#tarasque press

[garadinervi]

Ian Hamilton Finlay, Ocean Stripe 5, Tarasque Press, Nottingham, 1967 [Granary Books, New York, NY]

Text from essays on phonic poetry by Ernst Jandl, Paul de Vree and Kurt Schwitters; postscript by Kurt Schwitters; acknowledgments for the text and the Schwitters poem to the magazine Form. Black and white photographs from Fishing News

[artistrichardhfay]

List of Publications: Cover Artworks, Interior Illustrations, and Filler Artworks

2021

“The Dark Host” (reprint illustration), Night to Dawn 40, October 2021, published June 13, 2021. “Manticore” (reprint illustration), Classically Educated: A Place for Global Citizens and Polymaths, February 26, 2021. “Male Merrow” (reprint illustration), Classically Educated: A Place for Global Citizens and Polymaths, February 24, 2021. “Draco” (reprint illustration), Classically Educated: A Place for Global Citizens and Polymaths, February 22, 2021. “Pixies in the Porridge” (reprint illustration), Spaceports & Spidersilk, February 2021. “Galactic Road Trip (2018)” (illustration), Spaceports & Spidersilk, February 2021. “Conjuring the Dragon” (reprint cover art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, February 2021.

2020

“Not What They Expected” (illustration/filler art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, October 2020. “Fantasy Winery” cover art and shop signs interior illustrations, Adventure Havens: Brewers, Distillers, and Vintners, Bards and Sages Publishing, June 2020. Altered Reality Magazine ad promoting Herb Kauderer's poem "The Making of Dragons", ad space on back cover of Star*Line, Spring 2020. “Manticore” (illustration), Altered Reality Magazine, March 17, 2020. Merfolk illustration series ("Ningyo", "Male Merrow", "Havmand", "Bonito Maiden", Kaaiman", "Mermaid", Altered Reality Magazine, January 5, 2020.

2019

“Visiting the Pool of the Piptrixons” (cover art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, July 2019. “Ithaqua” (cover art), Bards and Sages Quarterly, January 2019.

2018

“Hiding From Stinkbottom Troll” (cover art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, October 2018. Front cover art, back cover art, and frontispiece for Herb Kauderer's poetry collection Recalibrating the Future, Diminuendo Press, July 2018. Draconic creatures illustration series ("Seven-Headed Wyvern", "Draco", "Lindwurm", "Lambton Worm", "Wyvern", "Tatzelwurm", "Tarasque", "Hydra", "Peluda", "Gargouille"), Altered Reality Magazine, June 17, 2018. “Defending the Manor” (cover art), Bards and Sages Quarterly, April 2018. Cover art and design for Trio of Terror: Three Horror Stories by Richard H. Fay [Kindle Edition], May 2018. Cover art and design for Four by Fay: Four Fantasy Stories by Richard H. Fay [Kindle Edition], January 2018. “First One to the Top Wins” (cover art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, January 2018.

2017

“Robot Dragon Writing in Scroll” art for Altered Reality Magazine ad, July, 2017

2016

“Fantasy Apothecary Shop” cover art and shop signs interior illustrations, Adventure Havens: Apothecaries and Alchemists, Bards and Sages Publishing, December, 2016. “Friends No Matter The Differences” (artwork sample), Altered Reality Magazine website art gallery, October 2016. “Fairy Dance” (artwork sample), Altered Reality Magazine website art gallery, October 2016. “A Midwinter’s Night on Ertrixia” (artwork sample), Altered Reality Magazine website art gallery, October 2016. “King Troll” (artwork sample), Altered Reality Magazine website art gallery, October 2016. “Telling Tales” (reprint artwork sample), Altered Reality Magazine website art gallery, October 2016. “Under the Ice on Enceladus” (reprint artwork sample), Altered Reality Magazine website art gallery, October 2016. "The Brownie" (reprint), Altered Reality Magazine website art gallery. October 2016. "Shedroid on Tentacles" (reprint), Altered Reality Magazine website art gallery, October 2016. "Nessiterix Attacks an Elephoid" (reprint), Altered Reality Magazine website art gallery, October 2016. "Hunting the Queegiog" (reprint), Altered Reality Magazine website art gallery, October 2016. "Tiger and Dragon" illustration for Vince Gotera's "Menage à Tiger and Dragon", Altered Reality Magazine, October 2016. "Scootering with the Wind Riders" (cover art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, July 2016 Issue, July 2016.

2015

“Monster in the Ruin” (cover art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, October 2015 Issue, September 2015. “Grinning Redcap” (illustration), Night to Dawn 28, October 2015 Issue, July 2015. “Telling Tales” (cover art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, April 2015 Issue, March 2015. “It Wants To Come In” (illustration), Night to Dawn 27, April 2015 Issue, February 2015. “Morgan Le Fay” (cover art), Bards and Sages Quarterly, Volume VII, Issue 1, January 2015.

2014

Illustration for Jim Lee's "In Pursuit of the Wolfchildren", The Lorelei Signal, Oct - Nov '14 Issue, October 2014. Illustration for M. R. Timson's "Cry Wolf", Sorcerous Signals, Aug - Oct '14 Issue, August 2014. Illustration for Darryl Fifield's "One Day in Feradon", Sorcerous Signals, Aug - Oct '14 Issue, August 2014. Illustration for Joyce Frohn's "Room 116", The Lorelei Signal, Jul - Sept '14 Issue, July 2014. Illustration for the Mystic Signals exclusive story "The Doom of Mournshire" by Benjamin Sperduto, The Lorelei Signal, Jul - Sept '14 Issue, July 2014. “Under the Ice on Enceladus” (cover art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, July 2014 Issue, June 2014. Illustration for Will Maier's "A Pale Green Blade", Sorcerous Signals, May - Jul '14 issue, May 2014. Illustration for M.J. Waller's "A Plague of Daffodils", Sorcerous Signals, May - Jul '14 issue, May 2014. Illustration for the Mystic Signals exclusive story "Uncle Jusquin" by DeAnna Knippling, Sorcerous Signals, May - Jul '14 issue, May 2014. “Reflections” (filler art), Star*Line, Volume 37, Issue 2, Spring 2014, April 2014. “Dracopterix Pursues Quad Fliers” (filler art), Star*Line, Volume 37, Issue 2, Spring 2014, April 2014. Illustration for Charles Kyffhausen's Mystic Signals exclusive story "Rebellion", The Lorelei Signal, April - June 2014 Issue, April 2014. Illustration for Francis W Alexander's "My Pet, His Pet", Sorcerous Signals, Feb - Apr '14 Issue, February 2014; also Mystic Signals, Issue 20, 5th Anniversary Double Issue, February 2014. Illustration for "An Evil in Carnlinton", Sorcerous Signals, Feb - Apr '14 Issue, February 2014; also Mystic Signals, Issue 20, 5th Anniversary Double Issue, February 2014. Illustration for the Mystic Signals exclusive story "A Deal's a Deal" by DC Harrell, Sorcerous Signals, Feb - Apr '14 Issue, February 2014; also Mystic Signals, Issue 20, 5th Anniversary Double Issue, February 2014. “Shroudeater” (illustration), Night to Dawn 25, April 2014 Issue, February 2014. “In Its Eye” (filler art), Star*Line, Volume 37, Issue 1, Winter 2014, January 2014. Illustration for Melissa Embry's "After the War", The Lorelei Signal, Jan - Apr '14 Issue, January 2014; also Mystic Signals, Issue 20, 5th Anniversary Double Issue, February 2014. Illustration for Rachael Acks' "And Still Champion", .The Lorelei Signal, Jan - Apr '14 Issue, January 2014; also Mystic Signals, Issue 20, 5th Anniversary Double Issue, February 2014. Illustration for Matthew Wilson's "The Old Witch", .The Lorelei Signal, Jan - Apr '14 Issue, January 2014; also Mystic Signals, Issue 20, 5th Anniversary Double Issue, February 2014. “They Come in Peace” (cover art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, January 2014.

2013

“The Devourer Cometh” (cover art), Disturbed Digest, Issue 3, December 2013. Illustration for Michael Hodges' "Swampy Transitions" (cover art), Plasma Frequency, Issue 9, December/January 2013/14, December 2013. “Gothic Window” (reprint illustration), Bete Noire, Issue #13, November 2013. “Legion” (filler art), Star*Line, Volume 36, Issue 4, Autumn 2013, October 2013. “The Dark Host” (reprint illustration), Disturbed Digest, Issue 2, September 2013. “The Brownie” (illustration), FrostFire Worlds, Issue 1, August 2013. Illustration for Anna Sykora's "The Oak Witch's Helper", Sorcerous Signals, Aug. - Oct. '13 Issue, August 2013. Illustration for Edward Ahern's "Blood Will Out", Sorcerous Signals, Aug. - Oct. '13 Issue, August 2013. Illustration for Erin Cole's "Her Quest for a Beating Heart", The Lorelei Signal, July-September 2013 Issue, July 2013. Illustration for Heidi Wainer's "The Specters of Haveroan", The Lorelei Signal, July-September 2013 Issue, July 2013. “Confronting the Dragon” (cover art), Bards and Sages Quarterly, Volume V, Issue III, July 2013. “Peg Powler” (cover art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, July 2013. “Over the Top” (cover art), Youth Imagination, Issue 2, May 2013. “Shedroid on Tentacles”, [NAMEL3SS] Magazine, Issue 2 (Fall/Winter 2012), May 2013. Illustration for Matthew Wilson's "The Sorcerer", Sorcerous Signals, May - Jul '13 Issue, May 2013. Illustration for Robert Collins' "The Templar Conspiracy", Sorcerous Signals, May - Jul '13 Issue, May 2013. Illustration for Charles Von Nordheim's "The Yeoman Praises Wizards", Sorcerous Signals, May - Jul '13 Issue, May 2013. “Nessiterix Attacks an Elephoid” (filler art), Star*Line, Volume 36, Issue 2, April 2013. Illustration for Alexander Gonzalez's "Shade Creeper", Postscripts to Darkness, Volume 3, April 2013. Illustration for James K. Moran's "Carl and Monty’s Prairie Wager", Postscripts to Darkness, Volume 3, April 2013. “Tentacled Monstrosity” (illustration), Bete Noire, Issue #10, February 2013. “Giant Alien Bug” (illustration), Beyond Centauri, January 2013. “Jungun Catching a Quibbib” (filler art), Dreams & Nightmares 94, January 2013. Illustration for Beth Powers' "Nothing Altered", Plasma Frequency, Issue 4, February/March 2013. “It Rises From the Ooze” (filler art), Star*Line, Volume 36, Issue 1, January 2013. “Aliens Entwined” (filler art), Star*Line, Volume 36, Issue 1, January 2013.

2012

“Pixies in the Porridge” (illustration), Aoife's Kiss, Issue 43, December 2012. “When Wizards Clashed” (illustration), Sorcerous Signals, Nov '12 - Jan '13 Issue, November 2012. “The Dark Host” (illustration), Hungur, Vol. VIII, No. 1, All Souls' Night 2012. Illustration for Lindsey Duncan's "Mythocraft" (cover art), Plasma Frequency, Issue 2, October/November 2012. “Hunting the Queegiog” (filler art), Dreams & Nightmares 93, September 2012. “Faces and Figures in the Mist” (illustration), parABnormal Digest, Issue 4, September 2012. “Kamal Del and the Dark Elemental” (door art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, Vol. 5, No. 3, September 2012. Illustration for Nyki Blatchley's "Aslahkar", Plasma Frequency, Issue 1, August/September 2012. “Battle Beneath the Mere” (illustration), NewMyths.com, Issue 19, June 2012. “Adrift in Another Dimension” (filler art), Dreams & Nightmares 92, May 2012. “Tree-Climbing Crimbolain” (reprint illustration used as cover art), Kids'Magination Magazine, Issue 11, May 2012. “Mechanical Dragon” (illustration), Beyond Centauri, Issue 36, April 2012. “In the Dragon Realm” (cover art), Kids'Magination Magazine, Issue 8, February 2012. “An Invitation to Elfame” (cover art), Bards and Sages Quarterly, January 2012.

2011

“Crossing the Ertrixian Snowfields” (door art), Spaceports & Spidersilk, December 2011 Illustration for "Old Fashioned Police Work" by Matt Adams, Strange, Weird, and Wonderful Magazine, Fall '11 Issue, October 2011. “Holiday on Phreetum Prime” (reprint illustration used as cover art), Kids'Magination Magazine,, Issue 4, October 2011 . Cover art for How We Play Football in Alabama And Other Short Stories From Doug's World by Doug Hilton, September 2011. “Welcome Sign” (illustration), How We Play Football in Alabama And Other Short Stories From Doug's World by Doug Hilton, September 2011. “Internut” (reprint illustration), How We Play Football in Alabama And Other Short Stories From Doug's World by Doug Hilton, September 2011. “Warring Ants” (reprint illustration), How We Play Football in Alabama And Other Short Stories From Doug's World by Doug Hilton, September 2011. “Maginot Line Fortification Cross-Section” (reprint illustration), How We Play Football in Alabama And Other Short Stories From Doug's World by Doug Hilton, September 2011. “Conjuring the Dragon” (cover art), OG's Speculative Fiction, Issue #32, September 2011. “Mighty Steed, White Dragon” (cover art), Kids'Magination Magazine, Issue 2, August 2011. “Morning Stars Sing in the Speculative Realm” (frontispiece), While the Morning Stars Sing, ResAliens Press, August 2011. Illuminated Letters & Knotwork Embellishments, Lancelot by Alex Ness & Guy-Francois Evrard (special edition), Diminuendo Press, August 2011. “An Eldritch Herald” (illustration), Bete Noire, Issue #4, July 2011. “Elf and Troll” (cover art), Bards and Sages Quarterly, Volume III, Issue 3, July 2011. “What Greets Me at the End” (illustration), Cover of Darkness, May 2011. “Creeping Slime Hulk”, artwork sample accompanying artist profile, The Gloaming, April 4, 2011. “Aliens Entwined”, artwork sample accompanying artist profile, The Gloaming, April 4, 2011. “Kreonan Sky Devil”, .artwork sample accompanying artist profile, The Gloaming, April 4, 2011. “The Greemlogorg”, artwork sample accompanying artist profile, The Gloaming, April 4, 2011. “Meeting the Insectoids” (cover art), Beyond Centauri, Issue 32, April 2011. “My Macabre Valentine” (illustration), House of Horror, Issue One (print), February 2011. “Wandering Ole Willow” (cover art), OG's Speculative Fiction, Issue #28, January 2011.

2010

Cover art for Shelly Bryant's poetry collection Under the Ash, Sam's Dot Publishing, December 2010. “Edward IV/Fifteenth Century English Knight” (illustration), Abandoned Towers, Issue 7 (print), November 2010. “Poleaxe of Edward IV” (illustration), Abandoned Towers, Issue 7 (print), November 2010. “The Iltrox” (illustration), House of Horror, Issue 16, October 2010. Cover art for David C. Kopaska-Merkel's poetry collection Brushfires, Sam's Dot Publishing, October 2010. “When Wizards Dream at Night” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, July 2010. “Excalibur” (coloring page), Abandoned Towers, Issue 6 (print), July 2010. “Robert the Bruce” (illustration), Abandoned Towers, Issue 6 (print), July 2010. “Elgin Sword of Bruce” (illustration), Abandoned Towers, Issue 6 (print), July 2010. “Hawthornden Sword” (illustration), Abandoned Towers, Issue 6 (print), July 2010. “Tree-Climbing Crimbolain” (illustration), Beyond Centauri, Issue 29, July 2010. “From the Bubbling Black Pool” (filler art), Dreams & Nightmares 86, May 2010. “Shroudeater”, Hungur, Issue 10, Walpurgisnacht 2010. “William the Conqueror” (detail), artwork sample accompanying artist interview, Residential Aliens, April 2010. “Knight”, artwork sample accompanying artist interview, Residential Aliens, April 2010. “King Arthur”, artwork sample accompanying artist interview, Residential Aliens, April 2010. “William Wallace”, artwork sample accompanying artist interview, Residential Aliens, April 2010. “Eastern Dragon”, artwork sample accompanying artist interview, Residential Aliens, April 2010. “St. George as a 14th Century Knight”, artwork sample accompanying artist interview, Residential Aliens, April 2010. “West Dingleton's Loss of Humanity” (reprint), artwork sample accompanying artist interview, Residential Aliens, April 2010. “A Leviathan Ascendant” (reprint), artwork sample accompanying artist interview, Residential Aliens, April 2010. “Tom-Tit-Tot” (reprint illustration also part of the Fairies and Dragons Series), Illumen, Spring 2010. “Android Attack” (coloring page), Abandoned Towers, Issue #5, March 2010 . “Galactic Road Trip” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, February 2010. “Plantimal” (filler art), Dreams & Nightmares 85, January, 2010.

2009

“Nanomite 323” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, December 2009. “The Haunted Isle” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, December 2009. “West Dingleton's Loss of Humanity” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, December 2009. “A Leviathan Ascendant” (reprint cover art used as door art), MindFlights, November 2009. “Internut” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, November 2009. “Holiday on Phreetum Prime” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, November 2009. Robin in Sherwood Forest (coloring page), Abandoned Towers, Issue 4 (print), November 2009. “Amongst Faerie Oaks” (illustration), Abandoned Towers, Issue 4 (print), November 2009. “The Banshee's Cry” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, October 2009. “Cosmic Journey” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, October 2009. “The Birth of Sentience on Aggraboth V” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, October 2009. “They've Come For Me Again” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, October 2009. A Leviathan Ascendant (cover art and interior coloring page), Abandoned Towers, Issue 3 (print), July 2009. “Memories of Camelot” (illustration), Abandoned Towers, Issue 3 (print), July 2009. “The Armour of Loki” (illustration), Abandoned Towers, Issue 3 (print), July 2009. “Bearing Sword” (divider art), Abandoned Towers, Issue 3 (print), July 2009. “Polypod at Home” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, June 2009. “Temporal Crack” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, June 2009. “Barixas Hunt” (filler art), Dreams & Nightmares 83, May 2009. “The Faces” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, May 2009. “Medieval Dragon Design” (divider art), Abandoned Towers, Issue 2 (print), March 2009. “Book of Dimensions” (reprint illustration), Abandoned Towers, Issue 2 (print), March, 2009. “Wander the Ether” (aka “Ethereal Journey”) (reprint illustration), Horror Bound Magazine, January 2009. “Demons of the Dark Nebula” (reprint illustration), Horror Bound Magazine, January 2009. “Things in the Swamp” (reprint illustration), Horror Bound Magazine, January 2009. “Gothic Window” (reprint illustration), Horror Bound Magazine, January 2009. “Tom-Tit-Tot” (reprint illustration also part of the Fairies and Dragons Series), Horror Bound Magazine, January 2009. “Forest of the Damned” (reprint illustration), Horror Bound Magazine, January 2009. “The Unseelie Court” (reprint illustration), Horror Bound Magazine, January 2009. “Warring Ants” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, January 2009. “Maginot Line Fortification Cross-Section” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, January 2009.

2008

“Unicorn Enwreathed” (illustration), Abandoned Towers, Issue 1 (print), November 2008. “The Professor Speaks” (illustration), Abandoned Towers, Issue 1 (print), November 2008. “Wander the Ether” (aka “Ethereal Journey”) (reprint illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, October 2008. “Tom-Tit-Tot” (reprint illustration also part of the Fairies and Dragons Series), Macabre Cadaver, Issue 3, October 2008. “Things in the Swamp” (reprint illustration), Macabre Cadaver, Issue 3, October 2008. “Wander the Ether” (aka “Ethereal Journey”) (reprint illustration), Macabre Cadaver, Issue 3, October 2008. “Forest of the Damned” (reprint illustration), Macabre Cadaver, Issue 3, October 2008. “The Unseelie Court” (reprint illustration), Macabre Cadaver, Issue 3, October 2008. Fairies and Dragons Series (reprint illustrations), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, August 2008. “Eldritch Miasma” (illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, August 2008. “Things in the Swamp” (reprint illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, August 2008. “Gothic Window” (reprint illustration), on-line version of Abandoned Towers, August 2008. Viking Sword Series (illustrations), Flashing Swords, Issue 11, August 2008. Fairies and Dragons Series (illustrations), Flashing Swords Special Edition, Summer 2008. Viking Age Weapons Series (illustrations), Flashing Swords, Issue 10, April 2008. “Wander the Ether” (aka “Ethereal Journey”) (illustration), Scifaikuest, Issue 20, May 2008. “Demons of the Dark Nebula” (illustration), Hungur, Issue 6, Walpurgisnacht 2008. “Tyler's Ghosts” (illustration), Flashing Swords, Issue 9, February 2008. “John Humble Versus Wolf-Head” (illustration), Flashing Swords, Volume 2, Issue 8, January 2008. “Things in the Swamp” (illustration), Champagne Shivers, 2008 Issue, January 2008.

2007

“Gothic Window” (illustration), Aoife's Kiss, Issue 23, December 2007. “Book of Dimensions” (illustration), Niteblade, December 2007. “Battle Crows Gather” (illustration), Flashing Swords, Volume 2 Issue 8, November 2007. “Forest of the Damned” (illustration), The Willows, September 2007. “The Unseelie Court” (illustration), Fantastic Horror, June 2007.

***

[brookston]

Holidays 6.27

Holidays

Atari Day

Attwari (Tharu people; Nepal)

Black Pound Day (UK)

Canadian Multiculturalism Day (Canada)

Captain Kangaroo Day

Celebrate Joy Day

Commemoration Day for the Victims of the Communist Regime (Czech Republic)

The Day of the Apocalypse (in the TV show “Dark”)

Day of Workers of Culture and Art (Turkmenistan)

Day of Unity (Tajikistan)

Decide To Be Married Day

Dragon Festival (Guild Wars)

Festival of Neither Nor

"Happy Birthday To You" Day

Helen Keller Day

Industrial Workers of the World Day

International Day of Deafblindness

Kent Flew the Coop Day

London Tube Day

Lottery Day (in Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery”)

Magtymguly Poetry Day (Turkmenistan)

Martyrdom of Joseph and Hyrum Smith (Mormon)

Micro-, Small-, & Medium-Sized Enterprises Day

Mixed Race Day (Brazil)

Multiculturalism Day (Canada)

National Bingo Day

National Chirashi-Zushi Day (Japan)

National Fatherless Children’s Day

National Fink Day

National High School Mountain Bike Day

National HIV Testing Day

National Jim Day

National Journalist Day (Día del Periodista; Venezuela)

National Orange Blossom Day

National PTSD Awareness Day

National Sunglasses Day

National Women’s Fly Fishing Day

National Young Rider Day (UK)

NPE Awareness Day

Parosmia Awareness Day

Press and Media Workers Day (Uzbekistan)

Shirley Jackson Day (North Bennington, Vermont)

Siebenschläfertag (Seven Sleepers Day; Germany)

Sturge Weber Syndrome Awareness Day

Sunglasses Day

To Have or to Be?, by Erich Fromm (Science Book; 1976)

Unity Day (Tajikistan)

World ATM Day

World Fisheries Day (Russia)

World Fragrance Day (Germany)

World Microbiome Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Absinthe Day (a.k.a. Wormwood Day; French Republic)

International Pineapple Day

National Ice Cream Cake Day

National Indian Pudding Day

National Lemonade Day

National Onion Day

Orange Blossom Day

627 Ale Day (Hoops Brewing)

Independence & Related Days

Djibouti (from France, 1977)

Europa (Declared; 2017) [unrecognized]

4th & Last Thursday in June

Festival of the Tarasque (France) begins [Last Thursday]

National Bomb Pop Day [Last Thursday]

National Handshake Day [Last Thursday]

National Relationships & Sex Education Day (UK) [Last Thursday]

National Work From Home Day [Last Thursday]

RSE Day (UK) [4th Thursday]

Throwback Thursday [Every Thursday]

Weekly Holidays beginning June 27 (4th Full Week)

National Prevention of Eye Injuries Awareness Week (thru 7.4)

Watermelon Seed Spitting Week (thru 6.30)

Festivals Beginning June 27, 2024

Ashland BalloonFest (Ashland, Ohio) [thru 6.29]

Beauregard Parish Watermelon Festival (DeRidder, Louisiana) [thru 6.29]

Bixby Green Corn Festival (Bixby, Oklahoma) [thru 6.29]

Cotton Fest (Lubbock, Texas) [thru 6.29]

Festival International De Jazz De Montreal (Montreal, Canada) [thru 7.6]

HellFest (Clisson, France) [thru 6.30]

Jazz à Vienne (Vienne, France) [thru 7.16]

JazzBaltica (Niendorf, Germany) [thru 6.30]

Linn County Fair (Central City, Iowa) [thru 6.3]

L'International des Feux Loto-Québec [Montreal Fireworks Festival] (Montreal, Canada) [thru 8.1]

Luling Watermelon Thump (Luling, Texas) [thru 6.30]

Monmouth Fair (Monmouth, Maine) [thru 6.29]

Montreal International Jazz Festival (Montreal, Canada) [thru 7.6]

OpenAir St. Gallen (St. Gallen, Switzerland) [thru 6.30]

Provinssi (Seinäjoki, Finland) [thru 6.29]

St. Helen Bluegill Festival (St. Helen, Michigan) [thru 6.3]

Turku Medieval Market (Turku, Finland) [thru 6.30]

Feast Days

Anansi’s Day (Pagan)

Arialdo (Christian; Saint)

Blue-Footed Booby Day (Pastafarian)

Crescens, one of the Seventy disciples (Christian; Saint)

Cyril of Alexandria (Coptic Church, Roman Catholic Church, Anglican Communion and Lutheran Church)

Dan Jurgens (Artology)

Day of the God of Walls and Ditches (Pagan)

Day Sacred to the Lares (Ancient Rome)

Feast of Our Lady of Perpetual Help

Festival of Jupiter Stator (Ancient Rome)

George Mtasmindeli (Christian; Saint)

Gilson Lavis (Artology)

Helen Keller (Writerism)

Initium Aestatis (Old Roman Summer Festival)

James Dean Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

John of Moutier and Chinon (Christian; Saint)

Kate Carew (Artology)

Ladislaus I of Hungary (Christian; Saint)

Our Lady of Perpetual Help (Christian)

Paul Colin (Artology)

Philip Guston (Artology)

Richard I (Positivist; Saint)

Sampson the Hospitable of Constantinople (Christian; Saint)

Sandy the Snake (Muppetism)

Seven Sleepers Day (Siebenschläfertag; German-speaking Culture)

Sun Dance Ritual (Plains Indian tribes; Everyday Wicca)

Voyage of Maelduin (Celtic Book of Days)

Write Your Own Prayer Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Zoilus and His Companions (Christian; Martyrs)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Tomobiki (友引 Japan) [Good luck all day, except at noon.]

Premieres

Airplane! (Film; 1980)

Babooshka, by Kate Bush (Song; 1980)

Bathing Beauty (Film; 1944)

Belladonna of Sadness (Animated Film; 1973)

Captain Video & His Video Rangers (TV Series; 1949)

Cosmic Thing, by The B-52s (Album; 1989)

Country Grammar, by Nelly (Album; 2000)

Days of Thunder (Film; 1990)

Destination Moon (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1950)

Dream On, by Aerosmith (Song; 1973)

Face/Off (Film; 1997)

Freak Out!, by Frank Zappa & The Mothers of Invention (Album; 1966)

Girl Meets World (TV Series; 2014)

Good Old Irish Tunes, featuring Candy Goose (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1941)

Hawaiian Aye Aye (WB MM Cartoon; 1964)

Hercules (Animated Disney Film; 1997)

The Ipcress File Len Deighton

Labyrinth (Film; 1986)

Larry Crowne (Film; 2011)

Live and Let Die (James Bond Film; 1973) [#8]

Live Free of Die Hard (Film; 2007)

Manhattan Island (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1947)

Mirror Ball, by Neil Young & Pearl Jam (Album; 1995)

Nightfall and Other Stories, by Isaac Asimov (Short Stories; 1969)

Oddities, Abnormalities, & Curiosities, by the Circle Jerks (Album; 1995)

The Order of the Phoenix, by J.K. Rowling (Novel; 2003) [Harry Potter #5]

The Other Side of Midnight, by Sidney Sheldon (Novel; 1973)

The Penultimate Truth, by Philip K. Dick (Novel; 1964)

Pink Streaker (Pink Panther Cartoon; 1975)

Postman Pat: The Movie (Animated Film; 2014)

Presto (Pixar Cartoon; 2008)

Really Scent (WB MM Cartoon; 1959)

Symphony No. 2 (a.k.a. The Nottingham Symphony, or Robin Hood), by Alan Bush (Symphony; 1949)

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, recorded by Gene Autry (Song; 1949)

Ruthless People (Film; 1986)

The Saint See Through It, by Leslie Charteris (Novel 1946) [Saint #27]

The Sea Around Us, by Rachel Carson (Science Book; 1951)

Snowpiercer (Film; 2014)

The Stunt Man (Film; 1980)

Sweet Smell of Success (Film; 1957)

Tom Tom Tomcat (WB MM Cartoon; 1953)

To Sir, With Love, by E.R. Braithwaite (Novel; 1959)

Trail of the Lonesome Pink (Pink Panther Cartoon; 1974)

28 Days Later (Film; 2003)

Twinkletoes: Where He Goes — Nobody Knows (Animated Antics Cartoon; 1941)

Wall-E (Animated Pixar Film; 2008)

Wanted (Film; 2008)

West End Blues, recorded by Louis Armstrong & His Hot Five (Song; 1928)

When I You Hoo (WB MM Cartoon; 1936)

Who Killed Cock Robin? (Disney Cartoon; 1935)

Zapped (Film; 2014)

Today’s Name Days

Cyrill, Heimo, Hemma, Maxim (Austria)

Ćiril, Ladislav, Vlatko (Croatia)

Ladislav (Czech Republic)

Elfi, Elfriide, Elva, Elve, Elvi, Elviira, Viire (Estonia)

Elvi, Elviira (Finland)

Fernand (France)

Cyrill, Daniel, Heimo, Hemma (Germany)

Pierre (Greece)

László (Hungary)

Andrea, Cirillo, Leilo, Tosco (Italy)

Malva, Malvīne, Malvis (Latvia)

Ema, Gediminas, Norgailė, Vladas, Vladislovas (Lithuania)

Aina, Ina, Ine (Norway)

Maria Magdalena, Władysław, Władysława, Włodzisław (Poland)

Samson (România)

Ladislav (Slovakia)

Cirilo, Ladislao, Socorro, Zoilo (Spain)

Fingal, Selma (Sweden)

Lacey, Laci, Lacie, Lacy, Lance, Lancelot, Schuyler, Skye, Skylar, Skyler (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 179 of 2024; 187 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 4 of week 26 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Duir (Oak) [Day 19 of 28]

Chinese: Month 5 (Geng-Wu), Day 22 (Red-Xu)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 21 Sivan 5784

Islamic: 20 Dhu al-Hijjah 1445

J Cal: 29 Blue; Eighthday [29 of 30]

Julian: 14 June 2024

Moon: 64%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 10 Charlemagne (7th Month) [Richard I]

Runic Half Month: Feoh (Wealth) [Day 4 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 8 of 94)

Week: 4th Full Week of June)

Zodiac: Cancer (Day 7 of 31)

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 6.27

Holidays

Atari Day

Attwari (Tharu people; Nepal)

Black Pound Day (UK)

Canadian Multiculturalism Day (Canada)

Captain Kangaroo Day

Celebrate Joy Day

Commemoration Day for the Victims of the Communist Regime (Czech Republic)

The Day of the Apocalypse (in the TV show “Dark”)

Day of Workers of Culture and Art (Turkmenistan)

Day of Unity (Tajikistan)

Decide To Be Married Day

Dragon Festival (Guild Wars)

Festival of Neither Nor

"Happy Birthday To You" Day

Helen Keller Day

Industrial Workers of the World Day

International Day of Deafblindness

Kent Flew the Coop Day

London Tube Day

Lottery Day (in Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery”)

Magtymguly Poetry Day (Turkmenistan)

Martyrdom of Joseph and Hyrum Smith (Mormon)

Micro-, Small-, & Medium-Sized Enterprises Day

Mixed Race Day (Brazil)

Multiculturalism Day (Canada)

National Bingo Day

National Chirashi-Zushi Day (Japan)

National Fatherless Children’s Day

National Fink Day

National High School Mountain Bike Day

National HIV Testing Day

National Jim Day

National Journalist Day (Día del Periodista; Venezuela)

National Orange Blossom Day

National PTSD Awareness Day

National Sunglasses Day

National Women’s Fly Fishing Day

National Young Rider Day (UK)

NPE Awareness Day

Parosmia Awareness Day

Press and Media Workers Day (Uzbekistan)

Shirley Jackson Day (North Bennington, Vermont)

Siebenschläfertag (Seven Sleepers Day; Germany)

Sturge Weber Syndrome Awareness Day

Sunglasses Day

To Have or to Be?, by Erich Fromm (Science Book; 1976)

Unity Day (Tajikistan)

World ATM Day

World Fisheries Day (Russia)

World Fragrance Day (Germany)

World Microbiome Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Absinthe Day (a.k.a. Wormwood Day; French Republic)

International Pineapple Day

National Ice Cream Cake Day

National Indian Pudding Day

National Lemonade Day

National Onion Day

Orange Blossom Day

627 Ale Day (Hoops Brewing)

Independence & Related Days

Djibouti (from France, 1977)

Europa (Declared; 2017) [unrecognized]

4th & Last Thursday in June

Festival of the Tarasque (France) begins [Last Thursday]

National Bomb Pop Day [Last Thursday]

National Handshake Day [Last Thursday]

National Relationships & Sex Education Day (UK) [Last Thursday]

National Work From Home Day [Last Thursday]

RSE Day (UK) [4th Thursday]

Throwback Thursday [Every Thursday]

Weekly Holidays beginning June 27 (4th Full Week)

National Prevention of Eye Injuries Awareness Week (thru 7.4)

Watermelon Seed Spitting Week (thru 6.30)

Festivals Beginning June 27, 2024

Ashland BalloonFest (Ashland, Ohio) [thru 6.29]

Beauregard Parish Watermelon Festival (DeRidder, Louisiana) [thru 6.29]

Bixby Green Corn Festival (Bixby, Oklahoma) [thru 6.29]

Cotton Fest (Lubbock, Texas) [thru 6.29]

Festival International De Jazz De Montreal (Montreal, Canada) [thru 7.6]

HellFest (Clisson, France) [thru 6.30]

Jazz à Vienne (Vienne, France) [thru 7.16]

JazzBaltica (Niendorf, Germany) [thru 6.30]

Linn County Fair (Central City, Iowa) [thru 6.3]

L'International des Feux Loto-Québec [Montreal Fireworks Festival] (Montreal, Canada) [thru 8.1]

Luling Watermelon Thump (Luling, Texas) [thru 6.30]

Monmouth Fair (Monmouth, Maine) [thru 6.29]

Montreal International Jazz Festival (Montreal, Canada) [thru 7.6]

OpenAir St. Gallen (St. Gallen, Switzerland) [thru 6.30]

Provinssi (Seinäjoki, Finland) [thru 6.29]

St. Helen Bluegill Festival (St. Helen, Michigan) [thru 6.3]

Turku Medieval Market (Turku, Finland) [thru 6.30]

Feast Days

Anansi’s Day (Pagan)

Arialdo (Christian; Saint)

Blue-Footed Booby Day (Pastafarian)

Crescens, one of the Seventy disciples (Christian; Saint)

Cyril of Alexandria (Coptic Church, Roman Catholic Church, Anglican Communion and Lutheran Church)

Dan Jurgens (Artology)

Day of the God of Walls and Ditches (Pagan)

Day Sacred to the Lares (Ancient Rome)

Feast of Our Lady of Perpetual Help

Festival of Jupiter Stator (Ancient Rome)

George Mtasmindeli (Christian; Saint)

Gilson Lavis (Artology)

Helen Keller (Writerism)

Initium Aestatis (Old Roman Summer Festival)

James Dean Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

John of Moutier and Chinon (Christian; Saint)

Kate Carew (Artology)

Ladislaus I of Hungary (Christian; Saint)

Our Lady of Perpetual Help (Christian)

Paul Colin (Artology)

Philip Guston (Artology)

Richard I (Positivist; Saint)

Sampson the Hospitable of Constantinople (Christian; Saint)

Sandy the Snake (Muppetism)

Seven Sleepers Day (Siebenschläfertag; German-speaking Culture)

Sun Dance Ritual (Plains Indian tribes; Everyday Wicca)

Voyage of Maelduin (Celtic Book of Days)

Write Your Own Prayer Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Zoilus and His Companions (Christian; Martyrs)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Tomobiki (友引 Japan) [Good luck all day, except at noon.]

Premieres

Airplane! (Film; 1980)

Babooshka, by Kate Bush (Song; 1980)

Bathing Beauty (Film; 1944)

Belladonna of Sadness (Animated Film; 1973)

Captain Video & His Video Rangers (TV Series; 1949)

Cosmic Thing, by The B-52s (Album; 1989)

Country Grammar, by Nelly (Album; 2000)

Days of Thunder (Film; 1990)

Destination Moon (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1950)

Dream On, by Aerosmith (Song; 1973)

Face/Off (Film; 1997)

Freak Out!, by Frank Zappa & The Mothers of Invention (Album; 1966)

Girl Meets World (TV Series; 2014)

Good Old Irish Tunes, featuring Candy Goose (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1941)

Hawaiian Aye Aye (WB MM Cartoon; 1964)

Hercules (Animated Disney Film; 1997)

The Ipcress File Len Deighton

Labyrinth (Film; 1986)

Larry Crowne (Film; 2011)

Live and Let Die (James Bond Film; 1973) [#8]

Live Free of Die Hard (Film; 2007)

Manhattan Island (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1947)

Mirror Ball, by Neil Young & Pearl Jam (Album; 1995)

Nightfall and Other Stories, by Isaac Asimov (Short Stories; 1969)

Oddities, Abnormalities, & Curiosities, by the Circle Jerks (Album; 1995)

The Order of the Phoenix, by J.K. Rowling (Novel; 2003) [Harry Potter #5]

The Other Side of Midnight, by Sidney Sheldon (Novel; 1973)

The Penultimate Truth, by Philip K. Dick (Novel; 1964)

Pink Streaker (Pink Panther Cartoon; 1975)

Postman Pat: The Movie (Animated Film; 2014)

Presto (Pixar Cartoon; 2008)

Really Scent (WB MM Cartoon; 1959)

Symphony No. 2 (a.k.a. The Nottingham Symphony, or Robin Hood), by Alan Bush (Symphony; 1949)

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, recorded by Gene Autry (Song; 1949)

Ruthless People (Film; 1986)

The Saint See Through It, by Leslie Charteris (Novel 1946) [Saint #27]

The Sea Around Us, by Rachel Carson (Science Book; 1951)

Snowpiercer (Film; 2014)

The Stunt Man (Film; 1980)

Sweet Smell of Success (Film; 1957)

Tom Tom Tomcat (WB MM Cartoon; 1953)

To Sir, With Love, by E.R. Braithwaite (Novel; 1959)

Trail of the Lonesome Pink (Pink Panther Cartoon; 1974)

28 Days Later (Film; 2003)

Twinkletoes: Where He Goes — Nobody Knows (Animated Antics Cartoon; 1941)

Wall-E (Animated Pixar Film; 2008)

Wanted (Film; 2008)

West End Blues, recorded by Louis Armstrong & His Hot Five (Song; 1928)

When I You Hoo (WB MM Cartoon; 1936)

Who Killed Cock Robin? (Disney Cartoon; 1935)

Zapped (Film; 2014)

Today’s Name Days

Cyrill, Heimo, Hemma, Maxim (Austria)

Ćiril, Ladislav, Vlatko (Croatia)

Ladislav (Czech Republic)

Elfi, Elfriide, Elva, Elve, Elvi, Elviira, Viire (Estonia)

Elvi, Elviira (Finland)

Fernand (France)

Cyrill, Daniel, Heimo, Hemma (Germany)

Pierre (Greece)

László (Hungary)

Andrea, Cirillo, Leilo, Tosco (Italy)

Malva, Malvīne, Malvis (Latvia)

Ema, Gediminas, Norgailė, Vladas, Vladislovas (Lithuania)

Aina, Ina, Ine (Norway)

Maria Magdalena, Władysław, Władysława, Włodzisław (Poland)

Samson (România)

Ladislav (Slovakia)

Cirilo, Ladislao, Socorro, Zoilo (Spain)

Fingal, Selma (Sweden)

Lacey, Laci, Lacie, Lacy, Lance, Lancelot, Schuyler, Skye, Skylar, Skyler (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 179 of 2024; 187 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 4 of week 26 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Duir (Oak) [Day 19 of 28]

Chinese: Month 5 (Geng-Wu), Day 22 (Red-Xu)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 21 Sivan 5784

Islamic: 20 Dhu al-Hijjah 1445

J Cal: 29 Blue; Eighthday [29 of 30]

Julian: 14 June 2024

Moon: 64%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 10 Charlemagne (7th Month) [Richard I]

Runic Half Month: Feoh (Wealth) [Day 4 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 8 of 94)

Week: 4th Full Week of June)

Zodiac: Cancer (Day 7 of 31)

[promiseiwillwrite]

Things I like about Christianity

I come from Alabama, by way of Kentucky. I grew up in the South, immersed in Southern Culture, Southern Values, and Southern Ideals.

Hard Work, Self Sacrifice, Putting others before yourself, Kindness, Strength, Devotion, Keeping your word.

These were things that were pressed into the mold of my soul before I even knew the concepts existed.

I remember being told to stand in the hall for hours after I asked about dinosaurs in my vacation bible school class. And then looking up at my favorite tree as our car passed it on my way home from there, and deciding that I believed in dinosaurs even if I couldn't be good enough to be with god in heaven. I was five.

But my Grandparents bought me as Many Dinosaurs as I could want, Because I Loved them.

My Grandparents were absolute saints. Their family meant more to them than money or perception. They loved us, and it was unconditional. Even when my mom, with her notoriously bad taste in men kept bringing them home. They welcomed them with open arms because my mother loved them. My grandfather mentored my dad and got him the engineering job that became the foundation for his 40 year career.

And my Grandmother still chased him down the hall of her retirement community building with a bright red Louisville Slugger after she found out that he had abused me and my sister.

My mother came out of the Broom Closet when she divorced my dad. And her next failed marriage was to a man who emotionally and verbally abused me and my sister as well. But this man was a piece of work. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Substance abuse, Psychotic Episodes, Poor emotional control and other problems. And he was a Hater. He blamed Christians, Christianity and the Establishment for Every problem he saw in his life and his mind.

He considered himself a pagan person. And he thought of himself as strictly countercultural.

He was an Anti-role model for me. I strove not to be like him. I saw his bitter rage and terror, and agoraphobia and I swore to myself I would never be that way.

But despite my best efforts, parts of him rubbed off on me. Like Gomez Addams. My Mother and my Step Father were like Gomez and Morticia, and the Addams's romantic entanglements were like the "relationship Goals" for my parents. I was taught that this was the model for Knowing for sure that it was Love.

For better or for worse.

It is through this lens that I look back at Christianity, and its ideas, and stories, and interpretations. It is from this perspective that I can sit down and try to piece together something worth having.

I always did love the stories of the Folk Devil... Why the Sea is Salt was always my favorite.

I Loved the stories of Saint Martha and the Tarasque, and Saint Francis of Assisi, and Joan of Arc as a kid, but never told anyone because those were Christian things, and I wasn't allowed to like stuff like that. There were some stories of the Knights of Templar protecting folk healers and midwives, instead of crusading and murdering people. There was Mother Theresa of Calcutta, who lived in my lifetime and helped Many people.

I don't know if you've read Madeline L'Engle, but her story called Many Waters is a fantastic read. Lots of Angels, and Nephilim and Unicorns.

I am sure that there are a lot of people who will be upset at the idea of me liking these stories. I was 12. There was no context for me to use to connect these tales to their origins. I could not have known that they had been stolen from Jewish stories and traditions.

The history of my family is very strong in the Holiness Faith. My Great Grandfather received an epiphany and became a traveling minister. He founded many churches in Indiana, Ohio and Kentucky. He played guitar, and wrote Christian Music. He lived to be over 100 years old.

I like to think that some of what motivated him was love. I never knew him. I have seen a few pictures. My mother has some of the sheet music he wrote.

For such a long time, I did not claim this part of my heritage because All I could see of Christianity was the oppression. The Ugliness portrayed by my Step Father. His burning, righteous indignation at everything it stood for. And my own shame, acknowledging that it was a part of me whether I liked it or not.

But I think this view was limited. As much as Christianity has problematic aspects, so does everyone. So does Every path. And I think that there are good parts, even so.

And like the pieces of fabric that make a quilt, I am going to take some of these good ones, some of these that make up who I am, and I am going to make a blanket to wrap around the shoulders of people I love. I am going to use that blanket to let myself rest, and heal, and learn that safety is a thing I can Make in my life.

And I think I will have done alright by my Great Grandfather, for an old swamp witch.

[heliosthegriffin]

The Tarasque

On the night before the finals of the Vytal Festival, we find Jaune Arc. He leaned over the railing of the roof where he trained with Pyrrha, they hadn’t trained tonight, she needed to be in top shape for tomorrow.

Jaune didn’t though, and Jaune had come up to think dressed in his baby blue onesie. Smoking a cigarette in hand and breathing out the smoke into the clear night sky.

Taking a long drag of his cigarette, letting the warm smoke fill his longs, holding it till it lost it’s warmth and expelled it. He spoke out into the night sky, “I’m really going to miss this place again, aren’t I?” There was no one to hear him question.

In his unoccupied hand was his scroll, a message ready to be sent to a group chat. Jaune looked at the scroll his expression mixed, his finger hovering over the send button. One press would be what it takes to summon his friends, they’d deserve an explanation at the very least before he left. He still hesitated before pressing the button, then he signed. “It’s never going to be any easier, is it?” Silence was his answer.

Several minutes passed before Pyrrha showed up, her normal, fake, smile still up, something was bothering the girl. He knew what Orville the poor child to due, and it only added to the list of grievance he had with the man.

“Jaune? Why are you calling everybody?” Pyrrha asked, her face full of worry. 

Her mind obviously wondering he could no longer take the guilt anymore, he’d nip that in the bud now.

“I’ll tell you when the rest get here. It’s more than what you think it is.”

The tone of his voice got her attention, but she nodded.

She had yet to notice the cigarette in his hand.

The rest came in the pair of Ren and Nora, and then the Team RWBY who came out in a dogpile on the roof. He snickered, he would indeed miss their antics.

The seven of them formed a semi-circle around him seeming to wonder what Jaune had to say. Jaune said nothing for a long second, taking one last long drag of the cigarette before exhaling.

That got Weiss’s attention, “Since when did you start such a repugnant habit, Arc?“ She asked with disgust.

Nora before Jaune could answer, “Oh, oh, oh, can you blow smoke rings Jauney, and hey wait, when you start smoking? I never smelled any  on you before?”

That got a small murmur going through the group of teens, bring a smile to his face.

Yang broke the silence, “So, what’s up VB? Come to have us look at you model your onesie?” She said with a snicker.

A sad looking smile came to Jaune’s face, he let the bud drop to the roof where he ground it under his slippers.

“I’m leaving Beacon, tonight.”

Any words that were about to come out froze in the seven teens mouths, not one had been expecting him to say that.

A series of ‘Whats?!” ‘Why’ ‘Are you for real?’ and so on and so forth, it all blended together to white noise.

It hurt him see his friends look so pained and shocked, but he needed to do what he needed to do. They were weights.

He clapped his hands, infusing his hands and arms to strength them, and then further empowered the shockwave as it left the hands causing a explosion of noise.

They all jumped up in shock, but Ren’s eyes narrowed at him, clearly noticing the aura trick he did.

He smiled softly at him, then at all of them. “I just want to say, thank you, thank you all, you’ve made the last hellish nine months in this place actually pleasant.”

Blakes eyes narrowed at his choice of words.

“I have had more fun here in my time with you seven, than I have had in the last couple centuries.”

NPR and RWBY’s eyes shot open, and before their eyes Jaune disappeared.

“I suppose you’re all curious what that means, but, I don’t have time to explain it all to you, I’m on a schedule you see, and you’re better off not knowing too. You seven have too bright future together, to change the world, to be dragged down into a shadowy conflict. Focus on your life and goals, not the mysterys in the dark. It’s been a pleasure, Ruby, Weiss, Yang, Blake, Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren.”

Crocea Mors in hand, Jaune grabbed it by the sheath and handle pulling it with speed that not even the eyes of hunters in training could follow hitting Ruby in the back of the head before her aura went up.

Ruby hit the floor with a nary a sound, looking for the world like she just fainted.

Weiss and Yang stood to either side of Ruby, with Blake at the end of the semi circle next to Yang. Ren stood to Weiss’s side, Nora to Ren’s side, and Pyrrha at the other end of the circle.

Crocea Mors sheath didn’t stop moving after Ruby went down, Jaune turned the strike so the flat of the blade hit Weiss’s temple, eyes went wide and then rolled up into her skull, her aura failing to come up at speed to block the strike.

In all under a second Jaune had incapacitated Ruby and Weiss, in the next ten second the other fives fell to the ground knocked out, not a scratch on the boy, and in the next second Jaune let his expression fall, and suddenly Jaune didn’t look so young and weak anymore, his face going from soft to sharp looking, still young but closer to his mid-twenties than his late teens, but his eye’s held a weight and age to them that could not be measured. It was like looking at the difference between a puppy and a alpha beowolf.

Jaune looked tiredly at his former friends, and took out his scroll and hit another message to each of his former friends, a video personalized for each one, on how to improve their fighting style, semblance, and training, along with a personalized apology.

Then Jaune hit a app on his scroll, then any trace of Jaune Arc ever existing on paper was deleted, being replaced by John Ark who tragically died in a bullhead flight tonight.

The scroll was then broken like cheap plastic and tossed away. Jaune brought up a burner scroll, and called. “I’m ready, are the pieces in place?”

Ozpin’s voice could be heard on the other end. “Yes. Are you in position?”

“No, but I will be within five minutes, tell them to be ready sooner, if all goes as planned the infiltrators will be captured and brought to the vault in less than a half hour, if not, be ready to send them in to capture or kill them.”

“Roger, message sent, I will be waiting below.”

In a blur of speed the onesie was gone revealing briefly too things, a body that was covered in scars of all kinds, burns, pock marks, slashes, bruises, acid burns, a catalogue of wounds that if saw on a normal man would cause a doctor to question how they were alive.

The second was on Jaune’s back, a large Tattoo, one of a fearsome monster that stared off of Jaunes back.

In another Blur of speed Jaune was dressed in dark blues, and blacks, Crocea Mors at his side.

“Tonight the Tarasque hunts again.”

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

Jaune stood outside of the dark hall way following the aura signature to a visiting students dorm, he could feel the Fall Maiden’s power inside. He was right on the money that it was the transfer student. She was far too old to be playing pretend... Or not old enough.

He sensed the Ace Ops patrols the outside and roof, Goodwitch down the hall, The Branwan skin-changed and waiting outside the window.

Jaune focused on the aura signatures in the room, four, all sleeping.

He took out a key and opened the door, and slipped in.

They never even noticed him stalking up to the fall maiden, and grabbing her by the throat, to her credit her eyes shot open immediately, but Jaune took the handle of Crocea Mors to her head.

Her aura blocked it, but she was clearly dazed, and could barely choke out a “H-help.” In a blur of speed and force he brought the handle to her temple again and again till her aura broke and her eyes rolled up, a dark bruise forming with a blood dripping down the side of her head.

He felt the movement behind him, and the attempt of an illusion to cloud his mind. He feigned falling for it, and let her sneak up with the blades. Just as the girl swung he backhanded her in the throat, she wasn’t expecting it and her aura wasn’t up, so she went out like light.

That’s two.

The half-legs and the woman-girl stirred. He took Crocea Mor’s to their heads, a trickle of blood all the proof he needed.

He went over to the window and opened it, letting the Branwen in.

He pointed at the half-legs and woman-girl, “Grab em’“

The Branwan knew better to argue with him.

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

The elevator opened with a ding, showing Jaune and Qrow with two unconcious bodies over their shoulders.

“Is that the culprit?” Ozpin asked with a thin frown.

Jaune nodded.

“Good, put her in the machine.” “No, Orville. I got a better way to do this.” Jaune said.

Ozpin raised a eyebrow, and Qrow looked intrigued. “What’s that Jaune?”

“This,” Jaune said raising his hand, it briefly lighting up the room before dimming revealing a pearlesque white hand.

Ozpin took step back in fear and surprise. “You completed it?!”

Qrow looked nonplussed, and raised his eyebrows. “What exactly is this ‘it’?” He asked with air quote.

“The highest form of aura manipulation I’ve achieve,” He shot a look at Ozpin. “When you have centuries of time on your hands, you either get good at what you do, or make plans for the future... I know what I’ve chosen.”

Ozpin let out a huff. “Well one of us has to make sure the world doesn’t explode.”

“Whatever,” Jaune said with a smirk, and then plunged his pearly white hand into Cinder’s chest.

Cinder awoke with a blood-chilling scream, her hands going to her chest, but then her body started thrashing like she was having a seizure.

“Yeah, I imagine having your soul invaded and having a piece ripped out isn’t very fun is it, yeah, well guess what?” Jaune said to a terrified Cinder. “Turn about is fair play, Amber was a good friend of mine, and you’re gonna pay.”

- Several bloody hours later. -

Ozpin looked mildly disturbed, while Qrow vomited in the corner.

“Dust, dust that was horrifying.” “Yeah, but I got the Maiden powers.”

“Are you going to do the same to Amber?”

Jaune nodded darkly. “Yes, but I’ll be much gentler with her.” “That does inspire much confidence.” “Well, excuse me if soul surgery isn’t exactly a very well explored field!” Jaune said to Qrow, then shot a look at Ozpin. “It would be much farther along if somebody gave me those prisoners, instead of sending me to kill super-heavy class grimm.”

“I find the survival of frontier villages and cities a more pressing matter.” Jaune shrugs. “Fair.” He then walks over to Amber’s stasis pod, a glowing orange ball in Jaune’s pearly hand.

It open and Jaune rams the orb into her, Amber’s eyes jumping open in pain.

It takes several screaming hour before Jaune is done.

“Well, she might be fine now.” “Might be?” “Very poorly explored field.”

Qrow looks over to the three accomplices, who woke during the soul surgeries, now looking very terrified.

“What about them?” “What about them? Their your problem now, as far as I’m concerned the only thing that’s my problem now is Amber, you two chucklefuck deal with the brats.”

Ozpin looked at the two children and Neo, “Soooo, anybody want some coffee.”

Edit: Forgot the Author’s note that would explain somethings, I kinda lost passion towards the end.

AN: This an AU where around a thousand years ago Ozma decided to do a mass aura awakening to see if it would bare fruit. Jaune seemed like he didn’t have semblance after couple years of training. But, come 80 years later, Ozma hears rumors of a lmmortal blonde... Jaune’s semblance is eternal youth.

[ao3feed-ladynoir]

Light in the Darkness

Light in the Darkness by tptplayer5701

A “Mind Games”-verse “Colossus Saga” story: “Max!” He was gone. He had been by her side through the whole ordeal of the Tarasque battle, from her first moment of panic when she felt the overwhelming terror of an entire city confronted by a Beast of mythological horror. He had shielded her. He had pulled her into a final kiss. Then he had detransformed in a flash of light, pressing his miraculous into her hands as the portal collapsed between them. He had pushed her through the closing portal. Impératrice Pourpre's last glimpse of him had been as the Tarasque's foot came down on top of him, sending the rubble of the destroyed student center flying in all directions. Their eyes had met, and she had felt his guilt, his grief, his fear, but also… relief? And then nothing. A jolt of resolve from Ladybug drew Impératrice Pourpre's attention “We are going back.” “Is that really the best decision?” asked Sent-Bee. “Why wouldn't it be?” Ladybug demanded. Sent-Bee arched an eyebrow. “The Tarasque?” Ladybug's shoulders slumped. “Well…” Impératrice Pourpre stared up at Ladybug in confusion. “Wh–what?” “We… can't. I'm–I'm sorry.” Then the tears came.

Words: 2062, Chapters: 1/27, Language: English

Series: Part 60 of "Mind Games"-verse, Part 10 of The Colossus Saga

Fandoms: Miraculous Ladybug

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Chloé Bourgeois, Sabrina Raincomprix, Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe, Original Miraculous Holder Character(s), Original Akumatized Character(s)

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Max Kanté/Sabrina Raincomprix, Lê Chiến Kim/Ondine, Chloé Bourgeois & Sabrina Raincomprix, Max Kanté & Lê Chiến Kim, Chloé Bourgeois & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Sabrina Raincomprix, Nooroo & Sabrina Raincomprix, Kaalki & Sabrina Raincomprix

Additional Tags: Post-Hawk Moth Defeat, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, Africa, Miraculous Holder Sabrina Raincomprix, Sabrina Raincomprix Needs Love, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Angst and Tragedy, Recovery

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34251010

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 11- Ashes in Asklepion

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

A storm grows in the Valley of Danes, dark skies and death waiting to bear down on the hermits and their new allies. This time, they won’t run from the husks. This time, they fight

Warning: Minor character death, battle scene

____________________________________________

“They’re just standing there.” Wels whispers, pulling his sword to rest on the metal pauldron of his armor. “Like...like…”

“Like an army at attention.” False finishes. A whole line of husk monsters, grey flakes falling off monochrome forms. Devoid of life both in color and eyes. They were just that- husks. The remains of an animal, without soul or life to brighten the beast.

Tango opens his wings wide, and takes off into the air. Behind the hermits, the remaining members of the Asklepions are steeling themselves for another battle. Scar bites his lip, looking at the dirt and bloodstained white robes. None of these people should be fighting for their lives. None of these people should be using their healing powers to kill. Whoever is using this dark magic, using it against a peaceful guild like this, is a sick soul. Who even attacks a healing guild? They hold no danger. 

Tango returns to solid ground. His broad red wings brush against the ashen dirt, smoke curling into the sky as embers reignite with the air around it. “I don’t see a crystal, I don’t see anything like what we saw in Gildara.” 

“Do you know when they’ll attack?” TFC questions, turning to Galena. 

The elderly healer nods her head, and points to the sky above the army. “Do you see that dark cloud? It is no storm, it is billowing ash, rising like an eruption from a volcano. Upon the first strike of red lightning, it will send the army into a frenzy. And they will attack. The thunder is their war horn. We don’t have long.” 

“Scar, Stress, Ren, and Joe. Go and help build up defenses as quickly as possible.” TFC waves a hand in the direction of the guild hall, the black veins still visible on his healing arm. “Focus around where the wounded are hiding. Impulse, Iskall, and BDubs- I want you to set up traps. Hopefully we can slow them down, or get rid of at least a few.” 

“Can’t there be a way to free these creatures from the dark magic?” Micha questions, holding his hands to his chest. “It hurts me to see them in such pain, but death?” 

“They’re already dead.” Xisuma states. “There is no soul, no life left in those creatures. Dark magic is just puppeteering them.” 

Micha steps back, lip quivering. Zedaph offers a warm smile, understanding the kipling’s worries. But Iris’s jaw clenches, fingers wrapping around a brand new weapon- a hoe. “I’m tired of waiting to die! I’m tired of waiting for them to attack us!” 

Iris lets out a hoarse yell, and streaks past the hermits. She jumps through a rising wall of stone, crossing the field of flowers and raising her tool high. “Iris no!” 

Lightning strikes. And the horde washes forward, down the hill, ashen forms of monsters and beasts roiling like a wave across the burnt grass. Smoke kicking up from the hooves and paws and claws, digging into the ruined soil, hungry for death. Iris’s magic circle appears, as white as the dress she wears, brushing outward and towards the snapping maws before her. The equine legs of an uisage, once sea-green fur a withered grey the color of a storm at sea, snap under the weight of her magic. 

And jaws snap into Iris. The deadly fangs of a chimera, venom dripping from the fangs, grab hold of the young healer. The entire valley of Danes falls silent, the Hermits unable to take their eyes away from the sight as Iris falls still, her form losing it’s color. 

Losing it’s life. Sapped from her, leaving only the husked form of the wizard behind. By the time the chimera has let go, training it’s eyes on the remaining living targets, Iris is gone- yet still standing. The husk remains of Iris rolls it’s shoulders, skin the color of flint. Even the stains on it’s dress had lost all color, all life. A few flecks of ashes brush into the sky as it blinks, eyes devoid of any life. There were no irises on Iris- no soul left to fill it’s eyes. 

It’s fierce gaze is turned back on the hermits and Iris’s once fellow healers. The husk’s hand reaches out, and a magic circle appears. Just as corrupted and erratic as the husk the hermits faced way back in Gildara. Realization hits Wels first. “Get down!” 

He grabs False by the arm, pulling her to the side a breath before the released magic strikes her. It doesn’t miss, instead lashing into a healer. The sickening crack of bones rattles across the broken complex surrounding them. The other hermits roll away from the magic, Stress leaping from her broken ice wall and tucking into a roll. The swarm of monsters have reached their defenses. The massive body of grootslang careens into Scar’s stone walls. It’s twisted tusks dig into the ground and attempt to rip through the material. One tusk breaks off, the debris falling apart like ash and clay. The jagged end spews smoke, but the monster doesn’t stop, continuing to throw it’s weight against the walls. 

The hermits fall back, bracing for the sieged gates to collapse. Wels pulls free his sword, metal glimmering as he conducts magic through the blade to buff his allies. BDubs wraps his arms in vines, hearing the crunching noise of Keralis snacking and activating his powers. Jevin waves his hand, magic swirling to life before him, and a squadron of blue slime warriors collect together, standing at attention. Ready to fight. Team ZIT bump their fists, embers of magic and mischief sparking free from each one’s hand. Cleo and False brandish their own weapons, and from behind Iskall and Grian snap their fingers, circles appearing in their hands. Mumbo attempts to call his own magic, but it stutters with each crack of stone and ice. 

The ice has nearly collapsed. Mumbo whimpers, drawing his circle again. It fails once more. His hands are shaking as he presses the pad of his index finger into the air. A wrinkled hand rests on Mumbo’s sleeve, warm and comforting. Galena whispers her finger close, completely ignoring the impending army. Mumbo kneels down, letting the elderly healer whisper in his ear. “I know you can do it, sonny boy. Take a deep breath-” She breathes in, “and let out all those worries.” 

When her voice exhales, Mumbo blinks away magic cresting his long, black lashes. His hands have stopped shaking, his heart stopped pounding. He attempts to draw his circle again- it works. “Wha-what did you do? Did you buff me, give me strength?” 

“Not all healers deal in physical wounds. But in the end, it’s up to the body to heal itself- we just help it along.” Galena smiles, and steps back. 

Ice cracks and stone shatters, raining down upon the healers and hermits. Joe brushes his quill to the side, and the debris goes flying, as if smacked by a giant’s hand. Grian blows away the remaining bits and pieces, until only pebbles bounce off their heads. They have more important things to focus on. 

The army of husks surge through the opening. Immediately, a tarasque barrels through the hermits. A spiny shell tears at cloaks and bowls over those who don’t jump away fast enough. Grian and Tango take to the sky, red and white wings beating against the air. Grian waves down to Cleo. “A pack of kishi are coming in on your left!” 

Cleo turns, green lips curling into a smile. She pulls her captain’s hat low. Strikes her blade into the ground. If there was one thing a healer’s complex had, it was ghosts, ghouls, and skeletons. Misty white and sickly green transparent beings rise from the ground. All Cleo has to do is point her sword. The undead attack the possessed, ghosts haunting forms and skeletons charging into battle. 

Black and green robes flutter above Cleo, and Xisuma tosses a spell into the horde of kishi. The ravaging, two faced pack of monsters are engulfed by the void The ghosts and skeletons remain. Xisuma’s magic is as precise as everything else he does. His boots scrape against the stone walkway, landing next to Cleo. “You distract and I’ll engulf?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Cleo grins, and the two take off into battle. They run past Stress, Ren, and Iskall. Iskall thrusts his fist into the stone, the ground erupting as radioactive iskallium seeps up into the attacking monsters. The green goo erupts upward, and with a giggle Stress freezes the material. Ren closes his eyes. His imagination goes to work. The ruddy color of his circle fuses into magical wheels, and he sends the imagined cart trundling into the monsters. Spiking the radioactive ice into a drake, a hippogriff, and two lavellans. The husk forms collapse into piles of ash, dark magic billowing with the forms. Swept into the wind and away from the valley. 

The battle continues on. Lifesavers become lifetakers, healers fighting side by side with the hermits. An illegal guild fighting next to one of the most renowned licensed healers in the world. At first, they were winning. Defeating the husks as fast as they arrived, only a few scratches and wounds delt across the survivors. 

At first. In the clash of battle, Doc hears a shout. The elongated fangs of a many-mouthed cipatli digs into his metal arm, but he ignores the gnashing teeth against the wires and magical components of his arm in lieu of finding the source of the scream. Through the battle, past the explosion of Impulse as he leaps away, Micha is on the ground. 

The husk of Iris looms over him, black magic circle spun and ready to release. Doc pushes through the battle, rushing forward and ripping off the scaly husk on his arm. He can hear Micha begging, calling out to Iris. “It’s me, your friend! Iris, please you have to be in there! You know me, I’m Micha!” 

The husk doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch. His words are falling on deaf, unhearing ears. Iris’s thumb comes to rest on her middle finger, pressing down and ready to snap. Ready to release it’s magic and surely do something horrible to Micha. 

Doc isn’t going to let that happen. He growls, and thrusts his own hand forward. A stone statue creaks, and rises from her pedestal. Gigantic arms, cloaked in smooth marble robes, rise up into the ashen sky. Doc closes his eyes.

And opens the stone statue’s. He can see through her eyes, see the husked remains of Iris standing at her feet. WIth little second thought, he punts the husked remains away from Micha. Iris disappears in a puff of ash and smoke, form released from the dark magic that sapped her energy. Her soul. 

Doc straightens the statue’s back, the ten foot tall form looming over the fight before him. He watches Micha stand, only for one of his fellow healers to fall. Doc steps forward, watching as Grian falls from the sky. Struck by the massive wings of a Roc, and thrown into the collapsing roof of a building. For being the group’s healer, he had a way of getting himself hurt. 

They were at a stalemate. Hermits just barely keeping the husks from moving further, bracing their wounded bodies against the monsters and losing ground as fast as they gain. He could even see himself, standing stock still in the middle of the battle. Scar was at his side, haphazardly throwing up a wall around the body of his friend. Protecting his physical form while his mind was within the statue he controls. 

TFC steps back, watching as the massive stone statue throws it’s weight against the grootslang, tussling with it in a fight worthy of the ancient ones. He can see they aren’t winning- but they aren’t losing either. Last time, they fled the dark magic. They didn’t understand it. But this time, they can’t run. They have to protect the valley of Danes, and the few remaining healers left. How can they turn the tide? 

TFC watches Etho jump from shadow to shadow, landing blows against any unsuspecting husk. He tips his head up, looking at the darkened storm above the monsters. And an idea sparks like a flash of lightning. “Grian, use your wind magic against the storm above you!” TFC calls out to Grian, watching the winged hermit pry himself free from the collapsed building he was flung into. “Joe, can you summon something big to control the weather?” 

“You betcha.” Joe pulls out his quill, sidestepping a raging ngepet. The wind picks up around him, Grian’s wings pulsating and picking up force with each sweep. Joe doesn’t bother himself, letting his quill glide along his paper, writing out a poem as his elaborately embroidered cape snaps against his legs. “One big bird coming right up.” 

He signs the last letter of the poem, and from the storm a shadow appears. A thunderbird, with the caw as sharp as lightning, joins Grian in collapsing the storm. Sunlight seeps through, and when TFC looks back at the fighting hermits, he sees the tide has turned. The storm weakens, as does the husks. They don’t stop fighting, even taking down another healer and slashing a cut into Zedaph’s arm, but they’re losing. 

The husks don’t back down, even when the last monster is backed into a corner. Snarling and on full offensive. Something about dark magic must make them violent beyond thought. No sense of self preservation- TFC can only guess since it’s already dead, what more is there to lose? 

The last of the smoky grey ash cloud disappears, and False strikes down the ngepet that earlier tried to take out Joe. Silence falls across the gardens, only the sound of wind and Doc’s statue returning to her pedestal as commentary to the scene before them. They killed the entire army, drove off the storm. But not without heavy losses. Galena helps the only surviving healer from the fight to his feet- Micha. “Thank you, hermits. You...none of us would be around if it wasn’t for you all.” 

“Do you think the invasion is over? Is Danes safe?” Doc questions, stumbling back into his form. Blinking his eyes, rolling his broken robotic arm. 

Galena nods. “That was them all. You did more than I could’ve ever hoped for.” Galena looks around, at the shattered remains of her guild. Her home destroyed, her members gone. “My best decision ever was to reach out for you.” 

“I’m sorry, I wish we could do more.” Grian whispers, holding his arm into place. He may have dislocated it. 

“The Asklepions may be in ruins, but we are much harder to destroy than you think. We will rise from the ashes, like a phoenix.” Galena whispers. “This is not the first time I have seen a guild rise and fall around me. Even among the Council guilds.” 

Xisuma perks up, curious. “You were in a council guild?” 

Even Micha looks surprised. Galena nods him away, off to check on the wounded back in the guild hall. “Long, long ago. Yes, I was a member of a Council Guild. That was before things changed, when Lairyon was a different place.” Galena turns away. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can offer you money for your hard work. But...what about something a little more valuable?” 

“What do you know, guildmaster Galena?” Xisuma, ever hungry for more knowledge, is practically on his knees to hear more. 

“Dark magic like this needs a mage to control it. And that mage needs somewhere to hide their work. Where better to hide forbidden magic than under the very noses of the leaders who forbid them?” Galena shakes her head, running withered fingers along the crystal in her staff. She glances back at the hermits, a youthful glimmer in her eyes. “When I was younger, there were always rumors of dungeons beneath the capitol. I never found anything, but you all are quite clever- when you put your heads together.”

[francoischetcuti]

La Tarasque, illustration pour Fleurus-presse.

[feelingsdusk-writes]

Mojo shenanigans

From According to plan's verse.

Up until Peter graduates, Stiles visits him a lot at New Haven, always detouring to surprise him with at least a short visit. What can he say? He’s a sucker for the surprised and pleased smiles that spring on his face when he spots him.

It also leaves him wanting to march back to Talia and throttle her badly. He knows that she was being influenced and twisted by Deaton, but the damage she did to Peter is huge. Because Peter also tries to cover those smiles… It took him a while to get that part of the surprise is because he can’t fully believe that anyone would do something like that for him. Even after more than two years of relationship.

It’s the three year anniversary of their first date and they are walking through East Rock Park, Stiles continuously making puns about cheeks that make Peter snark back good naturedly about three headed dogs and sarcastically remark about elite hunters. He hasn’t stopped milking that ever since a rookie from another family gushed about the Argents and especially about Stiles. He still grins like a lovesick idiot when he remembers Peter’s peeved face and territorial growl, though.

Of course, with his luck everything goes south. Maybe taking a stroll in the dark for the sake of remembrance wasn’t such a good idea, after all?

Peter stops and cocks his head and, really, Stiles shouldn’t find it so cute, and he’s internally gushing, and… then he hears them. His eyes slowly follow the rapidly approaching sound to the manhole to his left (a frantic WILL YOU FUCKING PIPE DOWN!!! comes clearly through the grid) then further as it moves away.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present you the elite,“ Peter quips drolly.

His phone rings.

No, absolutely not. He considers seriously not picking. This day is for Peter and just for Peter and he has a damn present that took forever to track and he’s going to give it to him over that horrible coffee and almost stale muffins the place where they had their first date has, dammit.

Peter blinks before a slow smile creeps into his face. He grabs his face gently to kiss him… and at the same time filches his phone and picks up the call, pressing the phone to Stiles’ ear.

“I’m all about tradition,“ he smirks sassily after he hangs up, pulling him in the direction of the screams he undoubtedly still hears. “Maybe we can bring another species to extinction today. It does wonders to the self-esteem.”

“You would love that, you beast,“ he grumbles as he follows him dragging his feet and pouting.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, STILES" Brandon cries when he spots them ahead. From behind him, screams approach fast. “IT’S A FUCKING TANK! BULLETS FUCKING REBOUND!“

“RUN, RUN, FUCKING RUN!,” Madison screams, pushing her brother forward and past them.

“FUCKING LANGUAGE!” Reaches them, the voice steadily coming closer. “I DIDN’T FUCKING PAY A DAMN KIDNEY FOR THAT MOTHERFUCKING POSH AS HELL SCHOOL TO HEAR YOU CURSING LIKE SAILORS, DAMMIT. AND PIPE THE FUCK DOWN OR WE’RE GONNA WAKE THE HOLE FUCKING TOWN!!!“

“Ah, the elite,“ Peter snorts and Stiles rolls his eyes. “Well? Where is the big bad? It can’t be that-WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!” And then he proceeds to grab Stiles and run, survival instincts kicking in hard.

“AND YOU HAVEN’T SEEN ALL,“ Anthony wheezes as he catches up with them. “HI, STILES!”

“WHAT CAN BE WORSE THAN THOSE TEETH?!” Peter gasps.

“I DON’T KNOW, WHAT ABOUT THE SCORPION TAIL?”

“ARE YOU TELLING ME IT’S A FUCKING TARASQUE?!“ Stiles cries.

“A FUCKING W-” Anthony’s scream gets abruptly cut when they are pulled to the side and they get their mouths covered. Only Stiles’ firm grip on Peter’s arms stops his immediate violent reaction.

Meghan appears running and Clara grabs her too. Not even a minute later a humongous beast passes them, only to stop and start sniffing around. They even contain their breathing.

Several things happen at once. Peter looks as it physically hurts him not to comment about the fact that ten elite hunters are huddled together like scared and puffed kittens (never mind he’s doing the same) when faced with one single enemy. Meghan starts frantically gesturing at Stiles and mouthing MOJO while Clara, Anthony, Brandon and Madison look at him hopefully. Stiles gestures back just as frantically what he hopes conveys clearly a what the fuck can he do about a dragon with the head of a lion, six short legs similar to that of bear legs, the body of an ox, the shell of a turtle, and a scorpion stinger-tipped tail??? The rest of the hunters are eyeing the proceedings confused and is this really the best time for this?

A tiny almost nonexistent frustrated sound escapes one of the rookies and everyone freezes as the tarasque stills and sniffs around. It doesn’t move in the end, but everyone glares at the rookie and he makes a plaintive gesture. Clara breathes out slowly, leaning a little bit on the disgusting wall, utterly exhausted.

A rock falls.

Daniel eyes the group of people that just entered the coffee shop incredulously and then turns to look at his boss wordlessly. They are filthy and smell horrible, but there’s such a dangerous aura around them that he doesn’t dare to say anything. His boss, an asshole of the highest caliber, motions at him to start attending them.

One of them approaches the counter. His left eye is twitching a bit and when he speaks, it’s like it’s physically paining him to be polite. He’s also clutching a package in his hands in a white knuckled and almost manic grip. He involuntarily takes a step back and the guy behind him smirks.

“What I don’t get,” one of the guys by the door (not) whispers pouting like his three year old sister, “is why didn’t he do that mojo thing right from the start.” Some of the group gasp as if he’s blasphemed.

The guy from the counter pauses ordering and twitches. Two of the nearby guys take a step back and he unconsciously mimics them. One of the hot twins headslaps the guy by the door hard. “Okay, bitch, engrave this in your brain,“ and she pokes at his forehead so harshly that several (including Daniel himself) wince.” You never ever question the mojo again if you wanna live. Fucking rookies.”

Which what? Who the hell are this people? He looks anxiously at his boss again and he makes a chop-chop gesture at him.

They stay for breakfast. Why? No one does that? The coffee is a sludge that could be used as a degreaser and the pastries are so stale that could be used as military weaponry and they look like the kind of people that would kill for something like that. That smirky guy is just saying what about extinction? And did that hot chick (the other twin) just embed the knife on… they are those shitty plastic ones!

“Fuck this, I’m not paid enough for this shit,“ he mutters as he flees to get his things and leave.

“Now, this is something wouldn’t mind making a tradition out of,” smirky guy crows as he watches him leave. He walks faster ignoring his boss’ cursing. “It’s another type of extinction, after all.“

Tick guy laughs and the rest of the party seems to relax. He really wants to flip sarcastic guy the bird, but… those teeth… did they just… He sprints the hell out of there.

—

On a sunny and beautiful Sunday afternoon, Stiles and Allison nearly die.

It’s summer and Stiles babysat six year old Allison yesterday so that Chris and Victoria could have a date night that didn’t involve ghouls or hydras or anything supernatural (they haven’t been very lucky lately), and have a good dinner on a nice restaurant that just opened last week and has had very nice reviews.

He’s pretty sure her detailed analysis of the food is going to be hilarious and not very flattering. After last time, he’s never doubting her culinary skills, though.

He’s meeting her and Chris, along with several visiting family members (it’s Alexandrine’s birthday) at the picnic area that has become so popular lately. You can’t go by car (only police and emergency services are allowed), but it’s just outside town proper, after a nice ten minute walk you cross a pretty big bridge and you’re there.

Allison insisted on baking a cake for grandma so they’re running a little late. It’s lopsided and made almost entirely out of sprinkles and gummy bears more than actual cake, but since it’s Allison’s, he’s pretty sure everyone is going to be gushing at the feat.

He eyes her fondly. She’s insisted on walking, so right now he only has the cake box on his hands. She’s on her princess stage, so she’s wearing a pretty light pink and white (Victoria is going to kill him for letting her wear that to a picnic) dress with matching Mary Janes. He’s also put her quite long hair in a braided crown with flowers interwoven on it and she’s been squealing about it on intervals ever since he finished.

What. He researched, okay? Chris is hopeless about those things and last time Victoria had to leave for a week… He couldn’t stand it anymore, okay? Kate can mock him all she wants (it’s a fair price for letting him practice on her beforehand).

“We’re almost there,“ he tells Victoria on the phone. “Just crossing the bridge. Where are you? It’s pretty crowded.”

“I’ll meet you at the end and lead you there.“

“Perfect. No one has killed Peter yet, right? I’m hearing a car coming but since I don’t hear the sirens…”

“I can’t promise you more than a few minutes more of safety if he continues like this,” she deadpans and he cracks.

“See you in a few. Say bye to mama, Ally.”

“Bye, mama!“ she squeals and he melts like always.

He can tell the car coming from behind is driving quite fast. “Ally, come here, honey.” She runs up to him, slamming into his legs and hugging them, and he picks her up. He spots Victoria ahead and he makes Allison wave at her for him as they continue crossing the bridge. He presses himself to the edge to leave more than enough way for the vehicle to pass them safely.

A few seconds later Victoria screams, terrified for the first time since nearly seven years ago.

Instead of slowing down, the car goes even faster, obviously targeting Stiles and Allison. It crashes on them and then falls over the edge.

“CHRIS!“ she screams, calling him to her as she starts staggering towards where she last saw them. Peter grabs her as he passes, helping her before she falls.

“I can still hear their heartbeats,” he says urgently before letting her go and sprinting towards the edge and jumping before anyone else appears. “I hear his voice! STILES?!”

She forcefully composes herself and sprints after Peter. People are starting to appear when she lets herself slip on the hillside, her heart pounding wildly.

“I know it hurts a little bit, honey, but it will be over soon.“ She hears Stiles’ pained and strained voice. She reaches Peter and then looks up.

“Mama!�� Allison cries, big tears sliding down her face.

Stiles’ palms are stuck to the ceiling and he has Allison grabbed tightly between his legs. Even from where she is, she can see the oddness of one of his shoulders, probably dislocated. He’s trembling badly and gritting his teeth. Allison looks unharmed, even if shaken.

She hears the sirens getting nearer. They have to act fast because it’s obvious that the way Stiles is keeping himself up is not normal.

“Peter,” Stiles grunts as he lets the palm of the not dislocated arm unstick, a pained scream escaping him. “It’s okay, Ally,” he gasps and hoists Allison up to press her to his chest. Her stomach rolls. When he speaks again, she can clearly hear in his voice the extreme pain he is in now. The deputies start to slide down the hillside, running towards them. “You’re gonna have to catch us.”

“I’m ready when you are,“ he answers, gaze intense.

He lets go, curling himself around Allison as he falls and putting her above him. The deputies yell alarmed. She reaches for them too.

Peter catches them with a grunt, steady as a rock.

Later, at the hospital, after being checked (Allison is unharmed, Stiles pulled several muscles and really dislocated his left arm), they get the whole story from one of the deputies. The man that tried to kill them was Alan Richardson, a recent divorcee that had decided, under the influence, to get revenge from his ex-wife by trying to take from her what she loved the most, their daughter. His crazy idea was to search for them across the picnic area, not caring about who he run over until he found them. If he hadn’t spotted Allison before reaching the actual picnic area and drunkenly thought her his daughter, he would have killed a lot of people.

“Those are pretty good reflexes you have there,” the deputy says, “and a very good luck.”

“He’s a tough cookie,“ Chris says fondly.

“I’m hungry, mama,“ Allison pipes from Stiles’ side. “Can I have some cookies?”

“Here, honey,” Victoria answers as she passes her a little bag. Homemade cookies, of course.

Stiles’ lips twitch. At the moment the rest of the family is in the waiting room (Peter’s not very happy right now, he bets). Allison refused to part from Stiles, and her parents refused to part from her, so the doctors have made some allowances. He’s happy that apart from some clinginess on her part, the whole ordeal doesn’t seem to have left any lasting consequences on her.

His left arm is taped to prevent him from moving it and his right arm is around her, so he nuzzles her hair to catch her attention. “Share?”

She’s such a generous cutie. She hums and turns to put a cookie in his mouth, still munching hers.

Right them, his father enters the room, relieving the other deputy. He freezes, nearly choking and Victoria places a hand on his back. Chris eyes them curious but doesn’t say a thing.

“You seem to have an uncanny ability to be in the middle of all the trouble, son,” he says drolly, smiling slightly at the picture he and the little girl make.

“I’d like to point out that I also have the ability to get me out of it normally,“ he answers, mouth partially full. Allison puts another cookie in it the moment he swallows.

“One of these days I’ll get how you do it and share the secret magic with the rest of the police force.“

“It’s the mojo.” Allison pipes helpfully. Stiles chokes, Chris is flabbergasted and Victoria shakes containing her laughter.

“The mojo,“ he humors her gently but obviously not taking her seriously.

“Never doubt Uncle’s mojo,“ she nods seriously and proceeds to try to put the last cookie in Stiles’ mouth. “Right, uncle?”

He bites only half, letting her have the rest. She munches happily. “Right, sweetheart.”

He takes in his father’s expression and he cracks, hiding his face in her nearly undone updo. She doesn’t really get why he’s laughing but she joins him.

[virmillion]

Some Kind of Magical - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 / Masterpost / ao3

Warnings: Past violence, let me know if you have any more

Words: 4449

    Patton splits off from the other three, carefully using the warmth of their words to build a barrier around his heart. No telling how strong it’ll need to be tonight, but he can obliterate that bridge when he gets there—his dad isn’t supposed to be home quite yet. Picking up the pace, Patton pushes his black and blue glasses higher up his nose, trying to quell the rising terror that always accompanies his walks home.

    The number of wild animals crawling out of bushes to greet him is less than reassuring—at this rate, they’ll follow him all the way back and his dad will use them as target practice. Patton shoes them off with handfuls of dried fruits from his bag, regaining his solitude by the time he reaches the front door. Thankfully, the house appears quiet, an unheard of occasion as of late. It’s a rare day when he isn’t greeted by furious yelling or pointedly aggravated silence—if Patton didn’t know better, he’d swear there was some sadistic being testing his resolve in striving toward pacifism.

    “Please be okay, please be okay, please dear Cethyphyirr be okay,” Patton chants to himself, tripping up the stairs on his untied shoelaces. He ignores the gaping frame where his bedroom door had been just that morning and drops his bag to the floor, fooling himself into thinking it would be enough of a barrier to protect him. Without so much as a glance at the sea of garbage and mess at his feet, Patton wades through the clearest path to his closet door—still attached, praise Ceth. Shoving the shelves and weapons to the side, he removes the poster blocking a shallow hole in the wall to reveal a little cove of various babbling critters.

   Tarasques and shedus and jorogumos alike peer out at Patton, each a different age and each recovering from some injury or another. Patton unrolls a cloth bandage, tearing it in the middle with his teeth and turning to the turtle-like tarasque. He patches up a hole in the shell, using his other hand to scoot aside the baying freybug that’s ventured out of the hole. The jorogumo skitters up his arm with several hairy legs, the face-like markings on its back seeming to wink at him.

   “You guys are lucky this cavity came with a size charm, you know that?” Patton sighs, watching his hand shrink each time it enters the gap to escort out another animal. The shedu’s tail puffs up, consuming a majority of the opening and growing into the space. It blocks Patton’s access to the other creatures until he can nudge the creature back to shrink down again. “Yes, Dad, absolutely I should go into Resolute,” he mutters. “Certainly, my one true calling is taking up arms against the creatures that I want nothing more than to protect. How ever do you do it, figuring out exactly what’s best for me? Even teaching me to solve my problems with my fists, to the point that my friends already know they have to restrain me.” Patton grits his teeth, clenching his hands into fists as his jaw begins to ache. He only stops at the whimpering of the freybug, which backs toward the nest with a wary focus on him. Slowly, his fists relax. “Really, Dad, you truly are a wonder to behold. One to rival the Ejnathryk itself.”

   “Patton Thyrrdyn!” A furious voice bellows from downstairs. Patton holds back a groan, quickly and methodically replacing the poster behind the weapons and shelves. The last creatures vanish just in time, as the name is repeated louder and closer than before.

   “Hey, Dad,” Patton says, descending the stairs to look at the man in the front entryway. “What can I do ya for?” He feels his pulse quicken for the ever-present dread that his dad might find the hidden creatures, but this rage doesn’t look like that of a betrayed father.

    “Care to explain why there’s dirt tracked in here?” The panic recedes, leaving only a slight irritation at such a loud yell for such a trivial complaint.

    “Guess I didn’t notice. Sorry.” Patton turns to head upstairs, to escape before the discussion inevitably turns to TryMyts, but nothing can ever be quite so simple.

    “Did they discuss Trytsu selection today?” The edge in his voice alone is enough to make Patton hesitate. “Don’t worry. I know you’ll pick the right one.” He pauses briefly, watching Patton back away with a nod. “I only want what’s best for you, kiddo. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

    “I know.”

    “So, any ideas for dinner?” A stab at conversation, and a poor one at that.

    “No, but Logan, Roman, and Virgil are supposed to come over later. We were gonna try to get started on planning our TryMyts projects.”

    “Who?” A hollow sigh takes up residence in Patton’s chest, begging to be released in a show of sheer aggravation. His dad has met all three of them several times over, and this is just an act to prolong the dying conversation. This information is the only thing keeping Patton from melting down into a stereotypical heap of groaning teen annoyance.

    “Logan Thylktor, Roman Thyrrak, and Virgil Thriyv. We’ve been to each other’s houses a bunch of times, and you even met Virgil’s mom at orientation for senior year TryMyts stuff, remember?”

    An ugly frown toys with his dad’s mouth. “The adoptive parents that don’t understand their place. Yeah, I remember those two.” It would be so easy for Patton to remark on his own mom’s absence, or how ridiculous it is to be upset that two people would willingly take in someone not related by blood, or how well-functioning the Thriyv household is, but he doesn’t. With thinly pressed lips and a slight dip of his chin, Patton retreats the rest of the way upstairs.

    In his room again, he could easily get a head start on his project, or even on putting a dent in the mess on his floor, but that would be too easy. Instead, he lifts the lid from a glass box of miniature trees and grass, hidden in an unmarked crate beneath a heat lamp in his closet. After a moment, something small and green glides from one of the branches, its mottled red tail streaking behind. Patton allows that same wistful smile to cross his face, twin to the one that always appears when his healing creatures test out their reparations—rehabilitations, as it were. The amphiptere, a little winged serpent, finally comes to a rest at Patton again, concluding its tour of his room by wrapping its tail around his finger. The other hand, resting on the floor at his side, promptly stings with the dull pain of a bite.

    “Hey,” he scolds softly, looking at the little beaked basilisk peeking out from his pile of clothes. In Patton’s defense, sometimes the mess is convenient. The reddish brown scales glow as it makes a muted guttural sound, its eyes barely cracked open. Damaged neurotoxin gland, a difficult fic to be sure, but that doesn’t mean Patton isn’t trying. The eyes, having long since recognized Patton as a protector, rather than a captor, avoid his gaze. Paralyzing its closest acquaintance probably isn’t the best course of action. Patton idly observes the progress of each of his creatures, whiling the time away until his friends can get over and ensure that his dad won’t barge in.

    “Patton? Those Loman and Rogan kids you were talking about are here.”

    He doesn’t bother to correct the names—the flub was probably intentional, anyway. Aimed at getting a rise out of Patton, prompting a reaction, proving he didn’t raise a broken boy that would never belong in Resolute. That what everything’s always been about, is trying to force Patton to stretch the extra three inches to fit in a six-foot mold. “Send them up, please.”

    Of their own volition, the creatures return to their tanks and crates and corners, hiding from the people they don’t know well enough to trust. Only Patton is allowed to be graced with their presence, exclusively due to his persistence in trying to help them.

    “Wish they’d stay out so I could meet them,” Roman comments on his way in, watching the speckled tip of the amphiptere’s tail vanish into the closet.

    “Yeah, well.” Patton shrugs, nudging the door shut with his foot and clearing a path through the rubble of clothes on his floor. “Do we want to wait for Virgil?” Rather than answer, Logan drops his weight in papers to the ground, leaving Roman to carry the conversation on his own. Patton’s eyes track the motions of a few flyaway papers, floating gently like fallen butterflies.

    “His mom said he didn’t come home this afternoon, and his mother was busy with a meeting, so his mom said he might stop by later, thanks for our time, but she really should be getting back to her notes.” Mid-sentence, Roman’s voice shifts up an octave in a remarkable imitation of Virgil’s mom. At least, as remarkable as the imitation of an adult woman can be, given that the imitator is a teenage boy.

    “So basically, we’re on our own without the sarcastically comedic comments?”

    “More or less.” Roman joins Patton and Logan on the floor, bringing his comparably meager supply of books with him. With one last sigh, Patton braces himself for the onslaught of work they have ahead of them. By the time a shadow falls over the small window on the far wall, he’s long since stopped paying attention to the outside world. He blinks, trying to force his hazel eyes to focus on what’s in front of him, to make sense of the endless lists and bullet points.

    “What about this? A battle for glory in a ring of deadly creatures, lit by Cethyphyirr to symbolize your creation of a new existence into the world of an official Trytsu?” A decent suggestion from Logan, which lies in direct conflict with the neat scrawling on the paper he holds up—schematics for a Rehabilitate project. Patton squints at the paper, trying to comprehend Logan’s cramped handwriting—despite his penchant for artistic pursuits, he could certainly stand to improve his legibility. Although the situation might be less than ideal, it’s not the worst idea to circumvent Patton’s dad’s refusal to accept a non-Resolute Trytsu.

    As Logan repeats himself for Roman to scribble the battle idea onto his notepad, Patton copies the written plan down in his own pages. “Hasn’t the whole ‘glory of Cethyphyirr’ thing been done before?” Roman pokes his cheek with an eraser, sticking his tongue out. “Not very original of a TryMyts, no offense.”

    “First off, nothing is original,” Logan says, ticking off the reasons on his fingers. “Second, even if it’s been done, it hasn’t been done by you, which is what would make it stand out. Third, the point of TryMyts is not to be original.” He unfurls his remaining two fingers to gesture with his entire hand at Roman. “Every student might well do the same project, provided the result is worthy of finding a place in their Trytsu, be it that of their parents or a new one. Yours doesn’t have to be special. It just has to be effective.”

    “But originality is what makes people stand out! What would you say if someone told you your work was boring, or had been done before?”

    “In all likelihood, I would embrace the challenge of outdoing a previous accomplishment, though that should hardly be any of your concern.” The sparkle in Logan’s eyes sends a jolt through Patton’s spine, an inevitable debate waiting to ignite. “Suppose, Roman, that you were to do something entirely original. How, precisely, might you intend to pass off such a thing to your parents, if you don’t have the perfect grades to back it up? They will assume you won’t succeed if you haven’t succeeded already. Better yet, if there’s never been a safe trial run of your supposedly ‘original’ TryMyts before, how can you guarantee Pib’s safety when you attempt it?”

    Patton is already on his feet and scurrying out of the room before Roman can come up with a retort, letting Logan’s triumphant debate-mode voice fade behind him. He makes up some excuse about getting snacks, the argument rapidly escalating and drowning out his mumbles. Of course, he already knows there’s no extra food lying around the house, but that’s beside the point. Even some ice to let melt on his tongue would be enough, just something to drown out his racing thoughts over Virgil’s absence. Suffice it to say, Patton was less than thrilled to hear about Virgil not making it home, even more so that he didn’t make it to the study session. He just needs a good distraction, is all.

    Take an injured rabbit for example, on its side mere feet beyond the front door. Patton jumps down the last few stairs, ready to sprint outside and help—until his rescue is interrupted.

    “Hey, kiddo, how’s it goin’?” Eyeing the suspiciously pink glow on his dad’s face, Patton shrugs noncommittally, desperate to keep his gaze off the rabbit. “How can you not know? Any project breakthroughs? Any of your little friends planning to betray their heritage and change Trytsun?”

    “I don’t know, no, I don’t know, gotta go,” Patton says, bouncing between his feet and trying to squeeze past his dad. No dice, as the man has him trapped between the railings at the landing of the stairs.

    “What about that Thriyv kid? Did his parents decide to keep their faux-altruistic ways out of other people’s lives for once?”

    “I really don’t know. He might be over later, but I’m not sure.” For a split second, Patton lets his eyes dart to the door, where the rabbit remains. A pair of eyes gleams back at him in the darkness.

    “Hey, hey, eyes on me, kiddo. Right here.” His dad grabs his shoulder, forcing his attention to snap back. “I just want what’s best for you, you know?”

    “I know.” Ignoring the desire to remark on the peculiar way of showing affection, Patton finally slips under the arm braced against the wall. The eyes outside are closer than before. A dish of water, that’s all he needs, just a few seconds to get to the rabbit and get it hydrated and get it upstairs to safety. An ideal plan, simple enough in its success, if the faucet weren’t so slow, if all the dishes weren’t dirty, if his dad had moved sooner, if the rabbit were still warm. With his dad having disappeared to do Ceth knows what, Patton sinks to his knees beyond the door. The eyes have vanished, leaving only the vague sense of being watched as he carefully cradles the rabbit’s hind leg, snapped beyond a point of reason.

    “I’ll help you, promise,” he murmurs, doing his best not to jostle the poor thing as he takes it to his room. Roman and Logan appear completely unsurprised as he sets about wrapping the rabbit’s leg and dribbling water into its mouth with a straw. The other two carry on with their discussion of possible TryMyts ideas, a relaxing backdrop of sound as he works. For however little it’s worth, the rabbit’s eyes slowly brighten, its body heat returning over the course of far too many minutes.

    “Patton, I think we’re going to head out,” Logan says, jolting him from his concentration. “Our parents will be expecting us soon, and we don’t want to impose.”

    “No problem,” Patton replies, barely taking his eyes off the twitching rabbit. “See you tomorrow.”

    “Tomorrow,” Roman agrees, offering a wave as he follows Logan out through where a door should be and down the stairs. Patton waits for the click of the closing front door, counting the moments that follow. After seven seconds, the inevitable complaints present themselves.

    “Why did they have to stay so long?”

    “Don’t know.”

    “What are you doing?”

    “Homework.”

    “What?”

    “Homework!” An edge of aggravation laces through Patton’s voice. This whole charade is as ridiculous and unnecessary as ever.

    “Okay!” A twin spear of irritation lingers with his father’s response.

    “If you need me to be louder, don’t go off at me for complying,” Patton mutters to himself, wishing he could slam the door shut. Of course, it doesn’t exist anymore, probably burned to high Ceth by now, in the name of his dad’s twisted ideas of what being in Resolute truly means. As the echo of a pitiful excuse for conversation fades, the annoyance on both ends slowly dissipates, the chasm of a closet remaining silent. With a careful parting of the obstacles, Patton places a finger into the charmed gap, watching his fingernail shrink down. The sudden visibility reveals all of his little friends curled up on top of one another, happily dozing away. To the quiet hum of the heat lamp’s whirring, the amphiptere huffs hot air out to match the warmth on its back.

    Patton replaces the mess he’d sifted through earlier to disguise his creatures from sight, pleased at how well the posters and boxes blend in with the whirlwind of clothes and papers and projects. There, on the floor of his closet and slumped against the door, is how the morning sun finds him, an obnoxious beam on his crusted shut eyes. It takes a few slow, exhausted blinks for Patton to gather his bearings, before he jumps to his feet.

    Mutterings of “gonna be late” and “crap crap crap” and “Ceth please lend me your speed” chase Patton around his room as he tugs on the first pair of shoes he can find. The clothes from yesterday will have to do, Patton decides, shouldering his open bag and running out the front door. Granted, the stolen bedroom door is a nuisance as well as an invasion of privacy, but it certainly allows for a conveniently fast exit. Down the sidewalk and onto the pavement, the pale sun overhead offers the smallest modicum of warmth for his shivering arms, coated in goosebumps. Twin birds flock behind him, cawing anxiously for their usual morning treats. Patton obliges, scattering a handful of raisins on the ground behind him as he sprints for the school. The last dregs of students filing into the building that rapidly crowns his horizon forces his legs to beat faster, his heart rate pulsing through every last nerve ending.

    “Ceth, please, just a little faster,” Patton heaves, flinging his body into the building with reckless abandon. He collapses into his usual seat in his classroom—thankfully near the front door—and lets his head loll back as the teacher closes the door behind him.

    “Late start, Thyrrdyn?”

    “You could say that.” He lets himself laugh with the other kids, certain the bright pink burn of exertion is spreading rapidly across his face.

    “Well, you sat down before I could shut the door, so I suppose I’ll let it slide. This time.” The telltale wry grin Patton sees toying with the teacher’s lips is enough to know he’s off the hook, with no bad blood to show for it. As the attention of the class reluctantly drifts back to the front of the room, turning minds toward pretending to learn, Patton tunes it out. He can get it all from Logan or Virgil later, rather than strain his willpower to be engaged now. More important of an issue is considering whether his room and reputation are safe, should his dad decide to snoop around while he’s gone.

    The poster was definitely blocking the size-charmed nook, and he almost certainly knocked over the shelves and weapons in his rush to get out. At the very least, the mess should deter any would-be paternal inspectors of that odd spiderweb crack in the wall. There has to be something more, something else he’s forgetting, or he wouldn’t have this lingering sense of dread that something’s missing. Once more through the checklist, the heat lamp was on, the closet door was shut, the mess looked organic, everything important was contained behind closed doors, so everything should be fine.

    “The rabbit!” Patton hisses, rapping the side of his fist on his desk. He darts his eyes around furtively, thanking Ceth that no one seemed to notice his outburst, but one mercy doesn’t solve another. He was helping the rabbit, Logan and Roman left, the mini-interrogation with his dad, and he passed out on the floor. The rabbit was probably long gone by the time Patton woke up—with any luck, it had at least partially healed. With any luck, it would know to hide itself, or get out while it still could.

    With every moment that the teacher discusses whatever it is the class is supposed to care about, Patton feels his pulse pick up. If he could just run home, double check for any incriminating evidence, he could reassure himself and not have to fear his dad’s wrath. The bouncing of his eyes and the tapping of his feet aren’t exactly comforting ways to fidget, not to mention how they seem to agitate the teacher, but Patton can’t particularly find it in himself to care.

    “Patton Thyrrdyn, do you have something you would like to share with the class?” He jolts, eyes wide as they focus on the imposing adult.

    “Um, no, Myjhyrr. Sorry, I didn’t—Sorry.” Patton pulls his lips between his teeth, biting down until they tingle and the color drains away. Prodding the little teeth-shaped indents with his tongue, he smiles sheepishly at the teacher’s wary look. With a glare of warning, the teacher continues the lesson.

    Maybe he could leave at lunch and be back by the next class, if he just sprints a little faster than his lungs would like to allow—but no, no, that wouldn’t work. The higher ranking people in charge of the school started assigning teachers to block off the exits months ago. Patton is well and truly trapped, and there’s nothing he can do about it. If he could just get to the door—

    “Thyrrdyn! You know as well as I do that your record will tolerate very few further complications, and I don’t suppose you desire to toe that line. If you don’t want to repeat this year, I suggest you sit up, face forward, and pay attention.” It’s a bit difficult to discern what, exactly, is so pointed in the teacher’s words, but something in there makes Patton’s blood boil. The worst he’d ever done was give Than a much deserved nosebleed, and that’s hardly any of the teacher’s business to share in front of the whole class. As if they didn’t already know, didn’t already spread rumors to make him sound even worse, like he planned the attack instead of losing his grip on pacifism. At this rate, someone might well end up with a pencil stuck through their arm. Maybe a pen, just to spice things up from last time—which, in Patton’s defense, was an accident. It wasn’t his fault Than set his arm on Virgil’s homework after being asked repeatedly to stop. And besides, Than’s arm wasn’t the only casualty that day—Patton lost a perfectly good pencil.

    At the teacher’s withering glare, Patton lets his eyes fall to his paper, covered in unintelligible doodles and half-hearted notes. Might as well pretend to pay attention now, if only to perfect his acting for when he’ll have to feign innocence at home. No time like the present to start coming up with an alibi. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Patton was forced to be dishonest, anyway. He doesn’t necessarily want to hurt anyone, but if the good of the many outweighs the good of himself, of course he’s going to pursue the former.

    By the time Patton reminds himself that yes, little white lies are okay in a few choice circumstances, the desks around him are empty, save for the kid asleep in the back corner. The teacher comes to a halt in front of Patton, an incessant clicking sound coming from beyond the desk. As the teacher begins to once more reprimand Patton for not paying attention, the clicking solidifies into the recognizable sound of a pen being shuttered and reopened far more rapidly than necessary.

    “Thyrrdyn—” click “—you—” click “—need—” click “—to learn—” click “—to pay—” click “—attention!” Click click click. “I’m going to have to write you up if this continues.”

    “Oh, no, there’s really no need for that,” Patton says, eyes trained on the infernal clicking pen. “Just an off day, you know?”

    Click click. “It better be. Go on to your next class, but one” click “—last thing.” Click click click. “You’re aiming to switch into Rehabilitate, yes?” Click click.

    “Yeah, but how did you—”

   “Not—” click “—important. What is important is that I have a very close connection to the TryMyts advisors, including Myjhyrr Ryhanthyrri. It would be a shame if he were to find out about your poor aptitude for a place in the Rehabilitate Trytsu.” Click click click click.

   “There’s really no need for that,” Patton repeats, wincing at his lack of more extensive protests. “I’ll do better, I swear, I just need to get the ball rolling on this year. Diving headfirst back into school and all, yeah?”

   With a heavy sigh, the teacher’s eyes fly to the ceiling. The conversation needs to end soon, if Patton is to get to his next class on time, and they both know it. By some miracle, the clicking stops. His head hurts. “Look, Thyrrdyn, I just need you to pull your act together, alright? I’ve heard great things about you from other teachers, past violence excluded, and ideally I’d hoped you would keep it up for this final year. I don’t want to have to be the one to hold you back and make you redo your TryMyts, but I will, if that’s what it takes. Get it?”

   “Yep.” Patton is already sidling toward the door halfway through the teacher’s hypocritical lecture, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “I will absolutely work on that in—whoops, sorry!” He dodges a student shoving their way into the room, half-wishing he could take back the apology when he realizes it’s just Than. No, nope, none of that, clean record in front of this teacher from here on out. Patton is nice and friendly and pacifistic and will act accordingly.

   “Don’t disappoint me, Thyrrdyn.” The teacher sighs as Patton darts into the hall, out of earshot before the ominous warning can reach him.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 / Masterpost / ao3

[purrincess-chat]

RPM Day 3: Kwami Swap

I’m finally here with day 3! It took me a while because I had to come up with names for stuff, and I also went out with my sister today, so I was gone all afternoon. But here it is! My “new” ship that I am calling PenNath until someone comes up with something better. Idk if this is already a thing, but if not, it is now. The end of this one is slightly steamy, but nothing too intense. Still T rated.

Read on AO3

Day 3: Kwami Swap

Nathalie straightened a stack of papers on her desk with a sigh, rolling her neck to relieve some tension. Assisting with Gabriel Agreste’s business could be a hassle most days as she was also expected to manage both his schedule as well as Adrien’s making sure they both get to where they need to be on time. Sometimes it was a thankless job, but the pay was good, and she’d grown fond of the Agreste family.

Her smart watch beeped, and she glanced at it, a small smile spreading over her lips. It seemed as if it was time for her coffee break, so she switched off the screen on her computer and stood up, catching Gabriel’s attention from where he sat on the couch with his sketch book.

“I’m going on a coffee run. Can I get you anything while I’m out?” She offered formally.

“I’m fine, but can you pick up the sample garments on your way home?” Gabriel said, returning to his sketching.

“Of course.” Nathalie nodded, pulling the door closed behind her before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Anything for you, your highness.”

“You work too hard. You’re getting lines around your eyes from squinting at screens all day,” Draag said chidingly, peeking out from her blazer as she paced toward the front door.

“That’s what makes these coffee breaks all the more necessary.” She winked, slipping out the front door and leaning against it with a relieved smile. “Transform me.”

Across town, Penny Rolling sat with a finger in one ear and a cell phone pressed to the other as Jagged strummed made-up melodies while serenading his crocodile. Fang seemed to like it, but Penny just wished she could get her work done.

“No, yes, hi, I need to confirm the venue for Jagged’s show tomorrow? Can you hear me?” She said over the noise, wincing a little as Jagged hit a note high enough to shatter glass. “Yes, it starts at 10:30.”

Her watch beeped, and she glanced at it, perking up slightly as she wrapped up her phone call. It was finally coffee time! She glanced at the rockstar standing on the table, dancing in his underwear with his guitar and sighed.

“Jagged, I’m going to get coffee,” She announced, and Jagged turned to face her.

“Penny! What’dya think of this?” He shouted, plucking out a louder, faster version of the melody he’d been playing previously, and Penny put on an encouraging expression through her wince.

“It’s great, Jagged. I’ll be back in a little while,” She repeated, backing toward the door.

“Are you going out? Can you pick me up some macarons from one of those little shops? I love macarons.” Penny gave him a thumbs up before slipping out of the door into the hallway and quickly made her way to the elevator.

“Thank goodness. I thought my ears were going to start bleeding if we had to be in there any longer,” Tonii said with a groan, rubbing his ears sorely as he floated out into the open.

“Jagged is a very talented musician…when he wants to be,” Penny said with a shrug. “I can’t say I don’t look forward to these coffee breaks, though.”

“You and me both,” Her kwami grumbled, flitting back into hiding when the elevator reached the lobby.

“Miss Rolling, we’ve been receiving a number of noise complaints from your room, and our guests are getting very unruly-” The receptionist started, but Penny held up a hand and kept walking toward the front door.

“I’ll be sure to handle it when I get back,” She said with a dismissive grin.

Once out into the street, she made her way to her favorite nearby coffee shop and ordered two cups to go, one with two creams and sugar and another with a splash of milk, adding two extra shots of espresso to each. When they were finished, she took them and retreated into the nearest alleyway to transform, taking care not to spill their drinks as she leapt up into the rooftops.

Tarasque was waiting in their usual spot overlooking Place de la Concorde with a fresh baguette bagged next to her while she looked out over the city with a serene expression. She turned to face her when Tigress touched down on the roof, cocking a brow as she got situated and passed her a cup. The sat together in silence for a moment, taking sips of coffee and tearing off chunks of bread before Tarasque finally spoke.

“I had to sit through 4 meetings today because my boss didn’t feel like going. He’s head of the company, and he doesn’t even bother to show up to 80% of the meetings he plans,” She vented.

“Try having to wrangle your client’s enormous pet while arranging a private meeting with the German ambassador’s niece,” Tigress shot back.

“His son also ran off again today. I don’t know where he goes or how he gets away from his body guard so easily, but if we can’t find him within an hour, his father has a meltdown,” Tarasque said, rubbing her eyelids with her thumb and middle finger. “Most of the time he’s off with his friends somewhere, and honestly, I don’t blame him for wanting to get out of the house all the time.”

“I wish I could just run away from my problems.” Tigress leaned against her fist with a moan, closing her eyes.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” Her partner said pointedly with an amused chuckle.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” She said with a sigh, tipping back the rest of her coffee and setting her cup aside. “But on the bright side I have to pick up some macarons on the way home, so I’ve got a little extra time tonight.”

“I’m supposed to pick up something as well tonight,” Tarasque’s lips pulled up to one side.

Tigress wasn’t sure who moved first, but soon she straddled Tarasque’s lap, arms locked around her neck as their lips met eagerly. She shuddered as hands trailed down her spin and laced through her hair, holding her closer as heated breath swirled between them. A soft sigh escaped her lips as her partner kissed her jaw, her neck, her shoulders until reuniting with her own once again. Her head spun as her tongue teased the rim of her lower lip, but such moments of bliss were always short lived.

Beep-beep.

Their watches chimed in sync, and reluctantly, they pulled away with ragged gasps, touching their foreheads together and clinging for just a moment longer. But time was up, and they had jobs and obligations to return to, even if the temptation to stay hidden away on top of that roof, wrapped in each other’s embrace was unbearably strong.

“Until next time, mon chaton,” Tarasque breathed against her lips before they shifted to stand up.

“See you tomorrow, my sexy dragon.” Tigress winked, gaining an eye roll as a reward.

“You know I hate that nickname.”

“Yeah, but it’s true,” She said with a grin, rocking back on her heels. “Ya know, if I take the long way home, I have time for a good-bye kiss.”

Tarasque seemed to contemplate it a moment, eyeing her with pursed lips before nodding. “You drive a hard bargain. Alright. The long way home it is.”

Their daily breaks were never long enough, but the savored the time they did have, drinking in each second up until the very last one. Parting was hard, particularly when endless amounts of work awaited them when they returned home, but for the two of them, there was always the promise of another coffee break tomorrow.

[gdbot]

Tarasque Press Catalogue Spring 69, Tarasque Press, Nottingham,... https://ift.tt/2Gqs2SH

[parkertorrence-blog]

NecroManIcon part 1.2

Book of the Black Dragon

Part One chapter two :: Tiamat

According to Assyro-Babylonian mythology, at the beginning of the world there were two primordial beings-Apsu, the male incarnation of fresh water and space; and Tiamat, the female incarnation of the sea and chaos. [Dragons A Natural History by Dr. Karl Shuker, Simon & Schuster 1995]

The coming of order-the division of light from darkness, of the heavens and the earth from the waters-required that the first dragons be conquered, since they were demons of disorder. Their foes were gods, not men, for these leviathans existed long before humankind appeared. [DRAGONS (The Enchanted World) by the Editors of Time-Life Books 1984] On that very day when the Unicorn drew forth from barren rock a gushing spring of life, the seeds of doom were sown as well. For even as those shining waters spread their fertile mosture, they poured into unlighted fissures and trickled down to secret, burning caverns that wound among the mountains' roots. There, in those abysmal chambers, the sacred waters' life-bestowing charge was first expended in raising up a living thing. And thus in fire and in darkness was the Dragon born. Her nature bears everlasting testimony to the uneasy birth, and ever after, no other creature has possessed the same measure of strength and cunning. Now the first dragon was Yaldabaoth (though she is called Tliamat as well, and many other names besides). She was fearsomely wrought, with darting, lidless eyes; and the first sight caught in her unblinking gaze was her own image, reflected in the dark waters. She worshipped the sight, and a secret lust for that selfsame image consumed her heart for all time since. And Yaldabaoth grew great and spawned others like herself: Nagamat and Kaliyet and Orkus, Tarasque and Serpens; and many more besides. Now while dragons are of many sizes and shapes, all are swift and sharp of intellect, and thirst after knowledge. While the Unicorn seeks to divine the secrets of creation that he may more perfectly know the Creator, the Dragon desires the same that it may gain dominion over all the world, and thereby conquer death. [Quest: In Search of the Dragontooth by Michael Green, Running Press 1994] Poets of every ancient land spoke of the titanic patterns of their conflicts. From the fertile crescent of Mesopotamia, formed by the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, came the earliest tales. There, thousands of years ago, an unknown scribe in the land of Babylon set down on seven clay tablets a story of creation that had already descended through generations of his people by word of mouth. In the beginning, wrote the scribe, when all was dark and formless, two primal beings came into existence. One was male, the spirit of fresh water and the void, and it was called Apsu. The other was female, the spirit of salt water and chaos, and it was a dragon, composed of elements of dangerous creatures yet to come: It possessed the jaws of a crocodile, the teeth of a lion, the wings of a bat, the legs of a lizard, the talons of an eagle, the body of a python, the horns of a bull. The dragon's name was Tiamat.     The union of these two creatures, wrote the scribe, spawned the gods, and one of them killed his father, Apsu. [DRAGONS (The Enchanted World) by the Editors of Time-Life Books 1984] ABSU rose up to slay the Elder Gods by stealth. With magick charm and spell ABSU fought, But was slain by the sorcery of the Elder Gods. And it was their first victory. His body was lain in an empty Space In a crevice of the heavens Hid He was slain, But his blood cried out to the Abode of Heaven. [Necronomicon by Simon, Avon Books 1980] Then in her dragon's fury, Tiamat gave birth to a new kind of offspring, a menagerie of monsters to afflict her first brood. She brought forth scorpion men and demon lions, giant serpents and-lesser versions of herself-glittering dragons. Chaos reigned in the formless void. In order to defend themselves, the gods called one of their own number as a champion. [DRAGONS (The Enchanted World) by the Editors of Time-Life Books 1984] MARDUK was chosen of the Elders to fight KUR and wrest power from the Great Sleeping Serpent who dwells beneath the Mountians of the Scorpion. MARDUK was given a weapon, and a Sign, and Fifty Powers were given to him to fight the awful TIAMAT. [Necronomicon by Simon, Avon Books 1980] This was Marduk, who would become lord of the universe. Armed with a net and a club, with poison, with bow and arrow and a quiver of lightning bolts, the god Marduk mounted a storm chariot drawn by four swift and violent steeds. He was escorted by the four winds and a mighty hurricane. Thus arrayed in terror, Mardruk searched the universe for Tiamat, his dragon mother. [DRAGONS (The Enchanted World) by the Editors of Time-Life Books 1984] Transported by the power of a tumultuous, raging tempest, he swiftly reached the appointed battlefield, and at once the massed forces of Tiamat arose to destroy him. [Dragons A Natural History by Dr. Karl Shuker, Simon & Schuster 1995] She summoned the Viper, the Dragon, and the Winged Bull, The Great Lion, the Mad-Dog, and the Scorpion-Man. Mighty rabid Demons, Feathered-Serpents, the Horse-Man, Bearing weapons that spare not Fearless in Battle, Charmed with the spells of ancient sorcery, ...withal Eleven of this kind she brought forth With KINGU as Leader of the Minions. [Necronomicon by Simon, Avon Books 1980] But as Tiamat approached, with her troops in her wake, Marduk flung his net over this vast monster, enveloping her in an inextricable tangle of mesh that bound her so tightly she was unable to break free. Immediately, Marduk directed the wild fury of the hurricane into her face, and as expected, Tiamat opened her colossal jaws in a frenzied attempt to engulf her persecutor. The hurricane surged into her moth, exerting the full force of its raging power to prevent her from closing her jaws again, gripping her heart with chill fingers of ice and inflating her belly with its vigorous breath. [Dragons A Natural History by Dr. Karl Shuker, Simon & Schuster 1995] Then, taking aim with his bow, Marduk shot an arrow between Tiamat's open jaws, straight down into her heart. "Her inner parts he cleft," wrote the scribe. "He split her heart. He rendered her powerless and destroyed her life. He felled her body and stood upright on it." The death of Tiamat threw her beast-brood into confusion, and they fled for their lives. But Marduk caught them all in his net and put them in chains and threw them into the infernal regions. [DRAGONS (The Enchanted World) by the Editors of Time-Life Books 1984] The old order was no more. Once he had annihilated all her panic-stricken followers, too, Marduk set about creating an entire world from the carcass of Tiamat. After cleaving her body in two, he fashioned one half into the heavens, and molded the other into the earth. He set the stars in the heavens and garnished the earth with fields, forests, rivers, and mountains, populating them with a teeming myriad of wildlife. [Dragons A Natural History by Dr. Karl Shuker, Simon & Schuster 1995] From the Blood of KINGU he fashioned Man. He constructed Watchtowers for the Elder Gods Fixing their astral bodies as constellations That they may watch the Gate of ABSU The Gate of TIAMAT they watch The Gate of KINGU they oversee The Gate whose Guardian is IAK SAKKAK they bind. All the Elder Powers resist The Force of Ancient Artistry The Magick Spell of the Oldest Ones The Incantation of the Primal Power The Mountain KUR, the Serpent God The Mountain MASHU, that of Magick The Dead KUTULU, Dead but Dreaming TIAMAT, Dead but Dreaming And shall their generation come again? [Necronomicon by Simon, Avon Books 1980] The world turned dark and I believed I swooned, though somehow I did not fall. Mind reeling, I gained my wits, and saw that I stood no longer above a hissing sea, but in a craggy wilderness overlooking a shadowy plain! The ramparts above us were gone; there was not the slightest sign of human habitation. I turned in utmost confusion to my host, and he responded with a look of grave intensity. "Behold Magh Dá Cheo, the Plain of the Two Mists," he said. "Follow, if you wish to know the beginnings." I followed. The ground was moist, and a rich damp fragrance filled the air. Wild mountains rose beyond the plan, and the sun hung at the horizon just as in the world we had left behind us. My host moved quickly forward down a narrow defile, for light was waning. We threaded our way along a path between jagged outcroppings, all overgrown in places with a rich cloak of fern and moss glowing like jewels in the last golden rays of the sun. There seemed to be ancient languages writ in the delicate wrinkles that adorned the rocks, but I cannot say for sure. My spirit rose in gladness, for I had found my way into the magic hidden realm! The dying light illuminated a great and convoluted thing hanging in the darkness. Along moment I regarded it in puzzlement, until with a start I saw it was a monstrous skull unlike any creature that I knew. Its forehead was fully three spans in width, and armed with horns and tusks. Yet it was also a thing of fierce and efficient beauty, and I knew suddenly that through the flesh was gone a refined and ancient will remained. Like a shining sword, it was both supremely rational and mystical. It would accept no obstacle; it would penetrate every opposing strategy in pursuit of higher purpose. [Quest: In Search of the Dragontooth by Michael Green, Running Press 1994]

[elisenei]

A-ble Char-lie Bak-er Dance Lax, Robert, Emil Antonucci (design) East Markham, Nottinghamshire: Tarasque Press, 1971.

[thegetty]

What is Concrete Poetry?

A new exhibition at the Getty Research Institute explores the international concrete poetry movement, this exhibition focuses on the visual, verbal, and sonic experiments of the 1950s, '60s, and '70s. Featuring works by foundational figures Augusto de Campos and Ian Hamilton Finlay, Concrete Poetry explores how these artists invented new forms such as cube poems and standing poems and continuously re-created their projects across media. Poetry by contemporaries including Henri Chopin, Ernst Jandl, Mary Ellen Solt, and Emmett Williams also plays a prominent role.

Concrete Poetry: Words and Sounds in Graphic Space is on view through July 30, 2017 at the Getty Research Institute.