snorting anyway, and you can't even begin to work on your smile.

"Alright, corporal," you say, still trying not to laugh. Placing your own drink down on one of the bar coasters you turn to him, curling his loose tie around one of your hands and pulling him forward, practically devouring his nervous delight. "Y' really wanna play this game?"

"I'm the one who started it, ain't I?" He says, and you admire his tenacity to talk back to a superior officer.

"What's your full name and title, Corporal?"

"Corporal Merriel Shelton," he answers softly, his eyes suddenly stuck on the words that form on your blushing lips. "Ma' friends jus' call me Snafu, though."

"Mmm," you hum, looking him up and down much like he'd done to you earlier, "the hell you do to earn that kind a' name?"

"Oh, I'm just reckless, baby," he says with a smirk, gaining the confidence needed to lean into your touch more. You can feel his hips almost pressed against yours, the feeling doing nothing but making you pull his tie even more, a smile beginning to tug at the edges of your lips.

"Mind showin' me?"

"Not at all," he says in the impossibly low voice of his, and with that you're his, if only for the evening.

[ask-de-writer]

Dr. Mordenheim’s Travels, Book 1: De Writer’s Equestria, Ch. 4

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Dr. Mordenheim’s Travels, Book 1: De Writer’s Equestria, Ch. 4

by

Mordenheim

(In Hosted Tales)

1458 words

© 2019 by Mordenheim

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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NEW TO THIS STORY? READ FROM PART 1 which is HERE

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

Victor smiled as he finished up with his latest patient.  Using a rag wrapped around one of his fore hooves, the other end gripped in his teeth the zebra polished the shining steel of the green earth pony’s prosthetic rear leg.

“Now then,” he said, tossing the rag aside and picking up a small vial in his teeth, “In a few hours the anesthetic will start to wear off.  It will feel like a dull ache at first but will gradually get worse.  As SOON as you feel that ache I want you to take a teaspoon of this potion, then once every eight hours after that.  I’m sorry if it throws off your sleeping schedule, but this is necessary to make sure that everything heals and melds together properly.”

Rosewater nodded and smiled, taking the vial and placing it in her saddlebags, “Thank you, Doctor!  When that cart ran over my leg, I thought I would be in a mobility cart for the rest of my days.”

“Well, you’re not out of the woods just yet.  There’s still a chance that your body might reject the implants or the nerve connections may not heal properly.  However if you take your medicine at the prescribed times and come back for your scheduled checkups, the risk is minimal.  In fact, you should be right as rain in just a few weeks time.”  He walked around the mare, making sure that everything seemed to be properly finished as well as admiring his own work.  “In the meantime, you can walk on it normally, but no running, jumping, or kicking until I give you the okay, alright?  We don’t want to cause any more damage.”

The mare shook her head, her pink curls swaying from side to side.  “No sir!  I’ll take it nice and easy for now.”

Victor smiled again, draping a hoof over the back of the mare that he towered over.  The red-maned zebra being the size of a Rom horse himself cast a bit of an imposing image, but his gentle words and actions had won over the smaller female.  “Now, since you are the first to get this experimental treatment, there shall be no charge for the surgery, however, I will require a few bits payment for the medicine itself.  I will send you my bill shortly, but I promise it will not be much.”  He carefully helped the mare walk towards the door.

Rosewater opened the door slowly, the well oiled hinges not making even the slightest squeak as she stepped outside and took a deep breath of fresh air.  The sun was sinking low in the sky.  “Oh my, it’s later than I thought!  Thank you, doctor but I need to hurry home before dark!”

Suddenly the heavy hoof of the zebra stamped down on the end of her tail, drawing her up short.  “No running!  Just move at a gentle canter and you should be back in Ponyville proper before you know it.”  He lifted his hoof and smiled before waving.  “Fair travels, miss Rosewater, and I will see you next week.”

As he trotted back inside, he put out an ornately carved wooden sign that said “RING BELL FOR SERVICE” in bright green lettering.  The paint of the sign was designed to glow brightly when struck by moon or starlight as was the bell hanging by the front door.  Heading into the workshop at the back of the clinic, he tossed a few hunks of wood and coal into the large incinerator and fired it up, using a chemical compound and a bit of flint.  After the fire was burning brightly, he opened the door to his operating room.  Carefully gathering up the bloodied sheets and disposable equipment, he tossed them into the incinerator.  Closing the heavy iron door with a loud clank, he turned his attention to his surgical equipment.  He pulled out a few bottles of powerful antibacterial potions and carefully mixed them into a vat of water.  He then set his sharp, shining instruments inside to soak for a while.  He heard the bell ring at the front door.

Tilting his head, he headed for the heavy wooden door.  He'd never actually had a patient this late since the areas near the Everfree could be dangerous after dark, so it must be truly important.  Opening the door, he was used to looking down to greet his patients, due to his towering, Rom-like height.  He was quite surprised to actually find himself eye to eye with a beautiful midnight-blue mare.

“Oh! Your highness!”  He remembered himself at last and bowed to the Princess of Dreams and Nightmares, “To what do I owe this wonderful surprise?”

The zebra found himself being ushered to one side by one of the Royal Guard.  Commander Lightning Rays, a white pegasus with distinctive black wing tips used the tip of his spear to gesture for the doctor to step back to what he deemed a safe distance.  As he glanced through the doorway he could see two more guards posted outside the doors before they swung closed behind his guests.

“Unfortunately, my reason for visiting is not pleasant.  I have received a complaint from the Ponyville Medical Society that there was a doctor in the area practicing without proper authorization.”  She frowned a bit, looking over the zebra’s shoulder, “May I come in?”

Victor nodded, smiling as he backed out of the way, “Of course, of course! Please, make yourself at home!”

Luna cast her gaze around the waiting and consultation area, seeing that everything was clean and brightly lit.  It was cheerfully colored rather than being the normal stark white of the horsepital.  Several comfortable chairs and couches lined the walls.  There was a shelf full of various books.  A small area off to the side seemed to be dedicated for foals to play while they waited.  A large, heavy-looking wooden desk was central to the wall opposite the entrance.  She rested a hoof on it’s shining, smooth surface, the reddish-brown wood so polished that she could see her reflection in the surface.

“Mahogany?” she asked, a bit surprised as the wood was quite hard to come bay so far to the north.

The zebra nodded, his chest puffing up a bit with pride, “I wanted to be sure that everything was the very best, for both myself and my patients.”

The mare looked thoughtful, walking over to the bookshelf, running a hoof over the many different tomes.  There was everything from medical journals, to nonfiction historical books, children’s books, and even a complete set of Daring-Do novels lined the shelf.  Victor watched as she inspected everything carefully before she headed towards the operating room door.  

She pushed through into the operating chamber, finding the room to be a sparkling white.  Her nose stung a bit from the strong chemical smell coming from the bucket of surgical tools, but that was to be expected.  Her ears twitched a little at the low rumble of the incinerator against the far back wall.  “I can see you keep everything meticulously clean.  Not at all what I was told by Dr. Crossly.”

The good doctor looked a bit confused, “Dr. Crossly?  I’m sorry, I’ve never met anypony by that name.  In fact, I haven’t met any of the other local doctors.  They seem to be avoiding me for some reason.”

The midnight mare rolled her eyes a bit, “I expected as much.  It would seem that the Medical Society feels threatened by your business and are trying to use me for a method of bringing you grief.  Tell me, the prosthetic on the young mare who just left, was that your work?”

“Yes, your highness.  In fact, surgical amputation and prosthetics are something of a specialty of mine.”

“Do you have one of your prosthetics that I may look over?  I am very curious about your work.”

Victor crouched down and pulled open a heavy drawer set in the base of the wall.  Dark padding lined the inside of it and a small, foal-sized prosthetic leg was lying within.  He lifted it out of the drawer and placed it upon the operating table, an odd amalgamation of wires dangling from the inside of the hip.

Luna picked it up with her magic, turning it over in the air, inspecting it with a jeweler’s gaze.  Every tiny detail was visible to her, from the wires designed to interface with the nerve endings in a pony’s legs to the special pads and enchanted rods used to allow the natural magic of an earth pony to flow naturally.  She tilted her head a bit before uttering, “Doctor, there is one thing I am curious about.  Many prosthetics are designed to rely on a pony’s natural magic to power them, but I see no such thing in your design. While it is very impressive, I fail to see how it can even function.”

The zebra smiled a bit, reaching up to tap his hoof on a small square panel that the princess had assumed was part of the assembly.  With one gentle press it sprung open, revealing an empty cavity lined with hundreds of tiny metal wires, looking much like  brush of some kind. “This is where the power supply is inserted.”

He pulled the drawer out a bit further than it was before and produced what looked like a small suitcase of some sort.  Opening it revealed a crushed velvet lining and several small quartz crystals nestled within.  Each of the crystals glowed faintly with a differently colored aura.  “A short while ago, I discovered an alchemical process to alter quartz crystals to allow them to hold either magical or electrical energy.  The prosthetics are designed to use either.” Picking up a crystal with a faint green hue, he placed it in the open compartment where it slowly started to rotate, generating tiny sparks as it rubbed against the metal brushes.  He snaped the door closed before picking up another crystal, this one glowing bright white.

“The crystal I put in the leg is charged with earth magic, while this one is charged with pure electricity from the last storm to pass through the area.”  He smiled at the princess as he readied the white crystal.  “Would you mind setting the prosthetic down on the table, please?

At the mention of pure electricity being harnessed from lightning, the guard perked up a little.  He rubbed at his black goatee a bit as he too leaned in closer to see what was going on.

Very curious now, Princess Luna did as he asked and stepped around to the opposite side of the table to watch.  Victor lowered the white crystal to each of the “nerve” wires in turn, causing the leg to twitch and spasm, the artificial “muscles” contracting just as a real leg would.

“I can connect these to the major nerves.  I have even perfected it to the point that if too much is lost I can run artificial nerves straight to the spinal column, though the procedure can be dangerous.”  He sighed a little as he set the crystal aside. “Sadly, my ultimate goal is to give the patient sensation in an artificial limb, but I fear that may be out of my reach.”

Luna actually seemed a bit stunned.  This was an incredible accomplishment for anypony, and his ambition was amazing.  This zebra sought to create a prosthetic leg that would be functionally identical to that of a real one, and he had gotten very, very close!  She leaned down a bit closer, tilting her head as she noticed there were a few silvery wires that he had not touched with the crystal.  “And, dear doctor, what are these connections for?”

The big zebra actually clopped his hooves together and smiled brightly, “Actually, that is the part I am most proud of.”  He gestured to the delicate-seeming bundles of wire, the tiny connections little thicker than a single strand of his bright red mane.  “These allow magic to flow freely through the artificial limb as if it were real, meaning that Earth Ponies still have their full connection to the Earth, and pegasi won’t stumble from having an artificial leg that falls through clouds!”

Luna’s guard took in everything, then gripped his spear a little more tightly.  When their host had smiled, he had caught a glimpse of the zebra’s oddly sharp, interlocking teeth.  Long and white, they reminded him of the mandibles of a shark or some other sleek predator that lurks in deep, dark places.  He shook his head a little because his charge seemed oblivious to the possible danger of the situation, but he knew better than to chime in when she was so wrapped up in what she referred to as “talking shop” with another pony.

Lightning Ray’s ears perked up as he heard a commotion coming from the guards he left posted outside.  As he pushed open the door he saw that they had their spears crossed, pushing back a rather pudgy-looking off-white unicorn.  The intruder stamped his hoof and hissed at them through gritted teeth as he demanded entrance.  His mane, almost the color of a smoker’s stained teeth flipped this way and that.  He turned around and at first Lightning thought he was going to make the massive mistake of bucking at the royal guards, but instead he was trying to use his prodigious rump to shove his way through!

“AHEM!!” Lightning poked at the unicorn’s rump with a wing tip.  He got a good close look at the intruder’s cutie mark.  To most ponies, it would look like a red cross adorning a medical bag, fairly common for pony doctors and nurses.  However, to his trained eye the cross was slightly askew, and it was a bank bag, not a medical bag that adorned his flank.  “May I help you with something?”

The unicorn puffed himself up with pride, almost giving him the appearance of a bloated toad.  “Yes, actually.  I am Dr. Crossly, the representative of the Ponyville Medical Society who reported this fraud for operating without the proper permits.  I came by here to make sure that he was shut down.”

Lightning tilted his head a little, then thought of Luna’s reaction to the work that Dr. Mordenheim was doing.  Smiling a little, he gave the signal for the two guard ponies to let the unicorn pass.  “Of course, Dr. Crossly, right this way.”

The unicron looked like he’d swallowed a lemon when he heard laughter coming from the next room.  A deep, bass rumble of a laugh and a higher, beautiful tone, almost like tinkling chimes.  He burst into the next room, Commander Lightning rays in tow and stamped his hoof on the white tiles.

“What is the meaning of this?  This.. this les... er.. zebra.  Has been operating a clinic without authorization!”

Luna nodded to the unicorn, and sadly to Dr. Mordenheim.  “This is true, and a fine of five hundred golden bits must be paid.”  Dr. Crossly was practically rubbing his hooves with glee at this remark.

“However, I have now thoroughly inspected your facilities and seen examples of your work first hoof.  You have my approval to keep operating your emergency clinic right here on the edge of the Everfree for as long as you are able.  Please stop by town hall tomorrow evening.  Your paperwork should be properly registered by then.”

Crossly’s jaw nearly hit the floor at this announcement, but he quickly recovered.  His shocked face soon became a smirk.  “Actually, to operate a clinic here in Ponyville, he will need to be voted into and become a dues-paying member of the Ponyville Medical Society.  We all have to do our part to protect not just the good ponies of this town, but one another as professionals, after all.”

It was Victor himself who got a bit of a smug grin now.  “Actually, that was what we were discussing when you so rudely barged in.  It seems that my own clinic is actually outside of Ponyville and therefore falls directly under royal jurisdiction.”   He slowly stepped towards the unicorn and lowered his head to Crossly’s level.  He smiled a little wider on one side of his mouth, out of sight of the princess and her guard.  His long, sharp teeth were revealed to the unicorn causing the pudgy pony to pale prodigiously beneath his fur.

“I suggest you leave immediately before I ask our dear princess to have you removed for trespassing, or better yet I take care of it myself.”

Dr. Crossly, who had already been slowly backing up as the towering zebra advanced, nodded and turned tail, his hooves scrabbling on the slick tiles as he scooted back through the door and out into the night.

Victor cleared his throat a bit as he stood upright once more, using a hoof to straighten out his slightly rumpled lab coat.  “Alright then. Thank you, your highness, for the proper documentation to operate my business.  I truly was unaware of the rules at the time, but I shall gladly pay the fine that is due tomorrow when I visit town hall.” He smiled a bit more pleasantly at both Princess Luna and Commander Lightning Rays.  “Perhaps we could meet somewhere this weekend and discuss matters further over tea?”

Eyes twinkling with humor, Princess Luna smiled back at Victor, her own lips spread just enough to show a set of fangs even larger than his. “Your dismissal of Doctor Crossly was delightful, Victor!  I would be delighted to meet you for tea, after my Night Court adjourns.”

A bemused Victor watched his royal guest and her guard take wing. Muttering to himself, “She really does not miss much, does she?” he shut the door.

<==Previous  Next==>

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[mordenheim]

Dr. Mordenheim’s Travels, Book 1:  De Writer’s Equestria, Ch. 4

Dr. Victor Mordenheim has traveled to many different realities in his many centuries of existence.  This series, which I shall add to from time to time, will explore some of them, beginning with the world of @ask-de-writer.   Also, thank you to @ask-de-writer for the editing and ending bit.

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

Victor smiled as he finished up with his latest patient.  Using a rag wrapped around one of his fore hooves, the other end gripped in his teeth the zebra polished the shining steel of the green earth pony’s prosthetic rear leg.

“Now then,” he said, tossing the rag aside and picking up a small vial in his teeth, “In a few hours the anesthetic will start to wear off.  It will feel like a dull ache at first but will gradually get worse.  As SOON as you feel that ache I want you to take a teaspoon of this potion, then once every eight hours after that.  I’m sorry if it throws off your sleeping schedule, but this is necessary to make sure that everything heals and melds together properly.”

Rosewater nodded and smiled, taking the vial and placing it in her saddlebags, “Thank you, Doctor!  When that cart ran over my leg, I thought I would be in a mobility cart for the rest of my days.”

“Well, you’re not out of the woods just yet.  There’s still a chance that your body might reject the implants or the nerve connections may not heal properly.  However if you take your medicine at the prescribed times and come back for your scheduled checkups, the risk is minimal.  In fact, you should be right as rain in just a few weeks time.”  He walked around the mare, making sure that everything seemed to be properly finished as well as admiring his own work.  “In the meantime, you can walk on it normally, but no running, jumping, or kicking until I give you the okay, alright?  We don’t want to cause any more damage.”

The mare shook her head, her pink curls swaying from side to side.  “No sir!  I’ll take it nice and easy for now.”

Victor smiled again, draping a hoof over the back of the mare that he towered over.  The red-maned zebra being the size of a Rom horse himself cast a bit of an imposing image, but his gentle words and actions had won over the smaller female.  “Now, since you are the first to get this experimental treatment, there shall be no charge for the surgery, however, I will require a few bits payment for the medicine itself.  I will send you my bill shortly, but I promise it will not be much.”  He carefully helped the mare walk towards the door.

Rosewater opened the door slowly, the well oiled hinges not making even the slightest squeak as she stepped outside and took a deep breath of fresh air.  The sun was sinking low in the sky.  “Oh my, it’s later than I thought!  Thank you, doctor but I need to hurry home before dark!”

Suddenly the heavy hoof of the zebra stamped down on the end of her tail, drawing her up short.  “No running!  Just move at a gentle canter and you should be back in Ponyville proper before you know it.”  He lifted his hoof and smiled before waving.  “Fair travels, miss Rosewater, and I will see you next week.”

As he trotted back inside, he put out an ornately carved wooden sign that said “RING BELL FOR SERVICE” in bright green lettering.  The paint of the sign was designed to glow brightly when struck by moon or starlight as was the bell hanging by the front door.  Heading into the workshop at the back of the clinic, he tossed a few hunks of wood and coal into the large incinerator and fired it up, using a chemical compound and a bit of flint.  After the fire was burning brightly, he opened the door to his operating room.  Carefully gathering up the bloodied sheets and disposable equipment, he tossed them into the incinerator.  Closing the heavy iron door with a loud clank, he turned his attention to his surgical equipment.  He pulled out a few bottles of powerful antibacterial potions and carefully mixed them into a vat of water.  He then set his sharp, shining instruments inside to soak for a while. He heard the bell ring at the front door.

Tilting his head, he headed for the heavy wooden door.  He’d never actually had a patient this late since the areas near the Everfree could be dangerous after dark, so it must be truly important. Opening the door, he was used to looking down to greet his patients, due to his towering, Rom-like height.  He was quite surprised to actually find himself eye to eye with a beautiful midnight-blue mare.

“Oh!  Your highness!”  He remembered himself at last and bowed to the Princess of Dreams and Nightmares, “To what do I owe this wonderful surprise?”

The zebra found himself being ushered to one side by one of the Royal Guard.  Commander Lightning Rays, a white pegasus with distinctive black wing tips used the tip of his spear to gesture for the doctor to step back to what he deemed a safe distance.  As he glanced through the doorway he could see two more guards posted outside the doors before they swung closed behind his guests.

“Unfortunately, my reason for visiting is not pleasant.  I have received a complaint from the Ponyville Medical Society that there was a doctor in the area practicing without proper authorization.”  She frowned a bit, looking over the zebra’s shoulder, “May I come in?”

Victor nodded, smiling as he backed out of the way, “Of course, of course!  Please, make yourself at home!”

Luna cast her gaze around the waiting and consultation area, seeing that everything was clean and brightly lit.  It was cheerfully colored rather than being the normal stark white of the horsepital.  Several comfortable chairs and couches lined the walls. There was a shelf full of various books.  A small area off to the side seemed to be dedicated for foals to play while they waited.  A large, heavy-looking wooden desk was central to the wall opposite the entrance.  She rested a hoof on it’s shining, smooth surface, the reddish-brown wood so polished that she could see her reflection in the surface.

“Mahogany?” she asked, a bit surprised as the wood was quite hard to come by so far to the north.

The zebra nodded, his chest puffing up a bit with pride, “I wanted to be sure that everything was the very best, for both myself and my patients.”

The mare looked thoughtful, walking over to the bookshelf, running a hoof over the many different tomes.  There was everything from medical journals, to nonfiction historical books, children’s books, and even a complete set of Daring-Do novels lined the shelf.  Victor watched as she inspected everything carefully before she headed towards the operating room door.  She pushed through into the operating chamber, finding the room to be a sparkling white.  Her nose stung a bit from the strong chemical smell coming from the bucket of surgical tools, but that was to be expected.  Her ears twitched a little at the low rumble of the incinerator against the far back wall.  “I can see you keep everything meticulously clean.  Not at all what I was told by Dr. Crossly.”

The good doctor looked a bit confused, “Dr. Crossly?  I’m sorry, I’ve never met anypony by that name.  In fact, I haven’t met any of the other local doctors.  They seem to be avoiding me for some reason.”

The midnight mare rolled her eyes a bit, “I expected as much.  It would seem that the Medical Society feels threatened by your business and are trying to use me for a method of bringing you grief.  Tell me, the prosthetic on the young mare who just left, was that your work?”

“Yes, your highness.  In fact, surgical amputation and prosthetics are something of a specialty of mine.”

“Do you have one of your prosthetics that I may look over?  I am very curious about your work.”

Victor crouched down and pulled open a heavy drawer set in the base of the wall.  Dark padding lined the inside of it and a small, foal-sized prosthetic leg was lying within.  He lifted it out of the drawer and placed it upon the operating table, an odd amalgamation of wires dangling from the inside of the hip.

Luna picked it up with her magic, turning it over in the air, inspecting it with a jeweler’s gaze.  Every tiny detail was visible to her, from the wires designed to interface with the nerve endings in a pony’s legs to the special pads and enchanted rods used to allow the natural magic of an earth pony to flow naturally.  She tilted her head a bit before uttering, “Doctor, there is one thing I am curious about.  Many prosthetics are designed to rely on a pony’s natural magic to power them, but I see no such thing in your design.  While it is very impressive, I fail to see how it can even function.”

The zebra smiled a bit, reaching up to tap his hoof on a small square panel that the princess had assumed was part of the assembly.  With one gentle press it sprung open, revealing an empty cavity lined with hundreds of tiny metal wires, looking much like  brush of some kind.  “This is where the power supply is inserted.”

He pulled the drawer out a bit further than it was before and produced what looked like a small suitcase of some sort. Opening it revealed a crushed velvet lining and several small quartz crystals nestled within. Each of the crystals glowed faintly with a differently colored aura.  “A short while ago, I discovered an alchemical process to alter quartz crystals to allow them to hold either magical or electrical energy.  The prosthetics are designed to use either.”  Picking up a crystal with a faint green hue, he placed it in the open compartment where it slowly started to rotate, generating tiny sparks as it rubbed against the metal brushes. He snapped the door closed before picking up another crystal, this one glowing bright white.

“The crystal I put in the leg is charged with earth magic, while this one is charged with pure electricity from the last storm to pass through the area.”  He smiled at the princess as he readied the white crystal.  “Would you mind setting the prosthetic down on the table, please?

At the mention of pure electricity being harnessed from lightning, the guard perked up a little.  He rubbed at his black goatee a bit as he too leaned in closer to see what was going on.

Very curious now, Princess Luna did as he asked and stepped around to the opposite side of the table to watch.  Victor lowered the white crystal to each of the “nerve” wires in turn, causing the leg to twitch and spasm, the artificial “muscles” contracting just as a real leg would.

“I can connect these to the major nerves.  I have even perfected it to the point that if too much is lost I can run artificial nerves straight to the spinal column, though the procedure can be dangerous.”  He sighed a little as he set the crystal aside.  “Sadly, my ultimate goal is to give the patient sensation in an artificial limb, but I fear that may be out of my reach.”

Luna actually seemed a bit stunned.  This was an incredible accomplishment for anypony, and his ambition was amazing.  This zebra sought to create a prosthetic leg that would be functionally identical to that of a real one, and he had gotten very, very close!  She leaned down a bit closer, tilting her head as she noticed there were a few silvery wires that he had not touched with the crystal.  “And, dear doctor, what are these connections for?”

The big zebra actually clopped his hooves together and smiled brightly, “Actually, that is the part I am most proud of.”  He gestured to the delicate-seeming bundles of wire, the tiny connections little thicker than a single strand of his bright red mane.  “These allow magic to flow freely through the artificial limb as if it were real, meaning that Earth Ponies still have their full connection to the Earth, and pegasi won’t stumble from having an artificial leg that falls through clouds!”

Luna’s guard took in everything, then gripped his spear a little more tightly.  When their host had smiled, he had caught a glimpse of the zebra’s oddly sharp, interlocking teeth.  Long and white, they reminded him of the mandibles of a shark or some other sleek predator that lurks in deep, dark places.  He shook his head a little because his charge seemed oblivious to the possible danger of the situation, but he knew better than to chime in when she was so wrapped up in what she referred to as “talking shop” with another pony.

Lightning Ray’s ears perked up as he heard a commotion coming from the guards he left posted outside.  As he pushed open the door he saw that they had their spears crossed, pushing back a rather pudgy-looking off-white unicorn.  The intruder stamped his hoof and hissed at them through gritted teeth as he demanded entrance.  His mane, almost the color of a smoker’s stained teeth flipped this way and that.  He turned around and at first Lightning thought he was going to make the massive mistake of bucking at the royal guards, but instead he was trying to use his prodigious rump to shove his way through!

“AHEM!!”  Lightning poked at the unicorn’s rump with a wing tip.  He got a good close look at the intruder’s cutie mark.  To most ponies, it would look like a red cross adorning a medical bag, fairly common for pony doctors and nurses.  However, to his trained eye the cross was slightly askew, and it was a bank bag, not a medical bag that adorned his flank.  “May I help you with something?”

The unicorn puffed himself up with pride, almost giving him the appearance of a bloated toad.  “Yes, actually.  I am Dr. Crossly, the representative of the Ponyville Medical Society who reported this fraud for operating without the proper permits.  I came by here to make sure that he was shut down.”

Lightning tilted his head a little, then thought of Luna’s reaction to the work that Dr. Mordenheim was doing.  Smiling a little, he gave the signal for the two guard ponies to let the unicorn pass.  “Of course, Dr. Crossly, right this way.”

The unicron looked like he’d swallowed a lemon when he heard laughter coming from the next room.  A deep, bass rumble of a laugh and a higher, beautiful tone, almost like tinkling chimes.  He burst into the next room, Commander Lightning rays in tow and stamped his hoof on the white tiles.

“What is the meaning of this?  This.. this les... er.. zebra.  Has been operating a clinic without authorization!”

Luna nodded to the unicorn, and sadly to Dr. Mordenheim.  “This is true, and a fine of five hundred golden bits must be paid.”  Dr. Crossly was practically rubbing his hooves with glee at this remark.

“However, I have now thoroughly inspected your facilities and seen examples of your work first hoof.  You have my approval to keep operating your emergency clinic right here on the edge of the Everfree for as long as you are able.  Please stop by town hall tomorrow evening.  Your paperwork should be properly registered by then.”

Crossly’s jaw nearly hit the floor at this announcement, but he quickly recovered.  His shocked face soon became a smirk.  “Actually, to operate a clinic here in Ponyville, he will need to be voted into and become a dues-paying member of the Ponyville Medical Society. We all have to do our part to protect not just the good ponies of this town, but one another as professionals, after all.”

It was Victor himself who got a bit of a smug grin now.  “Actually, that was what we were discussing when you so rudely barged in.  It seems that my own clinic is actually outside of Ponyville and therefore falls directly under royal jurisdiction.”   He slowly stepped towards the unicorn and lowered his head to Crossly’s level.  He smiled a little wider on one side of his mouth, out of sight of the princess and her guard.  His long, sharp teeth were revealed to the unicorn causing the pudgy pony to pale prodigiously beneath his fur.

“I suggest you leave immediately before I ask our dear princess to have you removed for trespassing, or better yet I take care of it myself.”

Dr. Crossly, who had already been slowly backing up as the towering zebra advanced, nodded and turned tail, his hooves scrabbling on the slick tiles as he scooted back through the door and out into the night.

Victor cleared his throat a bit as he stood upright once more, using a hoof to straighten out his slightly rumpled lab coat.  “Alright then.  Thank you, your highness, for the proper documentation to operate my business.  I truly was unaware of the rules at the time, but I shall gladly pay the fine that is due tomorrow when I visit town hall.”  He smiled a bit more pleasantly at both Princess Luna and Commander Lightning Rays.  “Perhaps we could meet somewhere this weekend and discuss matters further over tea?”

Eyes twinkling with humor, Princess Luna smiled back at Victor, her own lips spread just enough to show a set of fangs even larger than his. “Your dismissal of Doctor Crossly was delightful, Victor! I would be delighted to meet you for tea on Saturday evening after my Night Court adjourns.”

A bemused Victor watched his royal guest and her guard take wing. Muttering to himself, “She really does not miss much, does she?” he shut the door.

[astrogeoguy]

A Wonderful Week of Lunar Doings, and a Bright Stars Guide!

(Above: I’ve labelled this image of the moon by Michael Watson of Toronto  with many of the interesting features you can see on the moon when it’s full. The red numerals are the Apollo landing sites.)

Hello, Stargazers! 

Here are your Astronomy Skylights for the week of May 12th, 2019 by Chris Vaughan. Feel free to pass this along to your friends and send me your comments, questions, and suggested topics. I repost these emails with photos at http://astrogeoguy.tumblr.com/ where all the old editions are archived. You can also follow me on Twitter as @astrogeoguy! Unless otherwise noted, all times are Eastern Time. Please click this MailChimp link to subscribe to these emails. If you are a teacher or group leader interested joining me on a guided field trip to York University’s Allan I. Carswell Observatory or the David Dunlap Observatory, visit www.astrogeo.ca. 

I can bring my Digital Starlab inflatable planetarium to your school or other daytime or evening event. Contact me and we’ll tour the Universe together!

Public Astro-Events

Every Monday evening, York University’s Allan I. Carswell Observatory runs an online star party - broadcasting views from four telescopes/cameras, answering viewer questions, and taking requests! Details are here. On Wednesday nights they offer free public viewing through their rooftop telescopes. If it’s cloudy, the astronomers give tours and presentations. Details are here. 

Weather permitting, on Tuesday, May 14 from 9 to 10:30 pm, astronomers from RASC – Mississauga will hold a free public star party at the Riverwood Conservancy, 4300 Riverwood Park Lane, Mississauga. Details are here. 

On Thursday, May 16 at 7 pm, the Brentwood Library will present a free public talk by U of T Professor Emeritus John Percy entitled Our Amazing Universe. Details are here. 

On Saturday, May 18 at 3 pm, the Aga Khan Museum will present Listening to the Moon with Poet Laboni Islam, exploring the moon in art, science, and spirituality. Tickets and details are here. 

The next RASC Family Night at the David Dunlap Observatory will be on Saturday, May 18. There will be sky tours in the Skylab planetarium room, space crafts, a tour of the giant 74” telescope, and viewing through lawn telescopes (weather permitting). The doors will open at 8:30 pm for a 9 pm start. Attendance is by tickets only, available here. If you are a RASC Toronto Centre member and wish to help us at DDO in the future, please fill out the volunteer form here. And to join RASC Toronto Centre, visit this page. 

The Moon and Planets

The moon is a shared global experience. Everyone on Earth sees the same phase of the moon. This week, the moon will pass from First Quarter to Second Quarter in its monthly trip around Earth. What’s Second Quarter, you ask? Why, it’s the Full Moon! Measuring from the New Moon phase, when the moon is hidden beside the sun in the daytime sky, the First Quarter Phase occurs about seven days later, at which time the moon passes a point in the sky that is 90° from the sun. (If you stretch one arm west towards the setting sun and the other south towards the first quarter moon, you’ll form that 90° angle.) A week later, the moon will appear opposite the sun in the sky and fully illuminated, rising just as the sun sets. 

To be precise, First Quarter phase occurred last night (Saturday) at 9:12 pm EDT. So it will look slightly more than half full tonight (Sunday), and will be sitting just below the stars that form Leo (the Lion). For the rest of the week, the moon will wax fuller and rise later every evening. Remember that the waxing gibbous moon is still a terrific sight in binoculars and backyard telescopes! 

On Wednesday evening, the moon will land among the stars of Virgo (the Maiden). Look for Virgo’s brightest star Spica sitting less than an outstretched fist’s diameter below the bright and nearly full moon. Your unaided eyes are unlikely to pick out the rest of Virgo’s dimmer stars – but binoculars will reveal them. 

(Above: On Friday night, the waxing gibbous moon will land between two of the bright stars in Libra, the Scales. The sky is shown here at 1 am local time on Saturday. By that time, the bright planets Jupiter and Saturn will be in view.)

On Friday night, the very bright moon (only one day shy of full) will land between the two brightest stars of Libra (the Scales). The fairly bright star to the moon’s upper left is called Zubeneschamali “the Northern Claw”, while the star to the moon’s lower right is Zubenelgenubi “the Southern Claw”. Those two stars used to be considered part of Scorpius (the Scorpion). Alternate names for those two stars describe their roles forming the balance of the scales. 

For the coming weekend, the moon will pass into Scorpius itself. The May full moon, known as the Full Milk Moon, Full Flower Moon, or Full Corn Planting Moon, will occur at 5:11 pm EDT on Saturday, so the moon will appear completely full all night long. Full moons always rise in the east as the sun sets, and set in the west at sunrise. Since no shadows are cast by the vertically impinging sunlight on a full moon, all of the brightness differences are generated by the reflectivity, or albedo, of the surface geology. Look for the bright rays of material arrayed around some of the younger craters. Tycho, the big, bright crater in the moon’s south-central region, has a huge set of them. Many more, smaller ray systems can be easily seen in binoculars. 

Did you know that indigenous people in Canada and around the world have long understood that the tidal force generated by the moon’s gravity draws the water table higher and up into the trees? Their wood-workers know not to harvest wood around the full moon. The wood will be wetter, take longer to dry, and is prone to cracking. I suppose the same rule would apply to felling trees for firewood. 

(Above: Reddish Mars will remain observable within the western evening twilight for a few more weeks as it sinks sunward, as shown here at 9:15 pm local time. Once the sky darkens, look for the bright stars Capella at right, the twin stars Castor and Pollux at top centre, and Procyon to their left.)

Reddish Mars is now truly beginning its “exit, stage West”. It will be visible for about an hour after dusk every evening, surrounded by evening twilight. Soon it will attain conjunction with the sun, followed by a re-appearance in the eastern pre-dawn sky in November. 

The next available bright planet, mighty Jupiter, will rise in the east just before 11 pm local time this week. It’s gradually making its way into position for summer evening stargazing. For now, if you are walking through the house in your pj’s during the wee hours, Jupiter’s bright beacon might catch your eye through a southerly window. Jupiter will reach its highest point over the southern horizon at about 3:30 am local time and then descend towards the west as dawn arrives. If you’d like to see the famous Great Red Spot in your telescope, it will be on the side of Jupiter that faces Earth around midnight tonight (Sunday) and Wednesday. The rest of the time, you can look for the four bright Galilean moons arrayed to either side of Jupiter. Sometimes you’ll only see two or three of them if the rest are hidden by Jupiter itself.

(Above: The Great Red Spot on Jupiter will be visible from time to time this week, including this view at 1 am EDT On Wednesday, May 15. Three of the four Galilean moons are at upper right.) 

Look for yellowish Saturn, which will be rising about 2 hours after Jupiter all summer, sitting about 2.5 outstretched fist diameters to the lower left (east) of Jupiter in the pre-dawn sky. Saturn will officially enter the evening sky in the last week of May. Dust off your telescope because even a small telescope will show its rings! 

(Above: The eastern sky at 11 pm local time features the stars that will grace the summer stargazing season. Bright Vega and almost-as-bright Deneb are two corners of the Summer Triangle asterism. Altair will complete the trio after midnight. )

Distant and dim, blue Neptune is in the southeastern pre-dawn sky, among the stars of Aquarius (the Water-Bearer). The planet will rise a before 4 am local time. But I’ll wait for summer, when it will be available in the evening, to look for it. 

Venus and Mercury are mostly invisible now, low in the eastern pre-sunrise sky. They’ll soon completely disappear in solar conjunction. Mercury will enter the western evening sky by May’s end, and Venus will appear there in September. 

Bright Stars

With the moon getting full this week, only the brighter stars will remain visible using unaided eyes. Here’s a rundown of the brightest ones. Facing west after sunset, look low in the sky for the bright yellowish Capella in Auriga (the Charioteer). A little higher, and to the east (left), is the matched pair of stars Castor (on the right) and Pollux (on the left) in Gemini (the Twins). Directly overhead, you can look for the seven bright stars of the Big Dipper. 

Swinging around to the southeast, and looking well up the sky, you’ll find yellow-orange Arcturus, the brightest star in Boötes (the Herdsman).  Finally, climbing the northeastern sky is Vega, in Lyra (the Harp). To Vega’s lower left is another bright star named Deneb. These two stars are the first corners of the Summer Triangle asterism to appear. And that tells us that summer will soon arrive in the Northern hemisphere!

Keep looking up, and enjoy the sky when you do. I love questions and requests - so, send me some!

[the-penny-dreadfuls]

Long before the days when Casey Anthony, OJ Simpson, and the Manson family dominated headlines and captivated audiences with their lurid tales, there was the 1836 murder of a high end prostitute in New York City. It had all of the hallmarks of a hit crime novel: beauty, wealth, and a seemingly never ending supply of scandal. The case was highly documented within New York Newspapers and far beyond, down to every last gritty detail. It would pave the way for a newly forming type of journalism; tabloids, or known during that time period as “penny papers”. At the center of it all was Helen Jewett.

Before there was a Helen Jewett, there was Dorcas Dayen. Dorcas was born on October 18th, 1813 in Temple, Maine to a working class family. Her beginnings were humble, and her childhood marred by tragedy. At a young age, Dorcas lost her mother. Her father was an alcoholic, and had troubles providing care for his young daughter. After her father’s death, the girl was sent off to work at the age of twelve or thirteen. She found a place within the home of Chief Justice Nathan Weston of the Maine Supreme Judicial Court, where she worked as a maid. Although she was considered to be an employee, Weston paid to have Dorcas educated. She was a quick learner, and excelled in her studies. Through this, she discovered a great joy in reading novels.

With each passing year, Dorcas grew into an attractive young woman. Her beauty and grace was of local legends. It was reported that she first became sexually active around the age of sixteen or seventeen. There are varying stories on how this happened. Some are thought it was young shop keeper or banker that first stole Dorcas’ heart. Many others went for a much more sensational tale. They speculated it was the Chief Justice, Nathan Weston, who was the first to seduce the teenager. The story was apparently widely known to the public. The pair insisted she was eighteen at the time. After Dorcas was dismissed from her duties at the Weston household, thus saving the judge from any repercussions or further public speculation. That was all fine and well for Dorcas. She was ready for a new, adventurous life.

Once she left the Weston home, Dorcas took up with a new lover. The relationship lasted a few months until she broke it off, and moved to Portland, Maine, where she found work in a brothel. Shortly after came another change. Dorcas decide to move on to Boston, and transformed herself into Helen Mar. Her Boston stint lasted up to six months before Helen was ready to move again. She found herself the perfect place; New York City. With another new home came another new name. Helen Mar was now known as Helen Jewett.

Contrary to the conservative standards at that time, Helen had no qualms about living a proactive lifestyle. She openly flaunted her sexuality, and relished in the attention men gave her. While in New York, Helen met Rosina Townsend, who gave the young woman a job in her luxury brothel as a courtesan. The brothel was located in downtown Manhattan, making it the ideal place to entice the best of New York. Her alluring beauty and charming personality won her a fine list of clients that consisted of the most prestigious and wealthy politicians, lawyers, and businessmen in the city. One of Helen’s favorite clients was a young man named Richard Robinson. At Townsen’s brothel he went by the name Frank Rivers to help hide his true identity, as it was commonly practised. The girls found him to be quite handsome, and gave him the nick name of “Pretty Frank”.

Jewett and Robinson began to spend time together outside of the brothel. When they were apart, they would write letters. Although the relationship seemed to be a happy one to Helen, Robinson decided to put an end to their relationship on April 7th, 1836. He greatly loathed Helen’s profession. He was considered to be an upstanding member of society, and so he told her that he needed to find another, more respectable woman to be with. Helen became furious. She threatened to publically humiliate Robinson if he left her. Three days later it would all come to a head.

It was an unusually cool April that year. A late snow storm had blown in during those first days of the month, but as the weekend approached it had grown warmer. There was a light drizzle Saturday evening, leaving the city in a cold and dreary state. In the early morning hours of Sunday, April 10th Rosina Townsen was woken by someone knocking on her door of her first floor bedroom. It was a man asking to be let out of the front entry way. It was a rule of Townsend to lock the front door at midnight, and any late-night customers who were not sleeping over had to be escorted out after by the woman they were with. This was to help prevent theft.

Without rising from her bed, Townsen shouted back, “Get your woman to let you out!”

At the 3 AM there was another loud knock, this time coming from outside the street door. Townsend got out of bed to see who was arriving at such an odd hour. She pulled back the curtains and looked out the window, which was facing the front steps. It was a regular customer. He claimed to have a scheduled appointment with Elizabeth Salters, one of the girls. Townsend allowed him to come in, and the customer disappeared upstairs to the second floor, where Salters’ room was located. As the man walked away, she noticed something out of place. There was supposed to be globe lamps sitting on a marble table at the end of the hallway. That night there was only one. She found it to be very peculiar, and being one to keep the safety of her girls a first priority, Townsend decided to investigate.

In the parlor she found the door to the backyard was left open. She went outside to see if anyone was there. It was a large area, with a garden, sitting area, and an outdoor privy. Townsend reasoned that it must be a customer or one of the girls had gone out to use the bathroom. She went back inside, locked the door, and decided to go upstairs to find who had taken the lamp. She checked the first bedroom, which was expectantly locked. She tried the door to the back east bedroom that belonged to Helen. It was unlocked. As Townsend pushed the door open, dark clouds of smoke came billowing out. Pandemonium began. Townsend began to run down the halls, knocking on all of the other doors to wake the girls and their clients.

“Fire!” she screamed.

Townsend’s cries were heard by two watchmen, who came quickly running to their aide. Many of the people inside had already made it out, safe. Rosina and a girl named Maria Stevens bravely faced the fire, and went in to save Helen. Once inside the bedroom, the two women found themselves in a scene of horror. The source of the fire was Helen’s bed. By the time they had arrived it had been reduced to a smoldering mess. Helen was still lying in her bed, dead. Part of her body had been badly charred, and her nightgown was reduced to nothing more than ash. Three large, deep gashes marked her forehead. Blood from the wounds had heavily soaked into her pillow. Someone had murdered Helen Jewett.

Jewett had a client that night, but the man was nowhere to be seen. He had arrived that even, wearing a dark cloak, and quickly upstairs to see his mistress. Both women recognized the man to be “Pretty Frank”, also known as Richard Robinson.

The cloak Robinson had been wearing was later found out side the brothel by the two watchmen. Nearby was a blood stained hatchet. A more thorough investigation of the body would reveal a deep cut leading down Helen’s neck, to the lower abdomen which sliced into several organs. Her lungs were clean of smoke, showing that she had died before being set on fire. The head wounds were ruled to be the cause of death, likely done by the hatchet that was found at the scene. Because of the lack of struggle and her seemingly peaceful expression, it was believed that Helen had died in her sleep.

Police promptly arrested Richard Robinson in the murder. They did all that they could to get a confession, but Robinson would not budge. He maintained his innocence. Robinson was confident that he would go free, and passed the time in jail by smoking. Investigators found the man’s lack of emotion to be disturbing. With that in mind, as well as all of their physical evidence, they believed they had the killer.

The trial was a whirlwind of madness. New York journalists fought to report on any bit of information related to Jewett or Robinson they could find. Nothing was too minuscule, and nothing had to be completely factual. Rosina Townsend, as well as anyone else who knew the two, offered interviews to any paper that would listen. During the trial, papers printed illustrations of court room action scenes, complete with dialogue from the lawyers and the defendant. Some issues included sinister drawings of how artists believed the crime occurred. The case was an absolute money maker. Soon, reporters from all over the states to flocked to New York to report on the scandalous case. This would be the first event of its kind.

From the start, the prosecutors were fighting an uphill battle. Prostitutes were considered to be one of the lowest rung of society. The defense claimed they could not be trusted, and because of this all of the testimony against Robinson that had come from Townsend and her girls was thrown out. The evidence of letters exchanged between Helen and Richard, as well as his diary was also now allowed in court. It took only half an hour for the jury to come back with a verdict. Richard Robinson was found not guilty of the murder of Helen Jewett.

After the trial, Robinson packed up and moved to down to Texas. He lived for two more years until he passed away from a fever. Helen Jewet’s case was never solved.

[hesloaded]

Vulnerability is a state of being he wouldn’t ever again fail to recognize. Or underestimate.

12:11 AM.

Lately, Jiwon considers himself to be a liberal. Or at the very least—with the intention of abandoning such unequivocal labels—an open minded and able-bodied adult who is conscious enough to make serious decisions, and confidently speak up for himself in any given situation. Therefore the whole conundrum of politics has never been his cup of tea.

The idea of practically kissing at the feet of another person, simply because they are the chosen one to momentarily hold all the power and favour over his life and many others alike them, was a concept he deeply execrated. He believes that he belongs to no one but himself, and he will always do anything within the power he owns himself, as a solitary standing against a plethora of pretentious cowards, to keep it that way. And clearly so.

Which is why the uniform he is dressed in now feels like an infinitely itchy second skin. And it gets more unbearable to handle with each passing night he's had to sit by past midnight silence and do this shit. There were no exceptions, and any times after finally completing his task, he would return to his apartment half dressed and cold, due to him not being able to withstand the amount of restraint required to keep the thing on any further past the two hours it takes for him to do his job properly. And honestly, stripping in the car while in stop lights or speeding on the highway home was oddly satisfying to him. It felt right.

Tonight, though, is supposed to end immensely different than the rest. That's his only consolation as he settles lower into the thick leather of the car seat with a gaping yawn, and brings the gloved heels of his broad palms to his tired eyes–the hazel coloured contacts he has on shifting out of spot only slightly. A faux habit he doesn’t forget to perform almost every night since after getting hired. Everything he’s been doing has simply been just methodic performance. The way he behaves, walks, does his hair, and even his skin is inauthentic—he covers his tattoos with time and dedication before leaving when needed, in case anyone decided to inspect him so close they would notice that he wasn’t who he's claiming to be.

There’s camera surveillance peppered all around the looming, sky-scraping building, and a few more pairs of eyes stationed around the property’s perimeters and corners, respectively. Jiwon has been studying them for the past few weeks, expertly noting patterns and even memorizing schedules in relation to the structure’s entire anatomy. All of the men were usually armed and equipped enough for the kind of modest work that they do, yet to him, they looked like amateurs.

Jiwon reckons he can take them all down in about six minutes tops if he could risk touching any gun now, though he doesn’t have to. They prance around in the chilly dark with their hands seemingly stuck to their pocketed flashlights and loaded arms, or tucked inside their thick puff-vests to keep the frost away from their fingers. Some sneak out of sight to have a quick smoke, or use the toilet. Really, there was next to no fun to have there. If he were lucky, two of them would stand long enough against him to force a gap between him aiming and pulling the trigger.

“Jung, come in. This is Baek. Are you there?” The walkie talkie starts buzzing from it’s mount, statics active as the firm speech of his co-worker comes in from the other end. Jiwon reaches for it immediately after the second message. “Jung, this is Baek. Come in.”

“Yes, sir. Jung here. Go ahead.” He responds with the press of a button, weaving a convincing American accent around his Korean as he speaks his mother-tongue.

He’s careful to keep his expression as flat as his tone, as cameras and possibly recorders might be catching all of these mundane interactions while they speak. After what he will do in just under an hour, he knows that once the awareness of it dawns upon the people, he will be the very first suspect and they will deeply analyze all pieces of evidence they can find against him, since he’ll be the last person this man will ever see—or at least Jung Sydney will.

But the catch is that Jung Sydney doesn’t quite exist.

“Bring the car. He’s on his way down now, stand by.”

Jiwon checks the time again, and it’s close to one in the morning. Unfortunate for his sleep schedule, but the perfect time to get in and out of action without too many distractions. “Roger, sir.”

Tonight he wears the most minimally designed harness he owns over his bare flesh, strapped tightly enough to dig like claws into his ribs and induce a subtle delay through the otherwise silken flow of his blood. It pinches and burns so good on his thick shoulder muscles as he straightens in his spot and brings his arms up to start the car, drawing his hands to the wheel and briefly gripping so hard it’s a miracle his gloves don’t rip on spot. Anticipation flushes hot-red inside him, and the thirst for a bloody fight rings painfully in his ears.

The uniform he wears had been customized with dedication for him after getting hired, created with precise measurements and experienced attention to detail by the same seamstress that designs his employer’s priceless suits. It’s almost like a unique suit on it’s own—a tasteful button up jacket that molds perfectly around the shaping of his back, over a warm turtleneck top for the winter time, and some long dress pants that fall at ankle length. Even the gloves were personalized to fit his long fingers. So fitting, yet the jacket is still loose enough to hide the outline of a gun nuzzled against his left side of his ribcage, and a short-knife sheathed on the right, especially when seated.

He’d sneezed during the first fitting and purposely bent into a position that would surely rip through the tightness synched across his back so that the seamstress, who didn’t complain once, would add some extra centimeters of breathing room for him when she mended it back together. Perfect for him to hide his weapons.

Jiwon pulls up to a smooth stop precisely in front of the main staircase of the building, and steps out of the luxurious ride to respectfully fold with great depth from the hips, regarding the nearing presence of the dead man approaching with plain approbation and obedience. He can only speak when spoken to, so when his boss dismissively steps past him and comes to an abrupt stop in front of the car, the irritating clacking of his shoe heels making contact with the concrete floor quieting too fast, Jiwon remains bowed over in silence, muscular thighs squeezed flush together to hold him up rigidly. Acting as if he were oblivious about what to do next, except fulfill his boss’ every wish, of course.

In actuality, contrary to what his body language might have suggested in these moments, he was boiling up like a frantic whistling kettle inside, and extremely tempted to find his knife a living sheath. He should’ve gotten used to this by now, but that’s the thing. He wasn’t.

The man sighs sharply, his guard slipping, and spits when he speaks. “I’m tired. Let’s go.”

Jiwon quells his pulsing rage and finally straightens up to let his boss inside the car, not meeting his eye even once. “Of course, sir.”

1:24 AM. Every second that passes counts tonight.

They are now on the highway, and just like every night he’s done this before, he wills himself invisible behind the wheel and between the dark leather seats, and pretends not to observe the man in the back through the rearview mirror. Every time he yawns, stretches taut limbs or tugs his expensive tie looser from around his neck. Or lowers his exhausted gaze to check his phone—texts from his concerned wife he hadn’t the chance to answer during his late night meetings. This is easier than showing the bastard any ounce of respect.

He isn’t much older than Jiwon, no older than fourty, but when they pass bright streetlights that draw dramatic contrasting shadows across his face and illuminate the flare in his eyes, he appears to be younger. He allows himself to become honest in these moments of presumed safety. Vulnerable, and entirely so in front of someone he hardly ever bothers to heed any mind. Someone he’s grown to believe is harmless as a docile sheep, insignificant, but trustworthy enough.

He barely seems deserving of punishment for a sliver of a second—more human than a monster of a man. But then Jiwon remembers the provided reports and documents he’d read on him a while back, all more or less backed by research he’d done himself afterward.

His name was Bang Wonho, eldest son of a well known trading corporation CEO and recently one of the most recognized and active snake heads in the underworld’s black market business; apparently he was well respected enough for his expert management of one of the largest underground prostitution rings in the country. Even foreign detectives couldn’t yet crack entirely through its complicated structure—which was constantly changing—let alone figure out who exactly ran it, with concrete evidence at that.

And on the rare occasions when they did get too close, Bang would save face by paying the sleaziest cops he could find handsome sums to destroy whatever lead they had, because he knew how easy it was to seduce men with money. The ones who refused him would never live another day to tell the tale.

To say the least, the man was an insufferable asshole who’d do everything possible under the sun to keep power in his pockets. He would slither through the most turbulent depths of the dark to get what he wants. And for someone who already had it all, he still wanted a fucking-lot more. That’s when his greed lead him straight into politics.

The bruised face of a young lady Jiwon had seen in the file reports gradually materializes under his eyelids with each blink that follows the thought, and he finds himself biting his tongue until he tastes the sweet tang of warm blood, to keep himself from bursting into flames at the mouth. She was an orphan, abandoned and hardly of age when she’d been taken in he middle of the night, and sold off to die an appalling death she didn’t deserve. And this man was responsible—he’d done it many times before her, and after. To him, it was simply business.

The gun pressed to Jiwon’s side is suddenly no longer prohibited for him to reach for and draw anymore. His trigger finger twitches, visibly, but before he could succumb to his flaring urges, the GPS indicates a change in direction as they finally near their destination. He takes the turn.

The wrong one.

It was late evening when his private phone rang that night of the past. He was sitting cross-legged on his massive leather couch, casually lounging in his boxers, and in the middle of reading one of his favourite Japanese authors. It rang three times, and a woman’s voice sounded on the other end of the line when he’d finally answered. His clients were usually men, and he could count on his fingers how many women he’d worked for that weren’t somehow already associates of the underworld. Most of them wanted their husbands killed for petty and invalid reasons; so they could inherit his fortune or position, or wanted to be rid of their husband’s mistresses and sometimes even the mister’s. They weren’t any different than the men, who regularly wanted their peers or family killed so they could assume his position, or even their wives, so he could marry his mistress without defiling his reputation. He refused them all.

But what kept him engaged with this one’s offer, though, was that she’d managed to slip the proposal of a challenge towards him unawares—and she complimented his skillset. He couldn’t help but entertain her.

“I know he is a very powerful man, but I hear you are worse. It should be easy for you.” She said, unyielding and matter-of-factly, “Therefore, you are my first and last option. I couldn’t draw too much attention to myself. If you reject my offer, then I will do the deed myself.”

All in the name of peace—which he thought was straight up bullshit, even told her so. But in the end she still had managed to successfully provoke him into this, even move him to some extent if he had to admit. The best thing about her, though, was that she was Bang Wonho’s wife.

“He found me and got me off the streets. Payed off all the debt that I had on my name and told me that I should be grateful for his generosity. And I was, until I wasn’t anymore.”

She told him the entire story when they’d met in person for the first and last time a few months later, somewhere by the water on the outskirts of Busan. She was her husband’s first victim, though it didn’t seem like it to either of them back then, because he hadn’t harmed her in any way. Instead of forcing her into prostitution, Bang had only guided her away from an unfortunate trap called poverty, to walk her right into another one, this time guised by the ostentatious comforts of wealth.

He was fresh onto the corporate throne his father had left behind after he died, all but still a generous man. Then he’d wedded her despite his mother’s disapproval, and was good enough to her until he was forced to pay closer attention to his work, as their wealth suddenly started to multiply and their social class skyrocketed. That’s when he’d went from generous to greedy, and then became downright odious.

She claimed she had subjectively willed herself blind when it came to her husband’s private affairs, even the literal ones, because she thought she would be deemed ungrateful if she pried. But it had gotten to an extreme point where she had no other choice left but to risk it. That’s when she’d found out about him working with men who dressed like businessmen but undeniably moved like criminals. She discovered the years worth of trafficking and the prostitution. Then the actual reason why he’d saved her, and how his father really died.

“He didn’t marry me because he loved me, but because he needed someone who knew absolutely nothing about his world, to keep at his side as an ornament. That explains why he never bothered to have children with me; it was not a part of his plans." The wife explained.

"Before that, though, he made sure to first establish his position in the underworld to back him, then used his advantages and killed his own father to take his place. A few years later, now, he’s trying to worm his way into the government by taking up politics. I can’t just stand by and let this country be led by a tyrant. I’m not interested in his dirty money. I just want to play by his own rules, as I believe it’s what he deserves.“

It was crystal-clear that she meant every word she spoke. Jiwon believed her, so he wanted to help her and in extent, many others before and after her. So in the end, he agreed to satisfy her request.

“I got it.”

They are still in the city despite having driven for about over half an hour, so there are CCTV’s installed everywhere the car could turn, the system a complex and highly effective powerhouse that could eventually bring Jiwon in were the police lucky enough. He just needed to make eye contact with one of them somewhere, and they would pin that second down as suspicious behaviour. It was nothing short of impressive, admittedly, but contrary to popular belief, it was also not perfect. Not even close.

There were blind spots everywhere—dead cameras, defected ones and entire spaces that had none of them installed at all. And there were a plethora of them that few knew about in this direction, which meant plenty of opportunities to accomplish his work and disappear without a trace.

Jiwon starts to perform again, pretending to nod off in front of the steering-wheel as the first of many blinds spot he’d memorized through weeks of planning this execution is imminent. Then he does something he’d never done to this extreme before; willingly places himself right on the defense. Abruptly spins the wheel as he slams his forehead into the horn and the car jerks sideways aggressively, entering the road with oncoming traffic a few miles ahead, where that blind spot ends. Intentionally making himself vulnerable.

“What… the hell is wrong with you?! Collect yourself this instant!” Bang is immediately furious when he finally realizes what’s going on, jerking upright and lurching himself towards the front seats from where he confidently rested with his eyes closed.

He grabs Jiwon’s limp arm and nervously starts to joggle him out of what he believes is sleep, incoherently yelling for him to wake up and turn the car around or move otherwise he’ll have him killed.

Jiwon counts through three seconds before he does as told one last time, but he doesn’t pretend that he’s surprised nor horrified as his boss—he doesn’t scream. He hardly even sits up, obviously aloof and unafraid as he checks the distance between them and the approaching headlights as they pass the start of the blind spot. He’s got approximately 12 more seconds to act before it’s over.

10…

“Do something now, you useless piece of shit!” Bang reels back and forcefully shoves both feet with all his might at the back of the driver’s seat, and the sheer force sends Jiwon forward into the wheel again. “Or I will rip you apart with my bare hands! Do you hear me!?”

The car in front of them starts to blow their horn repeatedly, frenetically flashing their headlights, equally alarmed as the man on his shoulder that’s squirming from the back seat. Jiwon doesn’t notice Bang’s phone is gone, calling a private number on the car floor.

8...

"Can’t hear you if you keep kickin’ the damn chair, you fucking prick.” It feels absolutely liberating for Jiwon to drop the fake accent in exchange for his usual filterless complacency back up in front of Bang. The man visibly freezes.

Initially, Jiwon thought about taking the easier route towards completion. Since his clients never really requested anything specific besides a good old hit, he’d quickly developed a really basic and adaptable approach towards the fast money his clients were willing to pay—for something they could easily do themselves, for free.

For this one, all he had to do was break into an empty room in the building adjacent of their luxury penthouse, set up his sniper in the window, have his wife somehow guide him to said window if he didn’t do it himself, aim, and shoot. Shooting him on the doorstep of one of his mistresses was also on his list. The goal was to not get his hands on anything else other than the trigger of his weapon, to leave his dwellings devoid of any sort of finger print whatsoever.

But the Bang couple had inspired him to challenge himself do something entirely different this time. He wanted to become part of the snake to be able to sever its head the way it bit off those of the innocent. And it needed to be this difficult, and fucking terrifying.

6…

Jiwon deftly reaches for his trusty gun with the opposite hand and upon withdrawing it, gingerly removes the safety, cocks it, then angles it under his other bicep, all in the same breath. Before he pulls the trigger, he’s suddenly met with Bang’s steady attack from the back. The man pounces to the frontside with a pocket knife in his hand, and swings it with expert precision towards Jiwon’s shoulder–the latter compressing himself to the side of the car before it tears into his flesh.

“You think you can win this fight? We will both die tonight.” The ringleader rasps out and slams himself into the drivers seat again. Jiwon loses his aim, but simultaneously musters a vice-like grip strength on the wheel, and drags the entire vehicle clean into the right side of the road, barely escaping oncoming traffic. Bang loses his balance in the back, slams his head into the tinted window glass. Jiwon doesn’t bother to keep the course of the road as they careen straight into the crash barrier, and hard. It all happens too fast for him to take it back.

2:02 AM.

He’d just barely managed to pull his legs up at the last minute before they crashed just shy of the blind spot ending, with his gun tucked in his lap, to avoid getting his limbs stuck in the car wreck and losing his weapon in the same accident. It’s the airbag and seatbelt that keep him from earning some serious injuries that would render him utterly helpless, but the unforgiving impact into the hard stone still did rattle his stars.

He unintentionally smacked his face onto his knees first, then his head back against the hard headrest, then his left temple and arm into the side window, and it all made him see black for a few moments. It felt like his head was being pounded into three different directions. And then the relentless throbbing on his nose, his temple and left shoulder starts to settle into his body.

“Fuck!” Jiwon cries out after realizing his shoulder has been dislocated, and there’s blood from his broken nose all over his upper lip, some more trickling to his upper left eyebrow. He begins to panic, aggressively thrusting his good arm all over the cramped space as he pats on his right side for the button to release the seatbelt. It takes too long, as the gloves water down his sense of touch and his head spins as if it’s screwing off his shoulders, and he’s running out of too much time too quickly for his liking. He has to leave, now.

Once the belt comes off, Jiwon stills as he remembers that he’s not alone.

”’m… going to have you s–skinned alive… Fuckin’… fool…“ Bang can barely speak, his jaw sitting slightly crooked under his face now, while blood gushes from his temple where he’d vigorously slammed into the window. He should’ve been unconscious, but instead was pointing up his knife again. ”Die!“

Jiwon finds instant gratification and consolation in the warmth of the loaded weapon he proceeds to retrieve from his lap, solid motivation that instantly gets him moving as Wonho thrusts himself forward and sweeps the weapon down on him with deathly force, intending to make his second blow the last. It skewers into the steering wheel as the younger unfolds his limbs and shoves his door open to release his upper body outside, then in the same heartbeat twists his torso with a swift movement and extends his arm out into the perfect aim. He pulls the trigger before the serpent could sink its venomous fangs into him any further, and he hits the concrete floor outside. Bang Wonho collapses in the back with a gaping hole in his temple.

Jiwon can barely keep himself from shrieking as he slips out onto his dislocated shoulder, raw pain exploding so deeply inside of his core he starts to tremble. Still, he holds tightly onto his gun. It’s the only anchor of encouragement he’s got left in moments of agony and uncertainty.

Bang is dead and his job is done, but this isn’t exactly the ending he’d envisioned in his head before. Nowhere near comparable to the ideal climax planned. This is really fucking bad.

With his bottom lip gripped between his teeth, Jiwon forces a deep centering breath through his nostrils while he slowly rolls onto his back and sheaths his gun. You’ve been here before, relax.

He smells his own blood as he takes in a second belly-breath, holding this one in so he could push himself up without disrupting his shoulder too much, pulls his legs under him to stand. And like a drunken man he moves, his legs not as weak nor injured as he is from chest up, but still overly shaken from the crash, the constricted seating position and the fight he’d won. Not that it feels like he did at all, given the overwhelming tremors tracing every detail along the length of his limbs, triggered by each step he takes.

Cold wind clips at the shells of his ears, but this has nothing to do with the state of the weather but rather the state of his nerves within. And he has no clue how to make it stop.

2:23 AM. Fuck being vulnerable.

[aweirdlisa]

The Overnight Watch

I’ve written a first part to a fanfic I’ve been wanting to write ever since the Overnight Watch stream. I haven’t written much as I focus more on drawing, but I felt like posting anyways as some of you out there might enjoy this. This is just a first chapter and the next ones will probably be shorter and more eerie, but for now I hope you enjoy! Reading in a dark room is recommended!

I included images to add to the experience.. <3

The Overnight Watch | Chapter 1

“You have been invited to participate in an interactive event organised by Jacksepticeye, will you be there?”

The mail had been sent to everyone’s inbox, but nobody within the fandom had any idea of what was going on. There had been no video, no explanation, no posts about this mysterious event, yet there it was. The biggest problem was: that was it. Just the one sentence without further details, an address or even a date, but it was sent to over 17 million people.

It didn’t take more than ten minutes for someone within the community to post on tumblr about an anomaly in the mail:

“I assume we’re all past the point of freaking out, so let’s do what we’re best at and dismantle this thing. Has anyone else noticed something off about the mail?

Look at the corner where the time is displayed of when the mail was sent. It’s not a timestamp, the numbers don’t make sense. Does anyone have any idea what it might be?

Other than that the sender’s address is fully missing and the mail was marked important without my doing. Anyone?”

The community was set on fire as per usual, but this time an unsettling feeling spread throughout the fandom. Sure, everyone was immediately thinking “Antisepticeye appearance!”, but this just seemed impossible to pull off and way too diverging from the usual pattern. Even though many dismissed it as a prank and moved on, a few individuals kept looking and replied to the thread.

“That’s strange, my mail is different, look:

The number isn’t the same. Does anyone else have a different one?”

But as the replies came in it was made clear that about half of them had received the same mail with the positive number as the other half had received the negative number.

“Anyone who’s up for solving this, join this discord, I think it’s clear that there’s more to find here.”

People from different time zones started to join the server as the noise grew with each person connecting. Theorists like these were used to the cryptic messages, the hidden codes and the zalgo text. It was almost a hobby to figure out what hints Jack had left to indicate an Anti appearance. In situations like these they would convene on a discord server, or multiple discord servers to scan through every little hint they can find.

Almost a year ago Jack had surprised them with a special stream lasting the entire time between the two charity streams they had set up. There was even a hashtag set up, so people could post their findings, this was #overnightwatch.

Everyone who participated in the stream had started calling themselves the Overnight Watch and loved it, despite the mental torture that had deprived many from their sleep. The hashtag stuck around and so did the name.

So it’s been almost a year and Anti hadn’t made an appearance yet. There have been the occasional subtle hints, but not everyone would notice them. Jack was just poking fun. The theorists believed this was part of Jack’s plan of letting the character settle for a while to come back with something bigger and better. Was this that something? A majority of the community had almost forgotten Anti was a thing at this point, so it would be ideal.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming” a voice said as the ongoing chaos broke apart and everyone became quiet. “As you all know we received a rather strange mail today. So far we have collected the following information:

There are two different numbers where there should be a time stamp, these numbers are 51.509865 and -0.118092. Other than that the sender’s address is completely missing and the text has a few letters that seem to be marked. What are your discoveries so far?”

Not a second of silence went by as a latecomer stumbled into the channel and screamed out two words repeatedly:

“The letters! The letters! The-“

“CALM DOWN.” Two or three people yelled at once, surprised by the overwhelming excitement of the newest addition to the group. The person who acted as moderator of the whole conversation scraped her throat and gave the latecomer a chance to explain themselves.

“Alright so, the letters that are different, they are all in italic and in a very dark green colour. When you assemble the letters you have ‘v t e w l e’ which when put in order reads “twelve”. We are looking for the key elements of an event right? I think this might be the time. I’m not sure if it’s twelve AM or twelve PM though and neither do I have a time zone.”

“Interesting theory,” a different voice spoke up. “I think we can work with that as a start. We’re with 53 people here and I’m sure some of you are in connection with other theorists on different servers as well. Let’s try to figure out what these numbers might mean.”

As everyone started to work through their research, the discord server went quiet. You could almost feel the focus everyone had as they attempted to solve the puzzle. Some left the server as they had to either go to school or sleep. A mere 20 people remained, all working in silence, but the silence didn’t last long.

“Guys..?” A nervous theorists stumbled over their words.

“Yes?” the moderator replied.

“The time stamps? They’re.. they’re coordinates.”

An image was shared, it took a while to load, but when it did different sounds of shock and frustration were heard.

“It’s London..”

“Right”, the moderator collected her thoughts. “So, this thing is taking place at either midnight or lunchtime in London, presumably the local time, but that doesn’t really help us does it?”

“We still need a day and a specific location,” added another theorist. “But I think we’ve gone over everything in the mail. Not even the missing avatar has anything hidden.”

“Hold up, has anyone tried to actually respond to the mail?”

Voices started rambling through each other, which made everyone come to the conclusion nobody had come to that point yet. After furiously debating over what they should do, they decided that everyone should send a mail of their own to see what happens. But no matter what they sent, there just wouldn’t be a response, until one theorist loudly exclaimed victory.

“I did it! I just mailed ‘London’ and then the hour, kind of like I’m replying to the riddle and I got a response!”

The moderator shifted nervously on her seat, her throat felt like sandpaper: “What does it say?”

“It was an image. Let me show you. Here you go.”

Everyone went silent once more. They all knew what this was. The footage from that damned stream.

“It’s been a year, hasn’t it?” The moderator softly whispered into her microphone. “This weekend the night from Friday to Saturday. I think we’re celebrating the overnight watch.” Her eyes closely studied the picture as she recognized the cursed font they had all been screaming about each time they saw it on one of Jack’s video’s or posts.

“Time is broken”, the latecomer read out loud. “It’s all negative aswell. Are we actually going there? Like, there?”

The question lingered. Would they actually go there? Would something happen? Maybe they were taking it too far, maybe it was all a joke. Doubt made another share of the theorists leave the discord, some because they just couldn’t continue at this point, others because they didn’t believe it was a serious matter.

“I guess that makes six of us. Do you want to go through with this?” The moderator asked the remaining few. “Are we going? This Friday?”

The other five agreed, one of them lived relatively close to London, whilst the others were prepared to even fly over for this event. All of them were old enough to travel alone so if it turned out to be nothing they could always turn it into a meetup to hang out. They had been talking for over a year with all the Anti stuff going on, so they weren’t exactly strangers anymore.

“Let’s go for it.”

Friday – 5 minutes before midnight

It had been relatively quiet the days after the mail had been sent, Jack had been his usual self, posting video’s according to his schedule and nobody had mentioned the mail again.

The six theorists met up around lunchtime to spend some time together before they had to go to what they expected to be an event. It all felt surreal, but here they were, no turning back.

They were stood in front of the building and pressed the button of the intercom near the door. Instantly static began to break through the little box, followed by an almost deafening high pitched noise. As quick as it started, it stopped. The door unlocked and opened up on its own.

Hesitantly, one by one, they went inside.

“H-hello?” the moderator stepped into the front desk and looked around, but nobody was present.

Everything went dark.

The door slammed shut and nine monitors lit up in the corner.

The six theorists walked up to the monitors, displaying the same screens they had stared at all night exactly one year ago.

Except this time, they could see themselves, standing in the front desk.

Then something moved in the loading dock.

[yatorihell]

In The Darkness Chapter 11 - The Astronomy Tower

Words: 3,512

Summary: Yato, Yukine and Hiyori spend the night stargazing instead of doing their homework. 

Previous chapter | First chapter

Happy birthday @wolfisyatotrash!!!

Read on AO3

Yato spent most of his free time loitering and tailing Takemikazuchi and Kuguha whenever he thought they were up to something. The opportunity to raid their personal quarters, however, didn’t present itself, much to Yato’s dismay.

Hiyori and Yukine seemed to have dropped the subject, only enquiring about it when they were in private as to not draw attention to themselves. Yato was thankful that they were in separate houses as it meant that they wouldn’t be lingering around to make things more difficult for him, or to ask unwanted questions.

The remainder of winter dragged out, eventually giving away to longer hours of bleak sunshine and lashings of Great British weather, particularly rain and overcast days, as spring crept in.

When daffodils began to bloom unexpectedly overnight and the new leaves on the trees began to rustle, Hiyori’s thoughts turned to thoughts of Easter break which was a few weeks away. Until then, like the rest of the school, she was sat in class. Though this class was unlike her others.

Every Wednesday at midnight, she had a class. Quite an odd time, you would think, but not when you knew the subject was astronomy. The most impressive aspect of this class was its location; the Astronomy Tower. The highest tower in the whole castle overlooking the Great Lake which mirrored the night sky, only interrupted by gentle ripples breaking the illusion of perfect reflection. But the class’ interest did not lie below them, but spread above them.

Starlight slashed through the navy sky, intruded by smatterings of dark clouds here and there within the clusters of stars. Their task for tonight was to observe the Lyrid meteor shower, though no asteroids had appeared yet.

Sat on her decorative pillow with her brass telescope, Hiyori pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders and stifled a yawn. The professor’s voice was making it very hard to keep her eyes open, the soft droning about astral and celestial bodies was enough to make anyone fall asleep, even if it weren’t midnight.

Propping her head up with her arm resting on her drawn up knees, Hiyori stared at the sky listlessly, counting the stars as if they were sheep. In the semicircle they were sat in, Hiyori could see Yama with her head leaning heavily against Aimi’s shoulder, her mouth wide open as she snored. Aimi herself had removed her glasses, eyes too tired and strained to cope with paying attention through the eyepiece of her telescope.

A few metres away from Hiyori was Yukine, his own yellow blanket pulled over his head until he resembled a hooded figure Hiyori had seen in a film when she was younger.

E.T.? Hiyori thought mildly, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched the occasional bob of Yukine’s head, his chin hitting his chest and startling him back to attention.

He let the blanket fall from his head to his shoulders, showing his mussed up blonde hair, which was now sticking up in unruly tufts. Not bothering to cover his mouth, Yukine shamelessly yawned as often as he could in the hopes that the lesson would finish sooner. Or he would get released early.

Neither happened until the professor’s miniature cuckoo clock sprang to life, the ornate hands pointing the time to be 1 o’clock exactly.

Yama startled awake at the sound and Aimi’s head snapped up, feigning attentiveness as the class roused back to life, grateful for the class to be over and to be allowed to go to bed. The class dispersed slowly, others moving more slowly than others and a few people having to be woken by their friends before the teacher deducted points for lack of attention.

Hiyori stretched and yawned widely, folding her telescope down and bundling her things up into her arms and making her way to the tower door. With any luck, she would manage to get some sleep and manage her classes the next day.

~ 

Unfortunately, Hiyori didn’t get much sleep as dawn broke a few hours later, marking the start of a new day, and the beginning of Easter break. Late that afternoon after classes had finished, a few students had packed up ready to go home to rest before the exam season begun. Hiyori opted to stay and enjoy her free time; she wouldn’t get to see or use magic for a few months once the summer holidays started.

Although exhausted, Yukine still didn’t seem to want to go home, just like he hadn’t for Christmas. Part of Hiyori wanted to ask about his life – it must’ve been more interesting than hers – but some sort of barrier seemed to guard the topic.

Instead, they sat together in the near-empty Great Hall. Hiyori was trying to read the assignment that had been given to them as homework. Though it was near impossible as they hadn’t seen any asteroids or managed to identify the constellations, it was made harder by the fact that her sleep deprivation had begun to take its toll.

Yukine had completely given up his struggle to stay awake and planted his forehead firmly on the desk, ready to take a nap. Behind him, a familiar face appeared and seemed to get an evil idea to scare him until Hiyori cleared her throat. Yato looked up, his face falling a bit at Hiyori’s warning glare. Sitting down glumly, they both watched Yukine for a moment.

“What’s up with him?” Yato asked, debating if it was worth pulling some kind of prank on Yukine whilst he slept. A set of cat ears might suit him.

“We had a late class. Astronomy,” Hiyori stifled a yawn after answering, but Yato seemed interested.

“Astronomy?”

“Yeah, watching the Lyrids meteor shower.”

“See anything?”

“No, we’ll miss it,” Hiyori said, propping her chin up. “It doesn’t peak ‘til Saturday, and class is on Wednesday.”

Yato hummed quietly.

“Well why don’t we go watch it?” he asked, directing the question at the dozing lump of blond hair and Hiyori’s surprised face. Yukine rolled his head to the side, snippets of the conversation catching his attention enough for him to slur a response.

“It’s at four in the morning,” he reminded him, as that small detailed seemed to be lost to Yato.

“Good thing it’s Easter break then.”

“The best place to watch it is the Astronomy Tower.” Hiyori added, hoping that he would get the point.

He didn’t.

“I know.”

“It’s out of bounds.”

“So?” Yato had a mischievous look in his eyes. His newest scheme already threatening to get them kicked out of the school.

“And how,” Hiyori said with an exasperated sigh, “would we get up there?”

“I’ll get you two up there!” Yato exclaimed.

“I doubt your magic cloak can help us get through a locked door,” Hiyori said doubtfully.

Yato cracked a grin, eyes alight with a dreadful idea. Hiyori hadn’t exactly protested the idea, so maybe she would consider it.

“We don’t need to use a door.”

~

At 3:36AM both Hiyori and Yukine were sat on one of the boulders overlooking the lake, the inky-black water reflecting shafts of moonlight on its tides that lapped near their feet. As agreed – or rather, compelled – they had arrived at their vague meeting spot to go along with Yato’s completely ludicrous plan. Considering he had pointed out the blank star chart Hiyori had in front of her, his claims that this ‘private tutoring’ would ‘excel their studies’ was too good to pass up.

By the time Yato had arrived – fashionably late as usual –, Yukine was just about ready to leave as it was a few minutes until the meteor shower would peak. Yato’s feet crunched on the shingle as he approached, a broom taller than himself clutched in his hand. His standard black robe – which had been shoved at the bottom of his trunk until then – enshrouded his appearance and blended him into the night. Likewise, Hiyori and Yukine had followed his instructions to wear their own robes to keep some sense of anonymity. They were breaking and entering, after all.

“Evening!” he called out cheerfully.

Yukine and Hiyori turned to look over their shoulders and shuffled down off of their perch, lugging their bags over their shoulders. Yukine muttered some kind of profanity under his breath as they approached Yato who had stopped and leant on his broom as if it were a staff.

“You’re late,” Hiyori said before Yukine could rip into Yato.

Yato smirked. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Hiyori looked at the broom, recognising it as the Nimbus Two Thousand that Yato had flown in the November Quidditch match.

“I take it that this is what you meant when you said: ‘We don’t need to use a door’?”

“Correctamundo!” Yato said, standing up straight and holding the broom out in front of him. He let it fall, but it suspended itself in the air, patiently waiting for its owner.

“Not much space,” Yukine grumbled. He was getting antsy from his lack of sleep, and it was threatening to sour the mood. Yato breezed past the observation with a simple solution.

“I’ll fly you up first, then I’ll come back for Hiyori.”

Hiyori nodded duly, but Yukine gave Yato an untrusting glance. “How do I know you won’t drop me in the lake?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Yato declared as Yukine awkwardly sat in front of him, bag nearly hitting Yato in the face. A grin split across Yato’s face as he readied himself to lift off.

“I don’t believe badgers can swim!”

As soon as the gibe left his lips, and before Yukine could turn around to bash his head in, Yato had kicked his feet onto the stirrups and straightened his back, grin turning to one of lunacy as they rocketed across the lake. Yukine yelled in surprise, fighting to reclaim his balance whilst Yato cackled and steered them to the lake at alarming speed.

Hiyori let out a shriek of worry as her hands clapped over her mouth, watching them hurtle towards the face of the cliff before abruptly turning upwards and away, speed slowing considerably as they drifted to the top of the tower and disappeared from sight. No doubt Yukine was clinging to the broom for dear life and would try to beat the shit out of Yato once they landed – if he could see straight.

After a few moments Hiyori could make out the faint figure of Yato swooping back down to her, more elegantly than he did on his way up. Once he was low enough, Yato skidded the broom in mid-air so he came to a stop right by Hiyori’s side with a self-satisfied grin.

“Don’t even think of doing that to me.” Hiyori said icily, her trust in Yato’s ability to not splat her against the cliff fading fast.

“I couldn’t resist.” Yato’s grin didn’t waiver. Instead he drummed his fingers on the shaft of the broom. They stood apart quietly, Hiyori watching Yato and him looking back up at the tower. Eventually he looked back at her.

“Are you going to get on or what?” he asked in an impatient tone. Hiyori’s eyes flicked to his face, and back to the broom. She hadn’t flown – successfully – since her first lesson. So, never. First years couldn’t have their own brooms, so she didn’t have the opportunity to practice. Unless…

“Could I…?” Hiyori began to ask somewhat shyly, admiring the polished mahogany and brush bristles that hadn’t a straw out of place. Yato looked at her, confused, before clicking what she was getting at.

“You're a broom fanatic, I knew it!” he groaned dramatically, as if the very thought was enough to make his nauseous.

“What’s wrong with that?!” Hiyori shot back defiantly, “Brooms are cool!”

“So cool that you can't control yourself and crash them into the first person you can find?” Yato replied gibingly, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Hiyori opened her mouth to protest back, but shut it again. She couldn’t exactly refute her skills on a broom. She folded her arms over her chest in a pout, remembering obliterated broomstick from her first flying lesson.

“No way I'm letting you fly this thing after last time, I have a quidditch match next month,” Yato paused for a moment before adding “and I’d like to live.”

Hiyori shot him a deathly glare which Yato ignored, patting the space on the broom in front of him. “Come on.”

Hiyori sat – rather uncomfortably – in front of him. Trying not to slip back onto him would prove a difficult task as she had already seen the reckless way he flies. She leant forward and gripped the broom for dear life, expecting the worst, albeit Yato’s flying was much better than hers.

Yato tightened his grip on the broom behind Hiyori, entertaining the idea for moment if she were to fall into the Great Lake as soon they left the ground. Yato kicked his feet hard into the earth with enough force to lift them both of the ground. The broom wobbled slightly as Hiyori leant lower onto the broom like a cat on a wire, her eyes squeezed shut.

Yato nestled his feet in the curved grooves of the golden stirrups, steadily gaining height until they were high enough to skim over the surface of the lake and slowly glide up towards the Astronomy Tower, moonlight framing its silhouette against the black sky.

Yato looked at the dimly lit windows of the surrounding towers, wary if someone was watching them, before looking ahead. The lump of billowing robes in front of him told him Hiyori was not going to budge until she was back on solid ground.

“How’s the view up there?” he asked cheerfully, the smile evident in his voice.

“Dunno.” Hiyori’s voice was barely audible, muffled by the robes blowing up against her face.

“Open your eyes.”

Hiyori stayed silent. She didn’t move, or scream, so it was safe to assume that she hadn’t seen the view. Though it would’ve made the flight worse if she saw the drop to the rocks below and freaked out.

Within a few minutes they’d touched down on the cobbled stones of the Astronomy Tower. Yukine was lying flat on his back, the cushion from his bag propped his head up slightly. His arm was flung over his eyes as if he had given up on the whole plan, or was feeling extremely sick from his flight. Reason compelled Hiyori to believe it was the latter.

“You ok, Yukine?” Hiyori asked. Yukine grunted a yes, moving his arm and blearily looking at the two.

“You’re alive,” he remarked, slightly bitter that Hiyori looked unscathed from her flight, “good.”

“We wouldn’t be if she had flown,” Yato interjected, pacing over to Yukine, “she just about ripped the broom from my hands wanting to fly.”

“I did not!” Hiyori exclaimed loudly.

“You’re the reason first years can’t have brooms, Hiyori.” Yukine said, pushing himself up as Yato sat down beside him. He watched Hiyori who had walked to the edge of the tower, peering over the edge at the courtyard below, then up to the stars.

“Sit down,” he called, “it’ll start soon.”

Hiyori leant back and pushed herself firmly away from the wall, trotting over to sit on the other side of Yato. Shrugging off her bag, she pulled out a cushion which she wedged underneath her, and drew her arms out of her robes to make a cosy shroud. Another dive into her bag produced the star chart they had to complete, an astronomy book, and writing equipment.

“The Lyrids come from the constellation of Lyra,” Hiyori murmured. She scanned the sky for the familiar constellation amongst the smattering of stars. The chart was partly filled in, and the textbook gave her some guidance of what to look for given their position.

“We’re facing South so the meteors should come from…” Yato pointed at some abstract part of the sky, which Yukine and Hiyori squinted at, “there.”

“We know, we did this in class.” Yukine said tiredly. He had yet to take out his own homework. Hiyori had a sneaking suspicion that he would just copy his Hufflepuff friend.

Yato shrugged, face turned skywards in a temporary silence. After a moment, he pointed at the sky.

“That’s Draco, you can see the curve of its tail.” Yato swished his finger in the air to and fro at the invisible creature.

Hiyori searched for the semi-familiar shape of the constellation before Yato pointed out another before looking back at the textbook.

“On the right is Hercules,” he dragged his finger through the air, outlining the misshapen form of what was meant to be the Greek hero. Hiyori hummed distractedly, noting down star names and connecting them to make constellations that looked nothing like they should.

Yato fell quiet and tilted his face to the sky, looping his arms around his knees. Yukine had splayed out on the ground, fighting to keep his eyes open with his arms crossed behind his head. After a while Hiyori finished writing and pushed her bag away, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. The shower should be about to start.

Unsure of how much time had passed, or if he had fallen asleep and been left behind, Yukine cracked open an eye just in time to see the first meteor fly into his line of sight, and hear the wondrous ‘oh’ that Hiyori breathed.

A handful of white-hot fireballs grazed the night with blazing trails of stardust, snapping the trio’s attention here and there as they briefly streaked across the sky before fizzling out. For the first half hour they watched the kaleidoscope of comets whizzing through the air in a comfortable silence. Hiyori turned her head to the side. Yukine now had his eyes closed and his chest was moving rhythmically, whilst Yato was staring – quite literally – into space.

“Hey, Yato?”

Yato blinked once and moved his head slightly, humming slightly to show his attention.

“Thank you.”

Yato’s face still turned skyward but was slightly rosy. A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips. “You’re welcome.”

The shower ended as quickly as it had started. One hour after they had fell into a comfortable silence, with Yukine’s faint snores, the sky had lightened slightly and left no evidence of the spectacle they had witnessed. The mass of constellations that had been so easy to pick out were now obscured by dawn breaking through the valley, dipping the lake into light golden colours.

“Ready to go?” Yato asked quietly. There had been no meteors for 10 minutes, meaning the peak had passed. Hiyori hummed a yes, unfolding her body and stretching her legs out.

Yato tapped Yukine’s nose twice and watched it scrunch up as he cracked open his eyes.

“Time to go, Sleeping Beauty.” Yato gibbed. Yukine’s inability to process words, given that he had just woken up, may have saved Yato from a poorly-aimed punch.

Yukine rolled over onto his side and pushed himself up groggily. Hiyori and Yato had already stood up, Yato readying his broom to take them back down - a dreadful thought as he remembered his first-hand experience flying with Yato.

Yato caught the anguished look Yukine had and grinned. “I'll be good this time.”

Yukine grunted, getting to his feet and shoving his pillow and uncompleted homework into his bag. He sat in front of Yato again, hands clutching it tightly in case Yato had another surprise in store. He didn't.

The flight down took much longer than it did on the way up, probably because Yato had decided not to plummet downwards, and was more careful of being spotted as they flew low out of sight of the turret windows.

Yato didn't bother touching down, instead waiting for Yukine to hop off before gliding back towards the Astronomy Tower.

Hiyori quietly hopped on the broom once Yato had come back. She didn't lean down on the brooms this time, but still clutched it like a life and kept her eyes screwed shut as the descending feeling and the wind in her hair told her she was at the mercy of Yato’s flying. Not that he had been that bad the first time.

Yato let Hiyori jump off where he had left Yukine, who was dragging a hand across his eyes and looking sullen that his sleep had been interrupted. Dismounting, Yato pulled the hood of his cloak up. Yukine and Hiyori followed suit and began following Yato who had begun treading across the shingle. Their footsteps crunched and the unevenness made them stumble slightly until they reached the path.

With muted thanks and goodbyes, they kept their heads down as they quickly manoeuvred through the castle doors and split to their respective dorms, cloaks trailing stardust in their wake as a new day dawned on the castle.

[dickbaggins]

please friends enjoy this lil teaser of what will be this year’s long fic, my novel from nanowrimo16. this is a wincest(iel? I haven’t decided but as I was writing, it took a distinct turn towards the threesome, I’m as shocked as you are) au with the Winchesters as archaeologist-hunters in 1910/20s Egypt. I’ve only vaguely researched this so if there’s any historical issues, that’s all on me. Within the week, I should start posting this for realsies, so it won’t be quite as rough.

The sky looked different, depending on where you were. If you didn't travel, you never noticed it. You saw one sky your whole life and maybe it was a pretty good sky anyway, so you didn't want for anything. But if you travelled, you knew the pang of homesickness a strange sky sometimes induced.

Dean Winchester felt like he'd been homesick since he was twenty years old. The sky in Newport never looked the same after he sped home from the docks. In a way, nothing felt real since then.

Of course, all the alcohol helped to keep the world at large to more of an unpleasant buzzing in his ears, around the periphery of his mind. Between that and work, ten years flew by with alarming speed. If he didn't stop to consider things, they fell away. If he didn't keep moving, he'd die. So move he did.

This appointment was in Egypt. That meant crossing the Atlantic, which he'd done at least once a year for the past decade. At least. The ships were better now than they used to be, catering to a different class of people. The Winchesters could no longer afford the opulence, the gold-laden dining rooms and the full serving staff but there was a burgeoning tourist class that made the ships all the more comfortable now.

Dean liked that better, anyway. They knew to leave him alone. They kept to themselves.

After that, train after train after train. He took in the sky out the windows, watched it change from big to narrow, to big again. Watched countless sunsets wink in and out of existence. He didn't keep a journal. For all Dean knew, it could have been months in those sleeper cars with his father and Bobby.

Their destination neared and Dean felt like he always did: a detached excitement at what new things they might discover, coupled with a vague, tense fear. People died on these expeditions. People got trapped under the Earth, people suffocated in centuries-old tombs. Sometimes Dean thought that wouldn't be so bad.

You'd be lauded as a hero.

You'd also be dead.

These were both pretty great.

At midnight, at the crossing of a border, the dining car lights dimmed and Dean made his slow shuffle back to the sleeper car. John snored quietly on the top while Bobby was still sat on the other bunk, books and papers spread out in front of him, dimly lit under the buzzing electricity.

“We're carrying on to Turkey tomorrow,” he told Dean. “So you alone are representing us in this excavation.”

Dean nodded blearily, undoing his tie, shrugging off his jacket.

“Your father has a few requests.”

Dean glanced up at the bunk and nodded again; this was how they communicated, these days, through a friendly intermediary, simply because it was easier. They wouldn't fight, that way. John Winchester got to hand down his decrees and Dean could only nod mutely and take them under advisement. Further to the verbalized rules, there'd be a letter set out for him tomorrow morning before he departed reinforcing all of these things.

Don't fuck up, was the general tone. Sometimes eased into don't fuck up too hard. It depended.

“This is an important post we've secured for you. Working closely with state officials is difficult to pull off. You'll be answering to Daniel and his lot. And working for them, you understand? They say jump - “

“I ask how high, yes, I've been farmed out before.”

“True, but not to these folks. They can be demanding. Not strictly treasure hunters, you know?”

Dean frowned, unbuttoning his shirt, laying it out carefully at the end of his own too-small bed. “Our kind of hunters?”

“In a way,” Bobby answered, his eyes sweeping over his papers for a nervous second before returning to Dean. “They have goals They have things they're specifically looking to find and if you're less than thorough and less than completely forthcoming in your findings? You'll find yourself at odds with them.”

“Which would then besmirch the family name even further. Understood.”

“Detailed notes, detailed drawings. At the end of every week, you'll meet with the head parties and discuss what you've found. Nothing is to be removed unless they tell you. Nothing is to be sold overseas.”

“So we're barely getting paid.”

“Experience is it's own reward,” Bobby sighed, and he didn't mean it anymore than John had earlier, Dean knew. They were all of them in a tricky situation and making the best of their skill set. “Send us copies of your notes, though. I'm curious as to what's actually going on.”

“Oh?”

That barely piqued Dean's interest; mild intrigue was something, at least, something more than dusting off old vases with a delicate brush.

“Last I heard, there was some set of magical demonic jewelry, though why a Pharoh would have that is beyond me. Rumor has it Daniel is after those things specifically. But being buried so long? It's either negated all that power or else charged it up something fierce. If you find it...”

“I won't, Bobby,” Dean sighed, slinging his legs up onto the too-small cot, folding his hands under his head and watching the lights flicker against the top of the empty bunk above him. So easy to imagine the four of them crammed into this private space, but there was only three.

And anyway, if it were the four of them? They wouldn't be nearly destitute and taking on jobs like this, whoring themselves out to lesser men for meager pay. If they were four...

No. They weren't.

“I won't find anything of value, I'm sure,” Dean sighed, “Not with how many other people working alongside me? The chances are slim I find anything at all besides dog bones and ancient wine vessels. The usual detritus.”

“That's the other thing, Dean,” Bobby said, voice low and serious, which made Dean look over at him; he scratched at his beard, shuffled his papers. “There's no drinking. It's forbidden by religion, so...if you don't want to raise the ire of your charitable hosts, you'll have to lay off.”

Dean's gut squirmed nasty, nervous already about the proposition.

“Is that why you're not joining me here? Is that why you and my father are moving on? I notice he's sleeping fairly content, got his fill before they turned the lights off, did he? Stowed something away in his baggage?”

“Now, son-”

“Don't call me that, please,” Dean sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. Had he known this was his last chance? He'd have tanked up in the dining car, beyond what he'd already had to drink. Which was a lot, by anyone's standards, but just enough to get himself to sleep. Hopefully. “I'm sure I'll manage.”

“There's coffee that'll make you see through time, if that helps.”

“That's sort of the opposite of what I'm striving for.”

“Well...there is opium, if you're really hard pressed to relax. I know how it is, Dean, believe me, I do. After everything you've been through, no one faults you and your father for your predilections. Least of all me.”

“Thank you,” Dean muttered, hoping this was the end, hoping everything else was covered in the letter he'd get later in his father's tiny, precise handwriting.

“Get some rest,” Bobby said, and that was it. All Dean heard of him until he dozed off were papers shuffling, notes being scrawled, the usual noises. He found them comforting, at least, if nothing else in the world was. And even that small kernel of home, he'd leave at the train station come morning.

It was hot. Dean knew it would be hot and he'd been through hotter but it seemed unreasonably sunny. Maybe it was just the day or the hangover he wouldn't be able to rid himself of. Although he'd found, when he unpacked, a concealed bottle of whiskey, likely from Bobby, stashed among his clothes. Here for three months, there was no clear way to ration it to last that long, unless he sipped a thimble-ful every night. And to what end would that help him?

It wouldn't.

Nothing would.

Although, riding carriage from the train station to the American hotel, he'd seen an opium den on every corner, not unlike saloons. Every place had a favourite vice. He was sure it'd be days before he started partaking. If not hours.

Dean didn't unpack.

He only had an hour to himself and he spent it washing and dressing again. He combed his hair in the gold-framed mirror on his dark-blue wall and stared at the spectre of himself there. He looked far from a legendary explorer. Far from carrying on his family tradition. He looked like a ghost and he knew that he was, that he had to be, or else why would he feel so empty?

There was a convoy out of town, set up for the first day of the expedition. The entirely of the thing took only another hour, so close that they had no need for tents or sleeping in the rough, which suited Dean just fine. No one could see him shaking, sweating and vomiting. The nightmares too; those were his and his alone, once again.

He shared an open-topped carriage with two other men and a small woman decked out in absurd clothing, heavy tweeds and whites that would get soiled within the minute. But she had a sly look to her face, like there were secrets there. She talked in low tones to the man beside her, dark haired and dark tanned but with blue eyes that glowed in the sun. He reminded Dean of a particularly unruly cat they'd had back in Newport.

Not even eight hours without a drink, and this was what his mind was doing.

It all fell away as they approached the site.

Dean had seen things before, great wondrous things and things that made his head spin strange but all of them, every single one, was eclipsed in an instant. Great hulking stone structures jutted out of golden sand, toned the same so only the shadows and the scaffolds really distinguished them. The road clogged with traffic, with yelling in a tongue he didn't yet understand and carts full of artifacts, bumping along recklessly.

And men crawled everywhere, men in great white clothes and men dressed in the western fashion too. A few women slipped among them with parasols, dressed in drab travelling clothes but occasionally, he caught a flash of bright silk, violet or peach or baby blue, in keeping with the summer season. A melting pot bigger and broader than New York City or San Francisco. Noisier and dustier than both as well; vendors prowled the crowded street, yelling their wares. They stayed out of the way of their convoy, though, owing to the armed bodyguards flanking them front and back.

Handy.

The Sphinx rose up suddenly out of the mess of the crowd, half beautiful and half grotesque, chipping and dying and glorious all at once. Pictures and other depictions, even the stereo-scope Dean had spent so much time looking at in his youth, none of that did this vision any justice. Beholding it himself was breathtaking.

Even among all the shit and the dirt, the caterwauling and the dust, there was soaring beauty.

The world was like that.

At least, the world was like that for other people.

Dean saw, after further consideration, just a crumbling facade that, centuries later, vultures like him were picking apart, in the interest of science and history. Or else just for money, if they were being honest. Most of them were not honest.

He looked back into the carriage, considered the new stain of mud on his canvas and brown leather boots. Well, things would only get dirtier from here on in.

“You're Dean Winchester,” the woman opposite him said, her voice clear and loud, accent American and untraceable, rather like his.

So they were doing this; talking. It had taken long long minutes and he'd rather have done without but it was the polite thing to do.

He nodded, felt that placid, social smile tug automatically at the corners of his mouth.

“You're well-informed.”

“I'm Meg Masters, I'm sort of the right hand man on this expedition. So, yes, it's kind of my business. Your reputation precedes you.”

“It generally does, for good or for ill.”

“A little of both, I think.”

Dean felt the corner of his mouth lift despite detesting small talk; there was more to her than appeared, and he generally liked that about women, if nothing else.

“You'll like it here,” she assured him, tilting her hat against the sun and the sand as they rounded a corner. They passed the great amalgam of stone, head of a woman, body of a lion, and other assorted things, her vague expression betraying nothing. Rather like Meg's. “You haven't been briefed yet.”

“I am due for that once we're on site.”

“Mm, not really. That's the standard fare for everyone else. But you? You're a Winchester. We don't have you sorting through the same muck as everyone else.”

Were those devil's jewels real, Dean wondered? His father's letter expounded on it; a set of necklaces, bracelets and rings that would catapult the wearer to the throne of all Hell. It seemed far-fetched but everything did about this strange, undiscovered world under the sand.

“So what am I after?” Dean asked, tilting his head, eyes swerving towards the other two gentleman in the car.

“They're privy to all my information, don't worry. This is Castiel,” Meg introduced the man with the bright blue eyes beside her, clutching at his tawny jacket with her doe-skin gloves. “And this is Brady. Both in the employ of our leader and benefactor. So you're among friends, Dean.”

Dean nodded, considered both men a little longer and without reason to distrust them or the woman yet, he eased down. Listened attentively.

It was the same general malarkey he usually heard when hunting preternatural artifacts; ancient secrets, do not disturb, on and on and on. It wasn't just jewels, though Bobby had been half right; they did exist, supposedly, they did factor into Daniel's plan quite heavily.

Which itself was suspect, but Dean wasn't in the business of questioning his employer's motives. Dean was here to get paid.

Along with the set of jewelry, there were untold bottles with things trapped inside; djinn, ghul, demi-gods, demons. Any stoppered bottle was to be suspect, was to be catalogued carefully and announced immediately to the right people, Meg and her cronies, in fact, could assess the situation.

Beings trapped in bottles was entirely too rooted in fiction for Dean's tastes. He'd never come across one in reality, and he'd come across a great many strange things. Spirits, sometimes, clung onto possessions from their lives, attached themselves to trinkets or snuff boxes or dolls. But nothing, so far as Dean knew, could be trapped in a vessel.

And he did have hundreds of years of research behind him on this.

But, he smiled, nodded, listened and considered what he might find beyond the huge structures they passed. They came out of the crowded street and carried on behind some structures, further and further out until the yelling of the vendors faded away completely. It was just their ten carts and the quiet, the wind whipping past and the sand crackling faintly.

The briefing was more or less the same. Less ghosts and monsters, more keeping things intact and being extraordinarily careful.

Dean hid his shaking hands behind his back, mopped at his sweaty brow in turns and, generally, didn't look too out of sorts for the heat of the day and how it affected everyone else.

But his stomach felt knotted hard, his mind foggy.

They had rations of water, and water would not do the trick, not for this dry mouth.

Dean fell in with the troops, so to speak. They all marched through dug-out trails, flanked by men with torches along narrow walls. There were rooms open along each side, some dim and dark and empty, others bustling with activity. They walked for sweaty ages, or at least it seemed that way. Dean was finding time falling apart rapidly as his system flushed all the precious alcohol out.

His head pounded, he sweat everywhere. Still. Two, three months of this now. He had better get used to it.

The paper in his hand said 'cavern #13' and of course it would, of course they'd stuff a Winchester in the cursed number. He found it after half an hour of drudging alongside his compatriots and found himself immediately alone as they all continued forth.

That was well enough.

Dean sighed, sagged against the inside wall out of view and took a moment to himself. Peace and quiet. It was nice, at long last, after so much jostling and shouting and close quarters sweating. Alone.

Dean prized that moment.

He opened his eyes eventually, shrugged his jacket off, laid his hat on top of it on the dusty ground and shouldered his bag of tools. It wasn't heavy but he grunted, rapidly out of shape and missing the extra boost of physical confidence from the drink. Terrible, how it changed you.

Terrible how he wasn't sure he could live without it.

“Alright, cavern number thirteen,” Dean muttered to himself, glancing around the cramped space. Here and there, things poked out of the sandy dirt. He wasn't sure what this was, whether burial or something else. He was no expert in any case.

He started in the corner, far right, and noted the proceedings, which were: dust, dirt. More dust and dirt. Broken pottery. Dirt.

This room was utterly uninteresting, uninspiring and vaguely claustrophobic. Although the walls closing in could easily be any number of horrible reactions. Dean stood with his back to everything, his arm on the wall and his head on that, wiping his sweat off for the millionth time on his rolled up shirt-sleeves.

Was the cavern spinning? Or was that him?

Did it even matter, anymore? All he had were notes on dirt and debris.

A cool wind sailed through the place and Dean spun around, frowning deep enough that it nearly hurt his face.

And now, in the center of the cavern, resting on a sealed up sarcophagus half-covered with dirt, there was a vase. Green and gold, glinting, appearing to move in the torchlight and then it did move, side to side, threatening to topple and Dean sucked in a hard breath, raced to grab the strange new artifact.

He misjudged distance, time, everything going weird as he stretched his hand out of it and brushed it too hard with trebling fingers. The vase fell, cracked loud against the slab of stone and split into two, three pieces, big and wide but pieces nonetheless.

Dean swore, reaching out to grab them when the room darkened, the torch shivered nearly out and smoke rose from the cracked vessel.

Black smoke.

You couldn't rightly call yourself a purveyor of all things mystical without knowing exactly what that meant.

Dean swore out loud, scrambled back to his starting corner, the rough stone of the cavern walls biting into his skin. He had nothing, he'd brought nothing, not so much as a grain of salt or a can of paint.

The smoke swirled around the room, filled it up huge and billowing and stopped a moment. It seemed to peer into the dimness, seemed to be looking for something and Dean prayed quietly to himself, to anything and everything that it wouldn't jam itself down his throat.

It didn't.

The smoke approached him and two hands jutted out from it, alongside Dean's clean-shaven face. He felt a chill, shook with more tremors than before when it caressed his skin and reached inside of his head. He felt that too, a cold prickle up the back of his neck, goosebumps raising on his arms, over the whole of his body.

Oh, it could see everything of him. It felt him inside and out and took him apart and put him back together, it moved with no regard for his sanity and contentment, it only sought and found and Dean squeezed his eyes shut, praying again it wouldn't take him for a host.

It didn't.

It spun around the room again, filled up every corner and dove down fast, circling the vase over and over; Dean felt it rather than saw, felt the breeze and the horrible waiting and then it whispered his name, low and sweet.

Dean opened his eyes, blinked to adjust to the brightness in the room again, the torch settled and steady.

Standing barefoot on the wide sarcophagus, the smoke had taken a form, crammed itself into a shape.

And it happened to look exactly like Dean's long-lost baby brother.

[astrogeoguy]

Bright Stars, a Comet You can Catch, and the Waxing Moon Tours the Night’s Sights!

(Above: A double shadow transit caused by Io and Europa will occur on Jupiter on Thursday, August 23, as shown here at 10:40 pm EDT. Only observers west of the Eastern time zone will be able to see both shadows.)

Astronomy Skylights for this week (from August 19th, 2018) by Chris Vaughan. (Feel free to pass this along to friends and send me your comments, questions, and suggested topics.) I post these with photos at http://astrogeoguy.tumblr.com/ where the old editions are archived. You can also follow me on Twitter as @astrogeoguy! Unless otherwise noted, all times are Eastern Time. Please click this MailChimp link to subscribe to these emails. If you are a teacher or group leader interested joining me on a guided field trip to York University’s Allan I. Carswell Observatory, or another in your area, visit www.astrogeo.ca.

If you’d like me to bring my Digital Starlab inflatable planetarium to your school or other daytime or evening event, visit DiscoveryPlanetarium.com and request me. We’ll tour the Universe together!

Public Events

Every Monday evening, York University’s Allan I. Carswell Observatory runs an online star party - broadcasting views from four telescopes/cameras, answering viewer questions, and taking requests! Details are here. On Wednesday evenings after dark, they offer free public viewing through their telescopes. If it’s cloudy, the astronomers give tours and presentations. Details are here. 

On Tuesday, August 21, starting at 8:30 pm, the RASC Mississauga will host a free public star party at the Riverwood Conservancy. Details are here. 

On Thursday, August 23 at 6 pm, adults can enjoy some alcohol with their science at Solar System Social at Burdock on Queen St. West. A panel of experts will discuss Who Deserves To Explore Space. Tickets and details are here. 

On Friday, August 24, starting at 7 pm, the U of T AstroTour will present their planetarium show entitled Grand Tour of the Cosmos. Tickets and details are here. 

If it’s sunny on Saturday morning, August 25 from 10 am to noon, astronomers from the RASC Toronto Centre will be setting up outside the main doors of the Ontario Science Centre for Solar Observing. Come and see the Sun in detail through special equipment designed to view it safely. This is a free event (details here), but parking and admission fees inside the Science Centre will still apply. Check the RASC Toronto Centre website or their Facebook page for the Go or No-Go notification. 

The next RASC Public Event at the David Dunlap Observatory will be Speaker Night on Saturday, August 25. There will a lecture by an astronomer, space crafts, a tour of the giant 74” telescope, and viewing through lawn telescopes (weather permitting). The doors will open at 7:30 pm for an 8 pm start. Attendance is by tickets only, available here. If you are a RASC member and wish to help us at DDO in the future, please fill out the volunteer questionnaire here. And to join RASC, visit this page. 

A Binocular Comet

Comet 21P/Giacobini-Zinner has been gradually brightening for some time because it is approaching Earth’s orbit. This week, you should be able to see the faint fuzzy greenish object in binoculars or a small telescope, if you can escape city lights - and especially after midnight when the bright moon has set. The comet is in the north-northeastern sky and heading downwards every night on a track that lies about a fist’s diameter (10°) to the left of the bright star Mirfak in Perseus (the Hero). 

(Above: The path of Comet 21P/Giacobini-Zinner in the northeastern sky this week, shown here at 11 pm local time.)

The Moon and Planets

This week ends with next Sunday’s August full moon, known as the “Sturgeon Moon”, “Red Moon”, “Green Corn Moon”, and “Grain Moon”. This one always shines in or near the stars of Aquarius (the Water-Bearer) or Capricornus (the Sea-Goat), but you’ll be hard-pressed to see the dim stars in those modest constellations due to so much bright moonlight. 

Full moons occur when the moon is at opposition, with Earth positioned between our natural satellite and the sun. Because of this, full moons always rise around sunset and set around sunrise. They are illuminated by vertically arriving sunlight, so nothing on the moon can cast a shadow when viewed from Earth. Moon phases can occur at any time of the day or night. This one occurs at 7:56 am Eastern Daylight time on Sunday morning, so the moon will appear a hair less than full on Saturday evening, and a hair less than full on Sunday evening, too. Binoculars or a telescope will reveal a narrow strip of shadowed terrain along the moon’s left (its western) edge on Saturday. That strip will shift over to the moon’s right (its eastern) edge on Sunday evening. To see the moon completely free of shadows, i.e., precisely full, you will need to look at it at the time I mentioned above. 

Meanwhile, the moon will make a pretty sight in our evening sky all week long as it waxes fuller and slides eastward along its orbit. Tonight, it will be perched above the distinctive constellation of Scorpius (the Scorpion), about a fist’s diameter above that deadly creature’s heart, the bright reddish star Antares “Rival of Mars”. 

In the southern sky after dusk on Monday, the waxing gibbous moon will sit 4 finger widths to the upper right of bright, yellowish Saturn. The two objects will easily fit within the field of binoculars. Over the course of the evening, the moon’s separation from the ringed planet will have noticeably decreased due to the moon’s eastward motion. 

(Above: On Tuesday evening, August 21, as shown here at 11 pm local time, the moon will sit above the easy-to-see Teapot-shaped asterism of Sagittarius. Once the moon leaves the sky next week, look for the Milky Way’s “steam” rising from the spout.)

On Tuesday evening, the moon will shift to sit above the Teapot-shaped asterism of stars that form Sagittarius (the Archer). This informal star pattern features a flat bottom formed by the stars Ascella “Armpit” on the east and Kaus Australis “Southern Bow” on the west, a triangular pointed spout pointing west, marked by the star Alnasl “Arrowhead”, and a pointed lid marked by the star Kaus Borealis “Northern Bow”. The stars Nunki and Tau Sagittarii form its handle. The asterism reaches maximum height above the southern horizon around 10 pm local time, when it will look as if it’s serving its hot beverage –the Milky Way appearing to be the steam rising as the teapot pours its celestial brew. (To see the Milky Way’s “steam”, look next week when the moon has moved away.) I’ll post a sky chart here. 

On Wednesday and Thursday evening respectively, the moon will hop from bright reddish Mars’ upper right to its upper left.

(Above: The early evening sky, shown here Sunday evening at 9 pm local time, features all the naked-eye planets - Venus, Jupiter, Saturn, and Mars.) 

Extremely bright Venus is descending the western early evening sky a little by little each day as its orbit begins to carry it back towards the sun. Tonight it will set at about 9:45 pm local time and a week from now that will move up to 8:30 pm. Meanwhile, the bright planet will appear to be approaching the bright star Spica in Virgo (the Maiden). The effect is caused by Earth’s motion carrying the entire sky westward faster than Venus is moving. They’ll “kiss” next week! In a small telescope, Venus’ disk will resemble a first quarter moon, half-lit on the sunward side (although your telescope might flip the view). The planet will also be growing larger in apparent diameter because it is travelling towards the Earth right now. 

We only have a few more good weeks to enjoy Jupiter this year. This week, the very bright planet will appear in the southwestern sky soon after dusk, and then set in the west-southwest at about 11:15 pm local time. Tonight, Jupiter, which has been slowly shifting eastwards, will pass close above nearby bright star Zubenelgenubi, the brightest star in Libra (the Scales). From here out it will draw farther away every night. In binoculars, you’ll plainly see that Zubenelgenubi is a pair of stars. While you have the binoculars handy, see if you can see Jupiter’s four Galilean moons (Io, Europa, Callisto, and Ganymede) flanking the planet. 

From time to time, the small round black shadows cast by Jupiter’s four Galilean moons become visible in backyard telescopes as they cross (or transit) the planet’s disk. On Thursday, August 23, Io’s shadow will begin to transit at 10:02 pm EDT. Europa’s shadow will join Io’s at 10:58, just as Jupiter is setting in the Eastern time zone, but observers in the west can watch the event. A reasonable backyard telescope will show the black shadows, but a very good telescope is needed to see the moons themselves. More shadow transits are available in other time zones around the world, including some double shadow ones. 

The Great Red Spot (or GRS, for short) takes about three hours to cross Jupiter’s disk. But the planet’s 10-hour rotation period (i.e., its day) means that the spot is only observable from Earth every 2-3 nights. If you’d like to see the GRS, use a medium-sized telescope (or larger). You’ll have your best luck on evenings with steady air – when the stars are not twinkling too much. Try to look within an hour before or after the following times: Sunday, August 19 at 9:46 pm and Friday, August 24 at 8:56 pm. All times are given in Eastern Daylight Time (EDT), so adjust for your local time zone. 

Around 8:40 pm local time, when the first bright stars appear overhead, medium-bright Saturn will appear not too high up the darkening southern sky. The yellow-tinted planet will reach its highest elevation of about 2 fist diameters above the southern horizon at around 9:30 pm, and then descend to set in the west at about 2 am local time. This summer, the ringed planet has been 4 finger widths to the upper right of the “lid” star of the Teapot in Sagittarius (the Archer). As the sky darkens, even a small telescope should be able to show you some of Saturn’s larger moons, especially Titan. Using a clock’s dial analogy, Titan will move counter-clockwise this week from a position at 7 o’clock (to the lower left of it) to 2 o’clock (left from the planet). (Remember that your telescope might flip and/or invert the view. Use the moon to find out how your telescope changes things.) 

Mars will still be very bright this week. Visually, it will appear pink or orangey due to the global dust storm it has experienced recently. Mars will rise over the southeastern horizon at around 7:30 pm local time (give or take, depending on your latitude) and then climb higher until 11:30 pm local time, when it will reach an elevation of about 20° (or two outstretched fist diameters) above the southern horizon. (That will be the best hour to view the planet in a telescope because it will then be shining through the least amount of Earth’s distorting atmosphere.) Note that 20° is lower than many trees and buildings, so a clear southern vista is essential.

(Above: The ice giant planets Uranus and Neptune rise late and remain in view all night to the east of Mars, as shown here at midnight this week.) 

At visual magnitude 5.8, blue-green coloured Uranus is visible from late evening until dawn. You can see it without optical aid under very dark skies, or in binoculars and telescopes under moderately light-polluted skies. The ice giant planet is located in the eastern sky, about 4.5 finger widths to the left of the modestly bright star Torcular (Omega Piscium), which is above the “V” where the two starry cords of Pisces (the Fishes) meet. 

Using a decent quality telescope you can also see the distant and very blue planet Neptune among the dim stars of Aquarius (the Water-bearer). It will rise in the east shortly before 9 pm local time. Look for the magnitude 7.8 planet sitting 1.75 finger widths to the right of the modestly bright star Phi (φ) Aquarii and 4 finger widths to the left of the brighter star Hydor (Lambda Aquarii). 

Mercury will be observable in the eastern pre-dawn sky this week. Look for it low above the east-northeastern horizon at around 5:45 am local time. Next Sunday, Mercury will reach an angle of 18 degrees west of the Sun, its widest separation for this appearance. That means it will rise well before the sun, in a somewhat darker sky. You’ll be able to see it between about 5:15 and 6 am local time.

(Above: On Sunday, August 26, Mercury will reach its largest angle from the sun, and maximum visibility for this morning appearance, as shown here at 5:45 am local time.)

Bright Stars Roundup

The first stars to appear in late August evenings are the bright, white stars of the Summer Triangle asterism - Vega, Deneb, and Altair. At dusk, they are high in the eastern sky and pass the zenith at about 11 pm local time. This annual feature of the summer sky will remain visible until the end of December! At magnitude 0.03, Vega is the brightest star in the summer sky, mainly due to its relative proximity to the sun of only 25 light-years. Altair is only 17 light-years from the sun, but Deneb is a staggering 2,600 light-years away; so bright because of its far greater inherent luminosity. 

Stars shine with a colouration that is produced by their surface temperatures, and this is captured in their spectral classification. Our sun is a yellowish G-class star with a surface temperature of 5,800 K. The three bright stars of the Summer Triangle are A-class stars that appear blue-white to the eye and have high surface temperatures in the range of 7,500 to 10,000 K. Look in the western sky for orange Arcturus, a K-class giant star with a temperature of only 4,300 K. Sitting low in the southwest, reddish Antares, the heart of Scorpius, is an old M-class star with a surface temperature of 3,500 K. By comparing these stars colours’ to other stars, you can estimate those stars’ temperatures.

Keep looking up to enjoy the sky! I love getting questions so, if you have any, send me a note.