#they had such a good rotation of posts too. whatever.

[red-dyed-sarumane]

do people still do promo posts. my feed is horrendous rn so i need to unfollow people which means theres plenty of space for new moots. if i make one is it excuseable will u indulge me a little

[cryptocism]

Since I think about clones like I’m getting paid for it, I've been rotating those alternate universe "what if Bart and Thad were actually raised together" scenarios in my brain, with Thad either post-redemption-arc or pre-villainy. Because adjusting Thad's character to fit an ally role while still keeping true to his core motives and personality is so so fascinating to me.

Like I think there's an immediate first instinct to slot Thad into a "bad" twin category: ie rebellious and prickly, doesn't get along with people, mean lil shit. And obviously it's not wrong bc we're outside the realm of canon, but the reading still feels a little left of center.

Because Thad is mean and prickly in canon. In the Impulse comics he belittles Bart and Bart’s friends/family constantly in his appearances. He loves to goad, and monologue about his own superiority and intelligence. He’s very Not Nice, and he causes many problems, and he even does it on purpose.

But, I think it’s important to consider the context. From the jump Thad knows very little about anything except which team he’s on and who he’s playing for. He gets his orders from an unseen authority and he carries out his tasks because success means his team wins.

For all his self-aggrandizing talk, everything he does is in service of an end goal that doesn't actually center him. He's trying to get revenge for grievances he's never personally suffered, retribution for actions never committed against him. Everything he does is on someone else's behalf.

Thad sees in black and white, us or them. Up until the final few issues of Mercury Falling, Bart and co. are Thad's enemies, of course he's not going to be nice.

So Thad's motivation seems pretty simple: Thawne Supremacy™.

But it’s in Mercury Falling where this starts to fall apart, and the real core of his motivation gets revealed. Thad pretends to be Bart and suddenly Helen is nice to him. Bart’s friends think he’s funny. Bart’s teachers are impressed with his grades. Max ruffles his hair and gives him hugs and tells him he’s done a good job.

If he was actually an inherently mean and standoffish character, if Thad actually had significant personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict, the weight of such tiny acts of kindness wouldn’t completely break him the way that it does in canon.

Thad thinks his goal is superiority and revenge and Thawne Supremacy™, but he's chasing validation. Thad doesn’t have a personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict. He wouldn't get much satisfaction if he actually destroyed Bart and his family. Thad's personal victory would be the recognition after the fact: the praise and attention from the other Thawnes (a group of people he has literally never met) for his success.

He wants validation. That's basically it. And the fact that he gets it so easily from Bart's family and friends doesn't align with how he's told himself things are supposed to work.

Actually tangentially, Bart and Thad’s respective relationships to authority is so diametrically opposed and tbh kind of subversive in a superhero narrative. Where the hero is the one carving his own path without regard to social or societal rules, no fucks to give what anybody thinks of it. And the villain is a chronic people-pleaser.

Just based on Thad’s reaction to simple praise and affection from Max I really think Thad’s motivation has more to do with the response he gets than whatever the details are of any given task. He has no actual personal convictions beyond getting positive attention, and whatever he did have crumbled as soon as Bart’s friends laughed at his joke one time. Which of course leads into the core of his whole conflict at the end of Mercury Falling. He cares too much about Bart’s friends and family now, he doesn’t want to kill them, but worse than that, he’s faced with the sudden realization that he’s on the wrong side.

The Allens gave Thad everything he actually wanted and needed, but his conception of himself is inexorably tied to the Thawnes: who gave him jack shit. These two facts are in opposition to each other, and he can’t reconcile the reality of it.

Anyway all this to say, in an AU where Bart and Thad are raised together or Thad gets an actual redemption arc etc etc, I think my personal take on Thad’s personality whether it be pre-or-post-villainy would be one that is extremely socially conscious. He is much more of a people-person than Bart. Whether he's actually accurate in assessing people's feelings and how to respond to them can be hit or miss, but he wants to behave in a way that gets people to like him.

Pretending to be Bart isn’t remarked upon as, like, a difficult task for Thad. In his internal monologue he’s literally bragging to himself about how easy it is. But what’s especially notable to me is where his act differs from Bart's typical MO. Everyone notices, and lots of people comment, and presumably if Thad didn’t have the excuse of Max’s illness to “motivate” Bart to do better he would’ve been found out immediately. And those things are, specifically: paying attention in class, doing his chores, staying on task, and being helpful around the house. The one thing about Bart he chooses not to emulate is Bart’s rebelliousness.

Thad wants to prove himself, constantly, to whatever authority he respects (probably Max in this scenario) and will do whatever it takes to make that happen. In contrast to Bart, who only listens to authority when the shit they're saying actually makes sense to him. It’s excessively difficult to convince him to go against his own interests. (And I think a key part of that is Bart’s security in knowing that no matter how much he fucks up or doesn’t listen, the people he loves will always love him back.)

Thad’s got the people-pleaser in him that has to deserve whatever he’s given. It’s why he’s happiest when he’s given a clear goal or objective to complete, because it gives him an opening to prove himself.

All this to say that if we are quantifying Bart and Thad as a "good" or "bad" twin, in the eyes of every authority: Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the bad twin, Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the one who doesn’t care about school and whose grades vary wildly depending on his personal interest. He’s the one who goes off to do dangerous shit for fun and gets in trouble constantly and doesn’t do his chores and is thoroughly unconvinced by any authority figure trying to sell him bullshit. 

Thad is the one who needs to know all the rules just so he can experience the joy of following them. Relentlessly obedient. He'll put all his effort into doing all the right things that’ll endear him to whoever he wants to impress - meaning he’s the asshole who reminds the teacher about the assigned homework. Bart might be the most popular boy in school, but Thad is a pleasure to have in class.

Like Thad can (and should) still be high-strung and short-tempered and sarcastic and edgy and mean, because he is. But he can’t be doing all that without rhyme or reason. Colouring every interaction has to be that one-zero binary of ally or enemy. He needs to have somebody he’s proving himself to: a team he’s on and a team he’s against. He’s not an inherently rebellious character. He can go up against The Enemy, whoever he deems as such, but it has to be in service of a hypothetical future in which somebody eventually tells him he did a great job.

And in the interest of continuing to beat a dead horse, it connects to their respective upbringings. Thad and Bart were both raised in VR, but Bart’s experience had the side effect of basically hard-wiring him against insecurity. His world was a playground tailor-made for him, and he was never made to feel bad or insufficient about any aspect of himself. His first interaction with a real human person was Iris moving heaven and earth to save him, without him knowing her, without her knowing him, with no reasoning for the act needed beyond Being Her Grandson. Which is probably a significant factor in why Bart moves through the world with frankly atomic levels of autistic swag.

Thad’s VR upbringing installed self-consciousness in his psyche before any other personality trait. As in: he is immediately made conscious of himself and his relationship with everyone he will ever encounter. He’s told two things: he’s a clone of someone else (inherently derivative, lesser) and that he was made to be superior (a status to achieve). Which is such an instant clarifier for Thad’s everything. Where superiority is a condition that everyone either has, or does not. It’s the one-zero binary again: are they better than me or am I better than them. Being above others is mandatory, and if his superiority is ever challenged by hard evidence or god forbid nuance Thad’s brain physically cannot take it. He needs to be better, to be worse is unthinkable, and there is no other way to be.

And this status of better or worse is, crucially, not up to Thad to decide. He needs The Authority to validate him. Bart never tries to prove himself because he has nothing to prove. Thad’s entire identity hinges on the self-worth he gets from doing a Good Job.

It is such an inherent part of his motives in the Impulse comics canon, which is why it always feels a little off when he’s interpreted as a jackass indiscriminately.

Like I don't think he needs everyone to like him. But I do think he has either one person or a set of very particular people that he needs to like him. Everyone else is either in that circle or outside of it.

(Which is why Bart is such a great foil for Thad tbh. There is no set of words or behaviors that’ll change Bart’s opinion of Thad, because Bart is unaffected by obedience or charm. So ironically Bart is probably one of few people that Thad doesn’t bother to put on even a little bit of an act for.)

While Bart goes with his instincts, his personal beliefs and convictions at all times, Thad is hyper-conscious of big-picture goals. They balance each other out that way. Thad's keeping track of whatever expectations he has placed on him, and how his actions reflect on him and the team beyond short-sighted solutions. He's a team player. AND he's an asshole.

[more-the-maryer]

I'm finally unpacked and getting back into the groove after my cruise, so I thought I'd share a bit about the trip

Every morning I started my day at the buffet. My usual go-to's were yogurt with fruit, bacon, eggs benedict, sausage, french toast, a croissant and a cinnamon roll. Sometimes they'd have gelato so I'd get that too ☺️

Between breakfast and lunch I hung out by the pool. They had a soft ice cream dispenser and chicken burger place right next to the pool so I'd snack on that while sunbathing. I think I had upwards of 6 ice cream cones per day haha.

For lunch there were a few different restaurants, as well as the main buffet. I cycled between getting tacos, burgers, and chicken sandwiches. They had a cafe that served really good milkshakes so I often grabbed one of those to pair with my meal :) 

Between lunch and supper I actually tried to not eat that much because I didn't want to spoil my appetite for my favourite meal of the day. I was also pretty busy in the afternoons, i went to some of the onboard events like trivia and bingo (yes, I'm an old timer at heart), and spent a decent amount of time in the Casino (I'm not any good, I was just having fun learning blackjack). 

For dinner I went to the main dining room where they served a three course meal every day. The menu was on rotation but every meal was amazing. Id get 1-2 appetizers (often alfredo, shrimp, escargot, and other unique samplers), 2 mains (the brisket and salmon were some of my favourites), and 2 desserts (my favourite was the melting chocolate lava cake and the Baked Alaska). I could rarely finish it all, but I ate until I was completely stuffed every single night 🤤 it was all inclusive so I just ordered as much as I wanted haha

Almost every night after dinner I went to the comedy show, followed by whatever big show they had in the theatre. The comedy shows involved a lot of crowd work so they had me cackling every time. The entertainment in the theatre was a little lacking, but I still enjoyed it. 

They had a 24 hour pizza shack so I'd always go there in the late evening after each show, then I'd sit out on the main deck and watch whatever movie was playing while eating my pizza, it was so relaxing. 

I had a great time at each of the ports too. One (San Juan) involved a lot of walking but it was a beautiful city with really neat forts. The bars there made a mean Pina colada, so truth be told I was a little tipsy while wandering through the city haha. Another port had beautiful beaches and really clear water, so I spent most of my time laying by the beach and swimming. I didn't go on any excursions because I really wanted to relax on this vaca ☺️

Anyway it was a really great trip and I made sure to overindulge the whole time ☺️ I plan to post a post-cruise weigh in video on my OnlyFans soon, I can't wait to share my progress with you all!

Here's some pics of my first day relaxing on the pool deck 🍹​​​​​​​

[nadianova]

how i do my visual novel filtered photo backgrouds

ive had some questions about this so i figured i'd put together a quick post on my process and what goes into it.

this isnt really a tutorial and instead is just a ramble of how i do stuff with a ton of examples and pictures lol

read more below. this is a long post and you probably want to be looking at these images on your computer instead of your phone

step one is that i find CC0 photos or otherwise easy licenses to use because I'm lazy and don't want to have a list of credits of random photographers caue i used one of their images but also i don't want to use stuff without crediting

because they have a general lincese that just wants you to mention the site i prefer unsplash or pixabay but there's other public domain type photo sites too obviously

so like okay heres a random picture

i have a photoshop CS5 from 10 years ago. but these can be done with gimp or krita and whatever. theres even photopea that has photoshop in the browser

basic stuff is that i start by cropping my bg into my renpy resolution (i use 1920x1080) this is also the part where sometimes i might rotate a bg. it is a good way to add some chaos vibes to a scene

i tend to add some mild blur effect since i find that having too sharp photos as backgrounds clashes with the artstyle of my sprites. like just a couple pixels worth of blur tends to do it

the next part is called fuck around and find out

i like to play with the values to just get random results. hue/saturation for tinting the picture, messing with the curves to get some really sharp effects, or channel mixer to add more of a color

this part is just purely vibes based but i personally think reducing the colors of the background is the simplest way to create something that feels coherent. especially if you make backgrounds based on moods. like having a blue tinted bedroom vs a red tinted one really changes the atmosphere

you can get some pretty intense effects but its always important to remember that its meant to be a background and there's a risk it distracts from the sprites

in this case im not including the effect for the curves. after the colours look fine the final step i tend to have is apply some sort of effect.

i really like changing the colour mode to indexed colour since i like crunchy pixels. (had to zoom in to 100% to show the actual effect) downside of indexed is that it doesn't look ideal unless its displayed in the exact resolution it was made in but i like it

here is the images before indexed mode:

after indexed mode(i think you have to click the image and open it in full to see the actual effect):

another thing ive been playing with recently has been grain+chromatic aberration combo. it makes things feel surprisingly lively with just this simple thing so you'll probably see me overusing this effect in the future

you have to mess with the numbers to get the effect you want but for me these were the parameters I've been using

ignore the preview missing idk why it does that.

heres the image (the non indexed version) after these krita effects

one random special mention i have is that playing with layer blend modes is great

in this example i just copied the same background, mirrored it horizontally and set the layer blend mode to color and it lowered the layer opacity slightly. it just adds some.... idk what to call it visual noise? itj just fucks it up a bit. i used overlapping images and screen modes in some of the hopeless junction images i did for some pretty nice effects

i dont really know waht the blend modes do i just scroll until something looks good lmao

theres a ton you can do with these. like for example just adding a single air brush dot of a bright color on a separate layer and setting it to some blend mode to add a tint to a background

i used these both in malmaid and in the second one i just brushed on some color on a separate layer to give it a moodier vibe

i think having variations of the same background is an extremely easy way to add some life to the bgs without having to do new stuff. like here was the hotel lobby when entering, and here is the hotel lobby when they ran away from the place. i added a radial blur with photoshop

i think theres some beaty in artifacts that come from low resolution images too. sometimes i intentionally use images that have clear compression artifacts cause i think it looks neat. i don't really worry about the details too much as the vibe is the most important thing

its honestly just a matter of knowing these tools exist and just fidgeting around with combinations to find what you want. it also helps to look at other backgrounds or images in general that you come across and just be curious. how was this done? how could i recreate it? that's the type of experimenting that has led me to these.

idk thats all i have to say. ty for reading and play malmaid on steam like and subscribe for more gay puppies

[maximumzombiecreator]

I've read all the stuff you've written about the megadungeon and some of Alexandrian's posts on it, and I think the stuff about wandering monsters and restocking rooms is absolute gold. Do you have any advice on designing dungeon crawl puzzles and traps, or maybe an example of your favorites or go-tos? Everything I find is either the classic "anything can be a puzzle" non-answer or kinda lackluster. I've had some success looking at the Book of Traps supplement for 3.5e d&d, but it feels like advice for puzzle design is a bit thin on the ground.

I'll talk about traps first, then puzzles.

My favourite traps are situation traps. When the party triggers a situation trap, there's no immediate threat to their lives, there's no damage, but the triggering of the trap somehow fundamentally changes the situation and makes it more dangerous. In my big megadungeon post I mentioned an example of one of these: the party triggered a trap that rotated a room, dumping them in a new wing of the dungeon and triggering a long, terrified escape. I love traps like this because a lot of the best and most fun dungeon gameplay happens when the party is pushed to their limits and put in desperate positions. But smart play mostly means trying to avoid those situations. Traps like these create more opportunities for those types of moments.

Probably the simplest situation trap is the classic portcullis trap. The party is walking down a hallway and steps on a trapped floor panel or trips a tripwire or whatever, dropping a portcullis in the middle of the hall. But it doesn't drop in front of the triggerer, it drops a short distance behind, likely splitting the party on opposite sides. You can combine this with an ambush for a good time, but even without it, in a system where lifting a portcullis is non-trivial this becomes a whole situation.

Another one of these I've really enjoyed using is showing the party an extremely deadly monster, something they'd struggle to fight even in the best of circumstances, behind a magic barrier or something where it can't get to them. Later, deeper in the dungeon, they trigger a trap that they can hear cause the magical barrier to drop. No immediate threat, but suddenly the rest of the delve becomes incredibly tense.

The basic structure of a situation trap is that the trigger should fundamentally change the circumstances in a way that is notably more dangerous, but not imminent. The fun for the players is that it immediately becomes a problem for them to start working on. I tend to design these by thinking of fucked up situations and then trying to come up with a mechanical pretense to trigger them. Generally, if I can't think of how I would handle the new situation, it's too harsh, but if I think the players would knowingly trigger it, it's not harsh enough. Also don't invest too much energy into designing these, or you'll be tempted to try to hard to get the players to trigger them. Teleportation and portcullis traps are such classic examples of this in part because they're very low effort to design, so if the players thwart them, no worries.

The second big category of traps I enjoy are set piece traps. These are the big, dramatic traps that pose an imminent threat but are more complex than saving throw vs damage. The room is slowly filling with sand, the statue is rotating and shooting lasers out of its eyes, the floor is slowly turning upside down over a deadly pit, etc.

I think these are fairly easy to design. You have some kind of peril, which is easy to brainstorm (tip: think of things that kill people) in some configuration that is imminently but not instantly lethal. And then you let the players interact with it to try to stop it. I would usually try to make sure you can think of at least a couple of ways to interact with it, but as long as you are clear on what the actual mechanism is, these will usually suggest themselves. Block the sand spouts, cover the statue's eyes, jam the motor rotating the floor, etc.

One thing that I do value doing with these traps is telegraphing them. If the statue is going to rotate and shoot lasers, I'll describe groove marks along the wall, and perhaps with investigation the players will determine that they were burned into the wall. Reckless players can be surprised by these, but cautious players should usually have a sense when they're about to trigger a big trap and what. Usually I'll describe the mechanisms for these as sufficiently complex and deeply built into the construction that they can't be disabled by a basic thieving skills check, but if they can describe a way around the trigger, I'll certainly let them roll for it.

My last big category of traps is simple traps, the ones with a basic trigger (a trapped floor panel, opening a drawer, walking through a beam of light) and a basic effect (a pit opens, a poison needle shoots out, the room gets fireballed) that you get a saving throw against. I still think these are okay, but I think using them effectively depends on how you're using them. Any time I'm using a simple trap, the question I am asking is, what is this accomplishing?

Sometimes they're just there for verisimilitude. In a standard dungeon game setting, sometimes it just feels like "obviously this guy would have a trap on this drawer." In these cases, the trap is there to be found and disabled. I'm not expecting it to trigger. This can give me leave to make the trap really nasty. I'm a big fan of petrification traps in dungeons for example (getting back to where you left the statue of Morningwood the Elf with a Stone to Flesh scroll is a great little sidequest.) But the trap is nasty so the thief can feel good for disabling it. On the rare chance someone gets hit by one of these, it should always provoke a reaction of, "Ugh, yes, obviously that was trapped and I should have anticipated that." Not surprise.

The second way I tend to use these is as setting. The existence of these traps tends to say something about the location and it's denizens. The traps associated with Tucker's Kobolds are great examples of these. Pit traps that can support the weight of a kobold but not a human, trip wires above a kobold's height, trapped hallways that kobolds can avoid via tiny crawlspaces, these speak to the defenses of the kobolds and the way they make the space their own. When deploying traps this way, they're often not meant to be a challenge on their own. If the party is passing through a kobold warren without kobolds, they likely won't trigger any traps, and once they've described how they're proceeding (using poles etc.) I probably wouldn't even roll, I'd just assume they handle them competently. But during a fight these become an active component. And before a fight, they foreshadow the locations' inhabitants. Designing for this use case basically starts by thinking about how the dungeon inhabitants would fortify their space against their enemies and the mechanizing it in a handful of simple ways. Usually it's a good starting point to think of what traps the trap-makers could ignore. What's unique about them? Are they unusually small or large, can they fly, are they immune to poison or fire, etc.

The third way is to set tone, and in this approach I use these very sparingly. Sometimes you want to establish the dungeon as a place that hates you, a place that you should not be, and traps can be a great way to do that. But bogging the game down to a constant crawl of extreme caution isn't desirable. Throwing a handful of simple traps (some of them already triggered and expended, as set dressing) can establish this tone and reward caution without being too disruptive to play. And besides, if I really want to establish a dangerous tone, set piece traps are often more fun for this.

I've covered loosely how I come up with all of these, but in terms of extant examples, there are a few good sources I know. OSR blogs used to have a ton of these, some of which are still around. I won't link any specific ones for... OSR reasons... but if you search for OSR traps you'll find examples. Pathfinder 2e's hazards are also good for these, I especially enjoy their complex traps for set piece traps, and they tend to be conceptually pretty easy to port to other games. I wish more of them were available on AoN. I get the full list from foundry and there's some real winners in there. If Paizo published a full on Bestiary-type book of these I would buy it in a heartbeat.

This has gotten long, so I think I will cover puzzles separately in a reblog of this once I get a chance to write my thoughts down.

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙺𝚂 𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙳?

description: in which charli meets her future girlfriend in a coffee shop in london problem however - she’s bethany england’s cousin

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charli grant x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction! Do not take any of this seriously.

warnings: language, cuteness

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y/n just posted

liked by, y/f/n1, y/f/n2 and 609 others

y/n smiley :))

tagged bethanyengland4, daisy_c1 and 6 others

view all 200 comments

y/f/n1: vibe 😎

^

y/n: ikr 😏

y/f/n2: so many smiley faces

^

y/n: 🙂🙂🙂

y/f/n3: ☺️☺️

^

y/n: 😘😘

bethanyengland4: 💙💙

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y/n: 💙💙

^

username1: omg who is this ?!?!??

y/f/n4: that night was a weird vibe tbf

^

y/f/n5: i blame y/n 🤷‍♀️

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y/n: oi fucker

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y/f/n6: you kiss your mother with that mouth 😏

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y/n: no but i kiss yours 😏

mart.thomas: what fun!!

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y/n: love you marta !!

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username2: how does she know the spurs girls ?!

username3: 🧐🧐

y/f/n7: coffee, fashion, night out, wanna be aesthetic, bethany, TRAIN, daisy and the best band set up ever

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daisy_c1: thanks for the info 😭

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y/n: why did he just dissect my post lmao

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daisy_c1: oi leave him alone - he can do whatever he wants 🖕

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y/n: you wanna fight 🧐

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daisy_c1: Y E S

see more comments...

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y/n hummed as she flipped another chair over, the morning sun slowly pushing through London, Bulls Cross road was just starting to get busy as people rushed toward the centre of London for work.

y/n flipped the sign at the door, smiling at Daisy the two workers letting out a joint sigh as they waited for the usual morning rush the coffee shop always had.

Since y/n could remember, her parents had wanted to own a coffee shop, and when y/n's father passed away when she was 18, her mum decided to do it.

The woman baked the best sweet treats and savoury paninis which people adored, she and her five kitchen staff worked out back - switching shifts and y/n with her rotated seven out front worked serving the customers.

y/n enjoyed the ability to bond with people over drinks, and the fact she and her mother mainly employed college/university kids who really enjoyed working and did so with a smile.

The bell echoed and the three shared a look before bursting into it, rushing and bustling as they worked swiftly for the next two hours, battling the morning rush, until the clock finally hit 9am.

"Oh my god!" Daisy groaned, the two slumping onto the counter in relief that the cafe was finally empty. The bell went once more and y/n sighed.

"Slacking on the job?" A voice asked, an amused tone shining through.

"Beth!" y/n grinned, rushing over to her cousin who scooped her up in a tight hug.

"Hey mini!" Bethany cheered. "Here for my morning dose of caffeine!" She adds and y/n nods as Daisy starts making Bethany's usual coffee order.

"How are you?" y/n asked her cousin as she moves back behind the counter.

"Good, we have a new signing starting today, so I'm excited." Bethany nods and y/n smiles.

"Yeah, Charlie Grant right? The Australian?" y/n asks and Bethany nods.

"You do pay attention, you do care!" Bethany says, grinning at the fact her cousin, who didn't really like football knew who their new signing was.

"Meh, a little bit." y/n laughs, holding up her pointer finger and her thumb to make a small space between them.

The two cousin's share a laugh before Daisy hands Bethany her coffe, the woman thanking her as Daisy shrugs it off, miming to y/n she was going to go outside for a minute and have a vape which y/n allows with a nod and a smile.

"I will see you tonight yeah, for dinner?" Bethany asks y/n who nods happily.

"Yeah of course." y/n smiles and Bethany grins, leaning over to press a kiss to her younger cousin's cheek.

"See you tonight! Love you." Bethany calls.

"Love you too!" y/n calls out, before the door shuts and the cafe is quiet once more.

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Only twenty minutes after Bethany had got her coffee the door opened again and a blonde wondered in, eyes wide as she looked around at the menu, mouth every so often moving along with the words of the items on the menu.

Daisy had been sent to get some school work done in the staff area out the back, y/n telling her to come back just before quarter to eleven, which was when their lunch rush would start until 2 - Leonard would also be in by then and then once 3 hit Daisy would go home.

"Hiya, can I help?" y/n asked, a smile on her face as the girl looked at her and her cheeks reddened.

"Oh, hi. Um, what's good in here?" The woman asked and y/n smiled at her.

"Depends, what do you like the look of?" y/n asked, turning to look at the menu which was big enough to have some variety on but not stupidly big.

"I like the look of you." The girl said, seemingly without thinking and y/n's head snapped to her, the girl covered her mouth in embarrassment and y/n giggled.

"Thank you, however I am not on the menu." y/n laughed and the girl giggled slightly. "I'm y/n." She added, holding out her hand.

"Charli." The girl introduced, shaking y/n's hand.

"I'm guessing from the accent, you're not for around here?" y/n asks.

"No, I'm from the motherland of Australia." Charli smiles and y/n chuckles.

"Well Charli, welcome to London! Now what can I get for ya?" y/n asked.

Once Charlie had ordered her drink, y/n got on with making it quick and putting it in a to go cup. She then handed it to the woman opposite, ignoring the way their finger bushed as Charli took it.

"Can I get your number, maybe you could show me around London, y'know?" Charli asks and y/n smiles.

"Tell you what, come back tomorrow morning, and I'll give you my number." y/n nods and Charli grins brightly.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow chick!" Charli before she leaves the cafe and y/n smiles.

"Wasn't that Bethany's new signing?" Daisy asks, y/n jumping in shock having not heard her appear in the back doorway.

"Maybe." y/n chuckled, Daisy rolling her eyes playfully. "What?" y/n asks. "She's really really hot." She adds and Daisy chuckles, grabbing a diet coke at the fridge and going back to studying.

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y/n huffed as she pushed through the restaurant door, moving toward the loud noise of what she was sure were the Tottenham players.

She lid off her coat, her relaxed yet classy dress being on display as she moved toward the table, Becky being the first one to notice her and get up.

"y/n!" Becky cheered, pulling the girl in for a hug.

"Hi Becks!" y/n smiles hugging her as several of the team also raised to their feet. After doing her rounds and saying hi to everyone, y/n noticed Bethany and Charli walking back from the bar, clearly having ordered some non-alcoholic drinks for everyone.

"There she is!" Bethany cheers, moving over to y/n and pulling her in for a tight hug. y/n looked over Bethany's shoulder, winking cheekily at Charli who was watching her with wide shocked eyes.

"Hi Beth, you okay?" y/n asks pulling away, her cousin nodded as she dragged Charli over.

"Charli, this is my cousin and the best coffee maker in town, y/n." Bethany smiles.

"Hi." y/n smiles offering her hand.

"Hey." Charli nods, shaking her hand as Bethany pulls y/n down to sit, Charli the other side.

"I ordered you your usual?" Bethany asks her cousin and y/n nods thanking her with a kiss on your cheek. Bethany then gets into a conversation with Marta, so y/n turns to Charli.

"So, Bethany is your cousin?" Charli asks. "My captain?" She asks again and y/n chuckles.

"Still want my number?" y/n asks hopefully.

"You are really fit." Charli sighs and y/n chuckles, the two sharing a laugh. "I guess you'll just have to see if I come in tomorrow." Charli hums.

"You better." y/n warns and Charli just giggles, before the two turn to separate people to talk.

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The next morning, y/n went through the rush and the watched the door impatiently, hoping to see a familiar blonde walk through the door.

At 9.05am y/n sighed and assumed Charli had gone straight to training so started making herself a hot chocolate, and one for one of the newbies that was currently studying out back.

"Can I get some service?" A voice asks and y/n jumps, turning to see Charli waiting with a cheeky grin. y/n furrows her brows wondering how she didn't here the bell of the door.

"You came." y/n said with a small smile.

"Well you see, there's a really good offer on the table of this beautiful chicks number." Charli sighs and y/n chuckles.

"Oh yeah, want me to go get her?" y/n asks and Charli nods.

"Would ya? She's stunning and may be related to the Tottenham women captain." Charli nods.

y/n chuckles before spinning on the spot and mockingly gasping at Charli, as if she didn't know she was there, at this Charli bursts into laughter.

"Charli, lovely to see you." y/n smiles and Charli smiles softly back.

"So..." Charli says, resting against the counter.

"You looking for this?" y/n asks, holding up a napkin with her number scrawled across.

"Yes I am indeed." Charli nods, leaning over and snatching it from y/n's hand before she could blink. The blonde had the number in her phone and ringing quickly.

y/n's phone vibrated on the side and Charli nodded, happy to know that the number was correct and y/n now had her number. y/n chuckled slightly as she grabbed her phone and added Charli as a contact.

"I have to go." Charli says softly. "But do you think we could meet up, outside of Spurs dinners and coffee shop counters?" Charli asks and y/n smiles softly, texting across her answer.

to charli: tomorrow here, 7pm.

Charlie looks up back at y/n, a bright smile on her face when she realises they are going on a date and she nods her head.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow." Charli nods before leaning over the counter and pecking y/n's cheek. "Bye!" Charli calls before rushing out.

y/n bit her lip, smiling softly before running a hand over her cheek, she then sighs and opens her phone quickly texting Bethany, who replies far quicker than expected.

to bethyyyy <3: if I asked to date one of your team-mates, what would you say? x

from bethyyyy <3: this abt Charli?

to bethyyyy <3: wtf - what the actual fuck - how did...

from bethyyyy <3: please a lesbian always knows

to bethyyyy <3: hahahahahahahah

from bethyyyy <3: go for it btw! xx

to bethyyyy <3: love you x

from bethyyyy<3: love you too xx

y/n smiled as she looked up from her phone, before grinning at the ceiling and fist bumping herself - all she had to do was take Charli to a good first date. And she had just the place.

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100, 098 others just followed y/n

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y/n just posted

liked by daisy_c1, bethanyengland4 and 108, 287 others

tagged charli_grant, bethanyengland4 and 6 others

y/n umm hi everyone ?

view all 4099 comments

y/f/n1: soooooo many people omg 😶😶

^

y/n: 🫣🫣

y/f/n2: a lotta coffeee that day ! 😝

^

y/n: it was quite the day ! 😅

^

y/f/n2: 😂😂

username1: is it me or is she so pretty ?!! 😍😍

samanthakerr20: was great to meet you pookie !! I WILL BE RETURNING FOR YOUR MOTHERS CAKES 😍😍

^

y/n: 🥰😘

beckyspencer91: that night was so good ‘kiss me martinis�� yummm 😌😌

^

y/n: 💋💋

username2: so she’s bethany’s cousin?!?!

charli_grant: i need to STOP taking selfies on your phone ! 😭

^

y/n: no I like them !! ☺️

^

cailtlinfoord: ‘no i like them’ 😶

daisy_c1: omg those flowers 😍😍

^

y/n: you got them for me ?!!!!

^

daisy_c1: i know i just wanted to make sure everyone knew what a great bff i am ☺️

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charli_grant: 🚨 DAISY IS A GREAT BEST FRIEND 🚨

^

y/n: 😂😂😂

bethanyengland4: love you little one!!

^

y/n: Love you tooo!!!!!

kyracooneyx: that last photo took Charli and I wayyyyy to long to do 😅

^

y/n: in the rain as well

^

charli_grant: NO Y/N WAIT YOU HAVE TO GET THE AESTHETIC ANGLE - kyra after making us stand in the rain for five minutes 🙄

see more comments...

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y/n chuckled as her phone continued to go off, neither her or Charli bothered as they continued to skate around the empty roller rink, everyone having gone home.

y/n held her hand out for Charli, the blonde grasping it as they rolled over the wood, singing along to the music as they did so, Charli pulled y/n slightly, arms wrapping around her waist as she pulled the girl into her chest.

y/n breathed in shock, arms wrapping around Charli's shoulders as the blonde skates them both, y/n not attempting to skate backwards, just letting Charli bring her along.

"I really enjoyed tonight." Charli whispered quietly, pushing a strand of hair away from y/n's eyes.

"Does that mean you want another one?" y/n asks hopefully, Charli smiling as she skates them toward the exit.

"I'd love to." Charli nods, as she holds y/n's hands, letting her get from the rink.

"Yeah?" y/n asks, smiling as Charli nods.

"Yeah." Charli smiles, the two taking their skates off and thanking the workers before sliding their trainers back on and walking back outside.

"Come on, there is one more thing to do." y/n smiles, dragging Charli toward her car where the two get in, turning the heat on to keep them warm as y/n drives to a spot just outside the woods, the Tottenham training centre the other side of them.

"Have you brought me here to kill me?" Charli asks as they get out, coats zipped up.

"Shut up." y/n laughs.

"No, cause I warn ya, I'm scrappy." Charli says and y/n laughs more.

"Oh shush." y/n hums climbing onto the roof of her Volvo. "Come on." She adds as she lays back, Charli joining her with a furrowed brow.

"What are ya doing chick?" Charli asks her.

"Lie down and look up Charl." y/n says, Charli doing as she was told, a gasp falling from her lips. "Out here, the light pollution isn't as bad, so you can actually see all the stars." y/n smiles at her.

"It's beautiful." Charli says, y/n humming in agreement as she watches the scene above her. "Thank you for tonight, it's been fantastic." Charli admits softly.

"I think the company's been the best thing." y/n says, turning her head to face Charli, the blonde doing the same.

"You know, I would agree." Charli smiles softly, her hand reaching out to find y/n's, the two linking their fingers as they turn back to the stars.

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END

okay there will deffo be a part two to this but once I have fought my way through requests!

-

Queenie! x

[marlynnofmany]

Just a Rock

For all the time I’ve spent traveling through space, I haven’t spend much of it actually out in space. It’s unsettling. Inside the ship, I can forget how close the airless void is, how small our precious bubble of air. But outside, everything is black like some vast creature ate all the color in the universe first, then the air, and is now hungering for life forms too.

Sometimes those distant stars look like teeth.

These are the thoughts that tend to pop up when I’m in my exo suit, hoping that my thruster pack doesn’t run out of fuel before I make it back to the ship. But then an empty pack of chips will float by my visor, and I can refocus on business.

That’s how it happened today, at any rate. (And yes, “day” is a silly concept in the blackness of space.) We’d made a detour to see if we could pick up some extra funds by gathering salvage from a museum ship that had gone kablooey, but so far all we were finding was trash.

Paint jetted past in her own exo suit, upside-down to my frame of reference, then stopped to pull apart a jumble of carpet fragments. “They really did clear out the good stuff already,” she said over the radio. She swatted aside a drink cup with her tail, looking like a little space-suited dinosaur, a thought that kept me entertained for a good few seconds.

Captain Sunlight’s voice said, “Keep an eye out for scrap metal. That may already be gone too, but it’s worth a shot.” She was somewhere else in the drifting junk pile, or maybe back near the ship; I couldn’t tell. There was too much stuff in the way. This was a mildly alarming thought — out of sight meant out of safety — but I caught a glimpse of the Frillian twins posted as safety guards at the edge of the cloud, and my heartbeat settled a bit.

“Do you think anyone will buy some mildly used carpet?” Paint asked the captain. “It’s only in several pieces.”

“Let’s go with ‘no.’”

“What about some very exotic — what is this — napkins? Made with authentic Earth wood fibers!”

I looked over at that. “How can you tell?”

“Oh, I have no idea,” Paint said. She held up half of a wall placard. “But this is from the Earth exhibit, so maybe the napkins are too.”

I looked around at the trash in a new light. “Man, it’s a pity we weren’t here for any of the good stuff.”

“Yeah, and all these food packages are empty! We can’t even get you a slightly exploded taste of home!”

I waved my hand through a cluster of soda bottles. “I appreciate the thought.”

Paint jetted over to a different pile of whatever. “Hey, do you think any of this food trash was actually an exhibit? Packaging from olden days?”

“Uh, maybe,” I said. “Probably not. That’s not the sort of thing I’d expect on a multi-species museum ship. A janky little humans-only one, maybe. But even then, most people aren’t going to care.”

Something clunked against the back of my helmet. I hate that. Nothing like a reminder that I can’t see behind me like some species can. I toggled the jets to rotate in place, so I could find the offending object.

It was a rock.

“What’s this doing here?” I asked, closing a gloved hand around it and bringing it in for a closer look.

“What’d you find?” Paint asked, sticking out sideways from behind a twisted bench.

“A rock.”

“A meteorite rock?” she asked. “Oh hey, do you think it pierced the hull?”

“No, it doesn’t look like a space rock,” I said, turning the small gray-and-white lump over. It was mostly smooth, with a divot that would have fit a fingertip if I hadn’t been wearing the gloves. “Weird. I wonder if it was part of some Neolithic exhibit or something.”

“Can I see?” Paint jetted over to park herself in roughly the same orientation as me. She was very good with that jetpack.

I showed her the rock. “It doesn’t look like any gemstone I know. Maybe some kid had it in their pocket, then threw it away.”

Paint cocked her head. “Is that normal, for your young to carry rocks around?”

“Sure. You never picked up something you thought was neat as a kid?”

“Not a rock,” Paint said with exaggerated disdain. “A sweet-smelling seednut or herb, absolutely.”

“But look: it’s even got a little finger groove,” I pointed out. “You could stick it in a pocket and rub it for luck.”

“Could you?”

I smiled. “You could. You probably wouldn’t, but…”

“Why?”

I looked at the rock again, already fond of it. “I get the feeling that I couldn’t explain this to a point where you’d agree.”

Paint shrugged. “Probably not. But hey, we found you a souvenir after all. From probably the Earth section of whatever museum this is.” She grabbed a handful of colorful pamphlets drifting by. “The ‘Galaxy in a Bottle Museum Tour Ship.’ Who named that?”

My smile turned into a wide grin. “Humans.”

Paint grumbled about the unflattering comparison of an elite starship to a simple bottle. When she moved to toss the pamphlets away, I held out a hand.

“What’s that white one?” I asked. “It looks like a display sign.”

Paint flipped over the stack and separated the one I meant. “You’re right. Hey, it’s about a rock!”

I reached out a grabby hand. “Gimme.”

She passed it over. “Is it that rock?”

I read the title, then was gut-punched by familiarity. I’d heard about this. “Yes,” I managed, skimming the rest of the sign and holding the rock close. “This is Bethan’s Rock.”

“What?”

I fumbled to explain. “Ages ago, a kid visited a museum — a human kid — and learned what museums were for, then offered her favorite rock as a donation, so other people could appreciate it too.”

Paint cocked her head in the other direction. “And they took it?”

“Yes!” I must have looked a little wild at this point, but I didn’t care. “The adults agreed that it was a fine thing to donate, not to mention adorable, and the only one of its kind that I’ve ever heard of. More museums should house the occasional favorite rock, though I suppose they wouldn’t be as special if they did.”

“So just to clarify,” Paint said. “There isn’t anything valuable about this rock, except that one of your youths decided there was. And all the adults played along.”

I smiled down at it, careful not to let it drift away. “It’s the most precious non-precious stone I’ve ever seen.”

Paint stared for a moment. “It’s not even one of those shiny ones you like.”

I laughed. “I know!”

The captain called us back in at that point, having found one decent chunk of metal among the mountains of trash. We had a schedule to keep.

I folded the sign and tucked it into my suit pocket, but held the rock tight in my fist as I jetted toward the ship, working the controls with one hand. I was already thinking of the safest place in my quarters to keep it until we got ahold of the proper Earth museum authorities. Other humans would want to see Bethan’s Rock, after all, but it would be my honor to watch over it until they could.

~~~

(Inspired by this post. Long live Bethan’s Rock.)

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character of this book. More to come!

[no-higher-thought]

said you wanted to talk about 2bhank on your last post... well i'm all ears.

oo Wait fr ??

Oh my goodness gracious youve no idea what you just released anon FUCK you for making me write all this down /lh

Very unorganised thoughts cause i had like 12 pages worth of ramblings in my notes and had to cut it down. It was borderline just nonsense, man. Im losing it. Sorry if words don't make sense.

First off, they can and have hurt eachother. Hard not to, in a world as fucked up as theirs. Hank is someone who only knows violence, and doc is far too used to manipulating people and circumstances to gain the upper hand. In combat, in business deals, sieges, all that jazz.

But honestly, considering everything ? Their relationship is definitely among the healthiest, most stable in all of Nevada. Mostly cause the bar is all the way in The Nowhere but. y'know.

Both see it as VERY transactional, which, i mean. It is, first and foremost, a business deal so like. Fair i suppose. Hank is very good at their job of killing, and doc is very good at pointing them at nice targets. A sort of  "ah shit they didn't slam the door this time guess i gotta be extra careful pulling all the shrapnel out of their abdominal cavity."

There was never any moment one could consider "feelings realization" or whatever. They're simply incredibly close as a result of just how LONG they've worked together. Neither is particularly keen on asking somethn like "what are we to eachother?" Because it just. Doesn't. Matter to them.

That and like. I am very aroace. Hank is canon aroace. Saw doc fanart with ace ring once and have been rotating it in my brain since. Big fan of non-traditional relationships, man.

It's mostly convenience, methinks. Hank may not need doc to bring them back to life, but it sure does make the process a lot shorter and less painful. Doc doesn't need hank, he has plenty of money and access to many of Nevada's most feared mercenaries. He could find someone else to do his dirty work, if need be.

And yet.

Every moment they spend together is a moment of putting their life in the other's hands. Hank trusts him not to staple their legs on backwards, and doc trusts them to not dome him the moment he turns around. Don't get me wrong, it's not trust in the other, no. It's trusting that the other isn't dumb enough to get rid of a valuable asset.

But frankly, to someone used to nothing but pain and violence, a simple lack of it might as well be a loving embrace.

Theirs is a relationship built off of many years of contracts, of shared goals, of depending on eachother, expecting the other to catch them when they fall. When they crawl back battered and bloodied. When they pass out from overworking in front of their computer for the upteenth time this week.

They'd share a bed simply because both have horrific waking nightmares and huddling together on a shitty moldy mattress helps. A net positive, mutualism. They might seek some affection from the other, but its always self-serving.

Still. Neither of them are sentimental. If the machine took them on different paths, or hell, if they had to kill the other (for one reason or another), i don't think either of them would mourn.

Simply fill their time with the next mission at hand.

Doc could kill hank. They've been under his knife often enough. It wouldn't stick, sure, but he's very much capable of sending them back to the Other place, at least once.

Hank could absolutely kill doc. There's very little stopping them. All it would take is a single hand around his neck and one good squeeze.

But they don't.

They don't, and neither does he. Because at the end of the day, both of them benefit more when the other is alive.

Mutualism.

... Anyways uh hank is a cuddler. With how fucked up their nerves must be, i bet most of their sense of touch is straight up just pain. Which would be be a bigger deal, except. Doc has access to heavy-duty painkillers. How can you not, in some odd way, love the guy that makes the pain go away, even for a bit ?

[yours-etc]

wiggly worm wednesday 🪱

shout out to @someforeignband for encouraging this brain worm madness

(don’t know if i’ve posted anything from this yet so if i have pretend like it’s the first time you’re seeing it 🫶)

here’s a moment from my Twister / Storm Chaser AU

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Robin was full of questions when he got home. Steve debriefs the whole interview, conversation, whatever it was.

“Eddie sounds hot,” she says halfway through, “and that's coming from me, a capital L Lesbian, I don’t know how you survived.”

Neither does Steve, to be honest. He’s known he’s gay since Nancy broke up with his senior year. Being with girls in a more intimate way just seemed like a chore to him, Steve just thought that’s how everyone felt. That was until Nacy screamed in his face about how obvious it was he never enjoyed being with her like that, how he needed to get checked out medically because any guy would ruin his own pants just to feel her up behind the bleachers. And yeah, so maybe Steve never really understood why his friends were so obsessed with their girlfriends until he and Tommy drunkenly made out on graduation night and Steve saw stars when Tommy started making breathy sounds and grabbing Steve in ways that made him feel light as a feather and heavy as a brick at the same time. And, yeah, they never spoke about it again.

“Yeah well, I’m not trying to get into something right now Robs, especially not with my much older new boss.”

Robin lets out an exasperated sigh, “Steve you are no fun! Just because you don’t want to buy does not mean you cannot window shop. A daily dose of eye candy is good for the soul.”

So Steve has a small, tiny, minuscule crush that's not even a crush on Eddie. He’s attractive and he clearly knows it. Steve is sure everyone in this town has Eddie on their hall pass list.

What didn’t help this budding crush that's not a crush was Eddie showing up on his doorstep at one in the morning about a week later.

“Hiya Steve, time to go, A big storm forming a few hours away, If we speed we can make it in time before any rotation starts,” He says quickly, letting himself into the apartment.

He was in a cut-up Dio shirt that stopped just below his belly button and showed off his muscular arms. His worn jeans sat on his hips perfectly creating a perfect peek-a-boo for Eddie’s happy trail. And oh and Eddie now had thick and heavy rings on that made his hands look so much… more. Steve had to take a deep breath and force his eyes to stay up.

This is just embarrassing he thought to himself You’re not fucking thirteen Steve get it together.

Eddie’s eyes rake over him darkly. Steve looks down at himself suddenly very aware of only being in a pair of boxers and he turns around without a word and goes to his room to change. When he reappears he sees Eddie standing in the middle of the living room looking around like he’s afraid to break anything.

“So how’d you know which apartment was mine?” Steve asks.

The older man turns to look at Steve, now properly dressed “Steve, it’s not too many people moving in, just had to ask the night shift front desk what room ‘the new kids’ lived in,” he says with a sly smile, “and I happen to know Tracy personally so it wasn’t difficult to get her to give up the information that she definitely definitely should not just be handing out.”

———————

I want to see everyone’s worms!! YES EVEN YOURS! if you see this you’re tagged 🫵

[lucky-clover-gazette]

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 14

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

Because he couldn't put Jokaste in a sack and carry her bodily across the border into Kastor’s territory, the journey presented certain logistical challenges.

In order to justify two wagons and an entourage, they would be pretending to be cloth merchants. This disguise was not going to stand up to any serious scrutiny.

well, actually...

Laurent wandered in and outlined a plan so outrageous that Damen had said yes with the feeling that his mind was splitting apart.

i’ve said the thing about laurent and tabletop rpgs before but UGH. he’d be living his best life

Jord who had won short sword, Lydos of the trident, Aktis the spear thrower, the young, triple-crowned Pallas, Lazar, who had whistled at him,

i like how everyone has qualifications except for lazar, whose identifying quality is that he is gay

Laurent’s addition to the expedition was Paschal, and Damen tried not to think too deeply about the reasons why Laurent thought it necessary to bring a physician.

LMAOOOOO

And if the worst happened, Guion’s testimony had the potential to bring down the Regency. Laurent had said all of this succinctly, and told Guion, in a pleasant voice, ‘Your wife can chaperone Jokaste on the journey.’

wait does damen not even know what the testimony is? iirc guion told it to laurent off the page, after the chair scene. is it the thing about the regent killing the former king, or was that paschal’s piece of the trial? do both of them say it? whatever, the trial stuff is fun but i’m not that determined to work it all out ahead of time. it was a lot more rewarding to that with laurent’s perspective, especially earlier on, but ehhhh here i’m going to take it easy

Guion had understood more quickly than Damen.

shocking (sorry damen)

‘I see. My wife is the leverage for my good behaviour?’ ‘That’s right,’ said Laurent.

when does loyse talk to laurent? does she ever, or does she just speak at the trial uncalled for? guess we’ll see and i’ll trace back what i think probably led to it

Damen watched from a second-storey window as they gathered in the courtyard: two wagons, two noblewomen, and twelve soldiers of whom ten were soldiers and two were Guion and Paschal in metal hats.

He was waiting for Laurent to arrive in order to discuss the finer points of his ridiculous plan.

Laurent was standing in the doorway wearing a chiton of unadorned white cotton. Damen dropped the pitcher. It shattered, shards flying outward as it slipped from his fingers and hit the stone floor. Laurent’s arms were bare. His throat was bare. His collarbone was bare, and most of his thighs, his long legs, and all of his left shoulder. Damen stared at him. ‘You’re wearing Akielon clothing,’ said Damen. ‘Everyone’s wearing Akielon clothing,’ said Laurent. Damen thought that the pitcher had shattered and he could not now take a deep draught of the wine. Laurent came forward, navigating the broken ceramic in his short cotton and sandalled feet, until he reached the seat beside Damen, where the map was laid out on the wooden table. ‘Once we know the rotation of the patrols, we’ll know when to approach,’ said Laurent. Laurent sat down. ‘We need to approach at the beginning of their rotation in order to give us the most time before they report back to the fort.’ It was even shorter sitting down. ‘Damen.’ ‘Yes. Sorry,’ said Damen. And then: ‘What were you saying?’ ‘The patrols,’ said Laurent.

damen can you PLEASE focus.

(this is part of why the baby thing doesn’t work for me. if this is a lighter comedy interlude, why is the baby meant to be understood as a dire, war-altering problem? and if it is a serious dire situation, why are we getting this moment straight out of a fanfic? i know damen is horny despite the horrors and it’s a treat for the reader, but i guess i’m just built different because this moment really does not do anything for me. although to be fair i think that’s partially just because i’m apparently sensitive to instances of laurent being reduced to his body and sexuality, or at least in a way that he is not aware of—see my chapter 12 analysis for the most blatant example. reminds me of the time last week that my mom said on the phone “you only want people to like you on your own terms,” which is a very accurate and damning statement tbh)

They had only twelve soldiers. Twelve-ish, amended Damen, thinking of Paschal and Guion.

AGAIN?? brutal. also i like the “ish,” it’s a little anachronistic and very charming

Vannes could handle Makedon, Laurent said.

i want more laurent and vannes interaction…

The soldiers only needed to know their own roles in the enterprise, and Damen’s briefing to them was short. But Nikandros was his friend, and he deserved to know how they would get across the border. So he told him Laurent’s plan.

honestly damen i think it would be a mercy not to tell him

‘It’s dishonourable,’ said Nikandros.

nikandros private twitter complaint #13. also akielions don't know what "honor" means

‘I wish to restate my strong objection,’ said Nikandros. ‘It’s noted,’ said Damen.

and there's #14

the awkward mien of his own soldiers, who had had to be schooled multiple times not to call him ‘Exalted’

clearly they did not attend the lamen school of committing to the bit

‘Your reports are wrong. The Lady Jokaste is in that wagon.’ There was a pause. ‘In that wagon.’ ‘That’s right.’ Another pause. Damen, who was telling the truth, looked back at the Captain with the steady gaze he had learned from Laurent. It didn’t work. ‘I’m sure the Lady Jokaste won’t mind answering a few questions.’

he rolled like a 9 for persuasion

He was red-faced and sweating slightly. ‘At the Lady’s request, I will ride with you personally through the last of the checkpoints, to ensure that you are not stopped again.’ ‘Thank you, Captain,’ said Damen, with great dignity.

i love that pacat didn’t tell us what the plan was, so we could worry for a second that they'd already failed. and then, this

‘The stories of Lady Jokaste’s beauty are not exaggerated,’ said the Captain, man-to-man, as they wound their way across the countryside. ‘I expect you to speak of the Lady Jokaste with the greatest respect, Captain,’ said Damen. ‘Yes, of course, my apologies,’ said the Captain.

“that’s my fucking DIVORCE HUSBAND”

He said, ‘How did you convince Jokaste to play along with the guards?’ ‘I didn’t,’ said Laurent. He tossed the wad of blue silk in his hands to one of the soldiers to dispose of, then shrugged into his jacket in a rather mannish gesture. Nikandros was staring at him. ‘Don’t think about it too much,’ said Damen.

i love the way “mannish gesture” is specified. like he can do both. good for him.

(this is sooooo botw/totk link. anyway)

Laurent held out his hand to escort her back from the supply wagon into the main wagon, a bored Veretian gesture. Her eyes had the same bored look as she took his hand. ‘You’re lucky we’re alike,’ she said, stepping down. They looked at one another like two reptiles.

they should be best friends

‘Keep the wagons on course,’ Damen said to Nikandros. ‘I’ll be swift, and I’ll take our best rider with me.’ ‘That’s me,’ said Laurent, wheeling his horse.

“and our horses are canonically in love. just in case you’ve forgotten”

Sweeping a branch out of his face, Damen said, ‘I thought when I was King I wouldn’t be doing this kind of thing again.’ ‘You underestimated the demands of Akielon kingship,’ said Laurent.

i love prince's gambit

‘The undergrowth was thinner when I was a boy.’ ‘Or you were.’

did laurent just call him thicc

‘Stop,’ said Laurent. Damen stopped. Following Laurent’s gaze, he saw a dog lounging on its chain near a small penned field full of horses on the west side of the estate.

me when i want to pet a dog

‘I’ll take care of the sentries,’ said Laurent. ‘You left the dress in the wagon,’ said Damen. ‘Thank you, I do have other ways of getting past a sentry.’

The light through the trees dappled Laurent’s hair, which was longer now than it had been in the palace, and showing signs of minor disarray. It had a twig in it.

how dare that twig mess with laurent’s gorgeous hair!!!

There was no sign of a blond head, but somehow the dog got loose and went streaking through the yard to where the unfamiliar horses were penned.

dog = pet

The spasming excitement of the dog egged them on. As did the sylph-like actions of a ghost, untying ropes, slipping open rails.

laurent is an animal whisperer. that’s a personal headcanon of mine

They probably felt they had the most to lose, but in fact everyone would lose the same thing: their lives. Everyone but Jokaste. She only said, mildly, ‘Trouble at Heston’s?’

i love jokaste. spinoff please

And then he saw the pale head, and the paler white shirt, a lithe figure palming his way from tree trunk to tree trunk. ‘You’re late,’ said Damen. ‘I brought you a souvenir.’ Laurent tossed Damen an apricot. Damen could feel the quiet exultation of Laurent’s men, while the Akielons looked a little dazed. Nikandros passed Laurent his reins. ‘Is this how you do things in Vere?’ ‘You mean effectively?’ said Laurent. And swung up onto his horse.

i’m sad that this series is best known for being horny because i am infinitely more interested in laurent being a snarky action hero than i am in him having sex. and i think lots of other people would be too

Risk of laming was high

i read that as “lamen-ing” at first

Earlier, Laurent had tossed Damen his bedroll and said, ‘Unpack this,’ and Pallas had almost challenged him to a duel for the insult.

Sitting down and eating cheese casually with their King was not something that they knew how to do.

i cannot believe people in the fandom would apparently rather live in akielos than in vere. in akielos, you’re not allowed to acknowledge the humanity of people beneath your class, which as far as i can tell is determined by birth. in vere, people like jord and laurent are homies who mutually respect each other, and you can social climb your way to the high court by giving good head

Laurent strolled up to the impasse, threw himself down on the log next to Damen, and in an expressionless voice launched into the story of the brothel adventure that had earned him the blue dress, which was so unabashedly filthy it made Lazar blush, and so funny it had Pallas wiping his eyes.

i love laurent of vere

‘You smell of horse,’ said Damen. ‘It’s how I got past the dog.’ He felt a throb of happiness, and said nothing, just lay on his back and looked up at the stars. ‘It’s like old times,’ said Damen, though the truth was, he had never really had times like this.

damen are you forgetting prince’s gambit again

‘My first trip to Akielos,’ said Laurent. ‘Do you like it?’ ‘It’s like Vere, with fewer places to have a bath,’ said Laurent.

yeah i’m sure that’s not the sum of his thoughts, but he’s trying to take it easy

‘You want me wandering around the Akielon countryside naked at night?’ And then, ‘You smell just as much of horse as I do.’ ‘More,’ said Damen. He was smiling.

laurent: if you want me to get naked you’re going to have to do it too damen: bet

‘They’re Artesian. Aren’t they? From the old empire, Artes. They say it used to span both our countries.’ ‘Like the ruins at Acquitart,’ said Laurent. He didn’t say, And at Marlas. ‘My brother and I used to play there as boys. Kill all the Akielons and restore the old empire.’ ‘My father had the same idea.’ And look what happened to him. Laurent didn’t say that either.

you just know child laurent used history books and his imagination to construct a sophisticated and complex narrative for him and auguste to play-act

His pulse beat with uncharacteristic nerves, so that he felt almost shy. ‘When all this is over . . . we could take horses and stay a week in the palace.’ Since their night together in Karthas, he hadn’t dared to speak about the future. He felt Laurent holding himself carefully, and there was a strange pause. After a moment, Laurent said, softly, ‘I’d like that.’ Damen rolled onto his back again, and felt the words like happiness as he let himself look up again at the wide sweep of stars.

i think it’s sweet how nervous and awkward they are about admitting the desire to do something this simple, when they’ve had the most complicated and intensely intimate relationship i’ve ever read in fiction

[alexanderwales]

Adapting Worth the Candle into a Pixar Movie

Worth the Candle is 1.6 million words and covers a lot of characters, themes, and events. The average Pixar movie is around 90 minutes.

How would you stuff one into the other?

The first answer is that you wouldn't, obviously. But that's boring, so I'm going to try to game out how I would attempt it, if I had to, mostly as a writing exercise that involves stretching the planning/plotting muscles. This post will spoil most of the story, in the same way an adaptation would, while also missing like 99% of what actually happens in the story.

We start with a scene of Juniper playing some tabletop game with his friends. His friend Arthur is introduced. This is a short scene, maybe of their first game together, and then we immediately go into montage, showing the character sheets stacking up, the book collection growing, the endless campaign notes, all that visual story-telling passage-of-time goodness. Some of the other players rotate, but Juniper is always there at the head of the table, behind an increasingly tattered screen, and Arthur is always by his side.

Then we have another scene where someone wants to start without Arthur, and Juniper says "no, no, he'll be here, he's never late", and he gets a phone call, and we see his eyes widen, and then we go to another montage of time passing, this one showing the world darkened, the same game table, the seats slowly emptying as more and more people drop out, until it's just Juniper alone. We see behind his screen, images that evoke his pain and anger, plans for a game that no one wants to play, and Arthur's empty chair beside him.

I think for pacing reasons you probably have to draw out the next bits, but Juniper walks home alone in the rain, feeling worse and worse, maybe with some portents of what's to come around him, until eventually he finds himself in the fantasy world.

We're now five to ten minutes in, depending on just how fast we've been going. (This is close to being the beginning of Up, I am aware of that and absolutely fine with cribbing from one of the greatest movie openings of all time for this exercise.)

Juniper quickly meets Amaryllis, she's in trouble, we probably use a different exclusion zone from in the book, there are monsters to fight, they fight those monsters in an action scene, hardly pausing for breath. Juniper recognizes the monsters, they're from one of his campaigns, and if we don't trust the audience, we can have him say that or directly flashback, but presumably this was something from the montage. Eventually the fighting ends, Amaryllis introduces herself, and Juniper is just obsessed with her name, because that's the name of one of Arthur's longest-running characters.

After that, our first act is them getting out of the exclusion zone, past the monsters. Juniper proves himself at least once by knowing things that he shouldn't, domain expertise, how to defeat the evil things. We get the story of how Uther, the lost king, went away and never came back, and Juniper becomes determined to find him. Amaryllis does too, mostly because her country is in dire straits. They meet up with Fenn, a half-elf who provides comic relief. The end of the first act comes when they're in relative safety, in Anglecynn, with Amaryllis in disguise, hiding from her relatives.

Most of the second act is a single adventure, like we're highly truncating a million words of bumbling around the world into maybe thirty minutes of runtime. My copy of Save the Cat suggests that on the beat sheet this is where "Fun and Games" portion comes in, so we have Juniper use his foreknowledge to understand the layout of the castle, the nature of the magic, etc. to prove his worth. We're going for a "false high point" here, in Save the Cat terms. They've got the gang together! They're doing adventure stuff! It goes off without a hitch! Any seeming setbacks were all part of the plan! Fenn gets a cool magic hat!

And then whatever MacGuffin they've stolen points them in one single spot: Fel Seed. Of all the dark and scary things that were on Juniper's DM screen in that opening montage, this is the darkest and scariest of them all. Juniper has to explain that he ... well, he made some things. Not monsters that were set up to be knocked down, not a castle that was meant for a heist, not a cool hat, something that was evil, something that was not meant to be beaten. Rocks fall, everyone dies.

But they go ahead anyway, pressing forward after, maybe, a speech by Amaryllis about doing the necessary thing, not just stopping because it all feels lost and hopeless.

So they go, and they fight, and they lose, and all hope seems lost, until Juniper throws down his sword and gives his own speech, about how this isn't what it's supposed to be, how his friendship at the table was about creating a story together, about setting up a villain to be knocked down, and then Fel Seed looks at the sword that's been cast aside, and says that it's not enough, that if you want to win you have to fight. So Juniper fights and wins.

And then Juniper finds Arthur, who is middle-aged and a fearsome warrior, and we do a highly abbreviated Long Stairs thing, Arthur trying to escape this world and its cycles, pushing on forward in spite of Juniper's objections. I would really want to have another montage similar to the opening ones, where Arthur describes what life was like, how the adventures ground him down, how it felt like he was being urged forward all the time, pushed when he felt like standing still. Like there was some Juniper up above who wanted to keep playing, who wouldn't let go.

I do think this comes off more deathist than in the original. Uther's not trying to escape life, he's trying to escape narrative, or more than that, to escape his life as an object of worship. This is definitely an execution problem, especially because we have like ... maybe 20 minutes to spend on this. I think it's doable though, especially with flashback, a long sequence showing Uther's life.

And then Uther is gone, and all the hopes of restoring the kingdom to its former glory with him, and Amaryllis slumps down, because this was her shot at fixing the fractious fighting. But Juniper offers her his hand, because he's at peace now, and he's going to do what he feels like he's always done best: build things, side by side, with her.

(And then we imply that this goes better than we naively think it should, maybe because of Juniper's detailed knowledge of the world, or his superior ability to adventure.)

Alright, I think that's it.

There are some obvious issues. Runtime is probably fine, but I did not actually fill out my Blake Snyder Beat Sheet, so there would be a lot of work to turn this into an actual script ... which I might do just because I told myself that this would be the year that I write a movie script.

Also, I cut your favorite part and hacked away at some of the themes you liked. Sorry about that. There's no Bethel, no Raven, no Maddie, no Grak ... though I actually do like the idea of a Grak that is more beard than anything else, a quirky side character that's mostly silent, since it does seem like we'd want to fill out the team in the second act. This is disrespectful to the vision of Grak as a character, which I find funny. But the list of things that are getting removed is very very long, I acknowledge this, and there are entire themes, mechanics, etc. that are being slashed.

And of the things that aren't getting slashed, some of them are getting sanded down. You cannot depict Fel Seed as he is in the books in a big budget animated movie, because if you did, the movie would not make its money back. You can't have a scene where your protagonist ejaculates into an elf's mouth. Sorry, just not possible with standards and practices, in a world where this was even remotely possible to get made. The very inclusion of a "handjob police" joke in the book would probably preclude this movie from ever getting made, even if that was nowhere in the script, to say nothing of the other elements.

Still, I think this is sort of what you would need to do for this extreme of an adaptation. I think that as a movie this could work. I also think it would be highly dependent on execution, as most things are, finding an art style that works, hitting all the beats correctly, making sure the writing is very very polished and that we have continuity going forward and backward, callbacks and call forwards and brick jokes.

At least as a quick half-hour exercise, I think I am happy with the plan as outlined here. This was not created for purpose, just because I thought it would be interesting. If you're trying to rescue a core story that can be told in 90 minutes, pulled from a sprawling web serial, I think this is how you do it.

[mychoombatheroomba]

The Crucible (Part 1)

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 49

The final test begins, and while Leon and the others are away, questions begin to pull at you.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Um. Breakfast?” You thought the answer was fairly obvious, given you were only a few feet from the mess hall doors. Still, Doc took the time to stop you and ask the question. 

The old man just shook his head. “No you’re not. I’m down an assistant today, need your help organizing. Just got a new shipment of supplies.” 

You wouldn’t be mad at that, actually. Anything to take your mind off the fact that you weren’t testing with the others . . . and you wouldn’t be mad that you likely wouldn’t have to eat the cardboard they passed off as food, either. Still . . . “Don’t think Reed will be okay with that,” you grumbled. 

“Well, Reed can kiss my ass.” Doc’s response was curt and made you smile, glad to know that yet another person on base shared your sentiment about the CIA agent. “Krauser already okayed it. Can’t pull you out of any drills proper, but I am gonna enlist you at mealtimes and in your off-hours. Need all the help I can get. My other assistants and I are gonna be rotating to shadow your squad up in the hills, in case something goes wrong.” 

“Like what?” you asked, because you couldn’t help but be curious about what it was you were missing out on. You couldn’t help but worry, just a bit. 

Doc just gave you a look. “Krauser makes good tests, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility that someone gets hurt in one of them.” 

That just pinched your brows together. “They’re not doing anything that crazy up there though, are they?” Your turn to ask an obvious question and get an obvious answer. 

“It’s Krauser.” 

“Fair point.” 

Doc chuckled, but his expression turned more reassuring soon after. “They’ll be tired by the end of it all, but no. Nothing too crazy.” 

Somehow, you didn’t quite believe him. 

⧫⧫⧫

Rifles rose slowly in the silence, the act of breathing itself coming to a halt. 

No noise. 

Not if they could help it. And as they were, on a gravel path and surrounded by woods on either side, standing still was the only way they really could manage that. 

Another shrill screech from up ahead, overpowering the sounds of birds waking up, and Leon felt an old dread shoot through his heart, and he worried that the beating of it was so loud that it could be heard by whatever was out there. 

Eyes up, gun up. Not that it would matter, really. It was loaded with blanks. That was what made Leon think it wasn’t actually a Licker waiting for them in those trees. Krauser and Hellman wouldn’t throw them against a BOW without arming them first, surely. 

Right? 

“What are you all waiting around for?” A familiar voice interrupted Leon’s thought process, and he felt himself relax as he looked to his side. Krauser stepped through the trees, wearing his usual warning-smile. “You’ve got places to be, soldiers. Only problem is . . .” another screech, and the Major’s crooked grin widened, “. . . you make a sound, you’re as good as dead.” 

The first test, then. 

“Move forward without drawing attention to yourselves,” Hellman said in simpler terms as he appeared at Krauser’s side. “Manage that, then your next challenge will be waiting for you.” 

Leon looked to his side, his gaze finding Valeria’s at once, a silent question shared between the two of them; how do you move ten people without making a sound? The answer was obvious enough; slowly. Still, it would be easier said than done, and likely not enough. They would move when the woods made noise to cover them, and if that was not enough . . . he had an idea in mind. So, Leon switched his rifle to one hand, and then bent down with as little noise as he could manage. He took a larger stone from the path, and nodded to Valeria as she did the same. Once they both were upright again, they gave a simultaneous signal with the hand, the group began advancing forward, heel to toe, trying to make as little noise as possible on the gravel path. 

They made it several feet amidst the shrieking and shrill cries echoing through the woods . . . but, of course, it wasn’t long before a footstep made noise, a rock slipping out from beneath a boot and skittering across the path. 

As soon as it happened, Leon held up a signal for them to halt, and just as Krauser opened his mouth to no doubt shout a reprimand, Leon hefted the stone in his hand. There was some noise as he threw it, but not nearly as much as when the rock impacted with a tree far off the path. It struck the bark hard, the sound scaring birds into flight. 

With the distraction, the group moved forward again on Leon’s command, stopping when the forest went quiet around them once more. With no words from Krauser suggesting otherwise, it seemed the plan worked. All that remained was to repeat it. So they moved, a group of ten moving carefully through the trees. It was as they moved, under the cover of well-timed distractions, that Leon almost broke the quiet with a huff of breath. An exasperated sigh as he looked through the trees and at last glimpsed what horror had been making the shrieking calls in the woods. Or, rather, lack of horror. After all, there were many things to be afraid of, but loudspeakers strapped to the trees were not on the list, as far as Leon was concerned. 

Leave it to Krauser to be good for a scare. 

So, as Valeria threw a stone of her own, creating another distraction, Leon glanced over at the man shadowing them, the one who, not so long ago, Leon had borne little but contempt for. 

The Major, many times in the past, had only looked annoyed or judgmental of Leon’s efforts. 

Now, Krauser just nodded his approval. 

A good start, then, but he knew . . .

⧫⧫⧫

“It’s not over yet,” your voice cut out across the training yard, but you weren’t sure the recruit you were speaking to believed you. After all, it was hard to believe that you could win a fight after your weapon had been taken from you. You also knew that fighting well in that moment was all the more important. “Keep your guard up,” you instructed. 

The recruit did as you ordered, looking from you to his opponent . . . to the agent watching from a distance. 

The agent who was otherwise occupied with his own set of recruits. Two who circled each other, following Reed’s instruction. The man never looked your way - not if he could help it. You couldn’t help but watch them too, because Reed never seemed to object when they went for blows to the face. He never seemed keen to discipline hits that, in basic training, would have gotten you a reprimand at best. 

Krauser had always believed in learning through the bruises you received, but still . . . 

The movement of the two recruits you were training snapped your attention back to them. “Come on, you know better,” you sighed, “bend your knees.” 

They obeyed, and blunted steel streaked through the air, traded blow for blow. 

“Keep your blade in front of you.” 

You wondered if Leon was fighting up at the test. 

“Switch hands more.” 

Was he doing well? 

“Smaller-” 

“Fuck!”

You looked just in time to see the recruit land, his feet finishing the arc through the air and the rest of him crashing into the dirt. Then came the cry of pain, the wide eyes of someone realizing something painful had just happened. The same young soldier who had helped you up after Reed kicked your ass not too long ago - Grayson. His opponent let go of the arm he’d used as leverage in an instant, realizing something had gone wrong. When the one on the ground tried to stand but yelped when he put weight on his arm, you felt something in you stir awake. 

When Reed made no move to stop or help, you were at the recruit’s side in a matter of moments. You ignored the apologies of his opponent, kneeling in the dust at Grayson's side.

“Can you move your arm?” you asked, but with the way it remained at the young man’s side, you doubted it. 

“No-”

“Then get yourself to the infirmary,” Reed commanded, his tone indifferent as ever. 

The tension of being left behind during the test had already put you in a bad mood, and here was the man responsible. One who had now just overseen the injury of another soldier. So, you didn’t reign in the gnashing remark that came from snarling lips. “You make a habit of getting your soldiers crippled?” you spat up as you helped Grayson to his feet. 

Reed’s shoulders rose and fell, almost imperceptibly. “I make a habit of making sure they’re capable fighters.” 

“Then don’t fucking let them break their bones before they even get to the front lines!” 

“Your Major has expressed that you be prepared-”

“Prepared for our own comrades to knock us out of the fight?”

“Prepared to show no mercy,” Reed hissed, stepping forward, more tense than you had ever seen him. “Take you, for example. If that Umbrella soldier had gone for your throat instead of your side, then you would be dead, and they would have one less enemy. But here you are.” His nostrils flared, and you swore you felt a thrum of pressure in your healed ribs as you stared him down, Grayson’s good arm still slung over your shoulder. “These men cannot afford to make the same mistake and let their enemies get back up.” 

Fury coiled in you, and if you hadn’t been holding on to the injured soldier at your side you might have struck. You might have gone for Reed’s throat then and there . . . but instead you just fixed him in a scathing glare. “But we aren’t the enemy,” you snarled, then turned on your heel, beginning to help Grayson towards the infirmary. 

The agent didn’t stop you, or even speak another word to you. He just issued his next order-

⧫⧫⧫

“Keep moving!” 

That was the best command Leon could give, one that was easier said than done. An obstacle course was something they’d done dozens of times now, even if this new one in the woods was set up differently than what they were used to. Even the cases of ammunition they now carried, they’d had to handle before. 

The hands reaching up for them, though . . . that was an added challenge. 

Krauser and Hellman wouldn’t release true bioweapons on them, but they would find ways to imitate the grasping hands and hungry teeth of the zombies of Raccoon City. The solution to that had been simple; anyone could become a bioweapon, and so the squad had been split, and Valeria’s half now walked just below Leon, their hands reaching up. 

The goal? 

For Leon’s men, it was to get through the course with at least one of the ammunition cases. For Valeria’s, it was to stop that from happening. And they certainly had the easier job of the two groups. 

Leon felt sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as he moved, taking the ammo case from Williams. There had been no reprieve since they started this morning, no real chance at a break. Now, the sun was beginning the second half of its arc in the sky and hunger and exhaustion were beginning to press in on him. 

Still, he had to press on. That was the only choice now, because it would be the only choice in the field. He knew that better than anyone. 

They were almost there. Almost to the end, if Valeria and her men had been doing everything they could to stop them from getting there. They’d been instructed to remain on the ground, to more accurately simulate the zombies that Leon’s report had spoken of in Raccoon City . . . but Valeria had never been one to play by the rules. So, Leon was hardly surprised when, even with how she and Dina felt about each other, Valeria shook her head and took a running jump, one of her men boosting her. 

Leon was sure she’d go for him. That she’d try to jump Leon to try and pull him down through the bars. He should have known better. He should have known that Valeria was more cunning than that. 

So, when Dina called out his name, nearly falling from the bars, Leon knew it was a ploy. He knew it was a distraction, in the back of his mind . . . but he moved anyway. 

The case nearly slipped from his grip as he lunged, his body caught awkwardly across the bars in a way he knew would leave bruises behind. Still, he caught Dina’s wrist just before the tall woman was yanked off the bars, holding on to her with one hand, and the case in the other . . . 

And fighting off the memories playing in his mind all the while. 

“Oh, fuck!” Williams cried, kicking her legs as Valeria tried to pull her down, and Leon grit his teeth. It was a test - a simulation. Still, he could think only of the last time he’d been in a position like this. When he hadn’t been strong enough, and the woman he’d been trying to save had slipped through his fingers . . . 

So, he strained with all his might, willing his arm to bend. Forcing himself to fight.

“The longer they hold you, the more likely you’ll get bit!” Krauser shouted a reminder, but Leon didn’t pay much attention.

His muscles had ached for days upon days, when Krauser started training him. He’d thought, at times, that he wouldn’t survive. That the feats the Major wanted him to carry out would never be possible. 

Now, he felt only awe at the strength he had as Dina freed herself from Valeria’s hold, and Leon lifted the woman with only one arm. 

Williams swore as she met Leon halfway, beginning to pull herself up . . . just in time for one of Valeria’s men to jump too, grasping the ammo case with both hands. In his distracted state, Leon’s eyes flashed as he realized he’d been played, and he and his half of the squad lost that portion of the test within a few feet of the end of it. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, helping Williams the rest of the way up all the same. 

Hellman watched from a distance, shaking his head. “You prioritized your team over the objective,” he accused. “Admirable, but it will cost your team a resupply.” That meant less ammo for whatever was to come . . . but honestly? Leon didn’t care. Not if his friend was safe, even if this was just a simulation of a dire situation. 

Krauser’s own thoughts on the matter were hidden behind a stern expression and an order to switch out, but Hellman’s disapproval was clear. Williams and Leon both seemed to share the same sentiment regarding that. 

“What a fucking-”

⧫⧫⧫

“- asshole.” 

As far as you were concerned, the word was a bit gentle when it came to describing Reed. Grayson could have called him infinitely worse, and you wouldn’t have blamed him, especially now that he was taking up the same position you’d been stuck in for weeks. 

When you’d dropped him off at the infirmary earlier, you’d been told by Doc to return to drills for the day. Now, though, dinner had come around and you’d returned to help as instructed. When you found out that Grayson had been sentenced to the sick bay because his arm had popped out of socket, you had felt a familiar rage in you.

Well, in truth, it had just been more gasoline to the fire that had been burning all day. 

Even if Reed hadn’t dealt the blow this time, another soldier was out of commission on his watch. And more than that . . .

“If that Umbrella soldier had gone for your throat instead of your side . . .” those words replayed in your mind over and over and over again. How could they not? How could you not fixate on that wounding remark? 

Especially when something about it just didn’t sit right with you . . .

“Asshole is putting it mildly,” Doc agreed, as he sifted through his supplies. Getting ready to switch out with his assistants in the mountains had him rushing to be ready - he hadn’t been expecting the injury he had to deal with today to be here rather than up with Krauser’s group. 

“You’re going to tell the Major, right?” you asked, because, frankly, you thought Krauser might kill Reed for this. You’d like to see that, you decided. 

“You bet your ass I will,” Doc nodded, shaking his head in a display of his frustration. “Bastard is gonna have the whole base crippled at this rate . . .” 

Yes, he would. 

Even Hellman had shown remorse about your injury, and about having to cut soldiers from the ranks, if Leon was to be believed. Reed, though, never seemed to care. To Reed, you were all disposable . . . 

But then, if he knew that Umbrella was responsible for your injury all those months ago . . . 

When had he read your file? 

Had it been after he was assigned here? Or after? Because if it was before . . . if Reed had known about your injury and still decided to strike you in the ribs anyway during the interrogation . . .

“Hey,” Doc pulled you from your thoughts, stepping closer. “I know I’m breaking my own rule here, but the kid’s gonna be stuck in the same boat you were.” He gave a sympathetic glance towards the bed where Grayson sat, and then looked back to you. “And sharing is caring and all that bullshit.” 

You knew what he meant, and you had to admit that some part of you felt better when you handed Grayson a slice of pizza - one of several that Doc had stocked you and his assistants with for the next few days. The recruit’s face lit up at the sight of food that wasn’t what they served in the mess hall, and the two of you ate in the quiet of the infirmary . . . and had some small amount of fun giving Reed scathing glares when he dropped off the opened mail the base received that day - one letter for Grayson that the agent had read and ensured was safe. 

Still, as much as offering Grayson company distracted you from the test you were missing out on . . . you couldn’t help the other questions that began to gnaw at you as Reed left. 

Questions like-

⧫⧫⧫

How the hell were they going to get through this? 

The goal was simple, really; get through the course, avoiding as many “casualties” as possible, and retrieve an ammunition case from inside the structure at the end. Eliminate the “targets” between them and their objective. And just like the entire rest of the day, from dawn to dusk and now continuing after dark, the problem was the course in front of them. 

There were flashes in the night sky, resounding booms and cracks of gunfire. Screams. 

None of it was real. That was what Leon had to remind himself. Like with the sounds of Lickers they’d played in the morning, none of this was real. Even so, that didn’t make it easier as he crawled on his belly, moving through mud and under razor wire with his nearly empty rifle in his hands. 

His squad was close, and that helped. It would have been better if you were there at his side, telling him to keep going . . . but he could practically hear your voice in his ear, even now. 

Tripwires were disabled, spats of mock-gunfire evaded, and Leon pushed his men on. “Come on,” he insisted, “we get to sleep a whole four hours after this,” he grinned, cracking the mud that had caked on his face. 

“Oh, what a relief!” Alejandro huffed at his side, but Leon could see the man’s smile when he looked over at him. 

It was those smiles that helped Leon to push forward, even as he heard Hellman’s voice call out a consequence for ducking into cover too late. “Garza's hit! You’re bleeding soldier!” 

Leon grimaced, because he knew what would come next. They’d been briefed on what to do if one of them was designated a casualty. The goal was to simulate evacuating the wounded from a battlefield, and Krauser and Hellman both had been adamant that whoever was pretending to be wounded play the part. Alejandro might have felt a bit ridiculous when he started screaming, but for Leon, the sound was plenty convincing. 

What was it that you told him your Captain used to say? If you can’t run, you crawl. If you can’t do that, you find someone to carry you. 

Leon gritted his teeth and finished the last segment of the course with Alejandro laying across his back, the added weight of another man pressing him further into the mud, making every inch all the more of a struggle. Still, he pressed on, right up until he and the others were up against the side of the building they needed to breach. The loss of the ammo case earlier had cost them a resupply, so after a quick ammo check, Leon ordered Williams to remain with Alejandro while he and Alenko went in to handle the targets. 

Gunfire still echoed through the night as he and Alenko stepped up to the door, looking first to each other and then reaching out.

⧫⧫⧫

There was a little click as the lock opened and you felt your heart lurch. 

This was stupid. This was so fucking stupid . . . but you’d been doing a lot of stupid things lately, hadn’t you? It wasn’t too late, you could just re-lock the door and go back to setting up triplines in the dark. You could . . . but you wouldn't. You’d come this far, and you had questions that needed answers.

You tried to take some relief in the irony of the situation. Reed and Hellman had taught you how to pick locks, and now that skill was being brought to bear against them. It was stupid, but it didn’t stop you from slinging your bag of springs and wires over your shoulder and reaching for the newly unlocked door. 

It didn’t stop you because the entire day - hell, since you met them through the bars of a jail cell - you had felt something wrong about the CIA agents sent to oversee training. Perhaps it was just paranoia. Perhaps it was the fact that Reed had broken your bones. Either way, you found yourself moving into a dark office that night; one you absolutely should not have been in. 

Reed’s office held few answers. You found no personal effects, really, just the pile of mail that the agent had sorted through before delivering it to the rest of the base, an small and empty box that he’d no doubt confiscated. 

You picked the secondary lock on his desk with nervous hands, eyes glancing around all the while, and for a few moments, you skimmed through the reports you found inside in the light pouring in from the streetlights outside. 

𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: (𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎)

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖: █.█.

𝙼𝚢 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 ███████ ██████, 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙸’𝚖 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 ███████ 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝. 

The same report Krauser had given you - you’d almost memorized it, you’d read it so many times. You didn’t have such a luxury now - every second you spent in here was another second you were at risk of being court martialed. Still, you had to know. You had to know what they knew. 

You didn’t have much time to sift through it all and read each report. You could only skim, hoping that something would stick out as different . . . 

And your eyes widened in the dark when you found that something. 

████-████████ ███████ ███ █████████████ ████: 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙳𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 

𝙸𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 ███████ ████, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚂 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 ████████ ██████████████ ███████. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 ██████████ ███████ ████. 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 ████ 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

Your eyes narrowed at that. Even with the blacked out text, even with the information all but hidden, it didn’t take much for you to put it together. Umbrella, bioweapons . . . they’d chosen teachers who’d had experience with both. 

Krauser had pulled you from the snow in Finland. He’d seen the corpses of the bioweapons there . . . 

How were Reed and Hellman involved? 

⧫⧫⧫

The rifle knocked back into Leon’s shoulders, his eyes set in a hard at the targets in front of him. There were only blanks in the gun - in all their guns - but the simulated fire was real enough. He and Alenko had cleared the first two rooms of the mock-safe house, and now they were on the last one. He took up the ammunition case that was their objective, and they were home-free. The final hurdle, then the first night course would be done.                                     

He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Never was. 

His rifle clicked empty, Alenko’s had run dry in the previous room. 

That, of course, was when he appeared. 

Leon turned just in time to see a shape in the doorway, all muscle and brutal strength. Alenko was knocked to the side with a kick, crashing into the wall. There was a knife in the Major’s hands, because of course there was. There always seemed to be. Leon knew what came next. 

Part of him wanted to stay. To fight. To test his blade against Krauser’s once more. 

But winning wasn’t the goal; escaping - surviving - was. 

They just had to get past Krauser, first. 

So, Leon looked to Alenko, seeing his comrade slinging his rifle over his shoulder quickly and drawing the practice blade strapped to his belt instead. Just as the Major moved forward, intent to take the ammo case from Leon and make the test an automatic failure. So, Leon threw himself back, avoiding a swing with Krauser’s knife, then slipping to the side to try and avoid the second . . . only for Krauser’s hand to close around his wrist, the one whose hand held the ammo case. Leon and Krauser both struck at the same time, Leon stepping in to aim a knee at the Major’s stomach, just as Krauser brought his knife down on Leon’s arm. Blunted metal still hurt as it dug into his skin, bruising him, nearly making him drop the case . . . but then Alenko was there, knocking into the Major’s side. 

Leon took the opportunity, wrenching the case away, just as Krauser turned to deal with his new attacker. 

He could have run, he supposed. He had the objective in hand, he had a way to go around his attacker. A way out. But it would mean leaving his friend behind, and that wouldn’t work for him. 

So, as Alenko occupied the Major’s attention for that split second, Leon wrenched his wrist free and turned. The ammo case swung through the air, and Leon hoped the Major didn’t mind a bit of pain, because that same case was crashing into the man’s arm a moment later. The older man growled in pain, and it was enough for Leon to push past, handing the case off to Alenko. 

They nearly made it out before Leon felt a hand grasp at his pack, pulling him backwards. 

"Should have run, rookie."

His eyes shot wide, nearly falling off his feet as Krauser yanked him back . . . but Leon’s now free hand was already closing around the handle of his own knife. He blocked with his rifle just in time as Krauser’s blade came up and around, aiming for his throat. Leon used the rifle’s mag to hook Krauser’s arm down and away, then turned as best he could. 

Krauser ducked under the stab of Leon’s knife but couldn’t avoid the push kick to his chest. The Major’s grip slipped as he was knocked down, and with that, Leon dashed out. He knew better than anyone that, sometimes, you didn’t need to defeat an opponent. You just needed to-

⧫⧫⧫

Get out.

You were gone from the offices in a flash, the reports returned to the desk you’d broken into, the locks back in place. Like you’d never been there. You hoped that's how it looked, at least. 

Your boots scraped against the dirt of the base, your mind a storm. You stepped between buildings, but as you moved from the offices towards the mess hall, the tripwires you set up were done so slowly. Your mind was not focused on the intricacies of setting up traps. No, it was elsewhere.  

Reed and Hellman. 

They’d had experience with bioweapons . . . or at least knew they existed before this. 

How? 

What had they done? What had they seen? How had they-

You didn’t have much time to question it before the sound of footsteps made you freeze in your tracks - too close to you. “Sergeant,” a cool, usually indifferent voice called out, and anxiety had to be wrestled down as you turned and found a man striding towards you. 

The very man whose office you’d just broken into. 

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Chapter Index

[artist-issues]

I feel saddened that Disney has lost their edge movie and villain wise. As Disney has had such a great rogues gallery in the past.

I really haven’t figured out what the new villains are missing. It’s either that there isn’t a true villain, like Abuela in Encanto or Namaari in Raya & the Last Dragon or Callisto in Strange World, OR the villain is a true villain, but because the message of the movie is poor, the villain comes off as poor, too.

I mean, I made a post about the formula of Disney a while back and how they need to remember what the pieces are for: the villains are one of those pieces. They’re supposed to embody the opposite of the movie’s message.

So in Wish, the message was weak. “You have the power to make your own wishes come true, so keep trying.” So King Magnifico was a weak character. He still almost-represented the opposite of the message, but because the message is so vague and the story didn’t build on it, he might be a “true” villain, but he’s not a good villain.

He represents the belief that “nothing you do on your own can make your wishes come true, so you should stop trying.” Kind of. Except, he himself believes that he has the power to make his own “wishes” (absolute power) come true—and everyone else’s. So his character falls flat. All that the audience is left to hold on to is Chris Pine’s charm, one-liners about his handsomeness, and empty stabs at chemistry with his wife.

What they could’ve done is had Magnifico be a true opposite to the movie’s message (vague as it is) and it might’ve been more impactful. Instead of being obsessed with keeping his own power safe (keeping his own wishes safe) he could’ve been the kind of King that is super-duper strict. Doesn’t even try to hide how strict he is. He could’ve had no magic, and in fact, magic is banned in Rosas and he tries to convince everyone that it doesn’t exist—

—because he believes the opposite of the movie’s message: “You have the power to make your own wishes come true, so keep trying.” He doesn’t believe anything good can com from reaching for “more.” Maybe the kingdom was magical once, and famous for being a place where new innovations and enchanted items came from, but then it was besieged because foreigners wanted it’s power when he was a young Prince, and the survivors were forced to flee to a secret island, and they re-established the kingdom of Rosas, but it was never the same.

Because now young Prince Magnifico starts his rule as fearful King Magnifico, and he believes that magic, and innovation, and “wishing” for too much outside of your comfort zone, only invites trouble. It’s best to lead a safe, tightly controlled life with no risks. But his good intentions turn into an obsession with keeping the kingdom hidden and under control. So King Magnifico frequently holds fear-based memorials of Rosas’ history, and why magic is bad, and punishes anybody who makes too much bustle or tries to leave.

Everybody in Rosas lives according to tight schedules and curfews. They serve the King by making their kingdom fortified, but carefully hidden. No buildings are built over a certain height limit (kind of like an allegory for not looking up, not getting too close to the sun, whatever) and all old relics of magic that the refugees kept over the years are meant to be turned in. The citizens keep themselves busy by adhering to a strict schedule, where everybody is given the same rations of food, the same quiet farming jobs, rotating market days, etc. Because the whole idea is, “we’re in a hidden kingdom. The world is still looking for Rosas to take advantage of it’s magic. They can never find us—hopefully they’ll forget about us and leave us in peace and safety if we stay hidden and keep to ourselves and get rid of magic.”

Of course, this whole setting changes King Magnifico from a charming showman going on and on about his own handsomeness to a strict protector who’s public persona is a benevolent father-figure just trying to keep everyone safe, but under the surface he’s a dictator using “safety” to control with fear.

And the setting has to change Asha, too. Because you don’t grow up on a hidden kingdom where your whole life is on a tight, boring schedule and everyone keeps their heads down, and you’re the only one bubbly and ready to try new things. You don’t even know what that looks like; you’ve never seen anyone eager to dream or take risks or go exploring.

UNLESS, maybe your grandfather (who is barely a character in the original movie) remembers the old Rosas. And he has kept magic contraband from the time when innovation was the kingdom’s identity. And so while everyone else your age has grown up with hiding and boredom as the norm, you have a window into a world where things can be better and more magical. Sabino becomes what Scuttle was to Ariel, showing her pieces of a more wonderful world than the one she’s stuck in.

OR, instead of having a grandfather who makes her think magic and wishing is not what the King says it is, Asha could start the movie totally drinking the Kool-Aid. Maybe she, herself, agrees with the King, because she used to wish for things to get better and believe that her grandfather’s hidden magical artefacts were awesome when she was little…but then her dad got sick. And she wished and wished for him to get better, (but we’re actually shown that, instead of the throwaway line from Wish) and he didn’t, and it shattered her faith.

Or maybe she not only wished for him to get better, but she tried to do something and step out of line to make it happen. Maybe her dad got sick, and her grandfather took out like a magical cup from Rosas’ forbidden history, and said, “he might get better if we just got him to drink out of this, but the cup is broken” and like 7 year-old Asha really believed that was true, so she used a little tinkering gift she inherited to try and fix it. But it didn’t work, and he died, and so when we meet her she’s this pessimistic teen who loves her grandfather but kind of pities him and constantly has to shut him up and shut him down about magic because it doesn’t work and it’ll get him in trouble with the King.

But then through the course of the movie and an adventure that actually has good writing, she starts to have a little of that 7-year old hope that magic and wishing actually could make things better, even if it’s hard to pursue them and risky to take chances. And that brings her into conflict with the villain, who has the same belief she started with only more extreme, and the movie

..would actually be at least entertaining or even compelling, even if the message is kind of vague and bland.

I did not mean for this to turn into a Wish-rewrite, and I’m not even saying it’s a good one, I was just trying to process what’s wrong with Magnifico, the most recent Disney villain who falls flat, out loud 😅

[onlymingyus]

The King's Gambit: Contracts (Teaser 1)

pairing; joshua hong x female reader

genre; smut, angst, fluff, slow burn (there may be changes to this once the full fic is posted to tumblr upon completion)

warnings; mentions of a contract, BDSM contract, mention of punishment (spanking) -- there will be other warnings listed on the final fic upon completion

w/c; 510 and some change for this teaser

The King's Gambit Collab masterlist & taglist

a/n; this is just a small teaser for The King's Gambit: Contracts -- there is no completion date set at this time, so please be patient with me. I am currently sitting at 31k and have plenty of story left to write. this will be a very long story so there may be other teasers posted here on Tumblr but I know I will be posting other teasers and behind the scene things on Patreon. if you would like more there is a longer teaser already available for my peaches (subscribers).

please consider supporting me read how to do that here

Because of his phone call, Joshua was running late. He still looked fine but he had skipped breakfast after a pretty intense workout, and he was running on spite. Barely glancing at his assistant the man furrows his brows at the way Jeonghan is leaning against her desk. 

“Jeonghan, I don’t have all fucking day.” 

A smirk crosses the lawyer’s face before he offers a wink to the assistant causing her to scoff and roll her eyes going back to her work as Jeonghan follows Joshua into his office closing the door. 

“No need to be so damn grumpy, Shua. I was here on time, you are the one who is late.” 

Sitting down behind his desk, Joshua meets his friend’s eyes only to glare briefly. He wanted to tell him that he had no fucking idea what he was dealing with at the moment but there was no way he was going to tell him. There was no way he could tell him or Seungcheol about the conversation with his father or the Hyong merger right now. He had to figure his shit out. 

“I’m not in the mood, I was hoping you’d be here with some good news. My new contract?” 

Extending his hand, Joshua expects to be offered a signed, sealed, and delivered contract but instead, Jeonghan hands him something he had never seen in all of his years of rotating contracts. Turning the pages with obvious frustration, Joshua scoffs loudly before glancing around the contract to look at Jeonghan incredulously. 

“She can’t be serious?” 

“Oh, that’s fun. That’s what she said too when I first gave her the contract to look over.” 

Joshua wasn’t finding the same amusement that his best friend was. He was looking at all of your changes as if they were slaps to his face. 

“I won’t accept some of these. She’s just trying to see how far she can push me.” 

Sucking on his teeth, Joshua leans to pick up a pen with blue ink leaning over his desk to start making his own changes to yours. 

“She marked through cockiness? That isn’t something she thinks I can punish for? God, what a fucking brat. Fine, Y/N…have it your way.” 

Jeonghan shakes his head, a sigh on his lips as he watches Joshua mutter to himself. The pen in the man’s hand moves over the papers making small but distinct changes before Joshua pushes it back across the desk to his friend. 

Picking up the contract, Jeonghan crosses his leg over his knee reading under his breath before smirking and raising his brow at Joshua. 

“You replaced cockiness with bratty behavior?” 

Joshua only nods, lifting his hand to run his fingers through his hair clearly flustered by the morning. 

“Finish it today. Pull her from whatever she’s doing and see if it fits her high standards. She makes my palm itch.” 

Jeonghan laughs, moving to his feet as he folds the contract back up, slipping it into his bag as he speaks. 

“Well luckily for you, spanking wasn’t one of the punishments that she crossed out.”

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed. 

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Welcome to Your New Unlife

Shadow City AU - Chapter One?

A JSE Fanfic

You all voted on the poll for this, so here you go! I wasn't able to finish this week's PNPT AU chapter, but I've had this sitting in my WIPs for a while. Shadow City is an urban fantasy AU where the septic egos are all various supernatural creatures, hiding right under the noses of the everyday people of the city Scuabyrg. Chase is new to this, having just woken up one morning as a ghost. Jackie, Schneep, and Marvin are all friends, being a werewolf, vampire, and witch respectively. And JJ is new in town, moving in along with a mysterious roommate.

It's important to note that I am NOT READY to start posting this AU regularly. Though I've been working on it on and off for a while, I have not really gotten that far, and I'm not really able to fit it into my schedule. I guess I COULD add it into the rotation so I write five AUs at a time instead of four? But quite frankly, I don't want to do that XD There's already a long delay between chapters of my weekly AUs as it is. Maybe if you guys want it, I can post this AU sporadically? When I get to it? Who knows? I just hope you enjoy this 10k word preview, I guess XD

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Chase opened his eyes to a killer headache.

He groaned and closed his eyes once more, pressing his hands to either side of his head. He must have had too much to drink again last night. He rolled over, expecting to feel his mattress or the sofa cushions shift under him... but the surface he was lying on was harder than that. Did he fall asleep on the floor? That was a new low.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t alone. There were voices around him.

The headache was already fading, but it still took some effort for him to open his eyes again and look around. He was, indeed, lying on the floor of his living room. Specifically, underneath the front window, pressed up against the blue-wallpapered wall. The floor was carpeted, but the short beige carpet wasn’t exactly soft. Not a good place to sleep. But that was the least of his concerns now, as he saw three strangers wandering around the room. ���Hey!” he shouted, sitting up. “What the hell are you doing?!”

The strangers didn’t respond to him. Two of them were talking, standing between the coffee table and his TV stand. The third one was looking down at the brown sofa. He saw her pick up an empty bottle from the end table with a gloved hand and look it over. They weren’t trying to be subtle or careful about any of this. They were clearly visible in the sunlight coming from the open window. Were they robbing him? Who robbed someone in the middle of the day?!

“I asked you what the hell you were doing!” Chase snapped. He climbed to his feet—or tried to, at least. He felt... weirdly floaty. His arms and legs weren’t responding like they should. But he pushed through that and got up. “This is my house and I didn’t fucking let you in! Get out before I call the cops!”

They weren’t even phased by his shouting. Chase felt a spike of fear and panic, and his eyes darted around, looking for his phone. He left it on the coffee table last night... last he knew. He didn’t actually remember... a lot of last night. He didn’t drink that much, did he?

Whatever. His phone wasn’t on the table. But he knew that this house he rented came with a landline in the kitchen. Too bad the archway to the kitchen was through the weird guys in his living room. Chase hesitated, trying to plot a way through them, scanning the living room.

...something was wrong with the sunlight.

He frowned, unsure what it was. Curious, he raised his hand and waved it, staring at the ground to see if his shadow was weird or something.

...

In a way, he was right.

Because his shadow... wasn’t there at all.

Chase stared at the ground. He leaned side to side, hoping that maybe this was just the hangover messing with his vision or something. But... no, he didn’t have a shadow.

“Wh-what?” He breathed, a disbelieving laugh tracing the word. This couldn’t be right. He turned around to look out the window, having the absurd thought that someone was playing a trick on him with a special kind of light.

Outside the window, the small front garden of his house was overrun with more strangers. But... not just any strangers. Some of them were wearing familiar uniforms. And there was a big white van with sirens and open back doors—an ambulance. There was an ambulance outside, accompanied by paramedics and police. All outside his house.

He stared at them for a moment, then turned to look at the strangers in his room again. For the first time, he really took in what they were talking about. “Well if there’s no sign of a break-in, it’s pretty clear what it was, don’t you think?” one of them was saying.

Another one sighed. “Yeah. But it’s just... you want it to be anything else, don’t you?”

“What’s going on?” Chase asked. “Wh-what are you talking about? I-is someone hurt?!” His eyes darted around the room again, looking for something out of the ordinary—

There was a stain on the ground.

To his left. There was a stain on the ground.

A rusty red-brown splatter, partially covering the wall as well.

Blood.

Chase suddenly felt very cold. “What... what’s happening?” he whispered. He looked up at the strangers. They must have been more police officers—or detectives, maybe, since they weren’t in uniform. The two were carrying on with their conversation. The third was standing up and heading down the hallway. Completely unbothered. Like they... hadn’t seen or heard him at all... 

The cold feeling deepened.

“I-I... I-if you aren’t going to answer me, then—then I-I’m leaving!” Chase announced. He headed to the nearby front door, reaching for the doorknob—

His hand passed right through it.

He stared at the doorknob, not comprehending what just happened. Slowly, he reached out again, as if he thought that going slower would help. But... no. His hand passed through it again.

He looked at his hand. It looked normal to him. Maybe a bit pale? He took a deep breath...

Or... he tried to. His chest rose and fell, but he felt no air pass through his nose. Or through his mouth, when he tried again.

He wasn’t breathing.

He didn’t have a shadow.

People couldn’t see or hear him.

And his hand passed right through things.

Was he...?

No. No, this had to be a dream! A nightmare! Panicking, he ran right at the door—and as suspected, he passed right through the wood and ended up outside.

It was a sunny day. It was near the end of summer, before the chill of autumn started to set in.  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky to block the sun from beating down. And there was no wind rustling the clothes and hair of the people outside.

But he couldn’t feel the heat.

In a daze, he moved forward, weaving around the police. He moved towards the ambulance. Towards its open doors.

Inside was a black bag.

“Oh god...” Chase whispered. He backed up again. “F-fuck.” His chest was rising and falling quickly, but it was just a habit, he didn’t feel the air, he didn’t feel the breath—He ran his hand through his hair. He could feel that fine! And... he could feel something on the side of his head. Something he didn’t notice when he opened his eyes earlier.

The spot where his head hurt... it was sticky.

Chase felt his head, to make sure that this was what he thought it was. A sticky, slightly warm spot on either side of his head. His head didn’t hurt anymore, but—fuck, was this what caused it?!

His eyes darted around, looking for something, anything, to explain why this was happening. Did someone break into his house?! Attack him in his sleep?! Was anyone else in the neighborhood hurt, or was it just him?! He couldn’t see any answers to these questions. But... he could see someone looking at him.

Chase stared back at this stranger. He moved back and forth slightly, to be sure that the stranger was looking at him—which he was, as his eyes darted to follow Chase’s motion. This stranger was wearing a blue jacket, which was identical to the blue jackets that some of the other people around were wearing. A uniform? The stranger’s hair was brown, pulled back in a small manbun, and he had a beard that was thick but not too long. As Chase stared back at him, the stranger subtly jerked his head to the side, then walked that way. Did he want Chase to follow him?

He was hesitant at first, but what else was he supposed to do now? This guy was the only person who could see him so far. Maybe he had answers. Chase headed after him.

The stranger had ducked around the corner of the house, leaning by the iron fence that separated it from the neighbor. Now that Chase was closer, he could see the words SPDFI written in yellow on the jacket’s lapel. ‘SPD’... That probably stood for Scuabyrg Police Department—Scuabyrg being the city that Chase lived in, the city they were in right now. What did ‘FI’ stand for, though?

“Well, uh... hey,” the stranger said.

“Can you see me?” Chase blurted out.

The stranger laughed. “Yeah, I can. And hear you, too.” He smiled a bit. “I’m Jack McLoughlin. I work for Forensic Investigation. We’re the people who investigate crime scenes.”

Ah, so that’s what ‘FI’ stood for. “So... why are you... Wh-why can you see me?” Chase whispered. “When I’m... A-am I... Am I... dead?”

Jack’s smile fell and he became serious again. “I... want to be sensitive about this. But... yeah. You are.”

Chase didn’t say anything. He stared at Jack blankly.

“Take a moment to process it,” Jack said gently. “It’s... obviously it’s a lot. You’re probably overwhelmed. That’s okay.”

“I-I don’t... understand,” Chase whispered. “What happened to me?”

“...do you want me to be blunt and tell you?” Jack asked.

“Yeah.”

“Brace yourself, okay?” Jack paused for a moment. “You got shot in the head.”

“I figured that out,” Chase dismissed. He tapped the side of his head. “I felt the spot. But—why?!”

“Uh... well, from what I’ve overheard, they think...” Jack coughed awkwardly.

“Someone killed me?”

“No, uh, not someone... else.”

Chase stared. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach—or... the spot where his stomach would be, if he had a body. “They think that... it was self-inflicted?”

“Well, uh... if you’re so surprised, they’re probably wrong,” Jack said slowly.

“Y-yeah of course I am! I mean, I’m not—I wouldn’t say I never—But not while my—holy shit my family!” Chase gasped. “They’re going to—oh my god, I—Declan’s going to—Stacy—”

“Please try to calm down.” Jack’s voice was steady. “Focus on the world around you. You are here. This is real.”

Chase took a few more deep “breaths.” Even though it didn’t do anything, the motion was comforting. “I—I didn’t want—I mean, does anyone really want—”

“We’re going to take this slowly,” Jack continued. “One thing at a time. This is a massive change, but it will be okay.”

“Okay?! I’m dead!”

“But you’re still around. That means you still have stuff to do here.”

Chase pressed a hand to his chest. He could feel it. He could feel that. Jack was right, he was still here. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.” He nodded, then gave Jack another look. “So... You see dead people?”

Jack cracked a smile. “Yeah. I have a gift for it. A sixth sense, ESP, whatever you want to call it. Been that way all my life, so I’m used to it. I know a lot about ghosts and all that.”

“Okay... so... ghosts are real,” Chase stated. “People... really do become ghosts when they die.”

“Oh, not everyone,” Jack said. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“If you have unfinished business. People who die with big regrets, people who were in the middle of something, people who had one last thing they wanted to do... those guys become ghosts. It’s why I went into CSI and forensics and stuff. People who die in accidents or, uh... murders... a-are more likely to have that tether that keeps them to this side.” Jack tilted his head. “So... Do you know what your business is? It’s okay if you don’t. Not all ghosts do.”

“I...” Chase paused. “I... don’t know. I... Maybe it’s my family.”

“That would make sense,” Jack said slowly. “What’s your family like?”

“I-I have a wife, Stacy—well, um, technically she’s my ex-wife. We... finalized our divorce recently.” Chase winced just remembering it. “But, um, we don’t hate each other! We just... thought it was better this way. I-it was mostly her idea. And I guess I don’t blame her, I... I think I was a good dad, but maybe not a good, uh, homemaker. Anyway, yeah, uh, I-I also have a son. Declan. H-he’s ten.” He smiled slightly. “My little ball of sunshine.” The smile faded. “I would never... I-I wouldn’t leave him. Never.”

Jack nodded sympathetically. “I believe you. I guess... I guess that things aren’t what they look like in there. Someone must’ve framed it as a suicide.”

“But who the fuck would want to kill me?” Chase asked. “I’m a nobody! I’m a wannabe streamer, there’s no reason to sneak into my house and murder me!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.” Jack shook his head. “Um... what’s your name, by the way? I should’ve asked you earlier.”

Chase laughed. “Oh, I didn’t even realize you hadn’t asked. I’m Chase. Chase Brody. Sometimes called BroAverage online, but there’s only a handful of people who’d know me as that, I bet.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Chase.” Jack smiled. “I’d like to help you get used to all this.”

“Get used to being a ghost?” Chase repeated doubtfully.

“People can get used to anything,” Jack said. “But it’s not just that. Now that you’re a ghost... well, you might want to know that there’s more to the world than you think.”

Chase blinked in surprise—realizing that, like breathing, the motion was no longer instinctual. “What do you mean?”

“There are... more creatures in the world than you’d expect,” Jack said slowly. “Creatures of the night, they’re sometimes called. The shadow world.”

“You mean like... what?”

“Again, do you want me to be blunt?”

“Might as well.”

Jack shrugged. “Like witches and vampires and werewolves and zombies and—”

“WHAT?!” Chase shouted.

“You told me to be blunt,” Jack pointed out.

“Fucking vampires and werewolves exist?!” If Chase hadn’t woken up as a ghost, he wouldn’t have believed it.

“Yeah.” Jack glanced to the side. “But, uh, unfortunately, I’m not sure I have enough time to explain all that. We were about to clear up here when you Awoke. I-I can come back some other time to explain more, but for now, let me give you the basics of being a ghost.”

“Uh... okay.” The news about other supernatural creatures still hadn’t fully sunken in, so might as well move on.

“You’re still a, uh, ‘new’ ghost,” Jack said delicately. “So you won’t be able to go much farther than the spot you died. But you seem pretty aware, so you’ll probably get stronger real quick.”

“Can I... talk to people?” Chase asked. “Other than you, I mean. Like, you always hear about ghostly voices on those ghost hunter shows.”

Jack chuckled. “Ghost hunter shows aren’t all that reliable. But... yeah. Ghosts can speak, be seen, and touch things, but you need to concentrate to be able to do it.”

“Concentrate?”

“It’s all about intention. You usually don’t think much about being seen, cause it just happens. But as a ghost, you need to think about it. Put effort into it. Most ghosts find it easiest to concentrate on speaking, since, uh, when you’re talking you’re already kind of intending to be heard. So just do that, but more so. Manifesting and touching things are a bit more difficult.”

“Okay...” Chase said slowly. “I think I’m following.”

“Here, I think I have time for a demonstration.” Jack reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small sphere, about the size of a golf ball, made of cloudy glass. “Hold out your hand.”

Chase did so. Jack put his left hand under his—Chase realized he could see it through his own hand—and then used his right hand to drop the glass sphere towards Chase’s hand. It passed right through and landed in Jack’s hand instead. “Uh...”

“You gotta concentrate on catching the ball,” Jack said. “You’re just expecting to be able to stop it. That’s not enough. Actively think about touching the ball. Ready to try again?”

Chase nodded slowly. As Jack started to drop the sphere towards his hand again, Chase really thought about the sphere, imagining how it would feel when it hit his hand, his hand which was definitely really there—

The sphere landed in his palm. For a second, Chase could feel the smooth texture and weight of it. Then he startled in surprise and the sphere slipped through, into Jack’s hand beneath his. Jack grinned. “Hey, first try! That’s very good, not all ghosts can pass in the first ten tries.”

“H-ha. Thanks.” Chase smiled softly.

“Hey McLoughlin!” a voice shouted. “What’re you doing? We’re heading out!”

Jack winced. He looked at Chase apologetically. “Guess I gotta run. I’ll try to stop by as soon as I can. Sometime tomorrow, if possible, or the day after.”

“Oh. Yeah no, uh, go ahead.” Chase nodded.

“See you around, Chase,” Jack said, then turned and left.

“See you around,” Chase repeated, watching him go. He stared as the police, paramedic, and forensics guys all piled into cars that drove away. The last to go was the ambulance... the ambulance with his body.

Chase sat down on the ground. He looked down at himself. A gray shirt, jeans with holes in the knees, and plain white socks. That was what he had died in. This was what he would look like forever now. He could feel his favorite cap on his head, too. He started to reach up to take it off, but stopped. This wasn’t really his favorite cap. The same way these weren’t really his clothes, and this wasn’t really his body. What if the cap disappeared when he took it off? He didn’t want to lose it. After all... this was all he really had now, wasn’t it?

Fuck. He was dead. 

And yet... he was still here.

Chase looked up into the sky and watched the sun move gradually, letting it all sink in.

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Evening came, and the sun soon completely faded from the sky. The city lights turned on, filling the shadows with artificial brightness. For most everyday citizens, these were the quiet hours of the day. But for some, the city really came alive at night.

One such person was Jackie Sheach, who was walking through the downtown streets with complete confidence. Jackie wore his favorite red hoodie today, along with one of his many pairs of ripped jeans. His brown hair is messy, his face partially hidden by a dark beard, but his blue eyes seemed to shine in the darkness, like they were reflecting what little light there was. He was currently talking on the phone. “—No yeah I’ll be back before midnight, I promise,” he said.

“You better,” said a female voice on the other end. “You stay out way too late, Jackie. Your sleep schedule can’t handle it!”

“My sleep schedule?!” Jackie laughed. “Lily, c’mon. Do any of us have consistent sleep schedules? It’s kind of part of the whole thing, isn’t it?”

“We’re going to set a good example for Bryson,” Lily said firmly.

“The new guy?”

“Yep. You remember how it can be an adjustment. The least we can do is provide a solid foundation!”

“You sound like a youth leader,” Jackie commented.

“I might as well be a youth leader with all of you acting like children sometimes!” Lily said. “Do youth leaders even still exist? I haven’t seen any, like, youth hangout centers in years.”

“Who knows?” Jackie shrugged. “Anyway, yeah, I’ll be back by midnight. Schneep’s responsible, he’ll make sure I stick to my word. Speaking of which...” He could see his destination coming up. A hanging wooden sign with the image of a crescent moon and the words “The Harvest Moon” burned into it. The sign dangled over a plain wooden door, sandwiched between two businesses with flashing neon signs. It would have been so easy to miss it. “I’m here. Don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“See you later, Jackie,” Lily said.

“See you.”

The door to the Harvest Moon was plain, and there was no sign to say that the business was open. But there didn’t need to be. If you were here, you knew the hours. Jackie opened the door right up, revealing a staircase heading down. He walked down the twelve or so steps and arrived at a glass door that had the same moon logo as the sign. In front of the door was a Welcome mat. “Heeeere we are,” Jackie said to himself, pushing the door open. A chiming sound rang out—not a bell, more like soft wind chimes.

The Harvest Moon was a small establishment, its walls made of exposed red brick with pale wooden columns painted with some decals and covered in posters. Bar-shaped light bulbs dangled from wooden rafters. To the left and right, when walking in from the entrance, were long pale wooden tables and chairs, taking up most of the dining area. A bar was pressed against the far wall, and next to it was an open entrance leading to the wood-paneled hallway that led to the bathrooms and kitchen. Jackie could smell the mix of various pub dishes and alcoholic drinks in the air.

This time of night, the Harvest Moon was fairly empty, since it was still early for many of its patrons. Jackie walked past the tables, taking note of the few customers in here. There was a trio of younger, college-aged guys that he hadn’t seen in here before, talking casually over a plate of fries. Beneath the fried smell of the food, Jackie could pick up on a bright scent, clear and bringing to mind something that sparkled. There were two girls around Jackie’s own age, each nursing a fruity cocktail. One had the scent of ash and burning, while the other had a familiar sort of musk—though he knew she wasn’t part of Heartwoods, so maybe she was in some other pack. There was a person wearing a dramatic-looking black cloak in the corner, not eating anything. The scent coming from that direction was a mix of old books and freshly-mown grass.

And there was one more person sitting at the bar, checking a watch on his wrist. Jackie slid onto a stool next to him, recognizing the scent before he even recognized the person. Something salty, like an ocean breeze, but missing the undercurrent of blood and sweat that most creatures had. “Hey, Schneep. Sorry I’m late.”

The man turned to look at him. “I went to so much trouble to get here early just for you, you know,” he said with a scowl. He had a passing resemblance to Jackie, with his brown hair and blue eyes, but his hair and beard were much neater, his features slightly more angular. His skin had a slight gray tinge to it—just enough to notice. He wore a long black coat over a pale brown sweater and darker brown dress pants. “Do you know when I had to wake up? Sunset! And you are late?! I could have slept in.” His voice was tinged with a German accent.

“Yeahhh, sorry,” Jackie hissed. “I had a last-minute delivery I had to do. Who orders food at eight o’clock at night?”

“A lot of people I know,” Schneep muttered. “And not all of them walk in the shadows. Some of them are just night people. Did you get it there in time?”

“Uhhh... yeah?”

“Why is there a question mark at the end of that answer?”

“I mean, I got it there,” Jackie said. “But I thought it would’ve been faster to shift and run. Turns out it was not. Because people noticed and I had to take the long way to lose them.”

“Hmm.” Schneep reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening up an app. “That explains this.” He showed Jackie his screen. On it was a blurry photo of some giant dog-like thing running across a city street with a bag in its mouth. The photo was clearly posted on social media.

Jackie groaned. “Lily is gonna kill me.”

A woman approached them from the other side of the bar, with dark skin and a head of black curls. She wore a green button-down shirt with short sleeves and a name tag, but Jackie had been here enough to recognize her face and her petrichor scent. “Welcome back again, you two,” she said. “The usual?”

“To start with, yeah,” Jackie said. “Thanks, Dolores.”

“Yes, thank you, Dolores,” Schneep said.

Dolores nodded and smiled and turned around. She pointed at several bottles on the shelves behind the bar, and they started to move on their own, pouring into cups and mixing together. A minute later, she turned back around and deposited a glass in front of each of them. Jackie’s was a lowball glass filled with a purple-blue drink, and Schneep’s was a martini glass with a red liquid inside. “Enjoy. Are we going all night or do you have work, doc?”

Schneep shook his head. “It is my night off.”

“I, uh, need to be back home by midnight,” Jackie mumbled. “I promised Lily. She wants everyone to start having consistent sleep schedules.”

Schneep raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it hard to get a consistent schedule with the moon situation?”

“That’s what I said!” Jackie took a drink from his glass. “But we have this new guy, Bryson. She wants us to be good examples for him.”

Dolores chuckled, leaning on the bar. “New guy? You make it sound like it’s a job.”

“Well I mean... it takes up as much time as a job does,” Jackie said slowly. “Technically?”

“It does not,” Schneep muttered.

Jackie nudged him.

“Do not be like that!” Schneep said. “It is true! A transformation like that is so much more than a job. It is a change in your lifestyle.” He took a sip of his own drink. “Well, ah... how is your new guy adjusting?”

“Better than most people do, to be honest,” Jackie said. “He says he had trouble making friends before so he’s grateful that we’re all being so friendly. His only complaint is that he’s not sure how to explain it to his mom.”

Schneep chuckled. “Well, that is a relatively small problem to have in the scheme of things.” Another drink. “He is lucky to have found your pack. You are good people.”

“Daww, really?” Jackie grinned.

“Really.” Schneep nodded. “Sometimes I wish we had packs, too.”

“Dude, nothing’s stopping you guys from forming one. They’re not special to wolves. Any group of close people is a pack. But it’s just not called that, it’s called a friend group or something. But if you want a cool name, you could call it a... uh...” Jackie hesitated. “What’s the word for a group of bats?” He took his phone out of his hoodie pocket to google it while Schneep and Dolores laughed.

Before he could open up his browser, though, a notification appeared on his screen. A text message from a contact named “Medium at Large,” in a group chat. Hey do you know driving directions to Marvins place?

Jackie made a face. Schneep leaned over to look at him. “Oh? Something happen?” He looked down at his own phone, having also received the same message in the same group chat. “Ah, I see. Jackie, you should not be so unkind to Marvin.”

“I’m not unkind to him,” Jackie growled—actually growled, a rumble deep in his throat. “I consider him a friend. I just... don’t trust the smell of his magic.” Witches, like Marvin, drew power from various sources. Dolores here was an earth witch, that group of college guys from earlier were probably star witches, that woman who smelled like ash was likely a fire witch, and so on. Plant witches, river witches, love witches, chaos witches—there were all sorts of sources for magic, and all of them smelled different to Jackie’s keen senses. He liked Marvin. He really did. But he’d never smelled another witch with a magic scent like that. Something sour, almost acidic. It was strange. And Marvin had never explained what it was.

“Mm-hmm. If you consider him a friend, you should trust that he knows what he’s doing,” Schneep said, narrowing his eyes.

“I do! I trust him. I don’t trust that magic.” Jackie sighed. “I just... hope everything is... okay with it.” He shook his head. “Anyway.” He sent a reply text to the chat. Sorry Jack. You know i dont drive.

Schneep also texted a reply. Didn’t you JUST get your license? 

Jack responded instantly. Yeah which is why I need the practice. Ill need to drive to Marvins place eventually, wont I?

Well I do not have a license at all, Schneep said. So I don’t drive. So I am no help. Look it up on your GPS.

Jackie chuckled. “How old are you? In all those ages, you haven’t learned to drive?”

“I am only forty-five!” Schneep snapped. “Don’t say I am an old man!” Despite claiming that was his age, he didn’t look much older than Jackie, who was thirty.

“That’s plenty of time to learn to drive.”

“So is thirty years!”

“Hey, I’ve gotten along enough with a bus pass,” Jackie said.

Dolores raised an eyebrow. “Might be easier to deliver food to people if you had a car, y’know.”

Jackie made a face at her.

Jack replied in the chat. Fine Ill use Maps. 

Whyre you going to marvin anyway? Jackie asked. Just a visit?

I think I found someone interesting at work today.Tell you two about it later.  I want Marvins help with something first.

Jackie raised an eyebrow. He glanced over at Schneep, who looked similarly intrigued. “It is probably a ghost, yes?” Schneep asked.

“Yeah, probably.” Jackie closed out of the texts and went back to his browser. A minute passed in silence. “Oh hey, apparently a group of bats is called a colony.”

Schneep burst into laughter.

The next few hours passed with idle chatter and more drinks. The Harvest Moon gradually filled up with people, and some more workers arrived to help with the nighttime rush. But true to his word, Jackie left before midnight... mostly because Schneep dragged him out, insisting that he had enough drinks for the night.

The two of them walked down the street towards the nearest bus stop. In most cities, the buses didn’t run this late at night. But Scuabyrg was different, with such a high population of... those who were awake in the darkness. There were enough everydays who knew about them to keep things running normally.

“No no no, III’m good t’walk, I can do it on m’own!” Jackie said, leaning heavily on Schneep. 

“Alright. Go on and do it, then.” Schneep stopped walking, pushing him off a bit.

Jackie took a few stumbling steps forward... and then stopped. “I think... I was wrong.”

Schneep grinned. “At least you’re sober enough to be aware of it.”

Jackie snorted and rolled his eyes. “You an’ yourrrr... vamp tolerance. Why don’ you guys get... get it easily? Y’know.”

“It can’t pass the blood barrier,” Schneep said, his face totally straight.

Jackie laughed. “Blood barrier, that’s funny.”

“No, I am being serious. Well, partly. We cannot digest or absorb most things easily, and that includes alcohol and other drugs...”

Jackie tuned out the scientific explanation that Schneep went on. Not intentionally. He just got distracted, thinking about how different Schneep looked after some drinks. His skin was more flushed, its gray tint basically gone. And his personal scent was overwhelmed by the smell of blood. Jackie inhaled, trying to smell that oceany scent...

And picked up on something else instead.

Jackie stiffened, trying to concentrate through the drinks clouding his thoughts. Where was that smell coming from? And what was it? It was... a being, of some kind. He could tell that much. Whoever it was, they smelled almost overwhelmingly of some chemical scent—like formaldehyde. That stuff that was used to preserve dead bodies. Jackie wrinkled his nose in disgust, looking around for the source of the scent... 

And then he looked up. And saw a figure crouched on the top of a lamp post. They tensed the moment he noticed them, and then lunged.

“Schneep!” Jackie shoved him to the side, just in time to avoid the figure. Schneep yelped in surprise, and Jackie whirled on the figure, who was moving so fast. He jumped at them and halfway through the jump, he shifted. In between one blink and the next, Jackie was no longer a human, but instead a giant wolf, his thick fur colored varying shades of brown. His teeth snapped at the figure, and probably would have bitten them—but the drinks still affected him in wolf form, and his sharp reactions were a bit too slow.

The figure tackled Schneep to the ground. He cried out, and reacted instinctively, biting onto the figure’s arm. The figure pulled back, leaving the light from the lamp post behind, and—and disappeared.

Jackie stared at the spot where they’d been in shock. Then he turned to Schneep. He whined, nudging him with his snout.

“I am alright, Jackie,” Schneep said, sitting up. Some blood coated his lips, and his fangs were now visible, elongated canines on the top and bottom row of his teeth.

Jackie tilted his head, ears twitching.

“I promise I am fine.” Schneep got to his feet, patting himself down... then froze. “Son of a bitch! That motherfucker stole my wallet!”

Jackie let out a series of barks that sounded similar to laughter.

“Hey, I had about fifty pounds in there, this is not funny!” Schneep said.

Jackie rolled his eyes, a human expression that looked so strange on his wolf form’s face. Who carried cash these days?

“Oh shut up,” Schneep said. He sighed. “At least we know something.” He wiped his mouth on his black coat sleeve. “That was probably another vampire who attacked me. One with a distinct bloodtaste. So, that means I will have to report petty theft to the Night Council. Great.”

Well. That was surprising. But it was getting closer and closer to midnight. Jackie continued walking to the bus stop.

“Change back, Jackie, even the night buses will balk at a giant wolf,” Schneep said.

Jackie shook his head. It was easier to walk on four legs when drunk than two.

“Jackie,” Schneep said in a warning voice.

Jackie broke into a loping run.

“Get back here!” Schneep shouted, running after him. “I am not going down as the man who got on the bus with a giant wolf!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was a slow night at the shop so far, just like most nights. Which was good. Marvin owned and ran Magnificent Magics by himself, if things got too busy here he’d have to hire more people, and that wasn’t in his nature. He knew where all his wares were, and had an exact way of organizing things that an employee might not follow. Though he did sometimes consider hiring someone to take care of the cats that showed up...

“Higgins, no.” Marvin picked up one of the cats in question, who was staring at a second cat with his tail flicking wildly. “Leave Fluffington alone.” Even though there were about five to eight cats in the shop at any point in time, he only actually owned two of them. Higgins was one, a round white cat with gray patches on his coat. The other was Sam, a black-and-orange tortoiseshell with big green eyes. She was upstairs right now, and not bothering the other cats. Marvin was not sure why so many cats showed up here. But he was happy to take care of them whenever they stopped by.

Sometimes he thought his shop was more like a cat cafe than an actual shop. But in reality, the only cat decorations were the trees in the corner of the rooms. The rest of the shop was a combination of a bookstore and a witch’s hut. Bookcases lined the walls, filled with all sorts of books. Paper cover, hard cover, leather cover. Various trinkets also sat on the shelves. Candles and crystals and bottles and incense and more. More things hung from the ceiling, mostly bundles of plants. There was a counter at the back of the room with more of these trinkets, and a cash register for purchases. Two doors sat in the wall behind the counter, one leading upstairs to Marvin’s apartment, the other leading to a bathroom/cat caretaking room. The main body of the shop was filled with small round tables, all covered with silky tablecloths in various jewel tones. Some of them had more books or trinkets, but some were empty, meant for the customers to sit at.

“Here you go.” Marvin sat Higgins down on the nearest chair, bending down to drop him on the cushion. Higgins started batting at Marvin’s hair that dangled around his face, and Marvin jerked backwards. “Come on, Higgins.” He pushed his hair back. “It’s not even that long.” The cats were the reason he kept his hair shorter than usual, and done in a half-up style. To minimize cats messing with it while still looking stylish.

As Marvin dealt with Higgins, another cat, Draco, hopped onto a table, climbed onto a stack of books, and used it as a springboard to jump to a bookshelf. The book stack toppled under the force of the jump.

“Hey!” Marvin whirled around, taking Draco off the shelves. “I know you like to be tall, but you have to be careful getting up there.” He put him on the floor, then gathered up the books that Draco knocked over.

As he restacked the books, he heard the shop door open behind him. “One moment!” he called, finishing up the stack before he turned around. He grinned. “How can I help you?”

The man who walked in was unfamiliar to Marvin. A new customer, how fun. He wore a fancier outfit: a white button-up shirt with frilly cuffs, over which was a blue vest with faint, darker blue patterns. There was a neat bow-tie around his neck, holding up a high collar. His dark brown hair was neat and straight, and he had a dark mustache that curled at the end. Blue eyes looked around the shop with curiosity. As Marvin observed this man, he noticed the gray tint to his skin. A vamp, for sure. Maybe one of the older ones, judging by the style he dressed in. 

After a moment of awkward silence, the man walked up to Marvin. He reached into his pocket and took out a small spiral notebook with a pattern of stars on the cover, as well as a pen. He wrote something down and showed it to Marvin. Hello. My apologies, but I am unable to speak. Can you tell me more about this shop?

“Oh! Alright.” Marvin nodded. He raised his hands and started to gesture: speaking in British Sign Language. Can you understand this? Do you want to speak this way?

The man looked surprised, then laughed silently. He set the notebook and pen down on the nearest table, and began to sign with a bit more flourish than Marvin did. I can hear you fine, you do not need to sign as well. But thank you for asking.

“No problem.” Marvin flashed a smile. “Ayway, uh, yeah, I can tell you about the shop. This is my place. We sell all sorts of magical supplies. Mostly stuff that’s useful for witches, I’m not sure if there’s much a vampire would find of use. Oh! But I do sell blood remover and potions.”

The man nodded. He wandered around the edge of the shop. Some of the cats walked up to sniff at him. He looked down at them and smiled a friendly, closed-lip smile. Most of them hissed and ran off, but Higgins kept sniffing him.

“Sorry, most of them aren’t vamp-trained,” Marvin said. “And, uh, Higgins isn’t for sale.”

They’re for sale? the man asked, interested.

“Only as pets,” Marvin said firmly. “I don’t do blood here.”

The man looked horrified at the implication.

“Oh, you’re offended! Good.” Marvin laughed. Vampires were tricky to deal with, morally, given their diet. “So you’re a blood bank person? Not an animal person?”

The man nodded. When possible. You know how it is.

“Hmm. I probably don’t. I haven’t lived like you have.”

I see. Well, sometimes there is... desperation, the man said. But I try to avoid that.

Marvin nodded slowly. 

May I have your name, sir? The man asked.

“I’m Marvin. Marvin Fletcher. I’m the owner.” Marvin gestured to himself. He was wearing one of his favorite outfits today. An open button-up short-sleeved shirt with an art nouveau flower design on it. Underneath was a sleeveless black turtleneck. He hoped that this was making a good impression on the new customer. “And you?”

The man picked up the notebook and pen again, writing down his name and showing it to Marvin. Jameson Jackson. Some people call me JJ.

“Alliteration! Nice.” Marvin grinned. “Let me know if you need anything, Mr. Jameson Jackson.”

Jameson nodded. He continued to look around the shop, taking an interest in some of the books. Marvin took care to have a lot of variety for purchase. A lot of them were spellbooks for witches, but there were also studies on magical creatures, histories of the shadow world, and some popular fictional stories set in the shadow world, just for fun. Jameson flipped through some of the books, reading the first couple pages or the blurb on the cover before putting them back.

The shop door soon opened again. “Marvin!” A man walked into the shop, wearing a black T-shirt and jacket. “I have something I—”

Jameson suddenly dropped the book he was looking at, staring at the newcomer in... what can only be described as surprise and fear.

“Hey, Jack,” Marvin said, then looked at Jameson. “Don’t worry about him. This is Jack, he’s a meddie, and a friend of mine.”

“Uh... hi,” Jack said slowly, looking at Jameson. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Jameson shook his head. He bent down and picked up the book he dropped, returning it to its place on the shelf. It’s alright, he said.

“Oh, BSL, huh? I’m not as fluent as Marv is, sorry.”

“He just said it’s alright,” Marvin translated.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Well, anyway.” Marvin decided to move on. “What brings you to my shop now? I know this is regular hours for me, but it’s starting to get late for you.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s only nine o’clock. I would’ve been here sooner, but I took some wrong turns.”

“Wait... did you drive here?” Marvin blinked. “I thought you still only had a permit.”

“Nope! I got my license on Tuesday, remember?” Jack beamed proudly.

“Ah. A whole three days ago. Good. Good good good.” Marvin nodded slowly. “Well, uh... what’s so important that you had to drive here?”

Jack walked over to a table at the back, talking as he went. “I had work today. Apparently there was a death down on Gold Sky Street, so you know, of course, I have to check it out.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Kind of a sad scene. The guy who lived there had probably been gone for a while, Jenkins estimates at least twelve hours, and nobody had realized he was gone until a solicitor came trying to sell stuff and saw the body through the window.”

“God,” Marvin muttered. He noticed Jameson listening in with curiosity, though Jameson was clearly trying to hide it. “So was his ghost there?”

“Yep.” Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloudy glass sphere about the size of a golf ball. “And he was a pretty strong ghost. Full-body apparition without even trying. Knew right away he was gone and, uh, freaked out about it. Generally acted really alive.” He set the sphere on the table. “I did the touch test with him, too, and he got it right away.”

“Really?” Marvin tilted his head, curious. Jack had talked with him about the ghosts he sometimes encountered on his job before. Enough for Marvin to know that this was a very rare occurrence.

“Yeah, and something else weird. The guy didn’t remember his death.”

“And that’s... Why is that weird?”

“Even weaker ghosts know their death,” Jack said. “Even if they die in their sleep or die when somehow drugged. They instinctively know the details. This guy—oh, his name is Chase, by the way—didn’t know who killed him. Most murdered ghosts know that.”

Jameson started in surprise. You were at a murder scene?!

Marvin laughed. “Yeah, Jameson. Jack works for the forensics, he gets called out to murder scenes all the time.”

“Well, uh, the detectives don’t think this was a murder scene,” Jack said slowly. “They think that Chase got super drunk and uh...” He made a finger gun and pointed it at the side of his head.

“Oh god,” Marvin whispered.

“But Chase is insisting he didn’t do that,” Jack said. “And if he really did get blackout drunk and do that, he would know that’s what happened. But he doesn’t know anything else, either. So maybe he did and something is fucking with his memory? I don’t know.” He tapped the glass sphere. “But that’s where I wanted your help, Marvin.”

“You got some of his essence in the sensor?” Marvin asked.

“Mm-hmm. Can you tell me if there was... anything magical about his death?”

“On it.” Marvin walked around the counter at the back of the shop, picking up something he’d left behind there. A white mask shaped like a cat’s face, with some markings on it. The four card suits—heart, club, diamond, spade—were drawn on the forehead in black, while the ears of the mask were filled in with green and there was a black nose and six curvy green whiskers. When he tilted it in the light, it seemed to shimmer with more green markings, but they were hard to read. He walked back over to where Jack was sitting and sat down at a chair across from him.

Should I leave for this? Jameson asked, looking a bit nervous.

“No, don’t worry, it’s not like this is a secret spell or anything,” Marvin laughed. He put the mask on his face, adjusting it so it was comfortable. “You could watch, even—if you’re okay with that, Jack.”

“Yeah, why not?” Jack shrugged.

“Great! That’s be fifty pounds to observe, then.”

Jameson made a choking sound. Are you serious?!

“Absolutely not.” Marvin grinned.

Jameson stared—and then laughed. It was a strange, wheezing sound, clearly genuine but with no voice behind it. You’re a right funny man, aren’t you?

“I can be.” Marvin stretched his arms, wiggling his fingers and loosening up for magic. His short sleeves left his forearms and hands bare, showing off the tattoos he had. Celtic knot-like designs wrapped around his arms, like he was wearing four bracelets on each arm, from elbow to wrist. On the back of each hand was a unique design: a spell circle on his left, and an eye design surrounded by swirls on his right. Green light flickered over all the visible tattoos, like oil on water, and then the eye design on his right hand began to glow a solid green. He concentrated, passing his right hand over the sensor.

Can I ask what this is? Jameson asked, not bothering to hide his curiosity.

“This glass ball? It’s a sensor,” Jack said. “If there’s a ghost in an area, you feel it get unnaturally cold. And if a ghost directly touches it, it absorbs some of their essence. Not enough to cause any trouble for the ghost, of course.”

While he talked, Marvin muttered the appropriate spell words under his voice. His eyes flared green as well, bright as the glow coming from his tattoo. His vision blurred for a moment, and then cleared up. He could see lights in the cloudy glass of the sensor now. Most of them were faint, barely there, really. Leftover essence from other ghosts that Jack has used the sensor on. But most of the sensor was taken up by a bright yellow-green light. “Whoa.” Marvin blinked, leaning backwards.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

“There’s definitely some magic involved with this,” Marvin said. “This ghost’s essence is strong, alright. And there’s something different about it... What did you say his name was? Chase?”

“Yep. Chase Brody.”

“Was he an everyday or something else?”

“Uhhh... far as I could tell. I mean, if you’re not an everyday, you’re less likely to be surprised when you die and become a ghost,” Jack figured.

“You wouldn’t be surprised,” Marvin pointed out.

“Well I’m special. Can you tell what’s different about his essence?”

“Hmm...” Marvin frowned. “Judging by the color... maybe there’s some necromancy, of some kind? The shade is a bit off. You don’t normally get an in-between color like this. It kind of looks sickly, which is why it might be death magic...”

Jameson looked at Marvin. So... you’re a death witch? he asked.

“Huh? Oh, nope.” Marvin looked up at him and grinned. “You don’t need to be a death witch to do this spell, to look at ghost essence. You don’t even need to be a death witch to do necromancy, but it makes it much easier.” He turned his attention back to the sensor. “Hmm... I... don’t know the specifics of this magic, though. There’s not enough of a sample for me to figure it out.”

“Well that makes sense,” Jack said. “It was only in contact with him for like, three seconds total at most.”

“Really? And it left such a strong imprint?” Marvin looked at the sensor again in a new light. “You weren’t kidding about him being a strong ghost. Hmm...” He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. “I don’t know what’s going on with this guy, but I’m sure that some sort of magic has fucked with him in some way.”

Jack nodded. “Weird. Do you... think we’ll need to report it to the Night Council?”

“I dunno. Depends on what spell it is, and if it was done with consent.”

Jack frowned. “Well Chase doesn’t remember what happened, so I doubt he wanted this to happen. Otherwise he would’ve made sure he remembered after he fucking died. But that’s not exactly proof, is it?” He went quiet for a moment. “I think... I need to help him.”

“You help a lot of ghosts, Jack,” Marvin pointed out.

“No, I mean... more than I usually do. The guy’s lost. He says he really cares about his family, but he lived alone, and his house, uh... wasn’t in the best condition. Not to mention this weird magic you just found.” Jack paused. “I want to see what I can do.”

Marvin nodded. “Alright. Well, let me know if there’s anything else I can do. Be happy to help.” He pushed his mask back onto his forehead.

A cat jumped up onto the table and sniffed the sensor for a moment before slowly reaching out with a paw—

“Luna, no.” Marvin grabbed her, pulling her back into his lap.

Jack laughed. “That’s a new one.”

“Want her?” Marvin held up the black cat. “I’m calling her Luna Void but you can change that if you want.”

“Nah, my apartment doesn’t allow pets.” Jack paused. “Though I was wondering about getting a new place.”

“Hmm. Fair.” Marvin looked over at Jameson, who was standing idly nearby. “Want a cat? I know I said they weren’t vamp-trained earlier, but I could put in the effort.”

Jameson smiled softly. No thanks. My roommate probably won’t take kindly to an animal.

Marvin raised an eyebrow. A roommate, huh? “Well good to know.” He put Luna Void down on the floor again. “A question for you, by the way, Jameson Jackson. Are you new in town or what?”

I’m fairly new, yes, Jameson said. Only been here for about a week. I’m getting to know the layout of the city. How did you know that?

“Between me and Jack we know a lot of those who walk in the shadows in Scuabyrg. So you were either really reclusive, or you just arrived.”

Jameson laughed silently. Clever.

Jack stood up. “Well, uh, I’m gonna head home now, Marvin. Nice to meet you, Jameson. If you ever need help with stuff, you can reach out to me. Uh, hang on. I have cards for this.” He tapped his pockets, then pulled out a card and passed it over. “My phone number’s on that. Do you have a phone?”

Jameson reached into his pocket and pulled out... a phone that looked like it was from the early 2000s. The kind that slid open to form a keyboard. Marvin held back a laugh.

“Yeah, that will work,” Jack said. “Anyway, I can help with a lot of different stuff. Other everydays tend to listen to me, and I can help with ghost stuff of course, and anything else you might need my meddie powers for.”

Thank you, Jameson said, and gave another close-lipped smile.

“You can stop by here anytime, too,” Marvin said. “As long as you’re not a dick about stuff, but you seem chill enough. I can do spells and card readings for a price, but I don’t do the French or Thoth arcana, only traditional cards and crystaleye.”

I’ll keep that in mind. Lovely to meet you. Jameson tilted his head. I think I’ll leave for the night but maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.

“See you!” Marvin waved, and Jameson headed out. “Bye, Jack!”

“Goodbye!” Jack also waved as he left.

The shop was empty again. Well... except for the cats. Marvin had barely a quiet moment before he saw two of them bolt across the floor, the smaller one jumping on the bigger one. “Bee, Ragamuffin, no!” he shouted, getting up. “Not by those shelves, you’ll break stuff!”

A few more customers dropped in as the night wore on, but there wasn’t much notable. Marvin closed the shop at one am, as he always did, then headed upstairs to relax a little before going to bed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scuabyrg seemed like a lovely city so far. Its name was a bit peculiar—he didn’t realize it was pronounced ‘skya-berg’ until tonight—but Jameson had heard stranger names in his long life. He’d spent the past couple nights exploring the area, getting to know the shadowy haunts before returning to the place they were staying in the early hours of the morning.

Tonight, it was about four thirty when he made his way back. Their “home” was one of many identical townhouses on Steward Street, an area in the northwest of the city that was very old. They dated back before the days when England had a window tax: the more windows a building had, the more property tax the owners had to pay. So many people bricked up their windows to avoid paying what they couldn’t afford. It wasn’t a pleasant place to live for most people, but Jameson wasn’t ‘most people.’

JJ walked up to a three-story brown brick house with two metal letters on the side designating it number 77. The window frames persisted, but they were filled not with glass, but with identical brown bricks. Jameson reached into his pockets and pulled out a set of brass keys, unlocking the door and heading inside.

It was dark, but JJ was used to seeing in the dark. Even so, he turned on the lights for comfort. The furniture in the living room was old, with peeling upholstery and worn wood. In the corner was a small kitchenette with stained appliances. The stove was covered with dust, but the fridge was good as new. He made a detour to grab something from it, then headed up the stairs.

As he passed by the second story landing—

“Think fast, bitch!”

There was a blur of motion in the corner of his vision. Only the warning shout kept him from being smacked in the head, as even his supernaturally fast reflexes barely gave him time to duck. The small item hit the wall then fell to the ground. A voice laughed. “Oh shit, JJ, you did it! Wasn’t expecting that!”

JJ looked over at the laughter. Standing in an open doorway was a man with wild brown hair and grayish skin, his wide eyes blue with a ring of green around the middle of the pupil. He was wearing one of his favorite outfits: an overly large black leather jacket, a black tank top with the words “Bite Me” written on it in red, black jeans held up by a belt with a silvery buckle, and tall black boots with inch-thick soles. He leaned against the doorframe, grinning wildly to show off his fangs. JJ froze for a moment, then forced himself to relax. Hello, Anti, he said in sign language.

“Aw, you seem so sad to see me!” Anti’s grin widened. “Were you worried I would leave you?”

No. No, he definitely wasn’t worried about that. Where have you been? JJ asked calmly. For the past three nights, Anti hadn’t come back to the townhouse at sunrise. He would think that Anti had been caught in the sunlight, but he knew better to think that Anti would be so foolish. He was probably getting to know the city his own way. And honestly, Jameson had enjoyed the nights without him.

“None of your fucking business, JJ!” Anti laughed. “Hey, look at that.” He pointed at the thing that he threw at JJ’s head. 

Jameson looked down at it, then slowly bent over to pick it up again without fully turning away from Anti. It was a dark brown leather wallet.

“Got that from some vamp fucker earlier tonight. He had fifty pounds in there!” Anti was suddenly holding a handful of bills, pinching them between two fingers. Then, just as quickly, he put them back in his pocket. “Fucking moron. We should go out to eat soon.”

JJ raised an eyebrow. Then he looked down at the wallet, examining it for anything else. There was a debit card in there—Anti didn’t like those, said they were too traceable—and some other card. He took that out. This was some sort of work ID, for a place called St. Damian’s Hospital. The blurry picture on the ID showed a man with brown hair and glasses, and the name identified the person as Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, of the Haematology Department. So that’s who the wallet belonged to.

“What? Wanna keep it?” Anti asked. “Go for it. Fucking useless things, anyway.” He shrugged. “Anyway. What’ve you been up to?”

Exploring the city, JJ said.

“Find anything fun?”

Not your type of fun.

Anti narrowed his eyes. “Oh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

JJ looked at him. You know we don’t enjoy the same activities.

“And what’re you implying?” When JJ didn’t say anything, Anti growled. “Fine. Shut up, then.” His eyes momentarily shifted color, his irises becoming bright red. “It’s getting early, go to bed. See if I fucking care.”

Jameson felt his muscles tense. Without another world, he turned and continued up the stairs to the third floor.

Even though this was the nicest story out of all of the floors in the run-down old townhouse, Anti had elected to claim the second floor instead—the story with a hole in the wooden floor, a smaller bedroom, and water-damaged walls. Jameson hadn’t said anything about it, just in case that would prompt Anti to say something like “hmm, that’s a good point, I do deserve the best floor!” and kick him out.

The third floor had a central living area, with soft sofas and sheer white curtains framing the bricked-up windows. There was no central lighting, but Anti had ‘acquired’ some lamps when Jameson commented on how they should have them, if just for show if nothing else. There was a nice desk tucked away in the corner, with tall dark wood bookshelves on either side. Jameson hadn’t yet been able to fill them with any trinkets or books, but maybe he could pick up some from that shop he found earlier in the night. Maybe he’d be able to actually hang onto the books this time, instead of being forced to leave them behind when they moved.

The one room on the third floor was the bedroom. He headed straight there, despite not being all that tired, opening up the door and ducking inside. There wasn’t much in here, just an old claw-footed dresser, a four-poster bed in the center, and a standing mirror. A mirror that must have had a silver backing, because Jameson wasn’t able to see his reflection in it.

He changed out of his outfit and into a set of matching pajamas—one of the few things he’d been able to grab when Anti suddenly decided to move them from their last city. Then he climbed into bed. The blue comforter had not been taken with them from the last city. It had also been ‘acquired’ by Anti, along with some pillows. Jameson had no idea why Anti listened to his requests for things to put in their house. Not when he didn’t listen to anything else Jameson asked. But he was going to take what he could get, and not question it.

Jameson stared up at the ceiling, eyes tracing the pattern of stains on the old plaster. He wasn’t tired yet. But the sun would be rising soon. So he might as well try.

He could hear Anti walking around on the floor below, doing who-knows-what. But he tried to put him out of his mind. He tried to think about other things. Like... like that little shop he’d stumbled across. Magnificent Magics. He hadn’t been in a witch’s shop in a couple decades, they had changed so much. Maybe... maybe he would be able to visit again some other time. Maybe he could finally have someone else to talk to.

[bigchumpus]

your pirate au is everything, I just discovered it and. my heartttt </3 /pos your art style is incredible too, the way you draw hair and your design for Pearl's wings are both just. woah. mind blown. gorgeous.

Just want to point out a few things I love!! :)

The quotes from the sketches page: "how do you reunite with someone you thought was dead" <- MY HEARTTTT "almost died" "wings are clipped"

That one instance [screenshot from this post below] of Grian's eyes being depicted as purple after he joins Scar's crew (and presumably whatever incident left him almost dead/"injured and unconscious"), as opposed to the brown they were as a kid? The strong implication that something (or someone? the watchers perhaps? I'm assuming it's something to do with the old crew that took them in as kids) were responsible for it.

"...one day things go awry"

And excuse me again for taking a screenshot [from this post], but the one image in which Grian's eyes are obscured by a bandage, complete with a watcher symbol and a glowing purple eye?? And Pearl's eyes being purple too? And they're both dressed in purple robes... just. insane /pos

The watchers are typically depicted as an oppressive force, and yet they both look happy. IDK. Something something juxtaposition, childhood innocence versus the purple symbolising something that's very widely regarded as cruel or even evil.

All this is to say I really really love it so far!!

and also... absolutely zero pressure at all! but would you perhaps be willing to share some crumbs on the story? :)

SEFJJRHPORDHJ Awww gee! You've made my day! :D Never thought people would really notice the little details

I'm not very good at detailing moth wings which is why I went for more of a starry feel, so I'm glad you like it 😆

And since you've asked so kindly, I could share some ideas rotating in my head,

When you're a kid, I don't think you realize as much the cruelty adults are capable of. Especially when they've been treating you kindly for the most part, and the progression to harsher conditions and punishments is slow. (Pearl would've been the first to notice.)

Grian and Pearl were already stealing to survive, having nothing but each other, so when the given the offer to be spared from their decimated town, and leave as a pirate, they took it. Grian would regret that a lot later :D

I've also been pondering over the idea that no one, including Grian, realized he was an avian, because he wasn't born with wings. So was taken from his nest by hunters who'd thought he'd been stolen (hybrids aren't always treated well, and sometimes hunted down in this au, though by the time they're adults that seems to change a bit), and then taken to an orphanage (which he'd run away from) when they couldn't afford to raise him for very long.

On the other hand, Pearl was born with her traits and would live in hiding with her parents for the first few years of her life, before it'd just be her mother and her, and then just Pearl as hunters had gotten to them.

So when the two met, Grian would often use the fact that they look similar to his advantage, like "Well I'm her brother, do I seem like a hybrid? Then neither is she!"

I think in return for certain protection, Pearl would've taught him some of the basics of the alphabet and reading,

And later when they're recruited to be raised as pirates, maybe Grian would be better at the magic stuff, whereas Pearl would be better at the fighting aspect. Idk I just like the thought that they'd cover each other's bases :D

And during the beginning of the period of time where they're separated, I think there would be mishaps where they expected the other to be there, the way it'd always been.

Something something, survivors guilt and Grian maybe not being as kind and trusting as he used to be, and never making promises. Still loyal although all his presence has ever achieved is death.

Something something, Pearl still clings to the feather he'd once given her, keeps searching because she knows he's alive - he has to be alive, still wonders about if she had just been stronger—

and maybe Pearl sees a bit of her old sun in Gem, and maybe Grian learns to trust in others and himself again with Scar.

Iwouldrambleabitmorebutwe'rekindofinapickleatthemoment-