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thanksjro · 4 years ago

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Dark Cybertron Chapter 11: The Word “Logic” Doesn’t Even Mean Anything Anymore

Our issue opens up with a flashback to establish some things. 

Because despite the six literal issues of prelude, and all the ham-fisted exposition we’ve gotten throughout the “Dark Cybertron” event, we still don’t have all the information we need to understand what the hell’s happening.

I have a feeling this won’t quite cut the mustard, either.

Anyway, back during the events of MTMTE #1, when Rodimus was making his call to action to his fellow Cybertronians (and by “Cybertronians” I, of course, mean “Autobots”, because prejudice is a hard habit to kick, even for the best of us) Brainstorm was doing science on Hardhead. He was doing this science to make sure that the Dead Universe hadn’t killed him without him realizing. This is a very common issue in the world of IDW2005 Transformers, considering that zombies are a part of canon, so it’s just best to be sure. Nova Prime’s lifeless body sits in the corner like the world’s worst coffee table book.

This will take some explaining, because this is Phase One related.

In Spotlight: Sideswipe, Nova Prime beefed it, except he didn’t, because his “essence” returned to the Dead Universe. This is because he was chosen by the Dead Universe to enact its will on the other, much cooler, Not-Dead Universe. In short, he’s a weird robot zombie-ghost with a save point in the Dead Universe.

Brainstorm has his corpse in his lab to make sure this bastard is true and proper dead, or that the body he left behind is at least. That, in combination with Hardhead proving to be very much alive, means that today can be counted as a win for everyone! The “Alive-People-Counter” machine proves it!

…This is why we can’t have nice things.

Brainstorm being undead does have some precedence within the narrative, given what happened in MTMTE #3.

Though I can’t help but wonder what the guy’s been doing for the last year and a half, that he didn’t notice being dead, when his soul is a large, glowing orb with physical presence. I dunno, he just seems like the sort of guy to keep up to date on that sort of thing, if only for scientific purposes.

In the present day, in the beautiful city of Iacon, everything’s gone to shit, and Whirl’s gotten hot for some reason, as billions of Ammonites fall out of the sky.

Who friggin’ drew this-

I should’ve known.

Up on the Lost Light, Ultra Magnus is breaking out the fancy swears, as a… tornado, I guess, of Ammonites hits the underside of the ship. Bumblebee wants to evacuate the friggin’ planet- which, I don’t know if you know this, would be a little difficult to do, even with a ship the size of NYC. Unfortunately, that’s not gonna fly, however, because all the stars in the sky are blue-shifting.

Wikipedia tells me that this is probably a bad thing, and Perceptor agrees, calling it “the end of everything.”

Over in Shockwave’s Lair of Villainy and Magical Bullshit, everyone’s favorite purple science gremlin has stabbed a “time drive” into his chest. Galvatron is laying dead on the floor in the foreground, but this isn’t about him. Shockwave orders Jhiaxus to activate the time drive, I guess because he doesn’t have long enough arms to do it himself. Jhiaxus warns Shockwave to be mindful, lest he lose himself in time, and then we get a return to a Roberts writing staple that we haven’t seen in quite a while.

Waxing poetic on the nature of time- this time, in a visual medium!

Awful lot of fixating on your ritualistic amputations there, Shocky-boy. I suppose this is ONE way to try to cope with a lack of control in your life.

Of course, to those on the outside of Shockwave’s brain, this doesn’t look nearly as impressive- it actually just looks like him screaming really loud at the ceiling. Bludgeon isn’t sure that this course of action is a healthy one to take, but Jhiaxus is too busy being sapiosexual to worry about that.

I-

Sure. I’m not even going to bother trying to understand this anymore.

Jhiaxus orders Monstructor to go keep the Autobots away from Shockwave.

Also, Galvatron isn’t dead. Good for him, I guess.

Over inside Metroplex, Windblade’s face seems to be stuck in the generic “I am a nice, nonthreatening female character who is also pretty” position, as Ultra Magnus tells her that the universe is ending. Chromia watches in the background as this happens, likely wondering if being relevant in modern media again is worth this bullshit.

Hearing that Bumblebee plans to take the fight to Shockwave is enough to get Metroplex back on his feet, which is good, because I don’t think we have a lot of time to convince the guy to do anything- this event ends next issue.

As Metroplex windmills his arms through swarms of Ammonites, the Lost Light lands, and Bumblebee, Megatron, and all their experts disembark. Bumblebee makes an unsolicited comment about Megatron’s body. They go to meet Soundwave, who isn’t terribly thrilled with Megatron having become all buddy-buddy with Bumblebee. Megatron mentions that the Decepticons are going to have to rethink their strategy once this is all over, with the implication being that they’re going to- gasp- work together with the Autobots.

Then Starscream shows up with Metalhawk, Skywarp, Rattrap, Waspinator, and Scoop for some fucking reason, in tow. Skywarp is going to teleport everyone into Shockwave’s Bastardization of the Concept of Science House, even though he pretty clearly isn’t feeling too well. What a guy.

Starscream and Megatron have a bit of banter that won’t set your hair on end with how awful they are to one another, Metalhawk tries to apologize for attempting to kill Bumblebee, and we really don’t have time for this shit right now. The narrative knows this, because it shifts to focus on Prowl and the Constructicons. Things are looking real rough just about everywhere, and it’s coming down to the wire, so they gotta do the thing.

The thing Prowl really doesn’t want to do.

The thing he said that he wouldn’t do again.

So anyway, they form Devastator.

As Monstructor gets ready to get punched in the face by a bunch of construction workers and a cop, everyone down below is firing off laser blasts and gearing up for a teleporting adventure. However, there’s a small problem- there are too many people to teleport! Oh no! The only solution is for Soundwave and his cassettes, Scoop, Getaway and-

Excuse me, Hook?

Hook, my dude? What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You’re supposed to be a leg right now, motherfucker, why are you here? GO HOME, HOOK.

Anyway, I’m really glad we wasted the time establishing that Soundwave and his band of merry little men were coming along on this trip, only for them to not come along after all. Love that shit.

I don’t actually love that shit. I’m sorry for lying.

With the load lightened, Skywarp teleports the rest of the gang to where they need to be, and Waspinator is immediately stabbed with a massive raging poisoning sword of doom. Bludgeon’s here to greet everyone, and Metalhawk is gonna try his damnedest to get the guy to come around to their side.

You remember when Metalhawk did things like connive, and scheme, and actually had more depth than a sidewalk puddle? Because I remember. Now he’s just... Beast Wars Silverbolt, but he’s not even attempting to be charming. I bet he wouldn’t even call his evil girlfriend “my soul’s delight.” Lame.

Bumblebee, Megatron, and friends book it for Shockwave, while Magnus and Skids get ready to kick some ass. Brainstorm isn’t feeling so hot, but this isn’t about him.

Starscream is having a minor crisis over the fact that Scoop stayed behind in a literal war zone for Starscream’s sake. I dunno that he did it specifically for Starscream, but Starscream seems pretty convinced that he did, and who am I to argue with the leader of a whole friggin’ planet?

The gang makes it to Jhiaxus’ ship, where they find-

I swear to god, if there’s not a fucking explanation for what the shit is happening right here I’m going to scream.

…So anyway, Metalhawk and Jhiaxus start beating each other up, Starscream gets bent out of shape by Jhiaxus’ trash talk, and we get an explanation for his new look.

Which, y’know, thank fucking god.

Jhiaxus has new reactive armor, which takes anything thrown at him and adapts it to his own body for personal use, which feels like some Grade-A Kids Playing Pretend bullshit, but WHATEVER.

While this is going on, Megatron and Bumblebee have run into the center of Shockwave’s Laboratory of Morally-Abhorrent Mystical Buffoonery Masquerading as the Scientific Method. Dreadwing tries to make a case for self-defense of his property, but unfortunately he doesn’t understand how property rights work, and gets blasted for his troubles. Galvatron reveals himself to be alive to Megatron, who immediately grabs the dude by the throat.

Galvatron’s feeling pretty down about having inadvertently helped end the universe, and is throwing himself a little pity party. Megatron’s not having it, however, tossing the man into the ground and revving up to fusion-cannon him to death. Bumblebee stops him, for some reason, and then starts rambling, I guess STILL trying to be Optimus Prime 2.0.

Bumblebee, you put bombs in people’s heads to make them fall into line. You don’t get to talk to Captain Warlord about moral nuance. And weren’t you also berating Metalhawk for trying this same thing not five minutes ago?

Bumblebee’s words reach Megatron, and instead of annihilating Galvatron, he offers the dude a hand up.

Then Bumblebee gets shot and dies, while Shockwave just… stares menacingly, I guess.

Cool.

The death of his very best friend in the whole wide world sends Megatron into a rage, and he punches Shockwave in the face. This doesn’t really faze him much though, as he bats Megatron across the fucking room like he’s made of papier-mâché and dreams, going on about how the universe will save Cybertron by being its power source “in an endless forever.”

Shockwave, you’re a man of science. You ought to know that “forever” as a concept, doesn’t fucking WORK scientifically. It’s nonsense. You’re nonsense, and I hate you.

Back with the Bludgeon Ass-Kicking Squad, Brainstorm’s having a bad time, while everyone else sort of awkwardly poses. Skids gets stabbed. Skids falls down. Brainstorm falls down. Ultra Magnus is concerned, but he’s too busy not being stabbed to help anyone.

Brainstorm’s in a lot of pain, and then a hand bursts out of his chest and-

GODDAMMIT JAMES.

Fucking- Team -Imus burst out of the Dead Universe from Brainstorm, who I will remind you, is undead thanks to Dead Universe lightning bullshit, making him a link between it and the much cooler Not-Dead Universe. Everyone is posing, even Cyclonus, who absolutely should think that sort of thing is beneath him, but whatever.

That’s the end of the issue. Go home.

#transformers #jro #jro punches me in the face #dark cybertron #issue 11 #rid #exrid #issue 27 #maccadam #Hannzreads #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #text post #long post #comic script writing

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dyaz-stories · 4 years ago

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Screaming Color — A SessKagu One-Shot

“The rest of the world was black and white... but we were in screaming colors”

Tagging: @shinidamachu @sailorbabydoll92 @sweetchcolate @clearwillow @zelink-inukag @cstorm86 @digital-art-monster @danycontreras90 @redflamesofpassion @lost-amidst-the-stars @eternalnight8806-3 @desiree239 @keichanz @ashleys-canvas @mustardyellowsunshine @meggz0rz @contacting-u @ramen---boi @superpixie42 @kazeinori

Also available on Ao3 and ff.net.

Prom night. Balloons suspended around the school gym in a desperate attempt to make it look a little more dreamy, not-so-dazzling lights, the one mirrorball the school owned, which had probably been purchased at the peak of the disco era, considering its looks, glitter on the floor, and bad music. Girls dressed to the nines and boys, well, making an effort, at least. Smiles, heartbreak, epic highs and lows of teenage romance.

And, standing by the drinks table, bored out of her damn mind, Kagura Kaze, art teacher in her thirties, chaperoning.

To say this wasn’t Kagura’s dream night would have been a complete understatement. See, when Onigumo, the school director had approached her to give her that job, she had had a moment of hesitation. It had lasted a second, if not less, as memories flooded her mind. When she’d been in high school, she was way too cool for prom, so she had never experienced it, and it made her— it made her somewhat curious, you know? Made her want to know what all the fuss was about.

Of course, the thought quickly vanished from her mind. Obviously, she couldn’t experience it as a teenager again, and while it might have been fun back then, though she seriously doubted it, there was no way she would enjoy it even the tiniest bit now.

But because of her hesitation, she’d lost her way out, and that was how she found herself, well, here.

“I’m standing right here, Manten.”

The teenage boy seemed genuinely surprised to hear her talk, and almost dropped the bottle of alcohol he’d been about to pour in the punch that was available for all students to drink from.

“Yeah, I know, I just—”

He just hadn’t thought she’d say anything. She’d heard that a lot tonight, and she didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended. It definitely confirmed that she was the ‘cool teacher’, a title she’d earned because she was, by far, the best dressed teacher in school, because she actually had some renown in the art world and also because, if she dared to say so herself, she was an a-fucking-mazing teacher.

That would have come as a surprise to anyone, including her own self, just five years ago, when she’d gotten the job. She’d thought that would be the nail in the coffin of her creativity and of her already dying art career. She’d thought, and everyone around her agreed, that she would murder one of the young imbeciles she’d have to look after after just one day, and end up in jail, and if that didn’t happen, she would certainly die a long and boring death in the small high school of a small town, miles away from the city and everything she loved.

But, as it turned out, that had not been the case. She could, in fact, live without Starbucks, and she didn’t need to go shopping at high-end clothing stores every week-end.

Not that she could afford it these days.

As for teenagers, they were horrible, stupid, and hormonal, but some of them, sometimes, were also interesting. Those, she did her best to help. After all, Kagura liked talent. She took pride in her ability to spot it, even in its rawest form. She had thought it would make her bitter, to see these talented teenagers, with all their lives still ahead of themselves.

It didn’t. It just made her want to help them, and if that meant she had to do her damnedest to find scholarships they could apply to, well, she’d do that.

Other students didn’t complain about her class, either. It gave them an outlet for all sorts of emotions, and if there was one thing no one had ever said about her, it was that she was boring.

So it didn’t exactly surprise her, to hear that Manten had thought she’d let him spike the punch, but on the other hand— how did he dare? Did he really think she was that irresponsible? She wasn’t going to let teenagers get wasted on her watch.

“Give me the bottle, Manten,” she sighed, extending a perfectly manicured hand.

“But��”

“And tell your brother to come here and give me his,” she added, eyeing Hiten, who was watching the scene carefully, and who, of course, had sent his brother do his dirty job for him.

“Oh, Hiten would never—”

“You heard her, kid,” a deep voice growled from behind him. “Get it done.”

Manten immediately seemed to shrunk and disappear, which could have been a pretty funny sight, in different circumstances. The look Kagura gave to Inuyasha Taisho, P.E. teacher, was not amused.

“I was handling it,” she said dryly.

“Yeah, and I got it done faster.”

She had to resist the urge to snarl at him. Inuyasha was an alright person, but what an asshole he could be.

”Hey,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, clearly unaware of the less than charitable thoughts that were going through her mind, “you wouldn’t have happened to see—”

“I’ll tell you where she is if you get Miroku and Sango back from their break,” she interrupted him. “I want to take mine, and we need someone by this table.”

She didn’t add that they were probably making out. Miroku had taken two bottles she’d gotten from kids who also wanted to spike the punch — which showed that there was no coordination there and was very irresponsible of them, because what if they’d all succeeded, that would have been a disaster — and winked at her before leaving with the perpetually unimpressed Sango. Thinking back on it, she probably should have stopped him then and there.

She’d high-fived him instead.

“Sure,” Inuyasha shrugged, not realizing what he was probably opening himself to seeing. “So?”

“She took a group of lonely kids to the library.”

“Keh. Of course she would,” Inuyasha scoffed, but his dumb, soft smile betrayed his feelings. That was how he’d been tricked into being here tonight, too. Because, of course, ‘she’ had also volunteered to watch over the dance.

Another day, another time, Kagura would have loved to meddle in the slow-burn developing between him and the literature teacher, the lovely Kagome Higurashi, because they were so damn entertaining, definitely her favorite couple among the faculty, but if she stood there one minute longer, she was going to spontaneously combust or something.

“Good. I’m off.”

“Hey, wait a second—”

“Hiten, here!”

The teenage boy begrudgingly handed her a bottle of what she knew at a glance was a very, very nice wine. Those kids really had too much money and too little supervision for their own good, which wasn’t something she could fix. Wasn’t her job, either, but sometimes, it disappointed her a little. Gave her heart an unpleasant squeeze. Every year, how many of those kids graduated, about to jump headfirst into a shitty life that would never get better? How many of them had she failed?

That wasn’t something she ever thought about, before starting to work here. It wasn’t a pleasant thought by any means, but she didn’t hate it, either. It felt— needed. It felt like it was something she should have thought about before. Then maybe she could have made a difference sooner, maybe she would be doing a better job.

On the other hand, if she didn’t think about it, maybe she wouldn’t need a drink so bad right now.

“Mrs. Kaze,” a calm, even voice, called from behind her as she was just about to leave the gym, “may I ask where you are going?”

Kagura froze, closed her eyes a second, then turned around, a charming smile on her lips.

“I was just taking my break, Mr. Taisho,” she said, ignoring the way her heart was hammering in her chest, as it always did whenever she talked to him. “Care to join me?”

Sesshomaru Taisho rose an eyebrow at her offer, and she had to remind herself not to hold her breath waiting for an answer. She wasn’t one of the teenagers she was supposed to chaperone, dammit!

That was all his fault, by the way. He had no business looking this good. He hadn’t dressed up, exactly, but he was wearing a fitting white shirt, which underlined a nicely chiseled chest, and black pants, and that was enough to create the illusion. She knew, from the looks he was getting, that she wasn’t the only one feeling that way. His long white hair, which he usually tied into a ponytail, were falling over his broad shoulders, and she would have killed for that hair, but that wasn’t what got her attention.

No, she was entirely focused on his face. He had the type of face she would love to paint someday, and that was the first thing that had struck her about him, when she’d first met him. He was beautiful, sure, but beauty could be boring. With him, it wasn’t. It wasn’t just his sharp jaw, thin lips, straight nose and high cheekbones. He was much more than the sum of his parts, but Kagura was convinced that even without all of that, if she had met his golden eyes, if she had seen the intelligence behind it, she would have been irremediably lost, regardless of anything else.

Sesshomaru glanced behind him at Inuyasha, who was sullenly watching over the drink table where she’d abandoned him. The two of them were brothers, but you would never have guessed it from the way they acted with one another. There was a rather painful story behind that, which Kagura had heard from Miroku, but she knew better than to bring it up with the brothers, so she kept her mouth shut.

“I suppose I could,” he finally said. “Inuyasha knows better than to let Rin get in trouble.”

Another subject it was better not to speak on. Sesshomaru’s adopted daughter was the apple of his eye, and he was, perhaps, just a little overprotective. Some had tried to point it out to him, but they’d learned that he didn’t take kindly to comments on his parenting, something no one in school ignored, at this point.

Unfortunately — for herself —, Kagura had never been really good at not speaking her mind, and there was only so much she could hold back in one night, especially for the same guy.

“Rin’s perfectly capable of getting in and out of trouble if she chooses to. I doubt there’s much Inuyasha could do to stop her from doing that.” I doubt there’s much you could do to stop her from doing that.

Sesshomaru glared at her in silence for a few seconds, but that wasn’t nearly long enough for Kagura to regret speaking her mind.

“Why would Rin want to do that?” he finally asked.

“She’s sixteen,” Kagura shrugged. “She might want to… experiment.” Like with that Kohaku kid I’m positive you don’t know about. “Are you coming or what?”

Sesshomaru looked over his shoulder one last time, sighed deeply, then nodded. Kagura deemed to be an absolute win. He was by no means talkative, after all, and this conversation had gone well enough, considering who it was with.

“Let’s get to my room,” she said, tilting her head towards the door. “Yours is depressing.”

By that, she meant there was a plain, black board — because Sesshomaru refused to change it to a white one — and nothing else. Evenly spaced desks, one larger one for him, no books, no posters, no nothing.

“And yours is too full of useless things,” he replied, frowning ever so slightly. “You should throw them out as soon as you’ve finished that project.”

Kagura let out a horrified exclamation. She could never do that. She knew what it felt like, when someone threw out something you’d poured your heart into, and she didn’t see the need for her pupils to experience that just yet. Of course, she couldn’t keep everything, and at the end of the year, she did have to throw away things that were left, but it had never crossed her mind to do that during the year.

“My room,” she argued as the two of them walked through the silent hallways, “is pretty and the students are happy to come here. I doubt you can say the same thing.”

“I’ve never heard anyone complain.”

“That’s because they’re terrified of you!”

In the dimly lit hallways, she missed the half-smile that curved Sesshomaru’s lips while the two of them argued. Even if she’d seen it, she would probably have assumed she’d imagined it, and yet, it was there. Sesshomaru was enjoying himself.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushed the doors to her room and let him in, turning on the light to reveal a place she was genuinely proud of. On the walls hung finished products, on the tables, paintings were still drying, and on the shelves were the results of that time they had tried pottery. Inuyasha probably hadn’t been happy that she had used his ex’s contact information to find a teacher for that, but he hadn’t said anything about it.

He’d just hidden in the gymnasium all day.

“There,” she said, satisfied with the scene. Esthetically, maybe it wasn’t the most pleasing sight, but she could see all the efforts poured into this work. She knew what belonged to which student, by name. She knew which themes had felt the most personal to whom, she knew…

Ugh, she was getting all mushy now.

“Let’s drink,” she said, pulling out the two bottles she’d gotten off of Hiten and Manten earlier.

But Sesshomaru wasn’t listening to her. Instead, he stepped closer to one of the walls and examined it in silence. Kagura narrowed her eyes at him. What exactly was he… Ah.

“Fractals,” he said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yeah, well, an assignment that was inspired by fractals,” Kagura said, rolling her eyes. She started tapping her fingernails on the wood of the desk she was sitting on. This was more embarrassing than she’d thought it would be. Not that she’d thought about it much, actually, otherwise she probably wouldn’t have done it. “Are we drinking or what?”

Sesshomaru looked at her over his shoulder.

“I do not think that is a very good idea. We need to look out for the students. We cannot do that drunk.”

Why did he have to be so reasonable all the time?

“Why fractals?”

Kagura pushed herself off the desk with a sigh and walked to his side.

“Well, I was looking into some geometrical things,” for no reasons whatsoever, “and I thought fractals were… an interesting theme. Most kids went for a mirror type of thing, but some took more interest in the snowflake shape and others on…” She sighed, but couldn’t quite contain her amused smile. “The Triforce, I guess.”

Sesshomaru watched her as she spoke. Kagura was always passionate about things. When she cared about things, it was obvious in her voice, in her attitude. Right now, her eyes shone as she examined her students’ project, her lips curved into a smile he knew she couldn’t quite control. She smirked, a lot, but she always looked like she was caught off-guard when she realized she was genuinely smiling.

“That isn’t a bad idea to get them interested,” Sesshomaru conceded, voice perhaps softer than it usually was. “To pick things they can— have fun making, I suppose.”

“Well, we don’t all have that luxury,” Kagura grinned, shooting him a wink. “You’d have trouble doing that, wouldn’t ya?”

Sesshomaru rose an eyebrow, and took a step towards her. Kagura tried to step back, only to realize her back was already against the wall. She swallowed as the tall, white-haired man leaned towards her, towering over her even though she was wearing high heels. Curse him and his stupid height…

“Is that a challenge, Kagura?” he asked, and God, his voice was doing all sorts of things to her.

She didn’t think he’d used her name before. She found she quite liked it.

“Might be,” she replied, lifting her chin defiantly. “I’m pretty sure even if you tried, you couldn’t get your students interested.”

Something dark briefly lit up in his golden eyes, and Sesshomaru sighed.

“You’re an impossible woman,” he said, possibly for himself more than for her.

“Yeah, I kind of pride myself on—”

Sesshomaru kissed her. At first, it felt brusque, his lips crashing against hers but remaining immobile, his body so completely tense against hers.

Kagura reacted immediately. She didn’t try to understand it, didn’t stop to consider whether or not that was a good idea. Before she could have any form of cohesive thoughts, she was pushing herself against him, her hands were in his hair as she pulled him down against her. If that took him by surprise, he didn’t show it. In a second, he’d pulled her away from the wall and lifted her onto a desk, where she promptly wrapped her legs around his waist.

She’d thought about this for years, wondered of what he’d taste like, how his body would feel against hers. His warmth, seeping through his clothes, was almost surprising, opposed to his usual cold demeanor. His large hands, his long fingers, moved slowly, up her legs, then on her waist, as he took his time to discover her body. It was the clash of her passion, her impatience, and his slow deliberateness.

When he pulled away from her, she let out an annoyed whimper, but didn’t try to hold him back. Instead, she took in the sight of him in that moment, and it made her smirk. She liked the way he looked right now. Disheveled, shirt all creased, tie half-undone, hair a mess. She liked the way his lips parted as he tried to steady his breathing. She knew that in a second, he would look as tidy as ever, but for now, she enjoyed a sight she doubted many people has set their eyes on before.

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, and her smile widened. It only lasted a second before he did compose himself again, and when he looked back at her, it was gone.

“I think it’s time we go back. Shall we?” he asked, offering her his hand.

Kagura took it and jumped from the desk, quickly smoothing out her skirt. It wasn’t her first rodeo, and she knew she could make herself look perfectly presentable before she walked back into the gym.

“You should give that back to Hiten’s parents,” Sesshomaru added, pointing at the bottles she’d abandoned by the door. “He probably took it from them.”

She rolled her eyes. He just had to know everything better than everyone else, didn’t he? Fine. She would. Because, of course, it was the right, smart thing to do. It was just very annoying. Ugh. The things she was doing because she liked him…

She grabbed his tie and took to straightening it, and he went very quiet. His face didn’t express any emotion, but he didn’t have to for her to be able to read him. Pulling him forward, she planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“Watch out, professor,” she whispered huskily, “you have some lipstick there.”

Then she took a step back, winked at him, and disappeared through the door.

Sesshomaru spent long seconds there, regaining control of his breathing. He couldn’t explain to himself what was different about Kagura. Everything about her was fascinating. The way she moved, the way she talked, the was she smiled. She brought color to his mostly dull, black and white world, something only his adopted daughter had been able to do before. He had never really considered acting on — whatever it was he was feeling, until tonight.

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about when to do it again.

It was a shame the year was ending, but they’d both still be here for the next one. At the thought, his lips curved into a smile.

He would be looking forward to it.

Hiii, thanks for reading! I’m tentatively coming back on Tumblr so you might see more of me in the next days. I don’t think I’ll be engaging with any content from the sequel, at least for the time being though. Hope you enjoyed this piece I wrote while I was gone!

#inuyasha #sesshomaru #kagura #sesskagu #inukag #in the background sure but it still counts #inuyasha au #teacher au #inuyasha fanfiction #my writing #annnnd i vanish into the night again

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theflashdriver · 4 years ago

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Trial by Flyer (A Silvaze AU)

The campus was dark and silent tonight, the wind wasn’t whistling through the trees and what little star and moonlight would have shone its way to her was being blocked out by a thick wall of clouds. Blaze the cat, age sixteen, shouldn’t have been out here at so late an hour. Midnight had just passed, the witching hour had arrived, and yet, this feline witch was supposed to be long in bed. Instead, where was she? Sat at the bottom step of the outdoor amphitheatre, fingers steepled and her right foot tapping uncontrollably as she awaited her best friend.

The Marble Garden School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a place of learning only for the chosen few and, as such, there were many serious rules that were mandatory to abide by. There were a multitude of simple rules that, if broken, could result in a severe punishment of expulsion; girls weren’t supposed to enter the boys’ dormitories (and vice versa), you weren’t allowed to cast nefarious spells on other students, there were to be no paid additional studies and, the rule that Blaze was currently breaking, all students had to be in their respective dormitory buildings before eleven at night. Just being out here was making her anxious, quadrupling her heartrate and making even the most minor of sounds all the more terrifying.

Blaze was a good student, well… a mostly good student; a good student as much as she could control being a good student. While she rarely raised her hand in class, only answering questions when she was called upon, she listened diligently to her lecturers, studied all she’d learned thoroughly every night, shirked social and extracurricular opportunities and took additional time at the library whenever possible. She put in more effort than any other student she knew of, that wasn’t a matter of pride so much as a fact that her teachers wouldn’t stop reminding her of. Whenever she did well on a test or whenever they wanted to give an example of a good student, her name would quickly fall from their lips followed by a heaping of praise.

Yet, despite all the praise she received and how good of a student she was, here the feline sat; so casually breaking curfew. It was as if she was trying to be caught even, a heavy bag sat beside her and she was dressed in the garb that she’d chosen as her uniform- a tall hat with a golden buckle and belt adorned her head ita long sleeved purple dress that frilled out at the cuffs and hem covered her body only to be topped by a purple-leather mantle, a set of thick purple tights with golden swirls decorating them and a pair of high heeled boots to match. The only aspect of her dress that wasn’t purple and gold were her gloves, stark white evening gloves that reached deeply into her sleeves. If she was seen, for a plain an outfit she’d tried to pick (from a very limited list of options) she’d be recognised on sight; a fact that was making it all the harder to not just run back to her-

A voice suddenly assumed the entirety of her mind’s attention, not entering through her ears but jumping directly into her brain, “Blaze! I’m so sorry, I’m running a little late. The groundskeeper was cleaning a mess outside the boy’s dorms, I had to sneak out through the window. I won’t be much longer!”

Quickly, Blaze raised her pointer fingers to the air and set their tips alight. Intricately, methodically, she traced a pair of intricate and overlapping sigils in the air and closed her eyes. The moment they were completed, she brought those fingers to her temples and thought in the loudest voice possible, “Silver. It is okay, I am glad you were not caught. I am waiting at the agreed location, please come quickly. Did you remember your notebook?”

A moment passed but no reply came.

Her fingers left her temples and her eyes flickered open but the symbols she’d cast had already faded from the air. A sigh slipped from her mouth as she recrossed her legs and resumed waiting, uncertain that her message had left her, let alone reached its intended reciprocate. He wasn’t that late, and the boy’s dormitories weren’t too far from the amphitheatre, but every second spent out her left more chance that they’d be caught. The moment he arrived, they could achieve the motive of their rule-breaking and quickly sneak back to their respective rooms.

Oh, who was she kidding; this wasn’t going to go nearly as quickly as she hoped.

It was as she had that thought that a twinkling of light, like a small cluster of stars had managed to split through the clouds, drew her attention. She looked up, frowning hard at the glow as she attempted to identify it; as it drew closer, she understood it to be the form she was awaiting. Silver the hedgehog, also age sixteen, was descending from the sky as though he was carried by a moonbeam; wrapped in cyan, psychic, light, his form was difficult but not impossible to distinguish. Before he arrived, the feline jumped to her feet and dusted herself off, quickly scanning their surroundings to make certain no one else had been watching them. He landed without a sound; standing next to her, still coated in energy, his height only just superseded hers due to the nature of his tall quills. If she wasn’t wearing heels of course, the different between them would be far clearer.

With the flaring of his fingers, the light faded from him but that new sight entirely perplexed Blaze. She’d noticed his lack of hat, thus being why she wasn’t presently taller than him, but not the lack of his other garb. Silver stood before her, dressed in a short-sleeved green t-shirt and a pair of baggy pyjama trousers.

“Silver,” She half whispered half grumbled, trying to keep her voice down but make it clear that she was perturbed, “Where are your robes, where is your notebook?”

His bright yellow eyes seemed to dance for a moment, looking to her before down to his own frame. As a realisation hit, his quills shot up straight and a hint of embarrassment overcame his muzzle, “Sorry, I forgot to drop the charm. I figured I’d be too bright if I tried to scout a path dressed normally, give me a moment.”

Like a chimneysweep dusting soot from his body, the symbols on his palms flaring, Silver began to pat himself down. With no more than those touches, he unearthed the outfit that he’d hidden- he wore open robes with flaring sleeves (cut with a keyhole window that exposed the upper portion of his chest fur), a set of baggy trousers and some thick boots with metal caps. That description made the outfit seem basic but, in truth, it was anything but that; head to toe, Silver glowed with a strange bioluminescence that matched the symbols on his hands. Scales and lines like mycelia flared additional light from seemingly random points on his person, forming jagged lines both across and up his visage. In some places it made sense, like on the buttons of his mantle and hemming his clothes, but in others it seemed nonsensical.

To conclude this transformation, he slicked his fingers through his quills and revealed what Blaze thought to be the most ludicrous cap worn by any student in this entire school. As if to compensate for the muting of his own overgrown quills, often having to be pulled back into a braid or ponytail, Silver’s choice of hat was so tall that its point had bent not three days beyond his arrival at this school. It was faintly glowing and cyan, alike the rest of his garb, but the underside of its large rim especially so. It looked as though his head was topped with a large, bioluminescent, mushroom cap with incredibly bright gills.

Reaching into his robes, he drew out his notebook and beamed at her, eyes still shining even while his hat tried its damnedest to obscure them, “There, is that better?”

Realising quite how intently she’d been staring at this magical display, Blaze quickly turned away and busied herself within her bag; though she’d thoroughly enjoyed the display, he was eating up their time. Under her breath, half hoping he didn’t hear, she murmured, “You’re so naïve.”

She pulled out her own notebook, flipping it open to her most recent writings. In a cursive, neat and elegant, font were two pages of heavily sourced notes pertaining to the history and practice of future prediction and other sorts of divination magic. She managed to walk beside him, still not looking to him, and show him the pages.

“These should help you start your essay, at the very least. All these books are available in the library but, if they’re taken out, I have my own copies that you can borrow,” She tapped one name in particular, “Look out for books and stories by and about her in particular, Amelia Rose. Her works are a lot older but, while I find them too flowery, they’re a very good source.”

She dared to throw a glance in his direction only to find him staring at the pages as if the several dozen names and notes were going in one of his ears and out the other. His words seemed to leave some kind of impact on him though as he managed to nod at them, “Amelia Rose, Amelia Rose, okay!” Blaze went to tear the two sheets free for him to slot into his own book, but a fumbling hand caught hers before he could, “Don’t worry about that, you need to write this essay too, right?” She looked to him incredulously only for him to start beaming again, “I learned a new spell, watch this!”

He shuffled his way just behind her, reaching around her shoulders. As if it was the most normal thing in the world, Silver plopped his notebook face town atop hers Almost immediately, Blaze felt her tail stiffen and bump against him as his arms came to rest atop his and his frame pushed so close to hers. Two of his fingers pushed against the back of both his pad’s covers and began to weave small circles. They traced from top left to right, gradually going along and down line after line after line. She watched as sparks of excess cyan energy, that which the book didn’t absorb, slipped from beneath his fingers and fluttered in the air before them. Quickly, the tenseness in her tail faded and she felt herself relax into his grasp, but she wasn’t thinking about that. She was simply enamoured by whatever it was he was doing.

So enamoured in fact that when he flipped his book in a single movement, uttering an overly pleased, “Tada!” It took Blaze a moment to come to her senses and realise what he’d done. Her words, her exact handwriting, had been copied onto the pages of his book. He’d learned this spell specifically so that she didn’t have to duplicate her notes for him, her notes could simply duplicate themselves.

“You’re so…” She went to reprimand for acting without explaining, for allowing his talent to swallow the entirety of her attention again, only to notice something comically foolish, “Your book was upside-down…”

“W-What? Oh, um…” He lifted it from hers, stepping out from behind her and squinting at the writing incredulously, “It’ll still work for studying though, right?”

“It should do,” She comforted him, but at the showing of his notebook a question rose to mind, “Did you get my message earlier?”

“Oh, yeah! You’re getting way better at telepathy Blaze,” He was smiling again, “You said it was ok and to come quickly, right?”

Ah, so the end of her message had been cut off. Her casting, even of that basic spell, was still far from perfect… unlike his.

While Blaze excelled at all things theoretical, she could easily write essay upon essay and was quick to learn that which she heard or could read, Silver was a master of practical magic. Without really understanding what he was doing, the hedgehog frequently found himself successfully casting spells on a whim and without particularly understanding their idiosyncrasies. To contrast this, despite putting in an equal amount of effort as her, Silver was especially bad at deskwork; he’d attempt to answer teacher’s questions and routinely be incorrect as well as, despite weeks of study, barely earn passing grades in written exams. Curiously enough, just as she mirrored his written ability, Blaze was lacking when it came to practical magical talent. When it came to offensive spells and fire magic, she was fairly adept at casting but anything beyond that seemed to be out of her reach. Telepathy was one of the first spells they’d been taught, and she still couldn’t transmit full thoughts, only brief fragments; abjuration, conjuration, transmutation and illusionary techniques, outside of only the most basic, were beyond her.

One would think that, for those reasons, the two wouldn’t get along but they’d formed a strong bond in their first year. It’d been very obvious to Blaze that the hedgehog was struggling, he wore his heart on his sleeve in such a blatant way, and she had taken some degree of pity on him. That pity had soon been corrupted by a mutual admiration of course, even during their first year (3 years ago) he’d shown such magnificent talent, and that admiration had forged the bonds of their friendship. They looked after each other, helped each other wherever possible and promised to come to the other for help… just as she had offered an exchange and asked him to break some rules tonight. She’d thought she’d have to beg but he’d agreed without hesitating.

“So, Friday’s test…” She led, knowing that day was only one more night away, “I know this is a little short notice, I thought I could maybe do this myself, but-

A pair of hands found hers, palm topped palm as her fingers held her tight.

“We help each other, Blaze. There’s nothing to worry about,” She caught his eye again and knew that he was being genuine, “Of course I’ll teach you to fly!”

Blaze’s gaze slipped from Silver. Her stomach was churning, it felt as though the world was spinning, the mere mention of that word and all it implied made her slightly sick. On Friday, they had their first real test of this semester- a flying obstacle course set up on the sports grounds, a small path that they had to complete. Even outside her difficulty casting a spell that would allow her to fly, Blaze had a rather significant fear of heights; when she’d arrived at her dorm room within the girl’s tower she’d almost panicked at the view from her window. For this reason, while other students had made the extracurricular effort to learn flight, Blaze had only just started to learn. She’d tried to find the right spell for her over the past few weeks, researching thoroughly, but none of them had worked with her specific type of magic.

“Alright, th-thank you Silver,” She managed to glance at him again, only to find that he’d leaned in closer, “What do you think the first step is?”

Silver’s hands slipped from hers, he fumbled with his chest fur in thought for a moment, “Well, it’s probably best to start at the beginning; you need to take off. From there, it’s just learning to control yourself; that gets way easier with practice!”

“Right, taking off…” She considered, still rather disgusted, “How would you recommend I do that? I don’t think your method will work for me.”

As if to exemplify why his method wouldn’t work, a gentle hue of cyan light overtook Silver’s frame and carried him into the air. He flipped to hover upside down, looking her in the eye as he sunk deeper into thought, “Probably not…” His eyes seemed to dance across her body, lingering on her hands before finishing at her feet, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, you can make fire come from anywhere, right?”

With no more than a thought, Blaze allowed a pair of flaming plumes to emerge from her shoulders and dance in the windless night before having them vanish and growing a set of vague flame-wings, “Anywhere on my body, as much as I can muster.”

“Well…” He looked like what he was about to say was foolish, “What if you made yourself like a rocket? What if you shot fire from the bottom of your feet and pushed yourself into the air?”

It was, it was very foolish, “Silver, even if I could do that, it’d be incredibly unstable and almost impossible to balance. If my top half leaned over then I’d fly in just about any direction, I could race to the ground like a falling star.”

“I thought about that too!” He beamed, “What if you used your hands to make almost… stabilisers? Like what people put on a bike so they don’t fall over, only for flying.”

For as ridiculously as he’d phrased it, that was a fairly succinct counter to her issue. There was however a magnitude of issues still both swirling in her gut and with his plan, “Ok, but that presupposes that I can even make enough thrust to lift myself, Silver. I really doubt that I can…”

“Oh, have you tried before? Darn, I really thought it’d work…” He went back to thinking, almost seeming to scan her body again, but those words had made Blaze’s mind even more of a mess.

Her gaze broke from his and she hesitated again, looking at her hands and conjuring small flames. The rate with which flame emerged from her was something she could control but she’d never truly thought to, “Not really, no.”

“You haven’t? Can we try it then?” Her uncertainty must have been showing because he flitted back around, looking her in the eye, “I’ll stay right next to you, I won’t let you fall, I promise!”

She gulped, “Do you?” It was a question she already knew the answer to but worry was brewing in her gut.

“Of course, I’m here to help you, Blaze!” He insisted, preparing her arms as if she was already about to catch her, “I would never let you down.”

“Ok,” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, “I’ll give it a shot…”

Blaze was rather unsure what to do with herself to become more aerodynamic, but she gave it her best. She pushed her heels together but kept her toes far apart, keeping her hands parallel but separate to her waist with her palms pointed towards the ground. Lighting a flame was easy, she had just done it with a thought, but producing a constant and controlled flame would be just a little bit harder. She focused her attention on the underside of her boots and centre of her palms, trying to pool all of her arcana evenly over those four spots.

A thought dawned upon her, “Should I I just let it go or should I jump and do it from the air?”

“T-Try just letting it go,” Silver’s voice cut through her focus, “It looks like you’re doing rea-

A single lapse in her concentration was all it took. As Blaze was trying to focus on his words, the seal keeping her flames from spilling free lapsed. A thunderous force, larger than any Blaze had tried to conjure before, burst from all of four of her extremities with an unrelenting roar and launched her straight up into the air. The moment she opened her eyes, Blaze was met with cloud but soon they passed and cracked to reveal an unending array of stars dancing around the moon. For a single moment, as her eyes lingered on the shining crescent above, she felt joy; she’d done what she thought impossible, she’d successfully taken off… but she was still soaring.

There was no ceiling to stop her and, much more terrifyingly, no safety net beneath her. She’d shot off without warning, she had no idea how fast she’d flown or what kind of noise she was making. It was possible she’d woken up the whole campus, it was probable that one of the nightguards had noticed! She was going to get them in so much trouble! As she glanced around herself in an attempt to find Silver, she forgot how important the positioning of her palms was and sent herself into an upwards corkscrew. Now spiralling, her hat having long fallen from her head, Blaze fought to regain control but soon found herself spinning on more than one axis.

Her focus and control waned, the fire at her limb’s ends snuffed and soon she reached the apex of her ascent. For the briefest of moments, she felt weightless, having tumbled up to mingle with the stars, but she very quickly found herself plummeting. With the wind rushing around her frame, Blaze couldn’t relight her form and, even if she could, her feet and hands were in such wrong positions.

She started to scream, the sound had just begun to leave her lips, when something soft found her back and hooked around the underside of her legs. She couldn’t have fallen for half a metre before that gentle touch had found her and brought them both to a standstill in the air. Lit by the moon more than his powers; Silver’s smile was huge and his eyes sparkled down at her. She’d landed in his arms; he was holding her back and beneath her legs, clutching her close to his body in an attempt to secure her. His face, his smile, it was all so close; she couldn’t recall anyone else ever looking at her like this, especially not after she failed.

“Are you alright? Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” He insisted, but before she could say a word his smile almost tripled, “You did it Blaze! You flew!”

“I-It was more like I exploded! Don’t be so naïve!” She tore her gaze from him only to be confronted by their current height. Despite her blush and false-fury, Blaze was forced to meet his gaze, “Don’t act like that was a success!”

“What’re you talking about, you took off!” He sounded so excited, “You managed to learn that so quickly, I was sure it’d be the hardest part, the rest should be a cinch!”

She felt him shift just a little, something popped into the corner of her vision; a certain black hat that’d been lost in her flight. Snatching it, simultaneously gripping him tight with her remaining arm, she used the garment to hide her face, “Stop being so naïve…it’s not going to be that easy.”

A brief silence overcame them and Blaze found herself shrinking further into her hat and, almost by mistake, deeper into his arms. Over the past handful of months, Blaze had been catching herself in these positions more and more often; every single time she had only herself to blame, though she’d usually berate him for his part in them. They’d be studying in the library, sitting side by side as they read, and her head would just so happen to find comfort on his shoulder, or they’d be walking across campus and she’d, eventually, notice that their fingers had intertwined. Prior to this year, Blaze hadn’t thought much of these occurrences, they’d just sort of happened, but idle gossip, fresh from the girl’s common room, had made her far more aware of these things.

Silver’s talent hadn’t gone unnoticed by their lecturers or, as Blaze had come to learn, their classmates. The bizarre bubbling sickness that Blaze had experienced when another student had expressed interest in the hedgehog and pried about their relationship was unlike anything she’d felt prior. Though she’d wanted to deny the rumour, she’d found herself entirely unable to.

Hesitantly, she flicked up the brim of her hat for a small glance at him. Despite her prior rudeness, he looked entirely unphased; the wizard in training was simply looking up at the sky and smiling, taking in the stars. The way the night-light seemed to colour his fur, let alone the expression it managed to put on his face, was just a little dazzling. It’d taken her a while to really understand it, but there was something rather… aesthetically pleasing about his form. Nothing she ever planned to admit aloud of course, especially not to him, but after that girl had mentioned it, the changes he’d undergone over the years and the way his eyes sparkled did make for a rather pleasing visage (even despite his silly robes).

Realising that she’d been thinking for much too long and noticing him turning back in her direction, Blaze quickly made a demand, “I want to try again.”

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready,” He affirmed, still smiling as his gaze returned to her, “You can stand on my feet if you want. That way you’d be up straight, it might help you get used to this.”

“It means I’ll be free of this embarrassing position, I’m willing to try anything,” She huffed but, moments later, caught herself and realised what she’d said. He was trying his best to help her, he probably didn’t even think this was embarrassing, “You’ll still… hold me, won’t you?”

“I won’t let go until you tell me too, I promise,” The hedgehog pledged.

She shifted in his grasp, clinging tightly to his shoulders, and, ever so gently, he slipped his hold from her legs. It took a little bit of fumbling but, eventually, she managed to perch herself on the tips of his boots. Despite how painful it’d surely be if they were on the ground, this change of position didn’t seem to bring him any discomfort as he glided his remaining free hand around her back.

The young witch peered over his shoulder and her gaze fell upon the thick cloud barrier beneath them. Up here, no lecturers or other students could see them; they were alone with the night’s celestial bodies. Though being above the clouds did frighten her, the fact that they couldn’t see the ground was making things a lot easier. She knew that Silver wouldn’t let her fall, she believed in his abilities, but having that a fluffy-fake ground beneath them was doing her a world of good. Gradually, she managed to shift some of the tension from her shoulders and hold him in a less life-or-death manner.

He seemed to notice the shift, “Alright, maybe you should start with your feet? That way we can keep holding each other.”

That made sense but, truth be told, letting go seemed a little easier than stepping off and into the abyss, “One foot at a time?” She hesitantly suggested.

“Try to use just enough energy to lift you but not to change how high you fly,” Silver recommended, “Once you’ve figured that out once, you should understand how it feels and be able to do it again.”

Blaze heaved a shallow breath and closed her eyes, “Okay… okay…”

She leant back just a little, allowing her left foot to depart from his frame. It took no more than a thought for her to produce a small flame but that would not provide enough thrust to keep her afloat. Slowly, gradually applying more power to her newfound thruster, Blaze felt precarious half of her body begin to shit up and away from the anchored half. Working down and up in smaller and smaller increments, she sought equilibrium for what must have been minutes before finally finding something close to it. She focused on the feeling of flames flowing freely from her heel, their exact measure and rate as well as the small pressure being put upon her knee and the greater one on the arch of her foot.

Once she’d held it for a few moments, she dared to open her eyes and look to Silver, “I think it’s time for the right one. Could you…” She hated the only way that she could think to phrase this, “Hold me a little tighter.”

Silver, without even hesitating, moved his hands to grasp the robes above her shoulder blades. The look in his eyes reinforced his prior promise and gave her all the motivation she needed. Her right foot left his boot and, though the shift in weight made her dip just a little, with its ignition, it was easy to make it match her left. Blaze found herself to be hovering, hanging in the sky by her own accord.

When she managed to tear her eyes from her boots, she found that his smile had tripled in size, “You’re doing it Blaze!”

“Sh-Shush,” She hissed, feeling herself grow redder as more flames sputtered from her soles, “I’m trying to concentrate.”

The feline took a moment; shifting the ball of her foot seemed to allow for a degree of dexterity on her part- if she angled her shoe correctly then the flames would correspond and allow her to drift. Slowly, gradually, Blaze managed to bring herself to circle the hedgehog and bring him to spin on the spot. Every time she dared to glance at him, she found an even greater look of amazement on his face. Eventually, finally, she decided to halt her practice.

“I think I’m ready,” She decided.

Silver simply nodded and, clearly trying not to disturb her, released the tension at his fingertips but did not shift his hands; he left that final move entirely up to her.

She slowly slipped from beneath his fingers but, just when as his arm were about to fall to his sides, dared to grasp his right hand, “I still want you to stay close though.”

Her movements were made more awkward and slow by her lack of an anchoring point but, soon, the two of them were gliding together. With each passing second of flight, as she acclimatised herself and grew accustomed to the movements, she felt the heavy iron ball in her gut gradually shrink. She refused to let herself think this was fun, especially not while she was holding his hand so tightly, but she did permit herself an internal admission that this wasn’t entirely awful. Skating over a sea of clouds, surrounded by starlight and hand in hand with her best friend? It was very difficult to think of this as awful, even if not seeing the ground was a huge part of it.

Tentatively, trying something new, Blaze managed to turn and face him while still flying in the same direction.

The shift came with a small increase in speed but Blaze took that in stride, “Is there anything you think I should try, Silver?”

“Well, the test is supposed to be fairly simple, it’s just a little obstacle course. It focuses on manoeuvring through the air…” He mused aloud before, in a serious tone, making a foolish suggestion, “If you’re alright with separating, we could play a game of tag?”

It was a childish proposition or, at least, that was Blaze’s first thought. Her second thought was far more positive though as she realised what his suggestion implied, his natural talent and experience flying meant that he could already soar to the academy’s standards. If she could even just follow his path then, surely, that meant she would pass too. There was only one problem- she’d have to separate from him.

Blaze brought herself to a halt, allowing her thumb to glide over his knuckles, “If I call out, I know you’ll come and catch me…” Something about this, assumedly the fact that her training had taken on such an embarrassing form, was rebolstering her blush, “But I’d like to hear you say it again.”

“If you fall, I’ll catch you, Blaze. I promise,” He swore, his smile totally vanished and his most serious face took its place, “You won’t even touch the clouds.”

Her fingers slipped from his, she was on her own in the sky, “So, how are we going to do this?”

“How about you fly away from me first and then, if I catch you, I’ll try to keep away from you?” He’d phrased it in such an honest way that, were it anyone else proposing it, she’d think they were being condescending. He really thought there was a chance that he wouldn’t be able to catch her and that he wouldn’t have to slow down so she could catch him.

Still, regardless of the difference between their skill, she was going to give this her best. Though it renewed that weight in her belly, even though she was certain that she would regret it mere moments later, Blaze pointed her toes skyward and rushed away from Silver, struggling to turn mid-air on order to see where she was going in this obstacle-less sky.

“W-Wait, Blaze, is that a yes?!” He called out and, by the sound of his voice, he wasn’t giving chase yet.

Deciding she needed this lead in order to make their game even remotely worthwhile, she didn’t answer him. Remembering the stabilisers she’d used for take-off, Blaze brought her hands to burn and, though she floundered for a moment, used their bonus thrust to shoot even further from him. That done, cloud after cloud vanishing beyond her feet, she dared to look over her shoulders and saw a cyan globule finally begin its shift towards her. Though she tried to fight it, a grin managed to wriggle its way onto her face as she looked forward. If she was bound to be caught and he’d surely gain on her soon, it was worth getting in a little practice… besides, he could surely use some training too.

With the simple quirk of her brow and through rolling her heels, Blaze feigned a movement left before shooting off towards the right. She didn’t even glance back at him after that, instead opting to try and alter her elevation; with a bit of effort, the young witch managed to align her body and crawl further into the sky as she flew away. Using her hands made all of this a lot easier, she could flare more energy into them to aid in adjusting elevation or simply increase the flames coming from one palm to force her path to bend.

“You’re doing great, Blaze!” A much too close voice called out, “I’m sure you’ll ace the test! You’re already so good!” It was getting closer by the second.

She’d known this would happen, it was an inevitability, but the pyrokinetic found that a competitive spark had stolen the spot of that metal mass in her gut. Her pulse was pounding, she knew her magic could hold out for another hour at minimum; she decided that the best way to learn was a trial by fire. Alternating hands and kicking as she went, Blaze managed to form eight quick zigzags before shooting left with all her will. Flare after flare burst from her limbs as she darted further and further above the clouds.

Unfortunately though, just as Blaze thought she was reaching the summit of what she could stomach, there was a flash of cyan light above. Blaze didn’t even have to glance to know what’d happened, Silver’s experience flying mean he’d clearly understood plotting the shortest route. Being in the lead was difficult, every harsh turn meant traveling further for the lead and a shortcut for the one behind. Simultaneous to that though, Silver was (perhaps unknowingly) about to teach her a technique she hadn’t even attempted yet. The only way to avoid him was to descend.

Blaze tried to lessen her output, but that proved far harder than increasing their potency. Once her upward thrust was spent, she began to plummet like a stone and fall feet first towards the clouds. Her hands flickered and sputtered as she tried to balance herself again, she straightened her back and shut her eyes tight as ignition after ignition failed to fully take hold. Finally, she managed to light her ignitions again… only to overdo it and rocket right back up. She shot right past him, very almost being caught.

As he rocketed up to give chase, frustrated, Blaze chose to continue to practice altitude control. Rather than snuff everything, she focused and manage to mute the flames on her feet. The difference was clear and immediate, she was slower and a lot shakier but this worked far better than trying to calm both sets of flames. She managed to drop directly in front of him only to then relight her boots and blast forward. The feline must have gotten too greedy and drawn too close because she soon felt something pad between her shoulder blades.

“Tag!” The moment she’d registered the touch, he’d called out as if they were kids on the playground.

She swivelled around in the air only to find he’d raced off in the other direction so quickly that he almost looked like a star on the horizon. Leaning into her movement, Blaze found herself flying faster than she ever had before. In the time it took to catch up to the grey wizard, Blaze had a moment to contemplate the rather miraculous change she’d experienced. She’d gone from being terrified of heights to dancing across the sky just like he could. Admittedly, she was certain those fears would return if she was on the other side of the cloud barrier or flying alone but flying around the test course with the instructors watching would surely prove easy enough. It’d been an exchange of tutelage, she’d given him notes and he’d helped her practice, but Blaze couldn’t help feeling a little indebted to her partner.

Some of that feeling waned when she caught sight of him and how he was flying though. The hedgehog flying with his back to the ground and his eyes trained upon her, he almost looked like he was sitting up in bed. Blaze understood why he’d chosen that position, it meant he’d been able to keep an eye on her and that he’d be able to fulfil his promise, but that didn’t stop it from stoking a more competitive aspect of her psyche.

It was just naivete, he didn’t know how cocky he was being, yet it still fuelled her drive! Blaze closed her fists for a moment, allowing pressure and tension to build in them just as she had when first taking off. It was terrifying to be frank but, knowing the direction she was rocketing and that the closer she was to him the safer she’d be, Blaze managed to steady herself and focus on building energy. Containing her flames slowed her in the short term, so much so that the grey hedgehog’s head cocked and he seemed to slow down. At the perfect second, just as she saw his mouth begin to open and the gap between them lingered around four dozen metres, Blaze reopened her palm.

Like catching a surprise shooting star out of the corner of his eye, he must have blinked in bafflement when he saw her for the first time. By the time he’d started to move she was already almost upon him, carried by sheer momentum more than thrust at that point, gaining more than a metre with each passing second. Finally, almost too late, he realised that he stood no chance of overtaking her- Silver’s arms opened wide and, with more than a little magic bolstering effort, he both was caught and managed to catch her.

Willing it as she entered his grasp, her flames snuffed themselves as any lingering momentum was absorbed by a combination of his psychic aura and fluffy body. Blaze found herself lying atop him, their muzzles very almost touching and the rims of their hats bumping. If it weren’t for the adrenaline currently coursing through her, she’d probably have had a lot more to say or complain about this situation but, for now at least, she was content to be back on the equivalent of stable ground.

“H-Hi,” He stuttered, plainly surprised and impressed by her showing.

“Hello,” She hummed, grasping at his shoulders to better secure herself, “How was that?”

His arms found her back and his smile quickly returned, she felt their bodies begin to descend, “You were incredible Blaze! You took to the air so well! You probably didn’t even need me for this,” That thought seemed to take the wind back out of his sails, “I-I’ll make up for the notes some other way… I’ll-

“You’re so naïve,” She cut him off, propping herself up slightly, “I wouldn’t have had the guts to come up here without you. You don’t have to worry about making anything up to me.”

The cloud barrier obscured her view of him for a moment or so but soon, she found his face and could see the grounds beneath. Weirdly enough, as she lay in his arms, it didn’t feel like the ground was all that far away. Or, well, that she wasn’t at risk of meeting it at ludicrous speeds.

Gently, slowly, he shifted upright and lowered the young witch to her feet before himself landing back near the heart of the amphitheatre. Now on the ground, a hold that’d once been for the sake of survival and security had transmuted into one born of comfort and kindness. Blaze found herself lingering in his grasp and in fact deepening her hold, the witch’s right arm managed to slip down and hold the small of his back. While she had performed subtle in this shift from practicality to affection, he wasn’t nearly so subdued in his shift. Her feet left the ground again as he hugged her with all his might, chortling as he did so.

When she returned to the ground for a second time and their eyes met again, bristles of heat crept across her muzzle. Without the moonlight, he was the only light for-

“And what time would the two of you call this?” A voice, tired and deep, sounded from one of the amphitheatre’s high seats.

Both their heads swivelled like they were about to be knocked off and their gaze fell upon a very cross and prickly looking figure, sat with a book in his right hand and crackling green energy in his left. The individual’s red eyes and dark robes, entirely lacking the oh-so-common hat most students and lecturers wore, gave away who they were and forced their joy to give way to panic and fear. Shadow the Hedgehog, the very lecturer who would be conducting the flying test, had caught them.

“Um,” Silver stammered, letting Blaze to the ground, “L-Late?”

“How astute,” He seemed to sneer, “And what say you of your current position, Blaze?”

“It’s my fault professor, I asked Silver to-

“N-No, it’s my fault!” Silver cut her off, “Blaze just wanted help, she did nothing wrong!”

“Endangering both your own and each other’s safety and being out of your dorms at such a late hour,” He tutted, “What kind of punishment to give you both.”

Blaze couldn’t help but throw a glance to Silver, the hedgehog looked entirely stern. No matter how they were dealt with, Blaze knew he would try to take it all on himself, just as she had. She was certain there was no way around it, that they’d both be punished, but, following a long and drawn out sigh, the usually cruel lecturer took a bizarre course of action.

“Pick up your things, go to your dorms and pray that I forget this infraction before I settle on a fitting detention,” Their eyes clashed again, confused, but before they could ask, the hedgehog gave a demand, “Well, go on, hurry along before I change my mind.”

They stood frozen for a second but, seeing his brows furrow, the two threw a quick glance to each other before rushing to pick up their things. He’d leaned in close as he went for his bag, “S-See you soon.”

“Yeah…” She managed to mumble, slinging her bag over her shoulders and allowing her shoulder to graze his, “Th-Thank you, Silver. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They were forced to part ways with that as their goodbye, Silver walking

“And do remember, regardless of clouds, if you’re going to make quite so much light at night then people are going to notice!” The old man concluded his chiding, likely returning to his book, “We’re hardly in the right position to see an aurora…”

The walk back to the dorms was lonelier than her walk there by a wide margin. Though they’d parted so suddenly, or perhaps due to it, she could still see his smile in her mind. When they met again tomorrow, she’d try to make it up to him, try to engage first contact like she had in the sky, but the more that wizard’s grin lingered the more embarrassed she felt. While the pyrokinetic doubted Professor Shadow was the type to gossip, if word of their actions spread then the rumours would only get worse. Hopefully no one else had seen them tonight but, by the sound of it, they’d been rather hard to miss…

#silvaze #Blaze the Cat #Silver the Hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #silverxblaze #fanfiction

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mandysimo13 · 5 years ago

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@a-zira-fell I’ll have you know, this is entirely your fault. You and all your crack blogging!

////

Crowley was still sulking over his latest interaction with Aziraphale. In all honesty, he reasoned, there was no reason to sulk. No reason to be moody. He had gotten exactly what he wanted and he didn’t even have to risk going anywhere near a church or getting a bunch of silly, money-grubbing mortals going to jail either. Aziraphale had given him a thermos, and an alarmingly ugly one at that, full of his Insurance Policy. He had broken the angel down. He had won.

So why did he feel so put out that the angel didn’t take him up on his small attempt at repayment.

You go too fast for me Crowley .

He screwed his eyes shut and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, trying to make himself as small as possible as he rushed through the London streets. He was looking to lose himself, to forget his inconvenient and decidedly un-demonic-like emotions. Hearing the screaming of guitars and smelling the waft of cigarettes, he followed the trail to a dingy little club where someone was doing their damnedest to sound “cool” with their guitar. A quick peek inside revealed a wealth of temptation options - underaged boys out looking to score a drink, girls just itching for an excuse to toss their bra on stage, bartenders looking to slip a few extra bills in their pockets - and he decided he had found his distraction.

He started off slow, tipping his bartender just a little extra when he paid for his pint and making a quiet comment, “they don’t pay you enough here, do they? Pity. The owners surely can afford a few quid, they’d never know it was gone.” The bartender gave him a sly smile and a nod and then Crowley proceeded to watch as, every few customers, a bill or two found their way into his pocket.

Feeling like he’d stretched his wings a bit he moved onto a delightfully shady looking man lurking in the corner. A few minutes conversation revealed that he was a purveyor of most things illegal. On this night in particular, he had a whole new stock of LSD to spread. Crowley helped the man in his entrepreneurial endeavors by pointing out who might be looking to buy. The man was ever so thankful.

It was all too easy.

In a matter of two hours everyone in the club was doing something terribly naughty and he was left alone, bored and still moping.

He curled his lip into a frown before taking a sip of his beer. All this tempting business was getting old. He needed a new hobby. A new distraction.

“Mister Crowley,” an eerily familiar voice called to him.

Turning his head he saw his new mortal henchman. “Mister Shadwell.”

“ Lance Corporal Shadwell,” he replied tetchily.

“If you say so.” Crowley leaned back into the wall behind him, lounging as casually as he could. After all, he did have appearances to maintain. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, well.” Shadwell looked a little embarrassed and said in mock confidence, “doing what you’re probably doing. Tryna to get a leg over.”

Crowley smiled at that and eyed him over the rim of his glass. Feeling comfortable in the dim of the club, he strategically let his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose. He let his eyes rove over Shadwell and made sure that the Lance Corporal knew he was looking. “Is that so?”

Shadwell coughed into his fist and slammed back his beer. “A-yep.” He belched loudly, laying his masculinity on thickly.

Closeted bisexual, Crowley immediately gleaned. Disapproves, thinks it ungodly. Pity. He’s rather fetching. Could show a bloke - a demon - a good time. But then the idea took root and he grinned wickedly. The perfect challenge. The perfect distraction.

“So tell me, Lance Corporal ,” he said, letting his smile grow. He leaned a little, putting the man on edge. “What is it that you’re looking to get a leg over?”

Shadwell took a step back and found a table cutting off his retreat. He looked torn between wanting to run for the hills and stay and explore his deepest desires. Rather than answer the question he said, “w-well, I thought that woulda been obvious.”

Crowley put the hand not holding his beer on Shadwell’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “you mean like one of those lovely, young things? Hmm?” He pointed towards the throngs of young women dancing to the music on stage and watched as Shadwell’s gaze shifted slowly. He drew his attention back by whispering, “a handsome lad like you, I’m sure you can pull all the birds you want.”

Shadwell nodded, “I...I could if I wanted.”

Crowley pouted and pulled his gaze back to him with a finger under the man’s chin. “Surely you want. You said so yourself that you want.”

Eyes glued to Crowley he said, “I dinnae often...succumb. I try not to let their wiles entice me.” Then, as if trying to remember his “official” persona, he added, “never know if they’re going to turn out to be a witch.”

“Ah,” Crowley said in mock understanding. “I see.” Crowley, thoroughly invested in his little game, leaned even closer but didn’t dare let their bodies touch as he deposited his beer on the table behind Shadwell. He saw Shadwell’s throat work in a nervous bob and let a tingle of satisfaction spark inside him.

“Tell me, Lance Corporal ,” he whispered the title tantalizingly against Shadwell’s cheek. “How does one know if one is a witch?”

“Lots of ways. You ask ‘em to recite the lord’s prayer. You dunk ‘em in water, see if they float or sink. You poke ‘em with a pin.”

“And what does that do?” He hovered his lips above Shadwell’s and let his puff of breath huff out over Shadwell’s. “Poking them?”

“It tells you if she feels pain. If she bleeds. If anything...unnatural comes out.”

“Unnatural, you say. Fascinating. Anything else?”

“Well...there is one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“You count the nipples.”

Crowley giggled at that. Silly humans, still believing in “witch’s tits”. He’s confused them with actual nipples. Somebody , humans are gloriously ridiculous, “You don’t say.” Then, wanting to see Shadwell grow even redder, he asked. “What do you do with the nipples?”

“Nnngk! I dinnae know!”

“But you’re the one looking for them,” Crowley insisted. “Surely you do something with them.”

“I-”

“I wonder,” Crowley said, dragging a finger down Shadwell’s sternum stopping his blustery reply in its tracks. “What you would do with a good set of nipples. A nice, natural pair of nipples.”

Shadwell’s jaw dropped giving him the distinct look of a fish out of water. Satisfied with his toying, Crowley retrieved his warming beer and took a small step back. He took a sip and luxuriously licked his lips before giving Shadwell a heated glance. “Let’s say you do succumb . You do give into temptation.”

“Aye?”

“What is it you’d say? How would you woo your target?” Crowley leaned back into the wall putting himself on display, wordlessly telling Shadwell that he was more than willing to be said temptation. He enjoyed watching Shadwell squirm, deciding whether or not he was going to dip his toes into the waters of the other sex or if he was going to chicken out.

Finally, curiosity won out.

Shadwell gathered himself to his full height and bracketed Crowley against the wall with his forearms planted on either side of his head. He leaned in, breath husky, and asked, “how many nipples have ya got, laddie?”

Stifling a giggle, Crowley whispered back, “how many did you want?”

Thinking it was a joke and not at all realizing that, should Crowley choose, he could have a full set of sixteen nipples like a cat, Shadwell laughed. The laughter seemed to make him more confident and he ran a light palm over Crowley’s chest, checking to see if all was in order and replied, “the standard two shall suffice.”

Gotcha , Crowley preened internally. Lust had always been his favorite sin - aside from sloth - and he knew how to wield it perfectly. He turned his head, letting his breath ghost over Shadwell’s neck and send shivers down his spine. A moment of anticipation and bated breath and then he asked, “yours or mine, Lance Corporal ?”

In the end it had been Crowley’s apartment. Which was just fine by him. He was more comfortable that way, more in control. He let Shadwell take the lead, letting him explore his newly accepted sexuality. He felt Shadwell’s hands on his, tugging at his clothes and grasping his muscles, eager to try everything new that Crowley had to offer. He kissed with inexperienced enthusiasm but Crowley could work with that. He steered his kisses into something more controlled and pleasurable before directing them towards the bedroom.

Reaching behind himself, he turned the knob to open the door with one hand while pushing Shadwell away with the other. Grinning, he took a few backwards steps into the room, trailing one hand down the row of buttons of his silk shirt, teasing him. Shadwell stayed in the doorway watching hungrily.

Then, breaking the silence Crowley said, “by your leave, Lance Corporal .” Shadwell needed no further prompting.

The next morning Shadwell woke up in a strange bed with a strange man feeling strange things. He uncurled from around the pillow he had been hugging and sat back against the headboard where Crowley was already leant against. Much like the previous night, Crowley relished his uncomfortableness.

Shadwell coughed into his fist, trying to break the tension. “So…”

“You are under no obligation. This was, as you said so eloquently last night, “just getting a leg over”. You and I both know that while you are curious, you’ve no intention of repeating last night’s experiences.”

Shadwell blinked at him, dumbfounded. “Wha- how could you possibly know that??!”

Wanting their interaction to be over as soon as possible, Crowley grinned and lifted the sheet a bit to reveal a convenient third nipple just under his left nipple that he had freshly conjured.

Shadwell sputtered in disbelief. “No...no no no, I checked! That was nae there last night!”

“Are you sure?” Crowley made a show of looking down and poking it to see if it was real. “Cause I’ve had it an awful long time.”

“Christ. You’re a witch!”

“Fancy a fry up,” Crowley said sarcastically and watched as Shadwell scrambled out of bed, racing for the door.

After he heard the door slam Crowley let himself cackle out loud, enjoying his own private joke. He stretched and groaned, slinking out of bed in search of breakfast. He didn’t need to eat but he always felt a bit peckish after a “night of passion”. Something about the flood of hormones and burst of activity and the whole Making An Effort thing made him crave a good, greasy fry up.

With a flick of his wrist the extra nipple was gone and he had laid the groundwork for Shadwell to conveniently forget their entire encounter. He may have enjoyed playing with him for the night, but he didn’t want to scar him for life.

Besides, you never know when a Witchfinder Army would come in handy.

#crack fic #crack ship #shadwell/crowley #i'm going to hell for this #good omens #i blame you tumblr #fic

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zukadiary · 6 years ago

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Mugen Musou / Krung Thep ~ Moon Troupe 2019

Over the length of my trip I saw a pretty fair cross section of this show—way back in mid-March pre-Krung Thep changes in Takarazuka; the live viewing of Takarazuka raku with Miya’s sayonara show included; and last week in Tokyo, the first full day of Reiko’s absence with the cast changes in place.

I solidly did not enjoy Mugen Musou. I love Tamaki’s Tsukigumi, I love Miya Rurika and was so glad I had the opportunity to see her last show, and no one’s treatment in Mugen Musou was able to save it for me. I think perhaps if you read and enjoyed the novel, and also love Tsukigumi, there’s a decent chance that you’ll like this. I did not read the novel, and it felt very much like I had to as a prerequisite.

There was an awful lot jammed into an hour and a half. The flow of the show bothered me; there were so many scenes, they changed so quickly, and none of them felt very substantial to me. In Saito-sensei’s attempt to cover as much plot as humanly possible, I think he lost the characters; while I understood generally what was going on, I did not immediately get who many of the characters were, how they knew each other, or why many of them were doing what they were doing.

That provided a poor setup for my biggest gripe: I recognize that I am an American, and I am not necessarily the intended audience, and that this is certainly a big part of Japanese history and culture, but in the year 2019, the whole samurai honor I-must-kill-everyone-just-to-prove-I’m-strongest thing is not very compelling to me. If accompanied by moving character relationships (which, I hear, the novel has in spades), I can definitely give it a pass; but in the absence of onstage character development, that as the standalone force driving the story was simply not interesting or relatable enough to me to be enjoyable.

With a few exceptions—and this probably just goes back to the overall lack of character development—I thought most of the characters were ill fitted to their actresses. I don’t even think anyone did a poor job, everyone really gave it their best effort; my hang up lies entirely with the directorial choices, and I guess the choice of this show in general. I find Tamaki the most charming when she’s fully in wholesome ideal husband mode. I finally watched Elisabeth recently and liked her Tod a lot more than I expected also, so that was a fair out-of-the-box choice for her. The samurai with something to prove for no good reason other than that he’s embarrassed about his dad did not hit me where I want Tamaki to hit me. Otsu is not really presented with much depth; she’s pretty demure, and she spends the whole show waiting around for men to come back to her and gets sad when they break their promises. I was hoping we’d get something that would allow Sakura to show off her strengths a little more in her Grand Theater debut (although she did play the flute for real). I wanted more pining between Otsu and Musashi, but I didn’t really get it, and what there was seemed kind of one-sided on Otsu’s part. Kojiro, too, was one-note; I’m not sure what there was to him other than “the strongest dude” (oh, and he wears a cross, so he’s CHRISTIAN. That’s BACKSTORY). Miya did her damnedest, and she did manage a kind of cold sexy anime boy vibe, but again, especially for her last show, this was just not the kind of character I most enjoy seeing her play, nor did it play to her strengths in my opinion (with truly all the love in my heart for this woman, I have to say she cannot swordplay her way out of a wet paper bag). On my first viewing I thought Ari was the villain, but after the other two I don’t think there even is a villain; Ari seems to be just a stern guy from a dojo (that Musashi passed through when he was weak and thus *had to* defeat in its entirety when he got strong). Again, I don’t really know what his motivation was, and the character didn’t show off any of Ari’s charms, or challenge her in a meaningful way to try something different. Very few other people got roles substantial enough to be worth mentioning.

I DID enjoy some specific things:

Reiko’s character, Matahachi, was my favorite, and her portrayal was my favorite. Matahachi had personality, and amidst all this very serious samurai glory business going on, he had sort of his own contrary subplot that I found much more entertaining. He’s a loyal friend to Musashi, but also lazy, kinda dumb, and utterly useless. He runs away from home with Musashi in the beginning, but while Musashi is off on his quest for ultimate strength, Matahachi pretty much gives up, spends a lot of time sleeping in a brothel, has to do manual labor for 5 minutes and gets tired of it, and eventually happens upon a dying man who is trying to carry some sort of scroll of certification to Kojiro. Matahachi is thrilled at his great fortune; he takes the scroll from the dead guy and uses it to steal Kojiro’s identity, attracting hordes of women and scaring away thugs on his “reputation.” His aging parents WALK OUT OF THEIR TINY HOMETOWN with the purpose of finding him and bringing him home, and successfully find him and embarrass him in front of all his swooning admirers. I saw Oda on the first day she took over this role, and I wish I could have seen her after a little more warmup. She didn’t have the charm that endeared me to Reiko’s Matahachi, but she sure can hold her own with the rest of the upperclassmen in terms of acting and stage presence.

Toki-chan as Akemi, a girl who Sachika’s character took into her brothel and raised, gave me the heart-wrenching yearning I wanted from Musashi and Otsu. In the very first scene after the prologue, Akemi and Musashi are walking and talking (she’s taken a liking to him). Musashi finds a bell on the ground and sticks it into Akemi’s obi. For the remainder of the show, Akemi jingles softly with every appearance and every movement, haunted via sound by the reminder of her unrequited love for Musashi, making all of her longing looks more poignant.

There’s a scene at the end where Musashi sees a ghost/memory of his father (Shimon). Dad is like WHY DID YOU DO ANY OF THIS? and Musashi doesn’t really have an answer. Same, dad.

I loved Krung Thep so much the first time I saw it. Then it went through some changes, and I cooled a little on it, but still thought it was really good overall.

It’s been a 2-act heavy year so far, and Estrellas and Krung Thep (as of me writing this 2 days before Yukigumi shonichi) have been our only revues. I thought that for the most part the music in Krung Thep was beautiful, not really in a jam to the soundtrack way like Estrellas, but in a really nice ambient way; there are a lot of bells and other interesting sounds that we don’t get as frequently. It also has a dazzling gold aesthetic, the kind of spectacle you want as a Takarazuka lover going into a revue.

There were for sure some questionable moments. The boy band number (albeit this time with Sakura at the center of the boys), which, much to my chagrin, seems to have become a revue staple regardless of director, was originally THIS SONG, which I happen to know and love thanks to this Japanese version, so I forgave its presence. This was one of the three numbers that got the axe before filming day, and they replaced it with a synth remix of the Takarazuka classic C’est Magnifique. That rendered it no longer forgivable. The chuuzume was very long and set to Shall we Dance, but like... only the chorus over and over and over and over again with varying flair. It was also turbans doing absolutely nothing to disguise Daisuke’s favorite Latin ruffles, and, if not for the King and I undercurrent, it wouldn’t have fit with the rest of the show whatsoever. A King and I medley maybe would’ve been nice?

Standout numbers:

The first or second number after the prologue (depending on when you think the prologue ends) is a Reiko vs. Ari kickboxing match. It’s hammy and ridiculous and goes on for two whole rounds, which seemed TOO LONG for how awkward it was the first time I saw it... but then when the fight ends, they break into a song about “male friendship” and how they love each other no matter who wins or loses. After that I was stoked, and on subsequent viewings appreciated every detail down to their girlfriends and trainers in the audience.

There’s a beauuuutiful barefoot duet dance between Tamaki and Miya

Mayupon in drag singing in at least 3 octaves flawlessly. There’s an alternate timeline, perhaps a brighter one, where I’m just in Mayupon’s club

Admittedly one of my least favorite revue tropes where there’s a nightclub and a girl and a terrible boyfriend and a new guy who shows up and someone gets jealous and has a gun and the wrong person always dies... but this time Ari is in hotpants

The Grand Hotel numbers in the sayonara show are probably too tough a contender, but the Krung Thep kuroenbi is not only great (messy tailcoats with rolled sleeves, mmmmm) but also almost the best little taidan gift for Miya in the whole thing. I don’t know how they’re going to splice the frames together for the DVD, but it opens with Miya singing a solo, and then she goes down into the floor as the kuroenbi is starting (making it look like she won’t even be in it). The rest of the otokoyaku dance a bit, then Miya comes back up out of the floor dressed to match, and everyone else hits one of those sexy lunges in formation, and then they all turn their heads to look at her in unison. Ugh.

I’m gonna miss Miya!!!!! And I hope Reiko is doing ok.

#takarazuka #reviews #mugen musou #am i 東宝組 now 19

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uru-viel · 6 years ago

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Woman Like Me

@amusewithaview this is for you boo

For the record, I’d like to blame Stephenie Meyers for creating this world. It’s the first thought I have when I wake up in a hospital bed cuffed to a side rail. IV on my right arm and a sleeping officer on my left.

An officer with a name tag that read C. Swan.

Everything hurts and my mouth feels like I haven’t brushed it in years. There’s eye boogers and I’m pretty sure the bags under my eyes are Chanel.

A quick glance to my IV shows a bag of fluids that looks like they are one ml away from beeping.

“What in the hell?” I say in confusion as I struggle to sit up a bit.

I bend my arm mistakingly and the IV pump seems to hate that, alarming loud enough to wake the dead. Or a sleep deprived officer.

I flinch back when he startles.

He sighes loudly and rubs his face trying to eliminate any traces of sleep.

“You look how I feel.” I blurt out, my voice hoarse.

“Considering how you look, I can imagine it’s pretty bad.” The officer winces.

“Wow.”

“Sorry.”

If this guy is who I think it is, I think I’ll be more sorry than he is.

“Where am I? I don’t recognize this place.” Or this time period. Is this the 80s, 70s?

“Forks Memorial Medical Center. You were brought in by someone from the Rez. Do you remember anything prior to waking up?”The officer frowns.

Forks Memorial and the Rez. Just a few words that cemented the reality that I was far from home.

Better play it safe.

I shake my head. My dark hair greasy and unbrushed, flies wildly.

“Nothing at all? You can trust me.” The officer prods gently.

“Nope. Just remember waking up right now, officer?” My tone is questioning, hoping to get his name.

“Ah,” He blushes, “Officer Charlie Swan. At your service, ma’am.”

“Charmed.

*****

And he truly was at my service. A real upstanding citizen.

The second the doctors saw I was stable enough to be discharged, Charlie was the one to help me find a place to stay and a job that put food at the table.

Kind of awkward but helpful and always willing to stay and keep me company. By this point in the timeline, I believe Renee already divorced him and took Bella away. The pictures of a brown eyed baby littered the walls.

Made me feel bad that I kept everything real about myself away from him. Well, I should amend, everything that I can’t explain away.

Me loving books? Easy.

Me adoring coffee and baking but detested cooking? Normal.

Me having an interest in Forks weather? I do enjoy rain.

Me being from a different universe where there’s versions of him in books and movies? Yeah not gonna explain that.

Or the fact that I was attracted to his future son-in-law when I was a preteen.

Charlie needed some brightening up it was so obvious. While I couldn’t figure out why I ended up in the series or even the timeline, I did know I could relate to Charlie on some level.

It helped that we were both young adults with literally no family in the town.

Canon doesn’t tell you that his parents die right after Renee leaves him (ouch.).

He’s one of the things that I look forward to seeing everyday and the one thing I begin to miss when I go to sleep.

----

His friends are cautious around me the first time we meet. Harry is stoic, Quil shakes my hand and Billy nods at me.

I’m not sure if its because I’m the first female in Charlie’s life post Renee or because the cloudy cast of Forks, Washington makes me frighteningly pale. Either way it takes a few hang outs before we start cracking jokes and sharing beers.

----

The first time I meet the legendary Renee (the whole town seemed to take great pleasure in telling me that I made Charlie happier than he's been in a long time), I almost vomit from stress.

I’m faced with the reality that this is the woman that Charlie loves for years never getting over it until Breaking Dawn. How can I compare to someone like that?

She was a free spirit, cheerful adventurous and carefree with amazing life stories.

Me? I was an amnesiac that worked a dead end job with boring hobbies. Even if I had my original life, I don’t think I would have been as cool as Renee.

Oh and Renee? Cool as fuck and funny as hell.

She’s charismatic and draws the room’s attention to her.

The movies and Bella’s interpretation of her mother capture only a small part of Renee’s personality. Her short hair is styled perfectly and she’s in the most colorful clothes that match her.

The moment we are introduced to each other, she draws me into the tightest bear hug and winks at Charlie. Charlie coughs and looks away.

Bella’s in a pinkest of tutus and has the unrelenting curiosity of free child. She follows me around Charlie’s house wondering who I was, why did I live with her daddy, am I a friend or another mommy like her friend’s mom.

Having never been in this situation, I turn to Charlie with a pale face. Both he and Renee laugh.

Nothing makes me blanche more quickly as these questions. No wonder she figured out Edward when everyone else was like he’s just a quiet boy. She’s got the tenacity of a journalist.

Charlie crouches down to her height and explains to her that I’m his very special friend.

Like most children, Bella sits on this for a few seconds and then asks if I can do ballet.

It’ll be a few more holidays before Bella turns to me and asks when I’m going to become an official Swan.

It’ll be a few more years before I am one.

---

Considering the majority of the supernatural excitement doesn’t happen until Bella is seventeen, I am lax and I enjoy the life I build with Charlie.

Being Mr. and Ms.Swan isn’t any different than how we were before. Only thing that changed was my home address on my tax forms. Charlie was nervous the first few months, I think afraid that I’d up and leave him alone again.

I never had someone want me around that much before.

It wasn’t until Bella’s fifteenth birthday, that things begin to change.

There’s talk around the town about a strange new family that moved in. A young , Hollywood looking doctor with a pretty wife and five adopted children. All extremely pale and attractive looking.

I will say that it is weird to say that about a “teenager”.

There’s not much overlap between us Swans and the Cullens aside from the occasional hello or complaints from Billy. Oh how Billy hated the Cullens.

If I wasn’t in the ‘know’ about what the Cullens really were, I would have been pretty annoyed with how often Billy made pointed comments. As it was, I tried not to smirk at some of the cold comments.

Those were the few times I got into arguments with Charlie.

I had no vested interest in the Cullens until Bella comes into town. By that point all bets will be off. I will my damnedest to make sure she doesn’t end up a vampire.

As a teen, I cheered her own in her quest to become an immortal to be with her love forever.

As a married woman, I’d rather she live a human life a bit longer before making a decision. Who we are at eighteen is different to who we are at thirty, forty or even fifty.

#fic #wow #uru writes

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elizas-writing · 6 years ago

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Movie Reviews: Venom

**Mild Spoilers for Content Warnings**

This film includes scenes with bright flashing lights, high pitched sounds, and vomiting. While brief, they’re not so great if you’re photo and/or sound sensitive or squeamish. So when...

Eddie goes to take pictures in the dark facility

Eddie eats out of a garbage can

Eddie is in/near the MRI machine

Venom is on top of a building

And the big climatic showdown.... those are your cues to turn away and/or cover your ears.

On with the review!

I can’t remember the last time I saw such a mixed-bag of a movie in every sense of the phrase like Venom. The shared rights between Sony and Disney with Spider-Man in film is confusing enough as is, especially with the former starting universes completely unrelated to MCU. But at the same time, given the titular character’s embarrassing portrayal in Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 3, it’s long overdue to do justice and give something better than....

... that.

With spooky, gritty trailers promising a dark character study to ring in October, it definitely pays off in ways I did and didn’t expect. However, despite some of the mindless enjoyment of the film and character, Venom also seems like it’s holding back from doing something greater to stand out among the likes of MCU and DCEU. But at what point does that really matter?

Tom Hardy plays investigative journalist, Eddie Brock, who built a hell of a career uncovering corruption throughout San Francisco but often gets in trouble for his bluntness and means to get the story. His next lead is the bioengineering startup company, the Life Foundation, after one of their rockets suddenly crashes on Earth after a mission to find habitable life in space. Going against his boss’s warnings and even snooping through his fiancee’s emails with her law firm defending the company, Eddie pressures the CEO, Carlton Drake, to answer about the crash and numerous mysterious deaths surrounding their pharmaceutical tests. Not only is he forcibly removed from the facility, but he also loses his job and fiancee when she finds out what he did.

Six months pass, and Eddie, down on his luck to find work and mental stability, meets a doctor working for the Life Foundation who reveals the secrets of their experiments. When the rocket crashed, it was carrying alien specimens which Drake calls symbiotes, and he believes by giving these creatures human hosts, it’ll unlock secrets for humanity to survive outside of Earth. But, as you do, these experiments are killing all his human subjects, so Eddie goes to further investigate. One of the symbiotes escapes and latches onto Eddie, giving him superhuman strength, hyper-acute senses, and an insatiable hunger. The symbiote reveals himself to Eddie and offers his aide to keep him safe from Drake (mainly by tapping into Eddie’s impulses). But the two have bigger problems on their hands when another escaped symbiote wants to use Drake technology to bring back more of their kind to take over the Earth, and this unlikely pair will have to work together before further disaster strikes.

The film has all the right pieces to create a better than average film, and when they’re done well, they really shine. Tom Hardy is a great actor choice for this rendition of Eddie Brock. He fancies himself a bad boy with the black clothes and motorcycle, but he always wants to do right for society in calling corruption where he sees it. But with his life spiraling out of control and a symbiote latched to him, he’s constantly on edge and struggles to maintain his morality. Hardy is also spectacular lending his voice to Venom with the help of some killer editing where you can hardly recognize him. Of course, he’s incredibly threatening and you never know what’s on his mind and what he has to gain out of all this. But there’s also this odd, buddy-comedy vibe the longer Venom and Eddie get to know each other. Venom is really more like a curious, impulsive five-year-old who grows a soft spot for Eddie and life on Earth.

It’s really fun to see Eddie and Venom figure out a balance as an anti-hero between doing the right thing and using any destructive means necessary to get the job done. And I really wish more of the film was like this.

I know audiences are miffed by the critics’ harshness, but despite how much I liked Venom, I can’t totally disagree that it’s so choppily edited together and some of the tonal dissonance is a bit distracting. The trailers and exposition build up a deep, dark study of Eddie’s character as he becomes more desperate to get the truth, breaks his fiancee’s trust, self-sabotages major chunks of his life, and passes the blame to Carlton Drake. But all that potential drama is wrapped up too quickly just to get to the action scenes, show off Venom’s powers, and Eddie going twitchy. Don’t get me wrong; I love some mindless action and Tom Hardy being silly, and Venom has a wonderfully aggressive fighting style. But the exposition drags when the built up themes around corruption, being an anti-hero, and the limitations of science just go no where.

I honestly have no idea what Riz Ahmed is doing as Carlton Drake. He’s somewhere between a stereotypical cartoon-y villain, but also wants to be taken seriously as a corrupt scientist without regards to morals. It’s one of the bits of tonal dissonance which just doesn’t work because sometimes you can’t tell when you’re supposed to be scared of him or laugh at him (especially when he lapses in logic like how his massive facility has only two inept security guards and no cameras). It’s hilarious to see him pull the cliches, and Ahmed’s working the best he can with the given material. But at the same time, you’re not sure what the hell the intention was behind this portrayal or if it suffered from the choppy edits. Again, it’s build up with no pay off, which sucks because the whole power and responsibility dynamic is super fun to see in Spider-Man villains.

The fight scenes suffer some of the worst edits as some of the CGI looks a bit too rushed out and plastic-y (though thankfully it doesn’t look like a video game which is more than I can say for Spider-Man 3). It’s also super obvious this was meant to be an R-rated film, but for some reason, they backed out and made it PG-13 at the last second and cut the decapitations. Given the rest of the film’s excess violence and adult themes, they honestly should’ve just gone all out. Screw the kids; just commit to a gritty, but funny anti-hero film.

And that’s the film’s biggest problem is its lack of commitment to one solid vision. It almost wants to follow the Deadpool formula minus the satire, but never goes full force in its ideas except for the two main characters’ interactions. It rushes over the character drama to get to all the action and big climax, and then it just ends. They definitely had another 10-20 minutes of content to squeeze in, but that was all cut just to get something out after over a decade in-and-out of pre-production. I can’t totally blame the studio since it was probably a bitch to work out the rights once Disney got a hold of Spider-Man and if this would technically be an MCU film. There is a dedicated team doing their damnedest to deliver something great with all their limitations, and the effort shows when you know where to look. And to its credit, it’s nowhere near the same level of dumpster fire like Suicide Squad or Justice League where they shoved so much shit in without rhyme or reason where I can’t even laugh at some of the bad stuff.

For all its flaws, it’s hard for me to hate Venom. The foundation is solid enough and if they commit to sequels, I hope they can learn from their mistakes to strengthen this new universe. I love Eddie and Venom’s interactions and their unique brand of anti-hero. The action is super fun and intense when it’s not too choppily edit. I love the little twist of comedy in an otherwise dark story. Hell, it’s one of the few instances I have an Eminem song playing on repeat. Those moments are definitely worth toughing out the slower and more ludicrous moments (especially the two end credits scenes). I’ll take “turd in the wind” over...

... that... any day.

If you’re looking for a super polished film and that great adaptation of a Venom origin story, this is probably not for you. But if you want to just shut your brain off to the Rotten Tomatoes scores and find another mindless guilty pleasure to enjoy, you’ll definitely get some great moments worth at least one viewing. Pick your poison, and see what you take away from it.

If you enjoyed this review and what I do here, consider buying me a ko-fi to show your support!

#venom #venom movie #venom marvel #eddie brock #marvel venom #marvel #sony #movie #movie review #movie reviews #review #reviews #my writing

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uchiuzus · 7 years ago

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there are just some things you shouldn’t see

i. cursed observation — shikamaru (2,270 words, sasunaru // shikamaru has thoughts on sasuke and naruto’s relationship)

Shikamaru is a lot of things, but nosy isn't one of them. Rather than nosy, he'd like to call it observant—as in, he just so happens to see a lot of things that may slip under the radars of others. One example is how Sakura and Ino will disappear together during their breaks at the hospital. Another is how much time Hinata spends with Kiba and Shino instead of her own clan, and how they can be found playing with Akamaru in the training fields more often than not.

Another is how Lady Tsunade will pop a vein when Naruto so much as breathes Sasuke's name in her presence.

He understands—sort of. The esteem Lady Tsunade holds Naruto in has always been... high. Shikamaru has no place to say it, but Naruto is to Tsunade what Asuma was (still is) to him: a driving force. Something to work for. As close a point of salvation as one could find in their lives. Sure, Lady Tsunade could murder Naruto with a flick of her finger, but that's not what he means.

Her stubbornness is notorious; he'd heard the stories about her, about the Sannin during the second Great War and each of their aftermaths��how she refused to treat anyone anymore. How she fled the village in fear and self-loathing and then subsequently avoided it for decades for the same reasons. Shikamaru doesn't blame her because he's not sure he'd do much different in her position.

Then came Naruto with his big dreams and even bigger mouth, and she's practically putty in his hands. That's kind of... his thing. Thing, capital 'T', proper noun. There's no better way to phrase it.

Naruto doesn't come with simple explanation—gather up the greatest scholars this world has to offer and they could never conclude with anything coherent, but they would all leave affected. (Shikamaru has been affected, too. He hasn't met a single person who hasn't been. It's contagious.) What Naruto is, the world has never been prepared for. It's easiest to leave it at that.

The point is... he's very important to Lady Tsunade, so Shikamaru surmises that it ruffles her favorite boy, her heir, want someone like Sasuke.

As for Sasuke himself, it's not like Shikamaru has much personal against him—in fact, none of them do. Their feud with him had to do with the village, its protection, and the protection of its people; reasonable. It's complicated when the whole story comes into play. Sasuke had always been a good—not great, kind of an asshole, really—guy, and the way he'd fit into his team was just like a missing puzzle piece. They'd never been friends before and that sure as hell didn't change when he came back.

Still, Shikamaru thinks of Sasuke in terms of, What if I were him? He can't say he would or wouldn't turn out the same, but with baggage as heavy as Sasuke's (the weight of the world, heavier than anyone knows, more crushing than Shikamaru has ever wanted to know), well... It does things to a person. In hindsight, it only seems natural that the strongest person any of them has ever known would help shoulder that weight.

Most people think it's odd; why would Naruto go to the ends of the earth for someone he hated and hated him in kind? Hate isn't the right word, Shikamaru thinks. He'll never claim to know them better, but they've never hated each other and everything they did never made the idea cross his mind. Sure, they've been at each other's throats all their lives, but even when Shikamaru was young and didn't have as wide a scope of emotional comprehension and how to apply it to people in unfortunate situations, he thought of it more as... desperation.

It's never been any of Shikamaru's business and he's never wanted it to be any of his business, but he remembers that desperation with stifling clarity and how it showed itself throughout their childhoods; little things others either didn't notice or didn't want to. Naruto watching Sasuke during their first Chuunin Exams. Sasuke's absolute need to chase and hold down Naruto when he got himself into dire situations. Naruto's determination to followup a hundred times more powerful to meet Sasuke. Sasuke's—

—attempts to separate himself from Naruto.

(Naruto's desperation to chase after Sasuke.)

...Shikamaru, more or less, remembers when he realized Naruto was not Naruto without Sasuke. It was the day they left on his first mission as a chuunin, as a squad leader—the day they were sent out to retrieve Sasuke. To see Sakura cry hurt in a way he didn't understand (though now that feeling stands in parallel to seeing Ino in pain), but Naruto's reaction had been shock—and then an odd look of empathy and compassion. Right then, a lot of things clicked into place.

"Because of Sasuke, you're in pain. I can understand."

Losing a teammate like that—not to death but to their own volition, which had to have led into questions like, What did I do wrong? Was I not good enough? Why couldn't I stop them?—is dark stuff and Shikamaru doesn't have the audacity to even try putting himself in their positions, but that one look from Naruto... He can almost imagine it. Even when Naruto had returned to the village with Jiraiya, that pain wasn't gone; layers of determination (desperation) had just concealed it.

Years later and the rancid bitterness in the back of Shikamaru's throat has still yet to leave.

These days, when he spots them strolling to village together like they've never been separated once in their whole lives, that expression flashes through his mind. What would Sasuke think with those photographic eyes of his if he had to recall that face in perfect detail? Maybe it's nasty of Shikamaru to say, but that guilt would be warranted (but Sasuke isn't such a stranger with the suffocating feeling anymore, is he? They can all see it, but no one says anything.)

Times come when Shikamaru feels like a thief after clandestine moments, so he puts a lot of conscious effort into not noticing more than he should. Wasted efforts. Can he be blamed? Those two practically radiate their crooked devotion; Sasuke with his glances of wonderment because Naruto might just be a dream, or Naruto's longing gaze that makes it seem like Sasuke will disappear any second. For gods' sakes, it's embarrassing.

Here he is, trying his damnedest to turn the other cheek, but it's like... being forced to peek through a keyhole into a world forbidden. They're just so obvious that it hurts. (If anyone shares his position, they don't mention it to each other either. It's the kind of burden one has to carry alone, drag to the grave in fear of divine punishment.)

Others are blissful in their ignorance of this thing that just is and he sure wishes he could join them instead of this miserable intrusion that he wants nothing to do with. More than one occasion has heard him cursing his natural observation skills, but at this point, he's convinced that some god above wants him to bear witness to all of this and be the one who sees it play out. To not be someone important in their lives but be an audience to what there is between them... It's a nauseatingly high mantle.

Their weird little bond is so potent that he has to notice these things even from a distance (he's so unlucky); the looks, the touches, the unsettled issues, the tied-up loose ends. The rest of the world is willful in not wanting to see it, but he has to and it's...

It's Naruto beaming at Sasuke like the sun. It's Sasuke and his subtle touching of Naruto like he's his lifeline.

(It's so much. It's too much.)

If possible, it's worse when they're apart. Their holes gape, are so flagrantly obvious that they might as well scream their time apart from the rooftops. Shikamaru has to see Naruto's hurry to return. He has to see Sasuke's glances to catch sight of bright blonde hair. They're always in such a hurry to get back, and—Do they even know how to be their own people anymore?

(That's unhealthy.)

Naruto and Sasuke. Sasuke and Naruto. What's that thing people say? Distance makes the heart fonder? Then they must be what happens when one chases the other for years, finally catches up, and then is staunchly unwilling to let go. Does distance actually make the heart grow fonder, or does it stretch the heart to its limits and produce some kind of separation anxiety?

(Probably. It also seems to come with blowing each other's arms off, but semantics.)

It makes Shikamaru a bit sick.

How the hell do they deal with it? He's never known how to be anything but his own person, even as a continuation of a tradition that stretches back for generations beyond imagination. Ino and Chouji may as well be his everything, but for Naruto and Sasuke, it's—different. Extreme, he'd might say.

(Then again, neither of them seem capable of anything else but extreme. When you're the two most powerful shinobi to exist, why hide?)

Their lines have blurred to the point where now, they simply are. Are as one. Extensions of each other. Two halves of a whole. Staggeringly so. It's such a romanticized notion that everyone wants for their own, but they don't understand what it actually means to be a part of a bond like that. Even his own flimsy understanding allows him to know better than to think of wanting it; he knows that no one else should want it. If they were forced to see it like he is, surely they wouldn't anymore.

It is, in a word, terrifying. That they seem at peace with not knowing where one begins and the other ends baffles Shikamaru to the point where he doesn't want to think about it, and how the hell can they not care about losing themselves like that? He's not sure how they cope, how they face such an absolutely fucking terrifying existence.

(Together, he supposes, like they always have. Like they always will.)

Do Naruto and Sasuke even know what they look like to the outside world? To not know would be cruel of them, Shikamaru thinks, but with that impenetrable... whatever the hell it is enveloping them when they're together, that barrier, their ignorance wouldn't be surprising. It's like the rest of them simply exist in a simulation made for them. What a powerful thing it is; too powerful to be aware of, but—

There have been times when Shikamaru has seen Sasuke—and Sasuke has found him in turn, caught his reluctant studying red-handed. With his single-eyed gaze, dark and effortlessly cognizant, he'll pin Shikamaru in place like he's using Nara jutsu against him—and Shikamaru, for all that he's never been intimidated by Sasuke, will not move; will find that he can't move.

He knows. Sasuke knows exactly what they look like to outsiders. Even when Naruto is there and blabbering in his ear about one thing or another, he has enough awareness to look outwards. He's aware that yes, there is a world that exists outside of them and yes, they come in a set no matter what—he just doesn't care. (Why should he? It's pretty obvious to Shikamaru that, sickeningly enough, all he needs is right next to him.)

And he'll smile. He'll smile and his eye will curve, because he knows.

(Shikamaru thinks he knows Sasuke well enough to know that he could use it as a weapon in his pride, which would be a whole lot more unsettling if it were anyone but Naruto at his side. Shikamaru isn't one for dramatics, but Sasuke's force of nature is only countered and balanced by Naruto's, protecting... well, everyone. If Naruto is aware of that, he doesn't show it. He's always been the oblivious idiot who no one gives enough credit.)

This understanding of how Naruto is not without Sasuke and Sasuke is not without Naruto strains Shikamaru; not like a complex puzzle that has catharsis in completion, but more like a high-stakes disaster on the horizon that the fate of many rests on. Frankly, it's going to give him early gray hairs.

Still, for all that he's aware of this daunting truth, relief is handed to him in that Sasuke seems to realize it too and has completely accepted it. Thrown himself head-first into it. Probably never wants to come back from it. The point is, it lets Shikamaru separate himself from it, though he might not ever be able to push it out of his mind completely. Small mercies. Really... small fucking mercies.

Relaxing and having time to oneself is something Shikamaru greatly appreciates, so for those two to seem not to is—ugh.

But...

Practically cursed or not, overwhelmed by their attachment or not, he's got no room to judge them. Maybe he even admires the fact that after all they've been through, they still want to be together. It's a marvel, to say the least.

A marvel, a miracle, all those words that try to explain what's beyond human comprehension—and none of his business. He'll eventually get around to scrubbing his hands of the troublesome, earth-shattering truth, happily scrubbing until squeaky clean and free of the burden.

(He doubts the shackles of his instincts to take in every detail possible will allow it, but... It's the thought that counts.)

#sasunaru #Shikamaru Nara #Sasuke Uchiha #Naruto Uzumaki #Shikamaru #Sasuke #Naruto #miel writes

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hydesdm · 7 years ago

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Confession...

Hey guys, I know I haven’t done anything on here much lately, but after watching @projared‘s play-through of DDLC, I had my own...epiphany, shall we say to quote Monika...and I feel like I really need to share this with you all; because the longer you hold something inside of you, the more it poisons your life, and I need to purge some of that poison out of my system. (also spoilers, I guess)

This isn’t the point, but it’s a build-up to it, so please bear with me so I can give some backstory to all of this: I used to be suicidal . I started having very dark and disturbing thoughts when I was around 10, and it was mostly from this one place that I used to go to for after-school programs: Colonial Sports. Now, I don’t know how it is like there nowadays, as it’s been over 6 years since I was last there, but to me that place was Hell on Earth. Every day there was someone..some group, who would bully me in some new way or another: name-calling, isolating, taunting, using me, framing me--pretty much the only thing that didn’t happen was getting curb-stomped or attacked with a weapon (unless you wanna count a rubber dodge-ball as a weapon, then I was at point-blank range, which I probably deserved if I remembered why).

At first, when I went to Colonial Sports, it wasn’t that bad, but only because I was naive and innocent. It wasn’t until I started to put two-and-two together and suddenly realized what everyone was doing to me. I would be excluded from groups, mocked at, used as the butt of jokes (it seems harmless now, but when you’re still innocent and young, they hurt), and it would just pile and pile and pile and pile till I was usually driven myself to hide behind the front desk or in a cubbyhole and sob. It wasn’t until 4th grade that I met my best friend who still is to this day; they made it bearable and they actually treated me as a friend. I would be excited to talk to him again and have someone to actually play with. That was until he no longer was coming to CS anymore, then Hell returned, stronger this time.

Now, people may be confused and look at me strange when I tell them this, but it’s true:

I’m a murderer.

Deep within my psyche, my innocence was being tortured more and more with every passing day and hour. So, deep within my mind, my survival talked to me and I had to do something; had to kill him.

I had to murder my innocence. The very child my mother put forth so much effort and money into raising to be into this sweet, kind boy. A child whose smile was always pure and was nice to his family. A youth who tried his damnedest to be the child his parents wanted him to be...

I had to kill him, just to survive. Every time I was bullied, I had to maim him a bit more and more to bolster my mental fortitude and survival and it sharpened my mind like a vorpal knife, able to pick up more and more quickly on lies and tricks and what was true and not. At first, it worked for a while; it got me through Colonial Sports. But then I had to leave because I was too old and that mentality didn’t go away in Jr. High. In fact, it was only worse.

My thoughts kept thinking about ending it all, I’m not worth it, how lonely I was--I even tried to take my own filet knife to my throat, but I couldn’t. Something else was grasping me and holding me to this world. It wasn’t until the very beginning of High School that I had conquered my suicidal thoughts. It wasn’t also until I was about 19 that I finally gotten over Shania. I thought I was freed. I was even having fun in High School, learning new things, trying out a new curriculum here and there. I even joined the Anime Club late 11th grade.

But towards the end of 12th grade, that void returned to me, as I became more and more aware of what people were talking about. I didn’t realize it until it was too late; that it manifested--no, that void incarnated inside of me, and with a hell-bent vengeance. Social medias, gossip, news, so many things I saw and heard that kept telling me what I was.

Before anyone asks, the answer is no: I am not suicidal anymore, my will is too strong to cave into it, but then I realized that’s not what it wants me to do...But I’ll come to that. Anyways, what I’m going through is more of a...side-effect, of when I was suicidal, and became this different form of depression. I had helped so many people face their depression and come out of that pit and stayed by them and watched them heal. I have been sought after from friends online for guidance or even just simple opinions on their troubles, and I would offer my honesty. But then I realized something awful.

I kept pushing them away whenever someone offered to help me. I was living my life as what people improperly define as a martyr nowadays; caring more about others than my own well-being. But I didn’t care; whenever I someone asked me how they could repay me for helping them out, I always told them, “You already are: smiling.” And it was the truth. Just that simple, pure smile was always able to pull me out of my darkest thoughts. But there are times when I am reminded; why I’m hated, why I’m alone, why I’m not good enough.

When I was young, it was the time when autism wasn’t well known and medical science was just beginning to learn more about the brain. The doctors diagnosed me with autism and ADHD and told my mom that if I wasn’t taught and raised properly before the age of 3, I would be mentally retarded for the rest of my life.

I was 2 1/2 when I was diagnosed. Yet my mom refused to give up on me. If it wasn’t for her spending so much of her resources and my family doing their best to support me, I wouldn’t be who I am now. But that’s not the point...

They said that I would never be able to keep a full-time job, or said that I won’t be able to support myself with enough funds for my future, or hold a family together, or surmount to anything meaningful. But that’s not the point: what they said I couldn’t or only capable of doing wasn’t that drove me off the edge.

It was proving them right.

I suffer mental breakdowns. Bad ones. In fact, while I was still a cart boy, I had them happen to me twice while I was still on the clock! One day I had it twice. I had to actually sit down and sob silently in the back of the building where we have our inventory or during the summer I hid behind a Subway and just collapsed there to weep. Because I am reminded of why I am hated, but not for who I am. I’m hated for what I am.

I would never, ever, ever, hit a woman out of rage: only in self-defense. But that doesn’t matter; because all men are abusive animals. I don’t see women as a fleshy sack of pleasure, I see them as wonderful beings with a mind and emotions, just like me. But that doesn’t matter; because all men are perverted pigs. I don’t have a single racist bone in my body, and in fact when I see it, I get infuriated and defend the victim immediately. But that doesn’t matter; because I’m white. I don’t see Asians Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Russian, African-American, or Latinos or any other race as a kink or exotic, I see them as a chance to learn about their culture and and a friend. But that doesn’t matter; because I’m an American. I was placed 83 out of over 500 classmates when I graduated, and I put in so much effort to have that mind and heart. But that doesn’t matter; because I have a mental condition. I care so much for people who are in pain, physically or emotionally, and I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to offer a caring arm. But that doesn’t matter; because men are lazy and apathetic. I have emotions and feelings too, a heart that breaks for those who are hurting and fury to those who abuse, I want to show those who are alone that they are loved by others and put those who see themselves as self-important in their place. I have a heart that hurts and feelings, I am not afraid to cry if I could and smile for those who need one. But that doesn’t matter; because all men don’t have feelings or care about others. I want to feel the warmth of a girl’s embrace around me, to feel some ounce of love or meaning to someone, to be able to have that special someone that not only I can bring a smile to their face, but a they can do the same for me. I don’t need to have a marriage that is driven by sex or money; I want a marriage that can last a lifetime, even through struggles and times of trouble, I want someone who I can be happy with for the rest of my life, even if I never have sex. I want to have a child to call my own and share my joy with, to see them smile whenever I come home and dote over, to raise and see them flourish. But that doesn’t matter; because all men care about is cars, money, and sex. I don’t care what sex, gender, or sexual orientation is, as long you respect my borders, I’ll respect yours and I’ll see you as who you are: a friend. But that doesn’t matter; because I’m a heterosexual.

All of those, and then some...they come falling onto me like a rock slide whenever I screw up. Burying me deeper and deeper under their screams and hate and even borderline illogical reasons. But that doesn’t matter; because I have no voice anymore once I’m buried. And even if I did, I’m wrong anyways, because I’m ‘x.’ That’s when I realized why he doesn’t want to kill me: he wants me to give into his wrath and become that monster that I fear the most. Whenever someone asks me what my biggest fear is and says to be honest, I answer, with 120% honesty, “I am...” Because once a person’s mind snaps, there’s no telling what they’re capable of. I know what I’m capable of, it’s just a matter of how far it’ll go and who will it destroy.

Now that you know some backstory, its time to go full circle.

While I was watching Jared’s videos of his Doki Doki Literature Club play-through, I was having many laughs watching his expressions and reactions.

Until that moment when Sayori opened up to him. I won’t lie, I had the exact same reaction, down to even the timing, that Jared had, and I knew immediately where is thoughts went. I was in the same mindset he was in. Because we both could relate to her right away, because we both were in that same exact pit. It didn’t matter that she was just some computer game character; there was real motions behind that character. What was a fun, happy and silly time became what may have left like reality to him. To me, it was reality. And I can’t tell you, the unison of thoughts and words that I had with Jared to what the player’s character was saying to this broken girl. It didn’t matter she wasn’t real to some people. She was real to me, and she was even to the game, real. I wanted to help so bad, but when it came to that decision Jared had to make...Well, just long story short, after that I was on the same boat as Jared the whole rest of the ride. The realization that each of those four girls had their own form of depression and how destructive it was becoming to them. I wanted to help them all, and I don’t wanna speak for Jared but just by his voice alone, it felt like he did too. But I felt the same hopelessness he did when the game reminded us that we couldn’t; and that’s one of the worst feelings I can ever feel in my heart.

I honestly didn’t want to continue after when Sayori hanged herself (uh...spoilers, I guess...), because of how much it hurt, how that hit home like a warhead. But, I knew if I did, I would be a coward. So instead, I found courage.

It was...odd, in a sense. As he was playing the rest of the game, it felt like I going through memory lane of not just my own depression, but of all of those around me who did and how similar they were to them. I had friends who were cutters, binge-eaters, suicidal, self-harming...so many types, and I have been able to help them, but time away from that has dulled my wisdom. Going through this highway wasn’t depressing but, rather...encouraging. I was able to see myself and how far I had come from that abysmal pit, even though I’m in this new one, I’m still climbing my way out more and more. I had to watch the rest of it, not for entertainment purposes, but for healing.

I caught on very quickly on what was going on the moment I saw Monika’s second poem, how close it was to relating to computers. But then after I heard Sayori saying “Monika was right in saying I...” I knew right away what was up. I loathed her...to the point of even calling her a wench. That was until the finale...

I wanted to hate myself for calling her a wench because then after that one-on-one with Monika, I realized why; how alone she was and n knowing that she and you were the only “real” people there. I was ashamed of calling her that...When she admitted that she didn’t really delete the other girls because she didn’t have the heart to and all...to me, she redeemed herself. And to the point when Sayori had the powers of the “club president,” Monika still intervened even after she was deleted because she realized what she really wanted: she didn’t want any harm to come to the player. The very same thing I would’ve done in her position. She realized that, as a computer character, that there was no joy to be found at that rate, and decided to completely shut everything down; just to save you. How I wanted to weep...

So, Jared, if by some bizarre reason you do read this (and have the time for that matter), I wanted to say to you:

Thank you, with the utmost and heartfelt honesty.

This play-through, while emotionally heavy and hard, reminded me that this sort of thing needs more awareness. That depression is more than just a “mental sickness” by some clinical standards. Everyone is unique and handles their minds in their own special way. I know for me, when I get frustrated at myself (which I do more often than at others), I don’t need someone to try to comfort me; I need time alone to mentally vent. When I’m ready to talk, I’ll talk. That’s my own thing, I don’t know about you, or anyone else for that matter without them opening up. But I digress, because what your videos of DDLC really brought upon me, was the courage to open up about my own issues, to come clean. I was able to share my own emotions with someone, who had been through the same pain, and wanted to reach out as well. For an experience that, well, honestly I probably would never be able to find anywhere else and remind myself of who I am and where I came from...and that I still can make a difference in someone’s life.

Thank you

Ian Krisher

#hydesdm #long post #inner thoughts #confession #emotional #ProJared #doki doki literature club #spoilers #I cannot thank you enough #truely #same to my family and friends #for all of you who put up with me and stay by my side #even those who don't know me but have the same heart as I #thank you

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vicegrips-fr · 7 years ago

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As I’ve mentioned before I plan on re-writing lore and with that, there have been a few changes. So, because of this and because it’s high time that both myself and @majestyrising got on with the next stages of our lore, I’ve decided to write up a brief summary of what takes place between the time of Arduin's arrival and his older brother Bastion escaping with Rho. There are quite a few details that are missing from this in order to get to the point, so I’ll be going over those (and all of the changes that have been made) in another post. Warning: mentions of blood, abuse, torture, lots of unpleasantness, etc.

@jollyroger-fr @majestyrising @fusefr @archaic-fr @jadedragons @kattafr @clockworktophat-fr @almaren-fr @webwing-alpha @unicorndust-fr @froststrix-fr _____________________________________

Arduin, fresh-faced and setting out on his own from the Bloodborn for the first time, stumbles into the Undermurk (the swamp and bog lands that rest in Mordecai’s territory) and is captured by his men. He’s taken straight to Mordecai where he boldly informs their violent leader that he is, in fact, a prince. Surprised but not at all put off by the news, Mordecai orders that he be held in the cells until he can ‘figure out what to do with him’. Up to this point, Mordecai and his warriors had mostly kept to raiding and looting small-time towns and villages, little dots on a map that no one gave a shit about. Sometimes they would take people back with them by force if the mood struck, but most of the time those who were brought back to the Wormwood Gorge had chosen to follow after seeing what Mordecai could do. They’d clearly heard the rumors and now they believed them. Eldawrath, Mordecai’s right-hand man, and deputy, as it were, is hesitant to keep him around. He fears that if the boy is telling the truth they’ll have an army at their door before they know it. ‘All that boy is gonna do is bring us trouble, Mordecai, and you know it.’ When the time comes, Arduin is brought before the Blight Touched people to be sacrificed to the pit. Just as Mordecai had done when his father ‘tested’ him, Arduin survives and walks away with a very interesting mutation. It would turn out that his ‘gift’ is more of a curse, transforming him into a large, feral bogsneak-creature that Mordecai abuses, and later, uses as an attack dog. There is a silver-lining, or as much of one that someone could hope for considering his circumstances; he does not remain in this form forever but changes back and forth. What triggers these transformations are currently unknown, but he certainly doesn’t have control of them. About a month passes and Arduin is still at the mercy of Mordecai, kept beneath his house in a cellar referred to as ‘the workshop’. Here he is tortured and abused, mostly for Mordecai’s amusement, and slowly grows detached from his former self and life. He is given the nickname Vile. Around this time another prince wanders into the Undermurk and he too is captured and brought before the leader of the gorge. His name is Bastion and it’s quickly discovered that not only is he a prince as well, but the brother of the prince he’d captured a month before. Again Mordecai shows no signs of being perturbed (why should he? nothing happened before. this is the middle of nowhere) and has him brought to the workshop for a little family reunion. Eldawrath voices his concerns like before, and this time their argument ends with both men walking away with busted lips. In the workshop, Bastion is forced to get a taste of the abuse and torture his little brother has endured. The tension building among Mordecai, Eldawrath, and now his people (as well as the timely visit from a certain ridgeback stranger) has the Blight Touched leader on edge; naturally, this is taken out on the brothers. He even goes so far as forcing Arduin to tear out his own brother's left eye. Two weeks pass and another stranger arrives, this one with a snowstorm at his heels and claiming to be a king; his name is Rho. After a scuffle between him and a witch living in the swamp that goes by Wurdalak, Mordecai arrives and the two exchange barbs before Rho is knocked out by Mordecai and carried back to the cells. Eldawrath, finding out about the newest addition to the ever-growing herd of runaway royals, goes to confront Mordecai. This is the final straw and he’s not about to let Mordecai ruin the good thing they all got going. So what if people believe that Mordecai is blessed? He believed that too but now he’s starting to wonder. Hell! Mordecai doesn’t even know if that’s true! What Eldawrath doesn’t know, however, is that Mordecai is also growing a little worried. After all, three is a curse. Seeking answers Mordecai tries questioning Rho who, not surprisingly, keeps his lips sealed save for insults. Annoyed and frustrated, Mordecai dumps a pale of Wyrmwound ooze on Rho is hopes that that’ll get him to talk and is disappointed to find out that it doesn’t. At least he got to enjoy the show. After, Mordecai made his way over to see Dirge hoping that the blood mage could teach him a thing or two. He did put a roof over his head and food in his belly, the Ridgeback owes him for that. Dirge agrees but Mordecai doesn’t walk away feeling any better. On his way home Mordecai notices that the streets are relatively empty and the lights in many of the ramshackle houses out. There are voices, however, up ahead in the town square. With Baphomet and Azazel in tow, Mordecai picks up his pace and when he reaches the center of town finds none other than Eldawrath waiting for him with a mob of people behind him. He should have spoken with Dirge sooner. The town is divided; some standing with Eldawrath and the rest remaining loyal to their ‘blessed’ leader. The two exchange words and to no one’s surprise, they are at an impasse- meaning they’ll settle this in blood. A civil war breaks out among the clan with Mordecai and Eldawrath at its center. All around them is chaos; prisoners being freed, kin killing kin, and the sounds of weapons- weapons ranging from swords to kitchen forks and rusty spoons- clanging and gouging and slicing into flesh and bone. In the cellar beneath Mordecai’s floorboards, the brothers hear the battle raging above them and Arduin dares to hope that his mother has found them. Someone has, but not the Bloodborn Queen. The cellar door rattles violently on its hinges and Arduin shrinks back into the shadows- someone is trying to yank it open from the outside. The wood eventually gives way and the already cold, damp workshop’s temperature drops severely, enough that he can see his breath coming out in plumes. Next is the sound of footsteps on the stairs; pained, measured steps that move with determination regardless. Arduin blinks into the dark as the man finally appears at the bottom of the stairs. He doesn’t recognize this man with white-blue eyes, but Rho has found them. (We’re leaving.) With those two simple words, Rho strides over and bends to sling Bastion up over his shoulder. It’s a strain, the effort required to manage the task a lot to ask given his drained state; but by miracle or pure adrenaline, he manages. Arduin takes a single step to follow and stops, paralyzed by the fear that grips his heart when he thinks about walking up those stairs. He can hear its irregular rhythm beating in his eardrums and his throat closes up- He’s changing into that thing again. ‘Not now! Not now!’

Rho has already turned and is heading for the stairs, there’s no telling how long this battle will last and he can make use of the chaos in order to get Bastion to safety unnoticed- but they have to go now. He cannot wait for Bastion’s brother to follow and he isn’t strong enough right now to carry the both of them. He makes a decision and heads up the stairs, trying his damnedest to block out Bastion’s mournful screams of protest. It isn’t until minutes later that Arduin manages to crawl up the stairs, his body twisting and twitching, morphing into the vile beast. Across the floor he drags himself on one arm towards the door- still open! He glimpses the carnage outside and stops, staggering and swaying to his feet. Ramshackle homes that have been set ablaze light the streets and shine a light on bodies laying in muddy, bloody puddles. Most with terrified or angry expressions frozen on their cold dead faces. Others are missing body parts and the truly unlucky lay gutted and bloated with swarms of flies laying eggs inside their corpses. ‘Bastion!’ Arduin moans in a distorted- disturbing- voice. ‘Wait! Don’t go! Don’t leave me here-’ But it’s too late, they’re gone and he’s run out of time. CRACK! Arduin’s spine grows and snaps, arching up and out, the notches of his vertebrae visible and moving beneath his skin. He goes to his knees, mouth agape in a silent scream of agony. There is fighting all around and the sounds of it ring in his ears- too loud! too loud! The pain eventually ceases and a long forked tongue slides out from between his wet lips, tasting the air. His large head swivels in the direction he smells the most blood and his thick body follows.

#lore: the blight touched #clan lore #lore stuff #tales from the gorge

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yeehawbisexualold · 7 years ago

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You're a Marshmallow, Emma Swan

A CS Veronica Mars AU.

Rated T. 4.3k words. (1/?)

A/N The first chapter very closely follows the pilot in order to set up the characters and plot. Future chapters may not be as verbatim. Also, words in italics are used to represent voice-overs. Although David will be her father, I decided to keep Emma’s last name as Swan because Veronica Mars is such a distinctive name and so is Emma Swan and I don’t think Emma Nolan or the Nolan family would pack quite the same punch.

Welcome to Storybrooke high school. If you go here, your parents are either millionaires or work for millionaires. Storybrooke, California, a town without a middle class. If you’re in the second group, you get a job—fast food, movie theaters, mini-marts. Emma Swan’s after school job means tailing philandering spouses or investigating false injury claims.

She gets out of her car, a beat up, yellow bug, to see a crowd formed around the school’s flagpole. The source of the crowd’s interest, she finds, is a naked boy, duct taped, precariously to cover his private bits, to the pole with the word snitch (misspelled as “snich”) painted across his bare chest. She pushes through the hoard of spectators, gawking at the scrawny boy’s misfortune. “Who’d that guy rat out?” “Why doesn’t somebody cut him down?” “Yeah, I’ll do it. I wanna be the guy up there tomorrow.”

Reaching into her pocket, she tells the guy snapping a selfie on his phone to move.

“Who died and made you the queen?” the jack ass asks as she pulls out her pocket knife. He backs away silently when she snaps it open near his face.

“You’re new here, huh?” she asks the kid as she begins sawing away the duct tape near his wrists. He nods. “Welcome to Storybrooke High.” The bell for class rings and as the crowd begins to disperse, she sardonically cheers “Go Pirates!”

She cuts away enough to free him but leaves him with the pieces that protect his modesty.

In advanced placement English, she rests her head on her desk, falling asleep to the sound of her droning teacher’s voice.

“Did anybody complete the reading?” the woman inquires, removing her glasses. “Emma? Emma Swan, congratulations you’re my volunteer. Pope, An Essay On Man, lesson one.”

“Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest. The soul, uneasy and confined from home, rests and expatiates in a life to come,” she speaks from memory.

“And what do you suppose Pope meant by that?” the teacher quizzes.

She twiddles her fingers. “Life’s a bitch until you die.”

“Thank you, Miss Swan, for that succinct and somewhat inappropriate response.”

Random locker searches are the latest tactic the administration has adopted in its losing war on drugs. Except for Emma Swan, the searches aren’t random. She knows when they’re going to happen before Vice Principle “Grumpy” does. (His real name is Leroy but the students of Storybrooke aren’t much for respecting authority.

“Emma Swan. This should be good,” one of Sheriff Zelena Mills’ lackeys says with a smirk.

“Will you please open your locker?” Grumpy asks.

She twists in her combination and swings open the door to reveal a perfectly bare locker. Well, bare to the exception of a photo of Grumpy framed by a red heart and taped to the metal door

“Wow,” she huffs with a grin. “This is a little embarrassing.”

Emma sits alone at a round, red plastic lunch table, stabbing her disposable fork into the atrocity the school calls lunch. She stares blankly across the outdoor cafeteria at a group of rowdy students.

I used to sit there, at that table. It’s not like my family met the minimum net worth requirement. My dad didn’t own his own airline like Greg Mendell’s or serve as Ambassador to Belgium like Tamara’s. But my dad used to be the sheriff and that had a certain cache. Let’s be honest though. The only reason I was allowed past the velvet ropes was Neal Hood, son of software billionaire Robin Hood. He used to be my boyfriend. Then one day, with no warning, he ended things.

The most obnoxious of the students perches himself on Neal’s lap, rubbing his chest as he smirks at Emma.

And let’s not forget Killian Jones. His dad makes 20 million a picture. You probably own his action figure. He built his career on being the British bad boy and his son tries his damnedest to upstage his levels of naughtiness. Every school has an obligatory, psychotic jack ass. He’s ours.

Neal pushes him off and turns his attention back to Tamara who’s snuggled herself up against his side and Killian simply sits next to him clapping his hands together and pointing at Emma with a wild grin.

A figure sits down across from her, partially blocking her vision of Killian’s antics.

“You ok?” they ask, startling her out of her focused glare.

“What?“

It’s the kid she cut down earlier.

“You look, I don’t know, hypnotized.” He explains, opening his lunch.

“Did I say you could sit here?” she snaps at him. As soon as he stands, shoving his lunch back in the bag, she feels remorse. Killian pisses her off but that’s no reason to treat the new kid, who’s already had a rough enough first day, like shit. “Wait. Of course, you can sit here.”

He sits back down with a smile.

“That was cool what you did.”

Before she can respond, she’s interrupted by a voice behind her.

“My bitch. Weren’t you supposed to wait for me at the flagpole?” The bare sleeved, tattooed interrupter crouches down and gets in the kids face. “I’m not sure I could have made that any clearer.”

The kid looks like he’s going to shit his pants.

“Leave him alone,” Emma demands and the guy turns his attention to her.

“Love, the only time I care what a woman has to say is when she’s riding my big ole hog and even then it’s not so much words as just a bunch of oohs and aahs, ya know?” He asks planting himself in front of her.

“So it’s big, huh?”

“Legendary.”

“Well, let’s see it. I mean if it’s as big as you say, I’ll be your girlfriend.” She smiles brightly and gasps as if she’s just had a thought. “We could go to prom together!”

When he just laughs and leans back she continues “What seems to be the problem? I’m on a schedule here.”

“Dude, don’t let blondie talk to you like that!” his friend chimes in.

“Sounds like your buddy here wants to see it too.”

“Hell, I’ll show you mine!” the buddy shouts but is interrupted by Grumpy, arriving to break up the disturbance and ask Emma why trouble follows her around.

“So what did you do?” she asks the ‘snitch,’ who’s name she learns is Henry, after everyone clears away from the table. If she just confronted Will Scarlet, the leader of the local biker gang, she deserves to know what she was standing up for.

He explains how he works at the local gas station and while he was working alone last night, some of the guys walked in and stole alcohol from the store, stuffing bottles in their jackets and only paying for a pack of gum. He tripped the silent alarm but when the police came—"We don’t have police here. We have a sheriffs department.“—and he went outside, he realized an entire gang sat in the parking lot. Intimidated by all of the guys, he told the sheriff he pressed the alarm by accident. “You need to go see the wizard, ask him for some guts.” The sheriff told him before hauling the two bikers away.

“Go see the wizard? She said that?” Emma asks once he’s finished his story. “Congratulations, in your short time here, you’ve already managed to piss of the biker gang and the local sheriff.”

She heads to her fathers P.I. office, Swan Investigation, after school and is surprised to find Regina Hood’s car there. She hates Emma almost as much as she loves her son.

She sits down at the reception desk and busies herself with paperwork, waiting for Regina to walk out. Ingrid, the local, low-level lawyer walks in and offers “her father” a case to discover how the strip club her client works for keeps their liquor license and help her client make a deal.

After Ingrid leaves, Regina walks out of her father’s office.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, David. I don’t like you,” she says coolly, strutting past in her clean, pressed, white pantsuit, her chin tilted back in an air of arrogance. She turns her icy gaze to Emma. “I hate the fact that I’m here. But I know if anyone will be dogged and resourceful in this matter, it’ll be you. Don’t call me at home, I’ll call you.”

And then she’s gone, the air feeling decidedly less chilly without her presence.

Sure she’s a bitch. But can you blame her? After all, dad did try to send her husband to jail for life.

Her dad joins her to eat and she attempts to figure out why Regina was here. He ignores her attempts at questioning him, joking about the plastic resemblance of the cheese on their sandwiches. But after enough grilling, he reveals that Regina believes her husband Robin is having an affair—late nights and motels—and that he took the case because they need the money.

“Good, I would have been pissed if you hadn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if you were.”

They continue eating together until the phone rings and her father announces he has to leave for a trip to El Paso, demanding she leaves the Hood case alone. She nods in response, knowing full well she’s lying.

She follows Robin Hood to his office. As she sits in her car, staring up into the windows of the building, she thinks about her best friend Milah, Robin’s daughter. Leaning back against the seat she recalls the pep squad car wash they worked in October of last year, both of them wearing the tight t-shirt and shorts combo, Emma with her hair in pigtails and Milah with hers long and loose.

“I’ve got a secret, Emma Swan,” she giggled, conspiratorially as she rubbed a soapy sponge along the hood of a car.

Those were the last words Emma ever heard from Milah. Later that night, she was found dead by her pool.

Emma’s father had been driving her home when he received a call about a disturbance at the Hood estate. When they arrived, David instructed her to stay in the car. But she saw Neal, sitting on a bench with his arms tucked around himself, rocking back and forth, his face ashen and his eyes wide, filled with an emotion to this day she can not name. All it took was one look at him and she was rushing in the house to see what happened.

“Where’s Milah?” she asked, her chest tight. All he could offer in response was a scrunched brow and a mouth, shaking into a frown.

Outside she found the area swarming with cops, a grieving couple, and by the pool, the lifeless body of her dead best friend—eyes wide and unseeing, blood dripping down her face from the gaping wound above where her temple met her scalp.

But everyone knows the story, the murder of Milah Hood. It was on the cover of People Magazine. It made entertainment tonight. The town was flooded with journalists. And of course, everyone remembers the bumbling, local sheriff. The one who went after the wrong man.

That bumbling sheriff was my dad.

Six weeks after Milah’s death, her crime scene video was leaked by someone in the sheriff department. In a matter of hours, millions of people around the world had seen the grizzly footage. Someone had to be held responsible and that someone was David Swan.

“So, Swan, does your dad still think that Milah’s father did this?” Killian confronted her in the school computer lab. “That’s my girlfriend. Your friend. Neal’s sister. Your dad is destroying the Hood family. What’s the matter with you people? What’s the matter with you?”

She knew he was lashing out because he was hurt but so was she. When he maliciously spit out the words, “I’m done with you.” She thought good because she couldn’t help but hate him a little bit for the way he was treating her.

Her father’s belief that Robin was the murderer no longer mattered. An emergency recall removed him from office and the investigation was no longer in his hands. Her mother wanted to move out of Storybrooke. The loss of status and loss of income was too much for her.

They had to move because they could no longer afford to stay in their house but Emma and David were not going to be run out of town.

A pair of Milah’s shoes were later discovered on the house boat of one Triton King and her father’s successor, Sheriff Zelena Mills’ face was plastered across the news for her amazing arrest.

Emma’s dad may not have been right about Robin but, sitting in the parking lot of a skeezy motel named the Camelot, she knows Regina is right about him now. She can’t imagine it’s a business meeting that’s being conducted at one in the morning, behind the door of one of the upper-level rooms.

Before she can get any substantial evidence, her car is swarmed in the parking lot by none other than Will’s gang.

“Car trouble miss?” he asks with a smirk.

“Might be a loose belt but if you wouldn’t mind checking under the hood,” she answers sweetly.

One of the guys walks up to her open window and her dog Wilby, affectionately nicknamed backup, jumps out. The guy lands flat on his back as the dog snarls at his throat. Another stomps up, yelling at her to call off her dog and she tazes him in the chest. Down he goes.

She calls Wilby off.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll call it a draw,” she tells Will.

“Love, come on, it’s too late for that.”

“Here’s the deal,” Emma informs him, no bull shit face in place. “Leave that kid at school alone for a week and I’ll make sure your boys walk.”

“Why do you care for that kid so much, anyway? Things I heard about you… You must really lay the pipe right.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” she says cheerfully with a sarcastic nod of her head.

Mr. Electricity begins to lift himself up, using her door as leverage, and she charges her tazer in front of his face as a warning.

“Alright, one week. But if you don’t get them off, I’m coming for you, your boy, and your little dog too. And remember, if you get lonely out here, Will love you long time.” He kisses the air at her as he revs his engine.

Quite a reputation I’ve got, huh? You wanna know how I lost my virginity? So do I.

It happened at a party at Tamara’s, that much she knows. She’d curled her hair and put on one of her favorite dresses—white, knee length, and flowy. Her reason for going was simply to show everyone that the way they treated her didn’t affect her.

It was a mistake.

As she walked through the crowded room of people from whom the only attention she received was pointed whispers and giggles, people whom she once considered friends, she was handed a drink. She didn’t know who handed it to her but she chugged it down.

Before long she was stumbling around dizzily and then everything went blank. She woke the next morning, alone in bed, a soreness between her legs and her underwear on the floor. She walked through the house, crying silently, an entirely new type of pain tightening her chest.

She’d thought she’d felt all the pain a person could feel—being unceremoniously dumped by whom she thought was the love of her life, having her best friend murdered, all of her old friends turning against her, and her mother leaving her and her father. But there was at least one thing left the world had to throw at her, one more thing to show her that life truly was a bitch and things would never be the same.

In the present, Robin Hood steps out of the motel room door and Emma snaps as many pictures as she can before he shuts it behind him.

She doesn’t actually get a shot of the woman’s face but she gets some pretty good images of him talking through the door way and the license plates of each car in the lot. That should be enough to get her started.

The next day at school, she sits at her usual table. The kid she’d saved is already there.

“You should hear the things people say about you,” he begins.

“You didn’t have to sit at my table,” she grumbles. Who is this kid? She saves his ass and he chooses to sit at her table for what? To make fun of her?

“And what a fine table this is. What do you suppose it’s made of?” he ponders, tapping his closed fist against the shiny top. “Oak?”

“Look, if people are saying such awful things…” she trails off, shaking her head.

“Well, I figure I’ve got a choice. I could either go hang out with the jerks who laughed at me, took pictures of me while I was taped to that flagpole. Or I could hang out with the chick who cut me down.”

It feels good, his kindness, and a warmth blooms in her chest at the thought of a possible new friend.

“So you wanna get the bike club off your ass?”

“Can we come up with a code name?” he asks, eyes wide with hope.

“Sure, kid.”

She laughs at school for the first time she can remember since Milah’s death.

Her dad returns that night and as he prepares steak on the grill, Emma tells him she got pictures of Hood at the Camelot. He reprimands her for disobeying him but then asks to see the photos. He looks through the stack of images and pauses on one of the license plates of a car.

“I want you to stay away from Robin. You hear me?” he commands firmly, in the serious father voice he so rarely uses.

“But dad, why?”

“Listen to what I said, Emma. Stay away from him. I’m telling Regina I’m dropping the case.”

He storms into the apartment, leaving the grill unmanned.

When Grumpy conducts his next “spontaneous” locker search at school, he makes a stop at Killian Jones’. Killian opens the door, expecting to be in the clear, only to showcase a lovely bong in the shape of a naked man, one hand on his hip, the other grasping the bowl placed where it’s penis should be.

“What’s this, Killian? This appears to be a device used to smoke marijuana.”

Killian looks around the hallways, flooding with people now that the class bell has run and as he’s lead away, his confused eyes land on Emma standing beside Henry.

“I know it was you!” he shouts, angrily, jamming his finger in her face. “This isn’t over, ok?”

She fake yawns at him, patting her hand over her mouth. Henry grins at her side.

“You’re so cute and innocent. I’ll get you for this,” he threatens as he’s pulled away by Grumpy and the deputy.

Jefferson, the residential stoner, passes by and offers her a high five. She’d recruited him in art class the day before to make the bong for her.

Phase two of operation freedom was done.

After school, she drove home to the sheriff’s department. Phase three. With a remote control detonator, he sets off a spark in the bowl of the phallic bong residing in the evidence lock up. The smoke from that sets off the fire alarm and the woman behind the counter calls the fire department.

Then, after the flaming crisis is handled, she heads to the fire department.

“Did you make the switch?” she asks the fire chief who then hands her a large envelope with a video tape inside.

A lot of people in this town still love dad. That comes in handy.

The residual love of her father only gets her so far though and sometimes she is left to her own devices.

Using a phony accent she makes a phone call pretending to be the secretary of the sheriff’s department, claiming to be having trouble with the computer’s system. She asks the man on the phone to run a set of plates involved in a hit and run for her. Except there was no hit and run and the plate number she if reading off is from the car parked at the Camelot the night she watched Robin.

“I’ll be damned, that’s some family,” the man on the other line says, chuckling.

“What is it?”

“That car is registered to one Kathryn Swan.”

She hangs up the phone in shock just as her father opens his office door.

“Explain to me again why we’re dropping the Hood case.”

She’s going to give him one more chance to explain himself, to tell her the truth, to tell her why her mother’s car was parked outside the Camelot the night Robin Hood visited it. But he doesn’t take it. Instead, he sips his coffee and gives her some bullshit excuse about corporate espionage, telling her it’s dangerous and they don’t get paid enough.

He asks if she wants to rent a movie and she walks out, leaving him alone in the office.

She heads to the court house and asks the receptionist which direction the bikers case is.

“Emma! I haven’t seen you since…” the woman trail off uncomfortably.

The last time I was here? Come on. That’s easy.

The last time she was there was the morning after Tamara’s party. She’d limped up to the counter, eyes smudged with mascara, and said she needed to report a crime.

After she sat in front of Zelena and reported what happened, Zelena chuckled in her face and asked “Is there anyone in particular you’d like me to arrest? Or should I just round up the sons of the most important families in town.”

Emma sat silently, shocked and dismayed. She knew Zelena was mean but this was downright wicked.

“I’ve got not a shred of evidence to work with here. But that doesn’t matter to your family now does it?” The woman continued on ignoring the tears streaking down Emma’s face. Ignoring her disheveled appearance, her wild hair, her red eyes, her torn dress. Ignoring the pulsing pain Emma could feel through out her entire body, not a pain physical in its origin but manifesting itself as such and causing her anguish never the less. “Look at this, she cries. I’ll tell you what Emma Swan. Why don’t you go see the wizard, ask for a little backbone.“

Emma left Zelena’s office with no answers to what had happened to her and no hope of ever finding out.

Now she sits in a courtroom, watching a smug Miss Mills deliver her testimony of her account of the night she arrested the two bikers at Henry’s place of work.

“Your honor, can we show the tape?” the opposing lawyer requests.

When the tape is loaded, no robbery is to be seen. Instead, an officer walks a prostitute to his car and is seen opening the door for her, getting in on his own side, and then guiding her head down to his lap.

Phase one of operation freedom had been staking out the strip club and recording the footage of their interesting ways of keeping a valid liquor license.

“Sheriff Mills is this how you run your department?” the judge questions.

Emma finger guns at Zelena and walks out of the court room.

She meets Henry at the beach and presents him with the actual footage of the robbing. He thanks her and tells her that “Underneath that angry young woman shell there’s a slightly less angry young woman just dying to bake me something. You’re a marshmallow, Emma Swan.”

She grins and turns her head away, amused but unwilling to admit it.

They spend some time flying around his remote controlled airplane. Just as she’s getting the hang of it and actually having some fun, Henry interrupts her.

“Emma, look at your car.”

She turns to see Killian lounging across the hood, crowbar in hand, surrounded by his 09er buddies (the richest of the rich, those residing in the the prestigious 90909 zipcode.)

“Do you know what your little joke cost me?” he asks, hopping off the car and swinging the crowbar.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you won’t be getting your bong back.”

He smashes a headlight. “Wrong answer.” He twirls the metal in his hand. “Would you care to guess again?”

She crosses her arms across the chest of her red leather jacket, keeping her face impassive, unwilling to let him phase her no matter what.

“Clearly, your sense of humor.”

And he smashes another head light.

“Nope, the correct answer is my car. That’s right my daddy took the Jolly away. And you know what I won’t be having?” He questions, resting the bar behind his neck and stepping closer to her. He leans in her face and answers his own question with a smirk and raised brows. “Fun, fun, fun.”

She wants to smack his British accent right out of his mouth.

“Uh, Killian,” his friend warns as a heard of bikes pull up along side them.

It doesn’t take long for Will and his friends to flip the situation in her favor.

“What do we have here? Vandalism?” Will asks. “No, the only vandalism that happens in this town goes through me.”

Killian tells Will he doesn’t have a problem with him and Will tells him he’s wrong. With Will smashing in the hood of Killian’s friend’s car (with the crowbar he’d pulled out of Kilian’s hands) and his biker buddies tearing apart the inside, they’re easily convinced to “head for the hills.”

Emma sits in her car outside of her father’s office building, watching him move around through the window.

This morning, when I woke up, I had one person in the world I could count on. But if there’s one thing you learn in this business, the people you love let you down.

David leaves, driving away in his car and she heads into the building. Her dad thinks she doesn’t have the code to the safe but he’s wrong and until now she hasn’t had to use it. She types the code in and opens it to find a large file, stuffed with folders and papers. As she pulls the contents out she realizes it’s the Milah Hood murder file, some of the evidence less than a month old, including the photo of her mother’s car she took the Camelot.

If the confessed killer is already in jail, why hasn’t dad given up on the case?

#captain swan #cs ff #cs au #my fic #i'm really excited about this so i hope y'all like it #cs fanfiction

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setoangel01-fanfiction · 8 years ago

Text

April Fool’s!

Fandom: Sing 2016

Pairing: Johnny x Ash (Jash)

Rated: T

Story Summary: Ash plays a few pranks on Johnny to celebrate April 1st but it doesn't all go exactly as planned.

Fanfiction.net

A03

Fair to say, living with Johnny was MUCH better than living with Lance had ever been.

Johnny was a very clean individual. Both in his own personal hygiene and always picking up after himself (already a vast improvement over a certain asshole ex), gladly completed his fair share of the household chores, paid half the rent and bills early, cooked dinner without nearly burning the apartment down, was happy to grocery shop with her where he always paid for both of their food, didn't hog the covers, kissed her goodnight while smelling like fresh mint toothpaste rather than the remains of dinner, and wasn't afraid to be really damn cuddly on those extra cold nights (or in general).

He was also gorgeous, muscular, and an absolute dynamo in the sack but that was beside the point.

Let's just say Johnny being her boyfriend and them making the step to move in together (after more than a year of dating) was perhaps the greatest decision of her life.

That doesn't mean she wasn't against messing with him though and what a better time than today - April Fool's Day.

Yet another holiday she didn't celebrate much because it was yet another that Lance typically despised. Whenever Ash tried to prank him, he ended up angry or huffy; calling her childish and his overall demeanor was a bit more exciting than a wet paper sack when it came to harmless pranks.

That was then, this was now.

Unlike Lance, Johnny had gusto; a zest for life. Not at all afraid to try new things and he never had gotten upset with her. Which if you knew some of the stuff she did over their time together, she probably deserved it on more than one occasion but Johnny just gave a patient smile and helped her clean up whenever she'd made a mess. It was either when she was trying to cook, or dropping a new jar of pickles because of wet paws, and the few little pranks she pulled like drawing on his face and chest with a Sharpie when she spiked his eggnog during one of Mike's wild Christmas Parties.

It was a beautiful thing really.

Ash was adamant to enjoy this day and what better way than starting with mayonnaise in the toothpaste tube?

4:00 am

The porcupine looked to her left where Johnny lay still dead asleep. The covers at his waist; back rising and falling with steady breaths.

Ash smiled at the sight before silently climbing out of bed and heading to the bathroom to grab the toothpaste tube than the kitchen to start her devious plans. It may cost her a night of sleep, but she knew it was going to be worth it.

6:15 am

Ash feigned sleep; trying her damnedest to remain quiet as she heard Johnny let out a deep groan. His weight jostling the bed slightly as he rolled onto his back and let out a yawn, the slight growl leaving his throat as he stretched his arms over his head. She'd seen him do it enough to know that was the first thing he did when he awoke.

Suddenly all too aware of the weight of his eyes upon her face before she couldn't help but flinch as his lips suddenly brushed her cheek. Experiencing his constant sweetness made her feel kinda bad about what she was about to put him through today.

Johnny nuzzled his face against her cheek, nose brushing over her ear before his incredible warmth was suddenly gone. Ash listened intently. Johnny putting his legs over the side of the bed to put his pants on before he stood up. Footsteps rather quiet as he made his way to the direction of their bathroom.

Ash fought a smirk when the sound of the door closed.

"BLECK!" Johnny suddenly yelled, "Is this bloody mayonnaise!? Blugh!" muted sounds of him spitting and gagging filled her ears and Ash burrowed further into the covers to cover the few breathy giggles that escaped.

6:30 am

Finished with his shower, Johnny opened the door, the barest hints of steam and freshness filling the air around her as Ash made a big show of waking up. Stretching her arms over her head before her eyes fluttered open to see her very nude, very wet boyfriend.

As pleasant of a vision it was, it was more satisfying to know her other planned work.

"Johnny?" she asked innocently, her eyes gently skirting over a drip of water that cascaded down his heaving chest. Because damn, who could help themselves?

"Um…where's the towels?" he asked, kept glancing down at his bare feet where the carpet was starting to get soaked from his dripping pelt.

"Oops, yeah - they're in the laundry." Ash replied with a high-pitched yawn; perhaps overplaying the part a bit too much but she didn't care. She hoped she adjusted their bedskirt enough to hide the pile of clean towels folded underneath the bed.

"Oh." Johnny seemed a bit confused at first, the cutest expression lifting his brow ridges in thought but they fell quickly.

Ash watched as he looked around for a bit and decided to slink back into the bathroom and came out a few seconds later with his pile of dirty clothes where he was trying to dry off as much as possible with his discarded shirt he wore yesterday. It seemed to work well enough and Ash relaxed back into the covers and waited.

6:45 am

Drying himself off as much as possible, Johnny finally got underwear and jeans on, his hair still drooping forward slightly as he went back into the bathroom where Ash was up and brushing her teeth. Smiling around her toothbrush where she'd put toothpaste from a hidden tube atop it.

Johnny caught her actions and had a quizzical look before he muttered, "…does the toothpaste taste okay to you?"

"Hmm?" making sure to have a confused stare plastered on her face, "Uh, yeah." she answered around the brush making sure to furrow her brows. "Minty." Ash finished with a bright smile, the toothpaste bubbles causing her to talk with a slight mumble.

Johnny looked confounded by her answer.

"Why?" she asked cheekily.

"...no reason." he chuckled lightly; letting go of the topic fairly quickly. Brown eyes averted from her as he made his way to reach underneath their sink and pulling out the hairdryer.

As Johnny plugged it in, Ash hid another smirk by spitting in the sink and rinsing out her mouth.

With the sound of the hairdryer turning on, Ash braced herself when there was a sudden cloud of baby power that whooshed out and filled the bathroom.

"GACK!" Johnny spazzed, coughing and hacking before quickly powering it off where Ash turned around to see the scene with widened eyes.

"What the hell, Johnny?!" Ash freaked out quite convincingly as she flailed halfheartedly to get the powder off of her. Now having to bite the inside of her cheek to keep out from howling in laughter when she turned and her boyfriend's luxurious black pelt was now covered in a fine white powder. His brown eyes popping open giving the stark contrast to his now perfectly white canvas. He looked like an albino gorilla and it was possibly the cutest fucking thing she'd ever seen.

The confusion lacing his face was priceless; Ash was now wishing she set up a camera to further savor this moment. Johnny stared down at the device, shaking his head to dislodge some from his face and it just misted everywhere.

"Johnny!" Ash screeched as she was misted with a powdery spray.

"Sorry, Love…I - I don't know what happened…" Johnny sounded positively confounded as he looked back down in the under-sink cabinet and there lay a container of baby powder knocked on it's side right by where the hairdryer was stored.

"Oh…bollocks." he grumbled as Ash inwardly celebrated another victory.

This time, Ash helped him clean up, vacuuming the powder up and wiping down the surfaces with a damp cloth. Sure, it sucked away an hour of time but damn, was it worth it.

8:30 am

"Would you like some eggs?" Johnny asked with his head in the fridge.

"No thanks, baby." Ash replied before taking another languid sip of her coffee and turning another page of the local paper; yet another perfect thing to hide behind.

"If you change your mind just let me know."

"Sure thing."

Ash surreptitiously took a few peeks; watching him from the corner of her eye as her next plan was being set into motion.

Johnny grabbed the carton of eggs and orange juice from the fridge. Placing them aside before grabbing a skillet and putting it over the flame with a few clicks from the stove. Ash smiled hearing him hum out a familiar tune as he put in a few slices of bread into the toaster and poured a glass of orange juice as he awaited for the pan to get hot.

Everything that boy did was way too cute. It almost made her feel bad about all her tricks today…almost.

Once the pan was thoroughly heated, Johnny opened the carton of eggs and cracked a few against the side of the pan and cracked open the shell only to be greeted with cooked egg white. The hard-boiled egg breaking and parts of the cooked yolk plopping into the skillet with a small sizzle.

The bewildered look that crossed his face had her hiding behind the paper, her bottom lip in a death grip as she valiantly bit back the laugh that almost escaped. It only got better as he kept going through the whole carton and kept getting the same result aside from the last three eggs which she left uncooked.

When Johnny joined her from across the small dining table she put the paper down and smiled at him. His lip worried between his teeth.

"Something wrong?" Ash asked, reaching over to steal a triangle of toast from his plate and nibbling on its buttery edge with all the innocence she could muster.

"Huh? Oh. No." he said behind a chuckle, "We just need more eggs is all." he answered with a shrug before starting to eat - obvious confusion still apparent by his furrowed brows.

"Sure. I'll put it on the list." Ash smiled into another bite of toast.

Operation breakfast complete.

2:30 pm

Ash gave Johnny a few hour reprieve.

Still wanted to keep him wondering and she feared if she bombarded him constantly today like she wanted to, he'd catch on. In a great wave of luck, Johnny seemed to be none the wiser or even the least bit suspicious of her activities. He did seem a bit lost in his head (which probably had to do with his solo performance at the Moon Theater next week) so it all worked out greatly in her favor for her upcoming plans.

The harmless pranks she'd been planning had gone well so far but she was running out of ideas and wished she'd prepared more last night. It was hard to do much now that he was around and she could easily be caught yet she still had a few tricks up her sleeve.

Ash sat on the floor of the living room, her guitar in her lap as she played a few notes to a new song she was writing. Johnny was nearby in front of the piano practicing for earlier mentioned set. It was a quiet afternoon thus far and Ash glanced at her clock; her boyfriend's schedule almost memorized and it was about time for his afternoon tea.

"Such a stereotypical Brit." she thought with a small smile; suddenly hearing his playing stop and the piano bench squeaked loudly as he moved to stand up.

Just on time…

The few sounds from the kitchen went off as usual. The water filling a kettle the whistle when it went off and Johnny humming as he poured the hot water atop the tea bag; the scent of brewed tea filling the air. The final noise one of the sugar jar opening and him getting a few spoons of sugar and plopping them into the cup before the clink of him stirring them in. The sounds were comfortingly familiar but the abrupt, "BLECK!" Johnny spewed.

It was apparent this wasn't the norm.

"...I-Is this salt?!" Johnny groaned from the other room, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in obvious disgust.

Showtime.

"It is?" Ash sounded surprised as she placed her guitar aside; walked into the kitchen where he'd just taken a big swig of saltwater tea.

"Yes!" it was almost accusatory and Ash worried for a second he'd figured it out but she was quick to cover her bases.

"Wait. Aren't you the one who filled them yesterday?" Ash furrowed her brows slightly, arms crossed as if daring him to blame her for this. The last thing she wanted to do was give herself away.

It dawned on him slowly as he thought back. Indeed he had even if he didn't know she switched the contents of the containers last night when he was fast asleep.

"...Oh…Yeah, you're right. Oops. Guess I've been distracted as of late. Heh." Johnny chuckled, scratching the back of his head in slight embarrassment. "Sorry, I-I'm just glad it was me and not you."

The sincerity in his voice couldn't help but feel slightly awful. Johnny was just far too sweet even as she was doing all of these less than kind things to him without his knowledge.

Yet it didn't stop her from continuing her April Fool's Day fun. It only came once a year after all.

5:00 pm

After yet another successful prank after a rather uneventful dinner (other than a squirt of vinegar in Johnny's lemonade) Ash sat at the couch rather proud of herself as Johnny went around the house searching for a non-existent spider.

"Where could it have gone?" Johnny grumbled.

Ash smirked, recalling her own dramatic performance. Freaking out when seeing the ghost spider and running from the kitchen in an utter panic - screaming hysterically for Johnny to kill it. Him being the protective boyfriend instantly went in there to do exactly as she asked.

Even if there wasn't a spider at all.

Yeah, it wasn't exactly a prank but she was running out of ideas. Innocent ones anyway and she wasn't about to put itching powder in his boxers, "Devil's crotch" hot sauce in the mouthwash, or using ketchup to fake a bloody cut as she cut up something for dinner so she had to settle for more tame pranks. She loved him too much to potentially hurt him either physically or emotionally (which seeing her hand covered in blood would definitely cause him).

"I don't know but it was so fucking huge!" Ash shuttered, wrapping her arms around herself and further burrowing into the left corner of the couch. She could be a great actress when she wanted to be.

Johnny sighed, eyes darting here and there before meeting hers.

"Well, if you see it again, let me know. Maybe just put a cup over it or something next time. Makes it a little easier to find those little buggers." Johnny replied, slight frustration leeching out from his heavily-accented voice.

"Yeah. Sorry." Ash chuckled.

"It's alright." Johnny smiled while walking over to her and plopping next to her on the couch.

Both sitting side by side for a bit before Johnny glanced over at her. Ash watched eagerly as he leaned against her for a minute, lowering himself to give her cheek a languid kiss as his hand moved to tenderly cupped her face while doing so. When his lips vacated her cheek, Ash smiled, breaking character for a minute to grasp at his face. Placing her mouth over his for a few stolen moments.

Once she pulled back and released him, he smiled at her.

Pushing his forehead against hers in a gentle nuzzling motion which had her giggling against his mouth. Ash couldn't help but kiss him again, lips lingering longer this time and he tilted his head to even deepen it further. Johnny pulled back a few moments later and she was prepared to close the distance when he spoke.

"You going to be okay here for yourself for awhile?" Johnny asked suddenly and to say she was surprised was a sore understatement.

"What?" she asked, fingers still desperately clutching his green sweater; kinda disappointed their impromptu kissing wasn't leading to other things.

"I'm gonna run to the store real quick to get a couple things we need. Didn't know if I should leave you here alone with the spider or would you like to come with me?" Johnny offered but once she glanced down at her attire or lack there of (just a tank-top and panties on), she realized she really didn't want to get dressed.

"You know we need eggs and that milk went bad even if the date was fine."

Ash had to admit that perhaps putting vinegar in the milk was not the best idea even if it was funny seeing the look on his face as he poured the chunky substance over a bowl of cereal.

"More more sugar perhaps I should buy some Raid for next time…" Johnny continued; he must have mentioned/listed more things when she was thinking of her vinegar prank.

"Sounds good." Ash covered her tracks, listing her arm so she could languidly run a finger to trace down his sternum kinda hoping he'd stay here a little longer. "You need to go right away?" Ash muttered, leaning into him and brushing small kisses along his abdomen.

"Hmm…" he seemed unsure for a second before she continued, "Yeah. I better head out before traffic gets too bad. Sure you'll be alright?" Johnny asked.

"Yeah." Ash replied and hoped she didn't sound too enthusiasm about him stepping out for a bit. It would give her more time to set more stuff up after all.

Johnny just smiled, giving her another kiss before standing back up. Putting on his leather jacket and shoes before heading out the front door of their apartment with a wave.

7:15 pm

Ash began getting a little antsy by the time Johnny returned through the door.

"What took you so long?" Ash asked in a huff, barely concealed relief lacing her voice. She hated when he took too long - always worrying about him even if she knew he was most certainly okay. She also hated calling his phone when she worried out of not wanting to sound desperate or a worry-wart.

Ash was just glad he was home.

"Traffic was nuts." Johnny explained as way of explanation, brushing a few scattered snowflakes off his jacket, the brown paper grocery bags perched in his arms as he kicked off his shoes so he wouldn't track any debris on their carpet.

Ash followed him into the kitchen, allowing herself to take a few deep breaths by the time he deposited the bags onto their dining room table. She climbed onto a chair and watched as Johnny began emptying the bags and all the items on their list were revealed one after another as he began placing them onto the wooden table.

"Are the roads slick?" Ash asked when the silence became too much.

"Not really. The snow is still coming down pretty good but it isn't sticking. Let's hope it's the last time this year." Johnny answered as he went back and forth between putting items in their cupboard and fridge.

"Yeah, I hope so too." Ash muttered, tempted to help but Johnny was always much faster without her having to climb on her little step-stool to even reach their kitchen counter-top.

Once both bags were almost empty, Ash was surprised when a square box she didn't expect to see was revealed.

"What's that?" she couldn't help but ask curiously.

"Oh. Yeah, I bought you some chocolates. I felt bad I was taking so long I thought I'd pick you up a little something to make up for it." Johnny explained, handing her the box.

"Uh, thanks." she replied and felt more horrible than ever after everything she put the unknowing Johnny through today. Johnny was always bringing her things; either flowers or her favorite snacks so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary - just enough to make her feel slightly guilty about what she'd done.

"You're welcome." he said. Folding up the brown sacks and placing them into a drawer to be recycled for later use.

On the tip of her tongue was her asking him to do something that would put in motion another prank but she swallowed it back. She had her fun today and she'd rather just relax with him than continue her diabolical agenda.

"Hey."

"Yeah?" Johnny asked.

"Wanna watch a movie or something?"

"Sure. Let me just change and I'll be right there."

Ash smiled at his turned back before she grabbed her box of chocolates and made her way to the living room and awaited Johnny's arrival. She was sure to place the box on the coffee table as she made herself comfortable on the couch with lots of blankets and pillows.

Perhaps a different kind of plan would come to fruition tonight…

"What are we watching?" Johnny asked. Being very distracting in only a muscle shirt and boxers as he waltzed into their living room.

"I dunno. Why don't you choose?" Ash replied with a shrug, patting the seat next to her where he gladly sat. She immediately curled up by his side; enjoying his warmth whilst he grabbed the remote and started flipping languidly through the guide to try and find something they'd both enjoy.

Ash more or less ignored the television, pulling away from him for only a moment to place the box of chocolates atop her lap. Undoing the ribbon and cracking open the top, she stared at the beautifully arranged chocolates. It must have been from a gourmet store with all the colorful designs and glitter powders covering the majority of them and they were dark chocolate…

Johnny knew her so well.

Picking the best looking one, Ash sat back. Leaning against his mass of fur and muscle as she popped the delicious thing in her mouth…

…and promptly let out a "HURK" the second she bit into it.

Ash was immediately greeted with the most disgusting thing on the planet - the horrid taste of a huge pocket of yellow mustard that was hiding inside glistening, jewel-shaped chocolate.

Little did she know that Johnny had been watching her the whole time, a barely concealed smirk arising on the corners of his lips as he stared at her nauseated expression.

"April Fools." he laughed and Ash despised how cute it still sounded even if she was sorely tempted to strangle him right now…he knew how much she despised mustard and loved dark chocolate.

What a dirty fucking trick!

Where did he buy these dastardly chocolates from hell anyway!?

"Aww, Ash! They can't be that bad, can they?" Johnny asked when he no doubt noticed the glint of murder in her eyes when she finally turned her head to glare at him. "C'mon, Love. I had to get you back somehow after everything you did to me today."

Ash's eyes inadvertently widened - he KNEW!?

Dammit…

Still didn't stop her glare; eyes cold as ice as she stared at him. Johnny smiled and of all the things to expect right at this moment - a kiss wasn't one of them.

Johnny leaning down to press his lips to hers and she wouldn't lie, it was very satisfying to see him pull back with the regretful look plastered on his face. Not the best idea to kiss someone who had a chocolate and mustard truffle still lacing their lips and most of it still lingering on their tongue.

Ash refused to swallow any of it…

"Not so great is it?" she angrily mumbled around the revolting thing.

"...I'm so sorry, Love." he looked like he committed an unforgivable sin (which in her mind, he had); the guilt lacing his face had her almost feeling bad but her pranks were more innocent…this was just despicable…

Johnny looked so guilty the more he noticed how her frown deepened and brows furrowed angrily. Worried brown eyes glanced down to the still open box and almost automatically, he grabbed three of them and tossed them unceremoniously into his mouth and bit down.

That was all it took.

If she wasn't worried about vomiting, she may have smiled at the horrid look of abhorrent disgust that suddenly overwhelmed his face. The expression not one she'd ever seen on him and it almost made her own agony bearable…almost.

"I'm sorry." there were legit tears in his eyes as he looked down at her.

Ash just flashed him another look.

"I won't do that again…I swear."

"You better not." Ash grumbled almost inaudibly.

"...may I spit these out now?" he mumbled around his own mouthful.

Ash shot him yet another dirty look still feeling a bit pissed that she actually fell for something so blatantly obvious but she gave her consent with a stiff nod. She supposed he suffered enough for his sins.

"Thanks." he sounded so relieved as he rose to his feet.

On his way to the restroom, Ash spit out the remainder into a tissue from a nearby box - the relief was almost immediate.

It only got better.

"HURK! Bloody mayonnaise again!? ASH!" Johnny howled from the bathroom and Ash didn't even bother hiding the uproarious laughter that immediately escaped her throat.

"A-April Fools!" Ash was able to get out between bouts of laughter and the sound of Johnny frantically spatting into the sink.

#sing 2016 #sing fanfiction #love #romance #sing johnny #sing ash #johnny x ash #ash x johnny #johnny x ash fanfiction #sing 2016 fanfiction #sing #april fool's day #funny #humor #fanfiction

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fusionbolts-archive · 8 years ago

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NPC Headcanon; buckle up boys and girls, it’s time for fun facts about Lucia Devine - Hero of Ideals, princess of Unova, and queen of my heart & soul. Focusing mostly on her life and influence after the twins vanished, with a bit of detail regarding her childhood and life while her father wasn’t presumed dead and such for context’s sake.

For an overview, Lucia was Adair’s second child, three years younger than her brother Edgar. She was practically the spitting image of Adair growing up, a born troublemaker who, despite (or maybe because of) her enthusiasm, tended to pick fights and get herself in over her head quite a bit. Lucia was 14 when the twins were presumed dead.

The best place to start with Lucia is immediately after the first War of Truth and Ideals; her father had undergone some pretty traumatic events near the end of the war with, you know, nearly burning to death, and (understandably) wasn’t acting anything like his usual self after he was well enough to be up and about again. To Clara’s credit, she tried her best to look after Lucia and Edgar during the immediate aftermath, but there was a lot that ended up falling on her--trying to help Adair adjust, helping to bridging the gap between the twins while they settled everything with their truce, and so on--which meant Lucia’s... shenanigans could go under the radar for a while. It was during this time that she first really started approaching Zekrom, quickly finding the dragon to be a good companion and playing with them fairly often. (And its no secret that Zekrom absolutely ADORES her; she is, hands down, probably the most important person in the world to them, even today, now that she's long gone.) Within the next few years, Zekrom came to realize that Lucia had the right traits to become the Hero of Ideals - this information was shared with Adair so he could begin teaching her what she'd need to know. At about twelve, Adair first began to teach her combat, and soon after she began to accompany him while he worked on restoring Unova with Zekrom's help.

Now, her story really begins with the second war. After her brother & cousin finished, you know, destroying everything and Adair pinned it all on the dragons, Lucia was extremely distressed over what would happen to Zekrom. So much so that she went to eavesdrop on her father while he and Shinri (and Ephreith) decided what to do about the dragons. And then confronted her father on it shortly before he went to apply the dragon stone seal to the Dark Stone, saying it was unfair to seal Zekrom away and trying to stop him. Both of them said a lot of things that they ended up regretting; basically, Lucia's last conversation with her father did not end on a good note, and she ultimately failed to prevent Zekrom from being sealed in the Dark Stone. Shortly thereafter, the twins' families would find out of their (presumed) deaths, the twins' sons would refuse inheritance of the crown because of the general dislike (if that isn't putting it likely) towards them after the second war, and ultimately Ephreith would step up and take over ruling Unova with no one else suitable for the job.

In the following years, Lucia would soon come to realize that Ephreith was not to be trusted. It began when she first saw how manipulative of her family he truly was; she certainly had her suspicions before then, however - something about the fact that he created the seal that apparently resulted in the twins' deaths never sat right with her as 'an accident' - but she truly began to catch on when she finally got her brother and cousin to open up about what happened, noticing how strange it seemed that Ephreith had essentially encouraged Allen to begin the war, but still warned Edgar of what was about to happen. In the following months, his more manipulative nature would become clear as Lucia began to pay closer attention.

As her distrust for Ephreith grew, she felt more and more convinced of a need to take action against him. This began with her mission to break the seal on the Dragon Stones and release Zekrom - however, she was well aware Ephreith, and the rest of Unova, for that matter, wanted the Dragons out of the way and would never allow her to go through with something like that. Meaning - Lucia had to do this in secret, sneaking the Seal Book from the castle (often with help from Elias, Ephreith's son) and spending evenings studying it in secret to find a solution. Ephreith quickly caught on, however; he would do everything he could to prevent her from succeeding in breaking the seals, while Lucia would find ways around that to continue working at it. When Ephreith discovered Kyurem's existence and attempted to create the DNA splicers to recreate the original dragon, Lucia caught on (through, you guessed it, eavesdropping and finding out from Elias that his father had gone over the deep end) and did everything in her power to hinder his success in turn.

The reason Ephreith couldn't really do anything to Lucia to get her to stop was that he was still trying to preserve some semblance of trust - namely, from some of the important people the twins had known like Nymphadora, Magni and the Shadow Walkers in general, and so forth. Retaliating against Lucia would likely cause suspicion, as there was no apparent reason for it; in turn, Lucia was extremely hesitant to share the truth about Ephreith after being dismissed by her brother on the subject, fearing her mother and the others who had been friends with the both twins and Ephreith wouldn't want to believe her. (Around this time, a series of other Awful Things seemed to go down around Lucia - Elle falling ill, Allen's death, and her brother running away. With all the other things her mother had going on at the time, Lucia couldn't bring herself to tell Clara that Ephreith may or may not have been the one responsible for Adair's death.)

Anyway - around the age of 18, Lucia and Elias were engaged, much to the dismay of Ephreith, who was still in the process of trying to create a working DNA splicer. He had to devise a way to get Lucia out of his hair without any cause for suspicion - and fortunately for him, there was one, and it would be to Unova's benefit as well. Lucia, unlike her father, had been very much in support of briding the gap between Unova and Kalos and forming an alliance. After all, Unova was still struggling recover from the aftermath of the second war, had little external trade going, and was generally probably going to collapse if they couldn't find help from another region. Ephreith became aware of this - likely through Elias - and decided to use that to his advantage by making contact with Kalos and proposing Lucia go off as an ambassador of sorts. (Who was, of course, fairly suited for the job, being fluent in Kalosian/French thanks to her mother and... you know, a former-slash-future princess / essentially a noblewoman, which would make for some very good appearances while in Kalos.)

So, both Lucia and Ephreith knew the real reason he wanted her to go to Kalos; she was understandably hesitant about agreeing, but knew, with Unova's position and all, she couldn't really refuse. As it turned out, this was one of the biggest decisions she would make in her life. She left for Kalos several months later and would stay for about a year. Anyone who's familiar with her character would probably assume this was recipe for disaster, but fortunately for everyone involved, Lucia isn’t the tactless doofus her father was. While away, she was quite successful in winning over the Kalosian nobility (although initially she wasn’t received very well due to being half-Isshu and... yeah that was fun) and managed to convince them that the two regions should reconcile. (Meanwhile, Ephreith was trying his damnedest to get Elias to call off his engagement with Lucia without much success. And also trying to combine the dragons, which... due to Kyurem being P.O.’d, was also not succeeding.) Even after returning to Unova, however, Lucia would remain as something of an ambassador to Kalos for the rest of her life, often visiting every few years or so. Those fancy Reshiram and Zekrom statues in Kalos? Yep, they were constructed as a show of friendship between Unova and Kalos very late in Lucia’s life, unveiled during one of her last visits.

On top of that, Lucia and Elias were married shortly after her return, meaning when Elias inherited his father’s crown, Lucia was Queen Regent of Unova. And, boy, did she use the power (and freedom from Shitmonia getting in the way). Beyond re-establishing external trade via alliance with Kalos, she also worked tirelessly to preserve whatever remained of Isshu culture, to the point that even thought what remained was very, very little - after all, Kalos had practically tried to stamp it out entirely - almost all of its survival can be attributed to Lucia. In a somewhat similar vein, re-assumed the Devine family’s role of managing the royal guard as well, at least when she wasn’t in Kalos. Though she was never directly involved in it, she held responsibility for making sure the guard was overseen and acting justly. Additionally, of course, she also helped Elias in ruling Unova, giving him advice and opinions on matters - allegedly, everything he did as king, he ran by Lucia first.

Lucia's historical significance is hard to overstate; she's recognized both in Unova and Kalos for her contribution in bringing the two regions together in friendship after many, many years of animosity between them, as well as for the work she did in re-stablizing Unova in her time as Queen Regent. However, almost completely forgotten to history was her relationship to the Twin Heroes, as they largely faded into mythological figures, and connection to Zekrom; furthermore, history tends to remember her best by her married name, Lucia Harmonia, rather than by her maiden name, Devine, with the latter being recorded only very, very rarely.

#headcanon #lucia is a historical badass and i love her #{ LUCIA } ideals' heroine;

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lonelygloryrpg · 6 years ago

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ANOTHER WIZARD JOINS THE FIGHT!

Congratulations, CLEO! You have been accepted as the role of FABIAN PREWETT with the face-claim Eddie Redmayne. We advise you to submit your account within 24 hours otherwise your role in the group will be reopened. You can review the next steps by clicking here. Welcome to the family!

The path to glory is a lonely one. Which do you dare to take?

the player —

name: cleo

age: 21+ years old

preferred pronouns: she/her

timezone: eastern standard time

triggers: //**removed**//

ships and anti-ships: my ships are anything that make fabian the happiest and allow him to feel the most comfortable in his skin. my anti-ships include any ship that would lead to his mental or physical suffering.

preferred method of contact: i would prefer to be contacted via discord or instant messenger on tumblr. i am often mobile most of the day because of work, so these are the easiest ways to reach me when i do not have access to my computer or to tumblr.

the tale —

“twins…” mrs. prewett groaned, her fingers brushed gently over her swollen stomach. she should have known, she thought, she was far too big for just one child. fortunately, the remainder of the pregnancy went precisely as expected. in a matter of just a few hours, gideon and fabian prewett were brought into a world that would certainly smother them too soon. they were a spectacle, to be sure. matching shocks of red hair, bright green eyes watching the world around them with great curiosity, and freckles dotting every inch of their little bodies. what’s more, their bond went further than merely looking alike. from their little cradles, they seemed to listen for one another. when one cried, so did the other, and (more often) when one laughed the other would do so too. on and on they went, giggling for no reason at all for hours on end.

childhood was an equally happy time for the little boys. they were naïve to the dark magic that would later shape their lives, and it was for the best. they spent hours on end playing outside or with the enchanted toys their father brought home after a trip, but mostly they seemed to enjoy being around one another. the two were inseparable in those early years, forming the foundation of a friendship, a brotherhood, that would last to the very end of their lives.

perhaps as a result of the prewett’s lineage, fabian’s magic came in rather early and was strong too. he was first able to summon objects that interested him or break out of his crib, and what he couldn’t do he managed with stubby little fingers. as he grew older, his magic helped him to be more creative, to turn things different colors (sometimes his mother’s hair or his father’s pants). he was thrilled by magic in those early years, seeing all of the good that it could do and the ease with which it came. he’d never imagined then what trouble it could cause.

it was during these formative years that their personalities started to develop in full. fabian developed into a rather curious youngster. he took damn near everything in the house apart just to see how it worked, and was sometimes successful in putting it back together. he went in all of the places, and touched all of the things, that his mother said that he ought to stay away from. he climbed trees and broke his arm, played too rough with his brother and earned himself a black eye, but none of it seemed to phase him really. he was tough, a hardy beanpole of a little boy, eager to explore the world… even if that meant that he sometimes found himself in a bit of trouble as a result. though he could be a bit bullish, he was kindhearted and genuinely meant well, despite the fact that he loved to give his elder sister a hard time on occasion.

by the time he and gideon turned eleven, they were ready to go to hogwarts. the sorting hat looked into his mind and saw two paths for him, a place in gryffindor to nurture his bravery or a place in ravenclaw to encourage his creativity, ultimately it decided on the former much to fabian’s glee. though the red and yellow scarf clashed with his hair, the only complaint he’d ever had about being a gryffindor, he was delighted to be a member of a house that stood for courage and chivalry. he made fast friends with a great many gryffindors, both boys and girls, and couldn’t have imagined a happier existence.

his happiness was not long lived, however. at the end of his first year at hogwarts, an older, slytherin boy approached him about his heritage. the exchange was rather calm at first, the other boy mentioning that the prewetts were one of the “sacred twenty-eight” families. it was when he started to curse muggleborns that things became heated. fabian vehemently disagreed with the other boy, telling him off for what he’d said, and the boy loosed a painful, magical spell on fabian. being an older student, his repertoire of spells was much greater and fabian simply couldn’t fight back. by the end of the exchange, when gideon and a few other gryffindors found him and chased the older boy off, fabian was a bloodied mess. initially, it seemed as though he’d coped with the altercation rather well. he munched happily on sweets in the hospital ward and even demanded that his siblings wait on him hand and foot when he went home for the summer.

the truth, was much less pretty. for years fabian had managed to kept these feelings mostly hidden beneath the surface, trying his damnedest to brush them aside. he was often seen in the library late into the night, unable to sleep and unwilling to pause to get dinner in the great hall. it wasn’t at all uncommon to see him with dark circles beneath his eyes. those that knew him best understood that something was amiss, but he smiled wide and shook his head whenever he was asked about it. he was fine, he insisted, though inwardly he knew that something was wrong. something felt very wrong. it was in fabian’s fifth year that his depression came to a head. the o.w.l. exams came at the end of the year and fabian seemed to come apart at the seams. he wavered between despondent and emotional, refused to go to class, and rarely left the common room. when, at last, gideon managed to drag him to the hospital ward that he was diagnosed with depression.

he never told anyone other than his brother, if only because he doubted that anyone would believe it. he was always smiling or showing off something that he’d made or a potion that he’d brewed. the diagnosis allowed him to face the demons plaguing him, and the anxiety that came along with it, and furthered his resolve against those who thought themselves better than the muggleborns that roamed the school hallways. he joined dueling club the first chance that he got and insisted that his professors teach him spells that might actually allow him to defend himself, and his classmates, against those who intended to do them harm. though he was mobilized outwardly, inwardly, fabian was still in immense turmoil.

when, at last, the twins graduated from hogwarts, fabian felt a bit aimless. there were so many things that he wished to do. he was interested in becoming a cursebreaker, a potioneer, or a healer, but a war was brewing and there was no time for such frilly careers. instead, he moved in with his brother in a little apartment and trained to be a mediwizard. it wasn’t what he’d always dreamt of, but he could help others and was even able to exercise his creativity when they ran out of medical supplies. ultimately, however, he could not continue to stay on the sidelines.

the order of the phoenix formed and called for volunteers, and fabian was eager to volunteer his services. he took all that he knew from hogwarts, from dueling practice to potions, and his knowledge from his training as a mediwizard, and put it to use. he knew which spells to use and where to strike a wizard or which so that they would be most painful (he’d seen people with such wounds before joining the war effort himself).

years after he’d joined the order of the phoenix, fabian has never wavered in his choice. as a result of his skill, and his brother’s, they have earned quite the name for themselves. skilled, brave, creative, and intelligent, the twins have the trappings of great soldiers. on the battlefield, fabian is immensely focused and driven to succeed, but inwardly the war threatens to tear him apart. it has become harder and harder to hide his depression from others, to explain it away when others catch him with his head in his hands or when he can scarcely get out of bed to fight another battle. the war has taken its toll on fabian, and he can see that his time, his usefulness, is coming to a fast end.

#accepted #fabian prewett

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anavoliselenu · 8 years ago

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Grounded chapter 17

“Tell Tristan I said hi,” she said.

“Selena says hello,” I told Tristan, not liking his name on her lips, but tamping my outrageous jealousy down. That jealousy would become a problem for us if I didn’t control it. I understood that. My need for us to work helped me to try to keep it to myself when I knew that it was unreasonable.

“I’ll be heading over there when I finish,” I told her. “Are you about done?” It didn’t really matter to me if she was. I was impatient to see her, and I’d go and wait for her if necessary. I hoped that she wasn’t getting tired of my company, because we’d only been apart for a few hours and already I was ravenous for the sight of her.

I was picturing how I would take her in that little house when she answered. “Yeah. That should be perfect.”

I thought it would be perfect to f**k her one last time in that house, even if she was done packing. I would bury myself inside of her wherever I happened to find her. Maybe I would bend her over the kitchen counter, or take her on the dining room table. I shook myself. She’d put a spell on me, and I wouldn’t be free of it any time soon. Or ever, I thought with a grin. Mrs. Cavendish had such a lovely ring to it.

“Tristan is coming over for dinner tonight. As if I’m not paying him enough to make rabbits disappear, now I have to make him dinner.”

“I have a new trick where I can make pretty boy CEOs disappear,” Tristan told me.

Selena laughed into my ear. I loved that laugh.

“Will you let the guys know that they’re invited, as well?” I asked, smiling.

“That sounds fun,” she said. “I take it he got a favorable contract for next year’s shows.”

“He signed on for another year,” I said, looking at Tristan with a raised brow, “but we had to double the bastard’s pay. Funny how soon he forgets just who discovered his sorry ass.”

Selena had gone very quiet on the other end. My whole body tensed, as if bracing for a blow and not knowing where that blow could come from. I absently scratched at the scars on my wrists, my most nervous tell. I thought I had trained myself out of the habit. What was wrong with me today?

“Selena?” I questioned. I would be fine if I just heard her voice again.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry,” she said, the new distance in her voice just making me more agitated.

“Love, is something the matter?” I asked.

I stood and began to pace, unable to stand still. “You sound upset.”

She didn’t respond for endless moments. I was getting desperate when her voice sounded again.

“Blake!” she said, a clear thread of panic in her voice.

No, I thought, my heart trying to pound out of my chest.

I swung around, my gaze finding Clark. He was so good at reading me that he already had his phone out.

“Police?” he asked.

I nodded. It could be nothing, but I didn’t give a fuck. If it was something, the sooner they were on their way, the better.

“Selena, what is it?” I tried. “Is something wrong? Talk to me, Love.”

An echoing bang on the other end of the line made my blood run cold. Selena gasped into my ear.

No, I thought, and began to move.

“Stay down, Selena,” I heard Blake say on the other end. “Don’t move, and whatever you do, don’t leave this house. I’ll be right back.”

No. A mean fist gripped my heart.

I could hear her breathing, but as I spoke and cajoled and pleaded with her to tell me what was going on, she refrained from speaking for long moments on the other end. I recalled that terrible afternoon just months ago, watching the ambulance take her away, my heart in pieces as I waited in agony to see if she was okay.

Clark fell into step behind me without a word as I strode through the offices and to the elevator. I saw what floor it was on and took the stairs, not willing to wait, the phone still held to my ear. I took the stairs down at a sprint.

“Tell me what’s going on, Selena!” I tried again, tearing through the casino now. “What was that noise? Why did Blake tell you to stay down? Where did she go? I need to know what’s going on!”

Another loud shot sounded on her end of the line, and I died a little inside just hearing it.

I tried my damnedest to sound calm, but it was a struggle. “We’re on our way to you, Love, and we’ve put in a call to the police, but I need you to tell me what’s going on. What was that noise?” I was grasping at straws, I knew, hoping I had somehow heard an engine backfiring in the distance. Twice…

“I love you, Justin,” she said very softly.

It broke me, a feeling of helplessness and dread filling me.

“What’s happening over there?” I asked roughly. I barely noticed that my voice broke on the words.

Another gunshot sounded on her end, and she whimpered. It wrecked me. I wanted to clutch my chest and howl with the fear, but instead I ran, determined to get to her.

“I love you, Justin,” she said again. The resignation in her voice wasn’t reassuring in the least.

Clark kept pace with me, and broke ahead as we reached the doors, talking frantically to the valet manager, procuring us a car with remarkable speed. He got behind the wheel as I took the passenger’s seat. He was peeling out before I could finish buckling in.

“Talk to me,” I told her desperately. “I have to know what’s going on. We’re in the car now. We’ll be there in less than twenty minutes, but you need to talk to me. What’s all that noise?”

Another shot sounded and I closed my eyes in dread. “Are those gunshots?” I asked wretchedly. I had never felt so helpless and worthless in my life.

“Yes,” she breathed. “In my backyard, I think. I’m scared, Justin. I need you to tell me that you love me back. Please. Just in case.”

The starkest terror that I’d ever known gripped my chest. I wasn’t a superstitious man, but I felt suddenly as though if I told her that now, it would be the last time, and I just couldn’t do it. It was illogical, but I couldn’t make myself say the words again until I held her in my arms.

“No,” I whispered, that brutal refusal making my chest ache. “I’ll be right there. Are all of your doors locked up? Just stay hidden, and stay down. You’re going to be fine, and I will be there so soon to tell you those words.”

She gasped suddenly, her breathing changing, as though she was moving. Panic had me firmly in its grasp and I had to just listen futilely as two more shots sounded in the background. Two ragged sobs escaped her throat as though torn from her.

No, no, no, I thought.

“I love you, Justin,” she told me, her voice so steady now. Somehow, that terrified me more than anything else had. “So much. I’m so sorry.”

I was yelling at her in a broken shout as she hung up on me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Mr. Desolate

JUSTIN

I could have wished that the twenty minute drive was just a blur for me, but of course it wasn’t. It was the longest drive of my life. I died a million little deaths on that drive, my mind going to the darkest places.

I even found myself cursing God, when I’d always been the most agnostic soul. Why did he hate me so much? I wondered angrily. First he took my parents, who I’d adored, and now I’d found a home and a family again, one that I coveted and worshipped with a single-minded purpose. I couldn’t bear the thought that I would lose her just when I’d found her. I rejected the thought. This couldn’t be happening. If her father had attacked her, surely the security had subdued him before he could have touched her. There was no acceptable alternative.

I watched the clock on the dash for the entire drive. Clark ran red lights, weaved through traffic, and drove like his life depended on it. He made good time, and we were pulling into her neighborhood less than fifteen minutes after we’d gotten into the car.

I was jumping out of the car before it had stopped, rushing to the front door. It was locked, and I cursed as I dug out my keys. Absently I noted that Clark took another route, jumping the fence into the backyard while I entered the house. It was where she’d been when I’d been talking to her, so I looked inside first.

The first few rooms were empty, and I heard sirens drawing close as I scanned the kitchen.

Clark was standing in front of the back door that led into the yard from the bedroom when I stepped inside. My gut clenched, nearly doubling me over. The back door had been open…

I rushed forward, but Clark moved to stop me. He caught me before I reached the door.

I fought him in earnest. There were no seconds to waste.

“Please, Justin,” he said in a soft voice I barely recognized as coming out of him. “You don’t want to see what’s back there. No one should have to see that. The paramedics are here. Let’s let them in to do their jobs.”

I heard a horrible whimper of a noise as though from a distance, barely noting that it had escaped from my own throat.

He would only say a thing like that if there was nothing to be done, and clearly Selena was not in the house.

“Is she back there?” I asked him, my voice breaking on the words. It felt like every part of me was breaking.

He nodded, and a tear ran down his cheek. “You can’t do anything for her, Justin, but you can save yourself the pain of seeing her like that.”

Of course, I couldn’t stay away. I refused to accept what his words implied, even as I felt my own face growing wet with tears.

“Let me by,” I told him, a quaver in my voice. “I have to be with her.”

He bowed his head and let me pass, seeing my resolve.

The sight that greeted me literally brought me to my knees.

There hadn’t been a second since I’d met her that I felt as though I’d taken her for granted. I’d loved her, I’d treasured her, I’d coveted her, and adored every inch of her, but it still didn’t feel like it had been enough. I’d misstepped with her, I’d screwed up plenty, but we’d been working through it all. Life could have been perfect. All we’d needed was more time…

I crawled to her, only distantly noting that hers was not the only body lying in the small backyard.

She was on her back, her head turned sharply to the side, obscuring one side of her face. What was showing of her face was strangely intact, almost peaceful. Her hair was spread around her, the pale blonde strands now wet and dyed red with blood. I tried to tell myself that she might be fine, that she could survive this, but I could see clearly from where the blood pooled that it must be a head wound.

Raw sounds of anguish tore out of me with every movement as I made my way to her.

Lightly, carefully, as though she were made of glass, I held her hand and sobbed. I wouldn’t survive this. I didn’t want to survive this. There was nothing in the world that I wanted to live for after enduring this.

For the first time in my life, I began to pray. For her life or my death, I didn’t know. I would have taken either just then.

I didn’t even look up as the paramedics arrived in force. I only noticed the body that had been lying beside hers as it was shifted away. Apparently, the paramedics weren’t going to try to help that one, since it was missing a head. Its massive torso was riddled with holes, and I perceived that it had been her father. His death gave me no satisfaction. It wasn’t enough, and certainly, he hadn’t died in time to spare her.

How had it come to this? I wondered wretchedly.

My vision was blurred and I just couldn’t bring myself to focus on anything but that hand. It was limp in mine, but unscathed, and if I looked up, I knew there was a good chance I’d find answers that I wasn’t willing to accept. Somehow, uncertainty was something to cling to when the worst-case scenario was so much more likely than the alternative.

A paramedic was crouched on the other side of her, but I couldn’t look directly at him, couldn’t let myself see what he found as he swiftly checked her vitals.

The paramedic called out loudly. I didn’t catch what he said. My mind wasn’t processing words just then. I was still focused with a single-minded purpose on that lovely hand. There was no telling how long I crouched there, motionless with dread, trying to prolong the moments, telling myself she would be fine, but filled with a stark desolation that made it hard to even breathe.

The paramedic said something else, and I didn’t realize that he was speaking to me until someone nudged me rather impatiently from behind. I blinked at the man, not really seeing him as I tried to hear what he was saying.

“Please move, sir. We need to get her on a stretcher. You’re in the way.”

I moved automatically, so unused to being told what to do that I obeyed instinctively, knowing that no one would dare give me an order if it wasn’t important.

I only shifted back the slightest amount, but a stretcher was being pushed persistently against me until I backed away far enough to give them room to work.

I pushed back with desperation when I realized that they were going to put her on the stretcher.

I won’t let them take her away from me, I thought. I’ll die before I let them put her in a bag.

Big arms circled me from behind, pulling me back. “Let them work, Justin,” Tristan said gently into my ear. I hadn’t even realized that he’d followed us here.

“Sir, every second you delay us could be crucial to her survival,” the other paramedic said, clear impatience in his tone.

I let Tristan pull me back as I tried to process those words.

Survival, he’d said, as though she had a chance. They weren’t putting her in a bag; they were staunching the flow of blood from the side of her head and moving her.

He’d said survival, I thought again. They weren’t taking her away because she was dead. They thought they could help her.

I hovered close, my thoughts becoming slowly more coherent as I began to realize that she wasn’t dead, and God willing, she might survive. With desperation, I began to let myself hope, every inch of me trembling.

I gave them room to work, but I hovered as close as possible, desperate to see what they would do, fearing that if I so much as glanced away from her I might lose her.

I was moving around her, trying to get closer to her without getting in the way, and so I saw when the first paramedic shifted her head enough to apply pressure to her wound. I whimpered when I saw the bloody hole in the side of her face. It was up near the spot where her jaw met her ear, or at least I thought that it was. It was hard to tell with all of that blood.

I never took my eyes off her, and what they were doing to help her, but I began to hear the other sounds in the yard as still more paramedics arrived. I heard another man sobbing. It had been going on for a while, but I hadn’t really noticed it—I was making so much noise myself.

Javier, I thought, dawning horror making me search him out. He hovered over the fallen form of Stephan. A paramedic was busy staunching the flow of blood from Stephan’s chest, prepping him to get on a stretcher, another man helping him. No, I thought, please no. They both had to live.

I followed the stretcher closely as they moved her, and no one dared tell me not to. I watched her chest as she breathed faintly on the long drive to the hospital. It’s a miracle, I thought. He put that gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger, and if she survives it, I have witnessed a miracle. I made crazy promises to God on that long drive, promises to give him my soul in exchange for that miracle.

I wasn’t myself as I followed her unconscious form inside the hospital. I felt disconnected from reality as they worked on her. I began to fight when they wouldn’t let me follow her into surgery. Clark and Tristan had to snap me out of it. It wasn’t until the world came back into focus that I realized that I had been in shock.

“Justin, you need to be present for this,” Tristan was telling me, his voice firm, his eyes steady. “Your influence can help them. I guarantee it. You can’t follow her into surgery, but you can call in some favors.”

“Buy the f**king hospital if you want them to give Selena, Stephan, and Blake their best chances,” Clark added.

The nurse was putting a blanket over my shoulders, saying soothing things, and shooting Tristan and Clark perplexed looks. Tristan understood me well, though, and his tactic couldn’t have been more brilliant. I didn’t have time to wallow in this, and certainly none to agonize about it. What I needed was action. The more the better. There were things I could do to help.

“Get the board of directors and the head of the hospital on the phone,” I told Clark. “If they ask what it concerns, tell them that someone is willing to donate an obscene amount of money for some special treatment.”

He nodded, and moved away, a small, satisfied smile gracing his mouth. I remembered that he’d said Blake, as well. I was relieved that she at least had a chance. I also knew that the names he hadn’t mentioned were surely dead. Paterson and Henry had fallen in their duty of protecting Selena. I made a note to pay out the families of both men. It was the smallest consolation, but at least neither of them had left behind children, or wives.

My first call was to my offices in Vegas, and then New York—to my second-in-command. I enlisted all of the help at my disposal to get the ball rolling faster.

CHAPTER FORTY

Mr. Helpless

SELENA

I woke with a violent jerk, my thoughts going immediately to Stephan. It was as though the sight of him lying there, lifeless, with bloody holes in his chest, had just been circling around in my head while I was out. I remembered everything as though it had happened just instants before, though I knew very well that I was in a hospital by the familiar sounds and smells.

I turned my head sharply, seeking out Justin. The short motion made my head ache and the side of my face burned sharply.

I felt my hand in his and knew that he’d stayed at my side for the ordeal. I saw in his weary, grief-stricken face how it had cost him, what he’d been put through.

“Stephan?” was the first word out of my mouth. It was agony to try to talk. I had to speak through my teeth, since I could barely open my mouth. I ignored the pain, focusing on Justin, desperate for an answer.

Justin raised his bloodshot, agonized eyes to mine. Those turquoise depths had never looked so relieved. He gasped in a breath, as though coming up for air. He blinked at me several times before he found his voice. “He’s recovering from surgery.”

I only heard his voice in one ear, and wondered vaguely if I’d lost the hearing in the other. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to me but finding out about Stephan just then.

“How badly was he hurt? Will he be okay? I need to see him now,” I said, trying to sit up.

He paused for a long time to choose his words, and that scared me more than anything. “He’s in the ICU. He was badly hurt. No one can see him—“

I pulled the IV from my arm, sitting up. The pain in my head and ear temporarily darkened my vision and a dull roar started up in the ear that was working. “I need to see him now.”

I didn’t realize what a commotion I’d caused until I’d been wrestled back into the bed, and saw the amount of people that had gathered to restrain me.

My eyes sought out Justin while a nurse shoved needles into my arm. I felt terrible as I saw the tears running down his cheeks and the helpless look on his face. “Please, Justin. I have to see him.”

Finally he nodded. “Please don’t do that again. I’ll arrange for you to see him, but you must stay in your bed.”

I nodded, closing my eyes in relief. He would do as he said. He always had.

I didn’t sleep, but I didn’t open my eyes again until I felt my bed begin to move. A team of nurses surrounded me, Justin at my right, clutching my hand as he followed beside the wheeled hospital bed. “Who else made it?” I asked Justin, bracing myself for the answer.

“Blake was wounded badly, but they’re telling me now that she’ll make it.”

“So that means that…” I swallowed hard, finding it hard to finish the sentence.

“Paterson and Henry died before the paramedics could arrive. Your…father did as well.”

I processed that, blinking away tears. “You wouldn’t believe how many holes he had in his chest, and still he kept coming…”

“It was a bullet to the brain that ended him,” Justin told me. “Stephan came to just long enough to take him out. I owe him yet another debt that I can never repay.”

My chest burned and I shut my eyes, letting awful tears run down my cheeks. Of course Stephan had survived long enough to save me. My hero. I couldn’t lose him. My eyes shot back open as a thought occurred. “Did he see my father shoot me?”

“He must have. They deduced that your father must have gotten off the shot just before Stephan fired. They tell me your struggle is all that saved you. He shot into your cheek. There was damage, but he missed his target.”

I tried to touch the bandaged side of my face. “How on earth?”

“You’ve lost significant hearing in that ear, and they had to do surgery on your jaw. There will be scarring along your jaw and cheek, but we will make sure it’s minimized as much as possible. You will have the best plastic surgeons in the world at your disposal.”

He continued to talk, but I barely even heard him, my mind still on Stephan. I couldn’t care less about the scarring, my jaw, or even the loss of hearing. I was alive. The rest were details.

But Stephan… Stephan had to live. “How long was I out?”

“Four days.”

“Tell me about Stephan’s wounds.”

“Both bullets missed his heart, if only barely, but one punctured a lung, and he’s had some internal bleeding that has persisted. The doctor who performed the surgery believes that it was a success, but he says that Stephan won’t be out of danger until his vitals stabilize. It’s been very touch and go. They tell me he’s improved, followed by a decline, but he’s getting the best care available, and he’s a healthy young man, so they say we can be hopeful, even though he’s not yet stabilized.”

“If I see him, if I speak to him, it will help,” I said, more hopeful than certain. “If he knows I made it, he’ll pull through. He would have been devastated if he watched my father shoot me. This will help.”

My vision was completely blurred with tears as they rolled my bed beside Stephan’s. They wheeled me as close as possible, my feet pointed in the direction of his headrest. They were considerate enough to bring our unencumbered hands close. Javier was on the other side of him, his head bent over his other IV covered hand.

I gripped his fingers in mine, squeezing. “I made it, Stephan. I’m fine. You saved me again, but you need to wake up now. You were hurt, but it’s nothing that you can’t survive. Please, wake up.” I got louder as I spoke, my voice rough with emotion.

He didn’t so much as twitch. I glanced at his heart rate monitor, but could make no sense of it. I glanced at the closest nurse. “Have his vitals improved?” I asked her.

She pursed her lips. “They haven’t altered.”

They let me linger for a few more minutes, and I murmured soothingly to Stephan. He never responded, never moved. I hadn’t really thought he would, but I felt a crushing disappointment as they wheeled me away from him. Some part of me had been arrogantly hoping that the sound of my voice, and the knowledge that I had survived, would be enough to rouse him. He had been my last thought as I’d blacked out, and my first thought on waking. Knowing him as I did, I had just assumed that seeing me fall had been like that for him. Perhaps it really was beyond his control. That thought defeated me more than anything.

I drifted off as they carted me back to my own room, and I knew by the floaty feeling that it was a drug induced sleep.

When I woke again, Justin was watching for it. He was speaking to me the instant my eyes blinked open groggily.

“He’s improved. Less than two hours after you spoke to him, he opened his eyes for the first time, and they tell me his vitals have finally begun to improve. The doctor went so far as to say that there is a good chance that he will pull through.”

“How long was I asleep for?”

“Only four hours. Stephan’s first word was your name. He was just as frantic to see you, though he was in no condition to pull his own IV out.”

There was a reprimand in his voice, and I could hardly blame him. I studied him, trying to see just how much he’d been damaged by it all, because I knew for a certainty that he had.

“You were right,” I told him, “I shouldn’t have gone back to the house.” I’d been so sure he was just overreacting, but somehow his instincts had been dead on. I’d never dreamed that my father could still get to me with so many people protecting me, but he had managed to beat all reasonable odds. “Are you furious with me?”

His face went a little slack, as though the question had caught him completely off guard. “The thought never even occurred. There’s no room left in me for fury. After thinking you were dead, then realizing that you would live, I’m only capable of relief. We may have to start going to church now.”

“Church?” I asked, perplexed.

“Yes. I prayed for a miracle, and you survived.”

I supposed that it was all rather miraculous, and I was more grateful for my life than I’d ever been after the ordeal, but I had more questions. “Was my father on something? He took so much damage, and still he kept coming.” I spoke slowly and carefully. Speaking would be rough for a while, and I knew that my words were hard to understand.

Justin nodded. “Yes. He was on several somethings. Some mix of crystal meth and bath salts. Your father ambushed Henry, then beat him to death with a large rock a few blocks from your house. He took his gun, and walked to your house. He jumped the fence in back and landed on Paterson, who shot him. He shot him back, a point blank shot to the chest. They said it killed Paterson almost instantly, partially because of the type of bullets in the gun, and the range of the shot.”

“Blake confronted him, and shot him again in the chest. They deduced that this made him drop his gun. He then picked up Paterson’s gun. This was a smaller gun, with lighter ammo, and what he shot all three of you with, which is most likely why you survived. Henry’s gun is the one that Stephan found and used to shoot your father in the head. Let’s just say that gun had more effect on a giant, drug-crazed man, especially since Stephan had such unerring aim. The bodyguards were trained to shoot for the heart, but Stephan went for a headshot.”

I nodded, thankful that he’d given me a full explanation, but devastated by all of the senseless loss. “Those poor men.”

Justin nodded gravely. “Yes, I know. So much went wrong. It’s hard to imagine that one man wreaked so much havoc when he was outnumbered like that, but they say the mix of drugs gave him a superhuman burst of strength. None of us considered that possibility, much to my everlasting regret.”

I squeezed his hand, which enveloped mine warmly. I searched his beautiful eyes, knowing that he felt a crushing guilt like I did. “I’m so sorry, Justin. If I’d had any ide—“

“Don’t,” he interrupted. He gentled his voice, and his eyes. “Please don’t. We can’t take anything back, just as we couldn’t have seen the future. All we can do is be thankful that it wasn’t worse. When I first set foot into that backyard, I was convinced that my worst nightmare had come to fruition. I’ll never stop being grateful that you survived that. We are unspeakably lucky that there weren’t more lives lost. All three of you were critical just days ago, and are now on the road to recovery.”

It was several days before Stephan was moved from the ICU, and we were both awake to see each other. We had a teary-eyed reunion, clutching hands and sobbing like babies.

“I was so afraid that you wouldn’t recover,” I gasped.

He gave a strangled half-laugh, half-sob. “You were afraid? I watched him shoot you in the head. I don’t think I’ll ever fully recover from the sight.”

I winced at the visual. “But you saved me.”

“Always, Buttercup,” he said, squeezing my hand hard. “Always.”

He continued, quickly switching to a lighter topic. “Would it be tacky for me to get engaged just over a week after you did?”

I looked around for Javier, taken aback at the question. We were completely alone, even Justin giving us a moment of privacy.

“You’re engaged?” I questioned.

He shook his head, wearing his most boyish grin. “No, but I want to propose. I wanted to get your blessing first.”

I gave him an exasperated look, then laughed. “Yes. If you want to be silly and ask for my blessing, then you have it. Always. Nothing would make me happier.”

“It’s going to be smooth sailing from here on out, Selena. We’ve earned it.”

I returned his carefree smile, hoping that he might be right.

Epilogue

NEARLY ONE YEAR LATER

I took deep breaths. I counted. I made my whole body relax. I was nervous—very nervous, and skittish, but much less so, than I’d thought I would be for this day.

“Deep breaths, Buttercup,” Stephan said gently. I couldn’t look at him today. He, more than anyone, made me emotional today. There was just so much joy in his eyes, so much barely suppressed excitement. It made me want to bawl like a baby and I had just sat through a painstakingly elaborate makeup process. Not to mention that my goal for the day was not to lose it in front of four hundred wedding guests.

“If you make her mess up her make-up right now, I will kick you,” Lana told him, but her tone was pure affection. Stephan and Lana had taken to each other like, well—like Stephan and I. She threatened to steal him from me nearly every time the three of us got together.

Lana looked stunning, of course, in a lavender dress that made those astonishing purple eyes stand out even more. She’d picked the color. As was her custom, she’d taken over that entire part of the process. I hadn’t balked. On the contrary, I’d only been relieved. This sort of event was well out of my area of expertise. I had never been the girl who dreamed of this, let alone ever thought of planning one of the things. I had gratefully taken all of the help I could get.

“Selena, you should know that I’ve been put on guard duty by your determined bridegroom. He said that if you tried to run, I would get to tackle you.”

That made me laugh, and relieved some of the tension, as it was meant to.

“I don’t know if anyone’s told you this,” she continued. “But I have quite the reputation as a kick-ass fighter in Maui, so I wouldn’t test me if I were you.”

Not only had someone told me that story, everyone had. Lana’s Tutu, and her auntie, and even Akira loved to tell that story in great detail, and often. One girl fight and they thought she was the lightweight champ…

Lana wasn’t finished, but she’d moved on from Stephan and me. She had an elegant finger pointed at the two mischievous pixies who wore gowns that matched her own. “And you. The Debauched Duo. You had better stay away from my brother at the reception. I saw the way you were eyeing him. Don’t even think about it. I have plans for him that involve him finally settling down, and the two of you wouldn’t know settled if it invited you to a threesome!”

They just giggled, completely unfazed.

“We already bagged that one,” Marnie gasped.

“Double teamed him after the rehearsal dinner!” Judith said.

“He was awesome,” Marnie added.

Lana rubbed her temples. “Oh, God! I don’t know who’s more hopeless. Him or you two?”

“Them,” Jessa added from where she was getting her hair finished up. “I’ve known them for years. Definitely them.”

“They told me a story about seducing a priest one time,” Danika told Lana, giving her a sympathetic look. “Your brother is easy, but these two are nymphos. So if we’re talking hopeless, I vote them.”

“I swear I saw them eyeing up the minister that’s performing the nuptials,” Sophia added helpfully, adjusting the sleeve of her own lavender gown.

“I’m almost positive they were trying to hit on my dad last night, before they disappeared with Lana’s brother,” Jackie added from where she was working on my hem. I glanced down at her as she continued. “My poor father’s been a widower for five years, and he’s approaching sixty. They could have given him a heart attack.”

Marnie and Judith just giggled, enjoying the banter.

It all helped. I needed distraction. It wasn’t that I had doubts about Justin. I was sure of him, sure that I needed him, and that he was good for me. It was just the actual marriage part that got me scared. And the over the top wedding, which had started out so small, wasn’t helping. It had just sort of built into this thing that I couldn’t control anymore, though I wasn’t sure I ever could have. We should have eloped…

I never thought I’d be that person with more bridesmaids than I could keep track of, but there it was. I had opened my heart to more than Stephan, and it had opened like a dam breaking. There were so many people that I valued in my life now. My heart was no longer a block of ice with one thawed part just for Stephan. It was warm in my chest now. I was alive as I never could have been if I hadn’t met Justin. He had been right from the start. We were made for each other, and he had made me a better woman, a more complete one, when I’d let him into my heart.

I had calmed considerably by the time Javier peeked his head into the room.

We had decided on an outdoor wedding in the late spring, because we both loved the idea of a wedding amidst blooming flowers. Justin had chosen Wyoming, insisting that there was no other place we could have our vows, since this was where he swore I’d fallen in love with him. He claimed that I’d fallen for his mind-boggling equestrian skills first… I hadn’t been able to change his mind on that idea—I’d even admitted to him just how quickly I really had fallen for him, but he heard none of it. I didn’t really mind. I couldn’t think of a place I’d have preferred for such a beautiful day.

The ranch had been transformed for the big event, a huge clearing at the front of the house painstakingly perfected for the ceremony. It was a vision of tall grass and wildflowers, well-groomed where the guests were seated, with flowers planted all along the perimeter, but the rest left running wild with riotous white and violet wildflowers.

Large tents had been set up on the side of the property for the reception that would follow.

One of the living areas near the front of the house had been turned into my bridal party’s prep station. The groomsmen waited just outside, in the light-filled foyer, for the bridesmaids.

“Showtime,” Javier told us, grinning.

Stephan and Javier had been more impulsive than we had, and had already gotten married over Christmas. They’d had a gorgeous commitment ceremony in Bali, with a reception afterwards that had turned into a four-day long party with all of their closest friends. The entire trip had been magical, and I’d never seen two happier newlyweds. Even several months later, they were both still glowing with it.

Stephan was happier than I’d ever seen him. Two months ago, he’d even been contacted by one of his sisters. She had just turned eighteen, and moved away for college. She’d found him on Facebook, sending him an earnest message about wanting to meet him. She had apologized for the way he’d been treated by their family, though of course she’d been too young at the time to have anything to do with the way things had happened. Stephan had told me that they were getting to know each other slowly, but that they were chatting nearly every day now.

Javier blew us a kiss before letting the door swing back closed on him. He’d ended up as part of the groom’s party. Dividing our friends had turned into quite the debate. We’d had a row over who would get Stephan. The very idea had made me furious.

In the end, we’d decided on gender-bending wedding parties, with Frankie as Justin’s best woman, and Stephan as my best man. It only made sense. Justin had argued that he should get Lana, and I’d made a case for myself getting Javier, but in the end we’d let them choose, so Javier was a groomsmen, and Lana was mine. I knew it was a sign of how blessed we were, that our friends were so intertwined that they belonged to us both.

One of the biggest wedding party upheavals was kneeling at my feet, fretting about some minor detail on the hem of my gown. Jackie had taken some getting used to, but I’d more than gotten used to her. Our friendship had grown over countless thoughtful little notes that she’d left in my closet. Lana had been so right about her—that she needed to be challenged. Something in her nature held a constant need for it, and I didn’t mind obliging. First, I’d insisted on only wearing up and coming designers’ clothes for months, which had made her want to pull her hair out, but I saw that she grew to love the idea, the discovery of new designers presenting that challenge that she craved.

She’d learned to respect me, and as that respect had budded, so had our friendship. And when we’d begun to hunt for my wedding gown, it had grown into a bonafide bond. I’d realized that I had room in my heart for another sister.

Jackie and I hadn’t taken to each other right away, but you wouldn’t know it now. As she’d obsessed over finding the perfect dress, I’d begun to tell her little details that I might like for a gown, and she had added her own persistent suggestions. When she’d begun to make elaborate sketches for the elusive dress, I’d been impressed with her vision, and made the offhanded suggestion that she should design it herself. She’d taken that suggestion to heart, and designed the perfect gown for me. I knew by her talent, and the way the task seemed to fulfill her, that it wouldn’t be her last.

The women began to file from the room, giving me encouraging looks before they left. The looks made me feel a bit like a crazy woman, since they told me clearly that everyone was still a little afraid that I would turn into a runaway bride.

Stephan and I peeked our heads around the corner to catch a glimpse of the altar.

Justin already stood there, looking too perfect to be real in a sharply tailored tuxedo. He wore the classic black jacket and trouser, with an off-white silk shirt, vest, and tie. His hair was styled artfully out of his face. Frankie stood next to him, decked out in her own sexy version of a tux.

He saw us looking and grinned. He knew I’d be nervous for this, just as I knew that he wouldn’t. We shared one of those complex looks that said we understood each other. His look took the form of an indulgent smile, and mine was a bit of a pained grimace. I ducked back into the room.

In addition to being my best man, Stephan was walking me down the aisle. That one hadn’t even been a question. He wore a tux that was nearly identical to Justin’s, but with a lavender silk tie. He kept an eye out for our cue to go, naming off the bridal party as they walked, and keeping me up to date on every detail, Stephan style.

“First is Elliot. He’s got the ring on top of his head, and he’s hopping.”

I giggled.

“Now it’s Parker and Sophia. They’re right on his tail, in case he runs off. Oops, he made a dash… No, he’s okay now. I think he was just faking them out.”

We shared a grin. Elliot was too adorable.

“Next up are Lana and Akira. He looks mean as ever, and she is the picture of elegance. Seeing them side by side, they just make sense, but you’d have to see it to believe it, since they’re so dissimilar.”

I had to agree with that observation.

“Now it’s Murphy and Judith. They actually look like they’re trying to behave themselves. I was expecting a little dance down the aisle, YouTube style.”

“Murphy asked me if he could dance, and I said I didn’t mind, as long as no one expected me to,” I said.

“Oh, well, there he goes. They’re doing that shuffle dance. It definitely looks like they practiced.” We shared a laugh.

“And now Javier and Marnie,” Stephan continued. “He looks sexy as hell, and he just winked at me as he passed the door. Now it’s Jessa and Damien. They have huge smiles on their faces.”

He paused watching, his smile fading just a touch. “Next up are Tristan and Danika. It hurts my heart to see those two around each other.”

I knew just what he meant. There was still such a feeling of unresolved issues when the two of them got together. Danika hadn’t been thrilled with the pairing, but she’d been a good sport about it. Always, though, she treated Tristan with cool civility.

“Sven Jr. and Adele are up. They look very model-y.”

“Is that a real word?” I asked playfully.

“Sure. Last up are Jackie and Camden,” he continued. “He just gave her a roguish smile, and she took his arm without sparing him a glance. They make a strange pairing.”

I had to agree. Lana’s brother, Camden, was the opposite of Jackie in just about every way I could think of. He was tall and muscular, with wavy golden hair like his sister, and those same startling violet eyes. He dwarfed the tiny figure of Jackie, and was as playful as she was serious.

Stephan stepped back from the open doorway when the last couple had departed, moving quickly to adjust my skirt, smoothing out my short lace train.

The dress had turned out exquisitely. It was pale cream, with intricate gold-threaded lace, and lush detailing along every inch. It was sleeveless, with a high-collared neckline of sheerest lace, so sheer that my locked-on choker was clearly visible underneath. Jackie’d had the enterprising idea of cutting a hole out for the hoop in the collar, and it had worked perfectly. My choker looked like part of the dress. Underneath I wore a plain white, strapless sheath that came to just above my knees. The lace gown overlaying that was longer, the hem touching the floor, the train trailing lightly behind me. I’d had to be talked into a train, and we’d finally compromised on one that no one would have to carry for me.

He handed me my large bouquet. It was a lovely mix of violet lilies, purple roses, and tidy little white calla lilies. The same flowers had been interwoven into a wreath on my head, showcasing my long hair, which had been painstakingly curled into ringlets that hung down my back.

He touched my cheek lightly, a world of joy in his twinkling blue eyes, before offering me his arm. We began our slow-paced walk down the flower-lined aisle, the sun at our backs, our movements synched from years of perfect accord.

Justin was a jealous man, the most possessive man I’d ever met. I doubted that there was a thing about me that he didn’t consider his. But he had never made me choose, never made me question or compromise one thing about my relationship with Stephan. He had only accepted, as much as that acceptance must have gone against all of his natural inclinations. I thought that was perhaps the surest sign of his love for me—that he would so obviously put my needs before his own. His love was such a beautiful thing, always so perfectly suited to my own needs, and so unselfish in its way.

He’d made me a believer. We’d been together for nearly a year now, and I was well and truly convinced that we really were made for each other. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty close.

I had thought that looking at Stephan would make me lose it today, but as we drew closer, I realized that the look in Mr. Beautiful’s eyes would be my real undoing. He didn’t bother to hide from our guests those tender eyes that he had just for me. No one there could doubt that he was crazy about me. I didn’t know how I’d ever doubted it myself. Though I had seen the world with different eyes back then. How could I have known that I was being swept into my very own fairytale? I’d never believed in such things.

Stephan handed me to Justin when we got into reach. Justin gave me his softest smile, one hand rising to brush the one lone tear that had managed to make its way silently down my cheek.

Abruptly, he pulled me close and kissed me. It lasted long enough, and held enough passion, to draw loud cheers and guffaws from the crowd, and one loudly cleared throat from the minister. I was breathless as he pulled back with a wicked smile.

“It was that or drag you into the nearest room. I couldn’t have you wearing that kissable look for the entire ceremony and not address it,” he murmured to me, shameless as ever.

I was still recovering as the minister began to speak. I let the official words wash over me, my eyes steady, if a little moist, on my love’s.

“We are gathered here today to take part in the most time-honored celebration of the human family, uniting this man and woman in marriage,” the minister began.

I listened to each word of the ceremony carefully, trying to take it all in, but my eyes didn’t waver from his.

We recited our vows, and my voice was as steady as I could make it for my own part. We had opted for short, traditional ones, because I had a strong aversion to public speaking.

Tears ran silently down my cheeks for a lot of it, but Justin held it together for the most part. That is, right until the end, when the minister was reciting a small part that Justin had wanted to add.

The minister read, quoting the Benediction of the Apaches.

“Now you will feel no rain,

For each of you will be shelter to the other.

Now you will feel no cold,

For each of you will be warmth to the other.

Now there is no more loneliness for you.”

His gaze never wavered from mine, even as they filled with tears, the tears swiftly overflowing, running down his cheeks before the minister had finished the line.

I reached up and softly wiped them away with my hands. It was only fair. He had been quietly drying my tears through the entire ceremony.

“For each of you will be companion to the other.

Now you are two bodies,

But there is only one life before you.”

There were a few more lines in that lovely addition to the vows, but I barely heard them as I watched my bridegroom’s trembling lips form the words, “I love you,” in a hushed whisper.

Vaguely, I heard the famous line about kissing the bride, but I hadn’t even registered the words before Justin was pulling me against him in a soft, sweet kiss. It was a kiss full of finesse, and held a promise of forever. My own lips answered that promise eagerly.

I gasped and let out an embarrassed little screech as he suddenly lifted me high in the air. He laughed, spinning me.

My hands gripped his shoulders as his eyes laughed into mine.

“We did it, Love,” he told me softly, his voice filled with quiet wonder. “You’re mine, forever, Mrs. Cavendish.”

I shook my head at him as he lowered me slowly back to the ground. His joy was infectious, and I was quickly laughing with him. “You’re insane. I’ve been yours all along, Mr. Cavendish.”

5 YEARS LATER

I awoke to the strangest sensation in my lower regions, which had grown almost numb over the past few weeks.

I patted the hand that was wrapped around my middle. “Justin,” I gasped.

I felt him tense against me, instantly awake. “Is it time, Selena?”

I bit my lip, mortified. “I don’t know. Either my water just broke or I wet myself.”

The bastard laughed, and I elbowed him hard. He was up and at my side of the bed, grinning like a loon, between one second and the next. He studied my wet legs and I squeezed my eyes shut tight, as embarrassed as I’d ever been in my life.

“Did my water break?” I asked him.

He continued to study me, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know how to tell. You can’t tell?”

I shrugged, miserable. “It’s all just numb at the moment.” I swallowed, hating to ask. “Will you smell it?”

He wasn’t offended. He never was. He was the most dutiful of husbands for a first time pregnant mess of a woman.

I couldn’t look at him as he tentatively checked.

“No scent. I think we’re having our baby, Love.”

We both knew what to do, and Justin sprang into action, but I couldn’t seem to move at first, overwhelmed at the thought that the next time we came back here, we would be bringing a baby home with us.

I heard Justin talking on his phone in the closet. “Stephan. It’s time. You have five minutes to meet us at the car, or else you’ll have to meet us at the hospital.” He paused. “Very sure. Her water broke. We all get to meet our baby today.”

He was back at my side a few moments later, already dressed. I wasn’t much help as he pulled off my nightgown, and slipped a comfortable frock over my head.

“Can you stand?” he asked gently.

I nodded, and stood slowly, feeling ungainly. Justin helped me, his strong arms keeping me steady until I could stand on my own.

He knelt at my feet, using a wet cloth to clean me, and changing my underwear without a word. He wrapped an arm around my waist, the other firmly holding my arm, as he led me down the stairs, and to the garage.

Clark and Blake were waiting for us beside a large black SUV. We had packed for the hospital months ago, courtesy of Control Freak Cavendish, so I was relieved not to have to worry about it just then.

Justin made sure I was comfortably ensconced and securely buckled in before he got in himself. My huge belly had made everything difficult lately, and I’d never appreciated his unending solicitude more than I had during the trials of pregnancy.

Clark backed the car out, getting just outside of the colossal garage before stopping, a huge grin on his face as he glanced back at us. “The guys made it,” he told us.

I glanced behind the car, seeing our two favorite neighbors booking it across the property, Stephan leaving Javier in the dust on his way to our car.

Justin and I shared a happy smile.

Seconds later Stephan was getting into the car, breathless and shooting me concerned looks. He climbed into the row of seats behind us, moving directly behind me so he could kiss the top of my head before he sat.

“How are you? How’s our baby?” he asked me, looking at Justin.

Justin couldn’t stop grinning. “Our baby is ready to meet us today.”

I rubbed my belly, trying not to stress out about the ordeal to come. Justin saw my action, and bent down to kiss my belly, as he had countless times over the last eight and a half months. I stroked a hand over his silky hair.

Javier climbed into the car as Justin was still paying homage to my big belly. He smiled at the sight. “We won’t be seeing that quite so often after today,” he said.

I patted Justin on the head. “I’ll miss it,” I said softly.

He shifted so he could meet my eyes, his cheek still pressed softly to my belly. “We can do this as many times as you want, Mrs. Cavendish.”

We were ten minutes from the hospital, and it was a talkative car ride, so the drive went by in a flash, as did my admission into the hospital, expedited by my ungodly rich husband. They had me in a bed in what I figured had to be a record.

Dr. Lisa practically met us there, looking as though she hadn’t been dragged out of bed, though I knew that she had. She smiled at me reassuringly. “You’re going to be a mother today,” she told me, after a short examination.

It was a daunting thought.

Several harrowing hours later, more so for Justin than for me, I thought, and a little bundle of joy was placed in my arms.

I had been so sure that a child would open up old wounds—just rip apart the things inside of me that had never quite healed. Even after I’d been sure that I did want children, and even during the pregnancy, when I’d felt those first profound stirrings of the perfect love of a mother, I’d felt that doubt. There was no way that I could have known that seeing our son’s perfect face would have the opposite effect. It hadn’t ripped me open. It didn’t aggravate those wounds. Like my love for Justin, it only healed me. As Justin always said he had done with me, I fell in love with Duncan Stephan Cavendish at first sight.

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